I Have A Need For Intensity

09/04/2018 § Leave a comment

I bonded with a cat this weekend, the first cat I’ve ever properly connected with. I have vastly preferred dogs as long as I can remember but Gloria is a needy cat, which strikes a perfect balance.

I am fostering a cat when I move into my new flat next year. I am very, very excited about this.

I don’t usually get that excited by cocktails, I’m more of an ale and gin drinker. But we went to a very nice cocktail bar last night and the drink I had was incredible and full of rose – one of my favourite scents and tastes. Rose reminds me of good things in the past, the present, and good things to come. It’s heavy and cloying and I like that. It sticks.

This morning I practiced hungover yoga in the sun with the cat; Gloria, and the dog; Betty, and I felt things settle and calm inside me. My worries didn’t go away, they just mattered less. It feels currently like I am taking hold of life with both hands. It feels good. I am going to a burlesque show tonight and one of my friends is performing there for the first time and I can’t wait to see the humour and the glitter and the creativity and the sexiness of all the different performers.

I discovered yesterday that Charlotte’s husband died of a heart attack recently, and I felt myself freeze when I read this. I am sensitive to this kind of thing, it stays with me for months. They were so happy and had a baby together, and she must feel like there’s a hole the size of her body, inside her body. She must feel like the world is a terrifying place for her and her baby.

When things don’t go the way I like, my mind follows predictable paths to protect itself emotionally and to fulfil its desires. I tried to nap today, to prepare for the onslaught this week will be (a good onslaught of work and training) but I couldn’t sleep. Instead my mind wandered to sex, and specifically the kind of sex I shouldn’t let it wander to, for nearly an hour. It was an enjoyable hour.

I don’t feel guilty for these fantasies. I’d never act on them and to play with them in my mind is a way to feel pleasure, express myself, satisfy urges, scratch itches, burn the wet skin, pour alcohol on the scab. In other words, go too far the other way to what I’m lacking. But safely, harmlessly, pleasurably.

I am strong the first chances I get. I am ashamed of myself sometimes; for my lack of confidence and the many ways it shows. But the shame is only directed at the thought processes inside my own head.

I try and remind myself these things regularly: That it is not pathetic to be patient, to be hopeful, there is no shame in trusting, in trying, in looking at the facts and seeing them skew to the left and putting my money and my hope where the odds look good – to the left – instead of running with fear and pulling out of the game altogether.

I am running over pill packs until camp so I don’t have periods. I won’t let anything so unnecessary get in the way of the closeness and connection I need. There is enough to get in the way of that already.

He speaks of next year with a certainty that we’ll still be together. I love him. I know he loves me. But I am finding it so difficult to settle into this laidback rhythm. We have never argued in the year we have known each other, we have just had discussions. There has genuinely never been a reason to argue and the way our personalities combine does not lead to friction. The calm makes me anxious. He is so trusting, so reasonable, so kind hearted, so rational. How can I trust the good when there has never been a bad in us.

I suggested stripping as a one off shift when in between jobs a few weeks ago and he was honest and said he would rather me not do it, but was utterly reasonable and supportive of me doing so. He couldn’t have handled it more perfectly. I am looking for arguments and reasons not to like him but I can’t find any. I need to release this pressure inside me. I need to know the unknown. I need something to get my teeth into. I need a big argument so we can make up. I need it to go wrong so I can see that it is all ok. I need to feel the closeness that kind of friction can bring. Not know we’re close with logic, but feel it with emotions.

One day I will learn to not panic about my enthusiam and my emotions and my love.

In the last few weeks I have been hired, fired, hired, nearly ended a good relationship, strengthened the relationship, had multiple panic attacks, put together two pole routines I’m proud of, worked multiple jobs, seen friends, learned new skills, found tragedy, met the kindest strangers, made and sold small items to local businesses, made art, written, baked, spun fire fans and missed the touch of my boyfriend in a way that aches and aches.

I really like working in Media City. I am feeling part of the world again after sinking away for a frightened two weeks. I am regaining confidence again. I am finding the time and the self-esteem to recontact people again.

‘So you were on your own all day and doing nothing? No wonder you’re like this’ Becky said. And of course, of course. You learn about yourself and the world and then you forget, again and again.

I have been practising a little British Sign Language every day, and every day I get better.

E overdosed two weeks ago on Wednesday night and although she is physically OK now she has been diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and won’t be mentally fully OK for a long time. She is the life and soul of the party and so is M and they both struggle with depression and similar issues. I don’t know anyone who is the life and soul of a party who doesn’t struggle with some variation of these things. I can’t relate myself. I can’t hide anything. If I am ever struggling mentally it shows. if I am ever laughing you can believe I am happy. I am not a good actress, anything I feel is reflected on the surface.

I have found that when I hang a coat or scarf on the back of an empty bus seat people are drawn to that seat and sit there even when empty seats surround it. I witness it happen again and again. They often don’t consciously register the scarf or coat is there. Why are they drawn to it?

