Nick of Time

Posted on August 24, 2012

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I was going to write a post about how I got out of the industry in the nick of time, but really, this recent syphilis outbreak is no different than any of the other things. Plenty of people work knowing (or at least suspecting) they will have dirty tests come the next round. There were times when the AIDs scare was happening, the first scare that is, when I convinced myself that I would be fine because I only worked with women, even though I knew they worked with men. And the second scare, I was out of the business, but there was still the, “it couldn’t have happened to me,” thinking. The truth is that if you are going to get into the adult business, you are giving up your hopes and dreams of maintaining an STD-free bill of health.

To be quite honest, and I mean frighteningly honest, there were times when I had gonorrhea and was grateful because it meant I got two weeks off work and I had an excuse to do nothing and fuck nothing. What kind of irrational thinking is that? The first time I got something, I thought, “Are you serious?” By the fourth or fifth time, I thought, “Finally, I could use some me time.”

Destroyer of healthy thoughts and bodies. What a magnificent shame for the people he infected. How devastating selfish and untruthful.

And so I wanted to write this story about how grateful I am that I got out in the nick of time, you know, before the industry went to high-hell in a tiny purse and plastic stripper heels, but the truth is it’s always been this way. It’s just one of the first times it’s made the headlines, and certainly one of the first times the performer had such an abundance of pride that he actually tried to play the victim. Scarlet letter. Such selfish bullshit.

I’m kind of really angry about this. I think that is the feeling I’m experiencing. Pretty sure. Yes. I’m fucking angry!

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.

You know, I never really thought of that sentence as one, cohesive thought. I was meditating two mornings ago, and in my meditation, I like to repeat the serenity prayer to help my mind remain focused (as I have a tendency to wander off to Bridezillas, Cupcakes or Frozen Yogurt, the ticking fan or the guy-next-to-me’s stinky feet). Tuesday morning I realized that acceptance is serenity. Acceptance is the answer to all my problems. Unless, of course, I can change them. In which case, I get to be superwoman and fix things. Which is super sweet and super rare.

I’m debating on attempting another 30 day yoga challenge. However, I am also attending  4-5 meetings per week, taking 16 units (starting tomorrow!), doing at least four hours of volunteer work per week, ten hours of work work, being in a relationship with a wonderful birthday cake eater, walking the dog and snuggling the cat, sleeping/pooping/eating (trifecta of amazingness) and driving tos and froms. So, is the 30 day challenge an apt name and beginning to the school year? Or do I just happily collect my happy face stickers and go as much as I can but not actually commit to the whole 30 days? I suppose it doesn’t matter so much.

And there is that acceptance thing. And the ego. Man, I like getting stickers after a super hard yoga class.

I bought some stickers today to attach to my Book plate envelopes which will go out tomorrow morning. Butterflies and Lady bugs. Such a lovely thought. I’m trying to focus on those thoughts instead of the pointless anger at the way I once lived. Instead of pointless anger at people whom I can no longer be around. Instead of pointless (and self-harming) anger toward myself for having been duped by people just like him.

If intellectualizing my feelings and rationalizing my imagined justifications worked, I might not know that anger and gratitude can occupy the same space, and gratitude always pushes the anger from the room.

So there it is. In the nick of time I remember that gratitude is the more fulfilling emotion, and that with a heart full of gratitude, I don’t have to spend my weekend being upset or go to bed angry.

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