Physician, Heal Thyself
“I’ve been gutted. I’ve been stripped of every morsel of pleasure I’ve earned in this life.”
There are times when I find myself nostalgic for my escorting days of yore. I still remember my clients very fondly even if I have made every effort to distance myself from that life. I recall the first woman I ever catered to all the way to the last time I had to choke-fuck the absolute shit out of a VP of sales in his office with the blinds drawn. I look back on how much I did from such a long time ago. It simultaneously feels like ancient history and just yesterday that I spent four years of my life in a sort of blackout wandering the streets of Toronto on my way to my next “assignment.”
Don’t get me wrong; I very much enjoyed what I did and I was damn good at it. That’s why I was so high in demand. I would always under-promise and over-deliver. I guarantee that my clients get the bare minimum of what they requested of me, but go above and beyond during our time together. What I didn’t expect was that over-delivering would take so much energy out of me to the point that I felt like an empty husk. I started to hate going to my clients, but god damn was I good actor. I knew how to hide my resentment, and I hid it well. I didn’t hate my clients. I just hated where my life was, but I couldn’t pinpoint exactly what about my life I hated.
Soon enough I started to feel bored, lethargic, and practically dripping with ennui. This started to show in my work to the point where I couldn’t get hard. I turned off the lights and used a dildo on him instead. Thank god he fell for that. After that last emotionally draining session, I went home in a state of shock and disappointment. I stared down at my cock and chastised it for all it was worth. What was wrong with me? Why am I feeling like this? I have never been so angry with myself in my entire life. I needed a therapist.
I saved up enough money to find a therapist, a good one, and a gay one at that. It was important to me that my therapist also be a homo so I don’t have to explain the intricacies of sex work and Grindr as if those are the fields which require nuance and discourse. It took a few (read: two) sessions for me to crack, but we finally got to the crux of my exasperation. It turns out that the whole reason I was feeling off and dejected was that I was still recovering from the time I got raped.
Prior to my time as an escort, I had my first long term relationship with a boy I met in college — eight months to be exact. The flame of that fling died down as quickly as it lit up the night sky. We were passionate and in love and the world was our oyster. Unfortunately due to a drunken stupor and me being in the wrong place at the wrong time, he took advantage of me. I won’t go in to details due to triggers, but I’ll let you fill in the blanks. I was in the hospital with a busted lip, cut above my eyebrow, and anal fissures. Needless to say I was a wreck and traumatized. I was in so much pain, but the physical pain did not compare to the emotional pain that I felt when I told him it was over and he could not remember doing any of that to me due to all the alcohol he had consumed. How do I fault someone for hurting me when they can’t even remember doing that to me?
After my wounds healed and my face transitioned from an ugly mug to a slightly less ugly mug, I broke up with him, dropped out, worked retail where I met my pimp, and started my journey as a sex worker. Going back to my lassitude, I felt dejected from life because I was in sex work for the wrong reasons. As a general rule of just living life, one should do things they love and get paid for it if they can. In my case, I loved sex and I loved getting paid for it. What my subconscious forgot to disclose to me was that I was in sex work because I was picking up the pieces from my rape. I saw myself as just a piece of ass because that’s what the rape taught me. If I’m just a worthless piece of meat, then maybe I can find worth if my meat had some monetary value.
I know that sex work is healing work. I have seen the benefits it brings to my clients. I have seen the lives I have changed and heard from my clients how my work has helped them harness their own authenticity. I know this because they tell me and report back to me why they haven’t hired me in forever despite my glowing performance reviews. While being showered in compliments and praise and looking on at our accomplishments, what really needed attention was that helpless little boy covered in cuts and bruises. All my attention and energy was going to people who I thought needed my help when the only one that needed help was me.
How could I have been so blind as to ignore my own needs? I was so focused on the needs of others that I had no energy left for myself. While this isn’t the big hero journey as I make it out to be, this realization was a turning point for me. If I continue to make others a priority, I won’t have any for myself. And if I can’t be there for myself, I can’t be there for others. I used to think that I would rather die than set a healthy boundary and make someone feel uncomfortable. Now I would rather shit in my hands and clap than to let someone take advantage of my kindness that way. I’m not calling myself a doctor in any sense of the word. But I realize that a doctor cannot heal patients unless they take care of their own health first. How can I get others to attune to their pleasure if I am unable to connect with my own?
This will be a constant process of learning, unlearning, and relearning. I need to keep learning how to discover and enforce strong boundaries, unlearn toxic behaviours that no longer serve me, and relearn the pleasurable habits that bring me joy. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to masturbate, vandalize my ex’s car, and get spit-roasted in that order.