Every chance I get to chose John over anything else I pick John. I haven’t regretted it yet. I feel doubt today and I feel doubt many days, but my doubts are always shown to be wrong in the end.

Advertisements

Homoelectric

30/01/2018 § Leave a comment

‘Do you have enough mdizzle, or shall I bring drink?’ I asked. ‘I have enough md for everyone’, he said.

You can judge a person by his friends, and his friends are all lovely and creative and full of humour; just how I expected. This weekend was amazing and beautiful and fulfilling. My body was happy, my mind was happy, my soul was happy. It feels like it could so easily be or have been a beautiful transition into a relationship, into the boyfriend/girlfriend labels. But they still aren’t there, and they feel so far away, with so much space needed from his side. I don’t believe a relationship is what he wants or what he’ll want for a while.

And so I create points of excitement and joy that aren’t to do with him and dot them all throughout February. I focus on my friends and the others I love. I take hold of the silver gorgeous noose I love to have so much around my neck and ease a finger under to allow a little room to breathe. And, I think, I’m breathing. There is hope and hopelessness and it all feels good.

He holds me close and he holds my hand and he kisses me goodbye in front of his friends. And yet. But.

I don’t understand how the sex is so good. I do not understand how it is so good.

I spent Sunday night dog tired and very happy with three good friends. It was our last night of our own Come Dine With Me and they have been such amazing evenings, we all get along so well. B gifted me out of the blue with her old washed bedsheet. She said ‘some people would consider an old bedsheet a rubbish gift, but I have a feeling you’re not one of those people’. She was right and I felt my heart was going to burst. A couple of weeks before I had told her that one of my bedsheets had gone missing, that I only had one now and was rotating it with a mattress topper. There are many ways to give and to receive affection but I have discovered over time that one of the ways that means the most to me is when someone does something that makes life easier. Cooks me a meal, gifts me something which may well be ugly or small or unexciting to the outside world but which is something I need, lends me their jumper when I am cold. I feel love by practicalities.

Suddenly it’s beautiful December

07/12/2017 § Leave a comment

It’s a Wednesday. I wake up in the darkness of pre-6am, practice yoga, go to a quiet eight hour shift in a corporate law firm, work for another two hours which include pissing on a guys face and making him suck another guys dick, practice my aerial hoop routine ready for a performance Saturday night, shoot a photo for the August page of our studios upcoming calendar, come home and hoover my bedroom and eat a banana with almond butter and wonder if meditating will force me to face my constant mild nagging guilt of eating animals and push me into vegetarianism, decide no it probably won’t be enough and possibly nothing ever will, go to sleep.

He wanted me to text him when I entered the hotel so he could leave the door on latch, and I enter to find him restrained to the bed and blindfolded with a cock cage in place. There were two piles of money on the side and I didn’t go near them initially, it wasn’t necessary. Later I said ‘I’m assuming one is for me and one for Ben’ and he said ‘Yes, the larger one is for you’.

It often pays to be a woman, at least to be a relatively attractive woman in England in 2017. I can not deny the advantages. I think my life would look so incredibly different if I’d been born male. I’m not sure if it would be better or worse but I think I would have made so many different choices from birth that my life would be unrecognizable from the one I lead now.

Sometimes when other sex workers are with me and a client, they say things that indicate they enjoy what they do and get genuine pleasure from it. When this happens I always try and look at their face and detect whether this is the truth or a lie. The truth is that probably, like me, everything is somewhere in the middle.

I’ve been looking at recipes for eggnog’s and Tom and Jerry’s and vegetable lasagnas and risottos and I have so many beautiful things to cook and make and when I finally run out of food next week I will do a large shop and get everything I need in. I need to clear out first. I need to use every last scrap.

People are fascinating and you can never predict them. You can never assume. I wore nice underwear for my first meet with J the Nazi and he was disappointed. Not at me, he understood I couldn’t have known, but he likes plain cheap cotton panties.

It seems to be more common than usual lately that male clients want to be controlled in a caring motherly girlfriend type way. I’m glad, the bitch mother/caring mother style suits me best above other dominatrix styles such as being the cold princess or pure giver of pain. They want cuddles and skin contact. Perhaps it’s the month, the loneliness of winter and December and Christmas. We all feel it though I have avoided its sting well with friends, family, John. I am not too lonely at all this Christmas, thanks to the life I have created and a spoonful of pure dumb luck.

 

 

 

Queen of Pain

04/12/2017 § Leave a comment

05 November 2017

How to do right by yourself and by everyone around you?

Tonight I am sitting in bed listening to Florence and the Machine’s How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful and I am crying. I am waiting for the phone call which tells me I can go out and earn money tonight, keeping 40% of what I make whilst the agency keeps 60%. I have a sore throat and a heavy cold and an anxious mind and a sad heart. I have begun working a job that no-one knows about and there is no-one I can tell, which is isolating. I have to lie to everyone around me.

I am hurting a man who loves me. I have feelings for a man who I believe doesn’t have them back. I am lonely and I am scared. None of this is a choice, feelings are not a choice. Everything is the only way it can be, the only way that is true. I must follow this path even if it leads to misery and darkness.

