I was a walking time bomb–ready to explode. What could happen next? I tried all kinds of different “beliefs” like vampirism, Wicca, Buddhism, free masonry, new ageism, etc. But NOTHING filled that “void” inside me.
But destiny had it’s way with me…I met this man on a call on in 1992, he was VERY sweet to me–and over the years we kept in contact with each other and became very good friends. He actually was instrumental in getting me to quit… and I did, in 1998. WOW. Finally; I thought, my dreams of becoming “happy” would fully come true! Could a “high-society” “square” lifestyle really be my answer??? I wanted to see–so I put my full heart into it! Running a successful car business and making sure my boyfriend was happy was ALL I lived for!
Sound familiar, anyone???
We lived a fast life in the “corporate” business world, flying back and forth to Japan; we had expensive sports cars, jewelry, houses, nice bank account, etc. I should have been extremely happy–but I wasn’t. You want to know why? Because I had filled the void of my emptiness with a new kind of God to worship…the God of money and success. Here was the kicker…even though I had that “plush” lifestyle–I could NOT forget my past and what I had done. It kept “haunting me” where ever I turned. Certain songs, places, people’s faces–all brought back the pain and regret that I thought I had buried by quitting prostitution. I then started to have TERRIBLE nightmares. TOTAL FALLOUT!
What I had failed to realize about the choices I had made in my life, was that there was a consequence to pay. I didn’t know it at the time, but I had developed a disorder what doctor’s call today,”Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”.
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, what is it? It is a tragic psychological condition often called “shell shock” and “post rape syndrome”. Did you know that 69% of war veterans get this condition after witnessing and experiencing traumatic events from war??? Did you also know that people in the SEX INDUSTRY have the SAME exact percentage??? (69%) Here I was… out of the industry but inside my mind a continual battle was going on of the events I had experienced as a prostitute and stripper!
P.T.S.D. brought me night terrors, nightmares, insomnia, memory flashbacks, memory lapses, asthma, clinical depression, loss of appetite, anxiety attacks–so bad I got hooked on Xanax–could NOT function without it.
Even the “corporate” world had me thinking that I was a failure–for at the end of our company’s closing, we lost EVERYTHING. I had quit drugs for a few years, and thought I really had it together until the corporation failed. And there I was doing coke again, but this time FREE BASING it–I could not get “high” enough for all the personal disappointment and pain inside of myself. I used to laugh at crack addicts as they would search on the ground for their little “rocks.” BUT HERE I WAS DOING THE VERY SAME THING I MADE FUN OF!!! I HAD REALLY REACHED “ROCK BOTTOM” –LITERALLY!!!
Was this a relapse? I would stay up for days on end getting so drunk and high, then pass out on my floor in my walk in closet in my million dollar home, with my drugs, wine and cigarettes to keep me company. I would wrap myself in my mink coat and rock back and forth…singing to myself…terrified of my past…but more afraid of my future.
Just HOW would I face my family? How would I face my friends? Who was I, and what had I become? Did I mess my life up so bad that I would never have a real existence? A real family, a job, a home??? Was I just a junkie, a prostitute, a worthless piece of trash? With tears and mascara running down my face, I would cry…”God where are you? WHY??? I’m messed up God, why me? I’m mad at you, God! Why is this happening to me?”
I was so lonely, bitter, and often I would write letters to my deceased sister Diana asking her why she had to die… then I would get mad at God and write a letter to Him, asking Him why I had to suffer so much–my tears smearing the very page I was writing on. I felt so alone,rejected…yet I knew somewhere far far away was God’s soft presence trying to pull away the cobwebs of my damaged soul and bring me back to Him.
Could I have possibly over estimated my own strength and endurance??? Was it hard to admit to others that I was really falling apart, and that I couldn’t handle this pain on my own? WAS IT EVEN HARDER FOR ME TO ADMIT IT TO MYSELF?
During my life in the sex industry I have had seven friends that have died, one died in her cab of a drug overdose, one was shot point blank in the face in a whore house, one was strangled in a hotel room and put in a suitcase, one was stabbed to death by her client, the other got killed in jail, another just recently died of bladder cancer, and another just died of AIDS…could there possibly been a better outcome for my friends???
The media and sex industry has SOLD the lie that this is a profitable profession and that the women love doing it…so if that is true, what would these women/men say if they were alive? That they “loved working as a prostitute”??? So much that they would DIE doing it??? Where is our line that we draw in the sand, people? When is enough really enough????