The best part of being financially desperate is that you feel alive all of the time, another is that your life can take creative turns, another is that in some ways you are free, another is that you always wake early in the morning to see the sun rise, because panic jolts you awake. One man in my life is going to prison between 1 and 14 years, another tried to kill himself two nights ago, another is about to leave me due to something out of my control that isn’t my fault.

There are lies in the frost but the rain exposes us all and it’s beautiful.
Have you seen the rain? It’s gonna wash us all away.

Before Escape, The Suffering

04/12/2017 § Leave a comment

October, 2014

Sometimes, I think, I do bad things because I don’t believe I deserve to consider myself a good person.

Tonight, I walked home clutching my plastic bag in my fist, the roads littered with rubbish.

I refuse to be someone who thinks of themselves as not worthy anymore.

It’s embarrassing to tell myself in the mirror ‘I love you’, but the difficulty of it shows its necessity. I can’t look myself in the eye when I say it and when I do, I cry.

Last night I wet the bed. I haven’t done that since I was a very young child and even as a toddler I only did it a few times. The possibility of doing this wasn’t even on my radar, if the day before I’d had to list a hundred unusual things I could do in the night I don’t think it would have made it on there.

I know that even afterwards my bladder was bursting with pain when I moved in the night to the bathroom. I know the pee was long and heavy and clear. It’s not enough of a reason, it’s not like I haven’t desperately needed to urinate before.

Have you ever wet the bed in adulthood completely out of the blue? Do you know why?

I have a friend who has started sleepwalking in her sleep. I am dazed and anxious most of the time this week. I cried uncontrollably last night on the phone to my mother. She didn’t think of it as a big deal and continued to talk to me as if it wasn’t happening at all, which was exactly what I needed and why she is the perfect person to call.

What do I say when there’s no-one around to listen

07/11/2017 § Leave a comment

A side effect of that kind of work is that for long chunks of time I am utterly done with being sexy. Presenting myself as sexy and feeling sexy appeals to me a lot less than it used to. I am excited by being my childish self, by scruffy braids and no makeup, by wooley coats and walks outdoors and lipstick free smiles. I am excited by men who value this also, who enjoy non-sexual things and like to cuddle and be friendly.

I dreamt about kiwi fruits, making a white sculpture of a bloated happy pregnant figure, my dad attempting to take his life with a shotgun and nearly succeeding and finding out about his attempt to kill himself during the Halloween party at my house last weekend. My ex-boyfriend knocking on the door to tell me and then driving me back to Nottingham with me in my pyjamas and crying. Halloween make-up swiftly removed.

I dream my reality or possible realities and so reality and dreams blur together. I dreamt I was making quilts for comfort, I dreamt I had a pussy power tshirt, I dreamt bad things about my new man and good things about my old, I dreamt I was being questioned by a man somewhere about something and it was unpleasant but I don’t remember what it was about.

I dreamt that he’d sucked 46 cocks not 3, that he’d lied but it didn’t matter. I dreamt I had a stack of six pizzas and they were all different and all on their last legs and I had to freeze them quick. I dreamt, again, that my dad had shot himself in the head. And I dreamt many other things besides though I can’t remember what but a friend who slept in my bed with me one night said I muttered all sorts of things quickly, and the only bit she caught was ‘kill them both’ which I said calmly.

Often when I spend the night with John he says I talk in my sleep. Once it was something sexual towards him which makes a lot of sense and is a funny story, once I pointed at the corner of the of the room and said something about there being faces. Who knows what I say when there’s no one around to listen.

I’m done with biting to the bone

24/10/2017 § Leave a comment

This is not the first night this week I’ve laid awake till the early hours in the grip of anxiety. Lungs tight, mind heavy, heart panicked. This won’t be the last.

Life moves on when you least expect it to. I’m standing in an area that normally pulls my heart in all kinds of ways. It’s where I lived my first year away from home, where all kinds of joys and miseries occurred. I feel very little here now, my pain has moved on to other sources. I need alcohol or friends or the right men or alone time with shitty cartoons to soothe it.

My fingernails are bitten down and I feel thoroughly myself in the way you do sometimes when you’re the parts of yourself you dislike but can’t seem to shake.

I miss my best friend but he will never be my best friend again and can you really call someone a best friend who allows you no privacy? Who watches every word you write and move you make against your will? Of course you can, just because a relationship is incredibly unhealthy doesn’t make it false.

I have been weak. I should never have contacted him, I should have recognised the desire for friendship and connection would only hurt him. I should have recognised that I needed to properly let him go.

My heart and head used to fight with equal sized fists. My heart is always on top now and has been for a while, I can make very few decisions with my head these days.

I didn’t expect to have these feelings. I didn’t expect to have any feelings. Every time I see him my feelings grow. I hope, I hope, I hope they are reciprocated.

Leaving uni wasn’t stepping off a cliff, leaving America was.

Where Am I?

You are currently browsing the True Stories category at Salt&Prose.