In Writing, you’ll find yourself. You’ll also find the people that love you.

My Dad said this to me as he hung up the phone just now, I told him I was going to spend the evening writing and he said I find myself there, and the people I love. On opposite sides of the country, me southern, him northern, we both just finished watching the very first episode of Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew, and he called to let me know that he was proud, proud I did the show, proud that I remained open and honest from the very start, proud to be my father. I must admit I never thought we would be here together, on this day, talking about some reality rehab show that I did with him confessing his pride in being my father, never thought there would be a day where we could laugh about the fact I tried to smuggle in a dildo named Ron Jeremy, along with knee pads and various other vibrating objects, never really thought there would be a day where we could sit on the phone and share quiet tears together about the incredible growth that can take place in a mere seven months.

It started with this blog. With a place I felt comfortable sharing my struggle in being human, in experiencing human emotions, and in dealing with other humans. In almost no time, my Aunt found the blog and began reading, and then my Dad, as well as my Mom. Mom had issues with some of the things that I wrote, because sometimes it’s hard to separate the things I’m experiencing from her own struggles, but Dad, being that we haven’t had a close relationship for years, was able to read it with the open eyes of a stranger, someone simply watching his daughter grow up from afar. A month or two before checking into rehab, I told him I know Ron Jeremy and he laughed, confessing tonight that he secretly wondered and perhaps knew where this lifestyle had taken me. How ironic that I would smuggle in that very name and idea to the place I am supposed to begin healing. Ever since I’ve come out of rehab, he and I have been building our relationship, some things have come from the blog, some just from talking, and now it seems as though he knows more than I let out here as we have reached a level of comfort beyond what an internet site can provide. This blog has helped me bring my father back into my life, and for that I am eternally grateful.

It’s also shown me how many people out there think of me, something I never would have imagined with my incredibly low self esteem. One of my dearest lady friends in the adult business recently wrote a piece about our friendship on whoremotional.com, Miss Communication, and I cried throughout the entire thing, never realizing just how much the people I’ve left behind still mean to me. Not that I left her behind necessarily, but as she writes, in each profession we choose as living breathing adults, we end up existing on an island where we only speak with people in our profession, lifestyle, or age group. When I did porn, my conversations, friends and lifestyle consisted of sex, drinks and douche talk. Now in recovery, it consists of…well….recovery. Doctors do it, lawyers do to, we all live in these little bubbles that prohibit us from meeting new people and engaging in new conversations. I’m going to set some big lady time aside for her, and her roomie (another dear friend), just to get back to our roots as women, because we can live together on that island – which is pretty big.

This blog has managed to introduce me to new possibilities, like writing for the Truffle, or my literary agent (yup got a lit agent, a real live lit agent hahahah), has even opened the door to writing a script with a big producer on the mainstream side of things, all things I never would have dreamed possible for a girl like me with a history as muddy as mine. I have friends from high school following and checking in that my day is okay when I log the entry into “terrible no good very bad days” and others that call when something goes into “totally awesome days.” But most of all, being able to write here has helped me to find a voice, something I didn’t have seven months ago, and I find the more I use it, the more clearly and coherently I’m able to communicate my feelings. I’ve even started to recognize that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I can almost tell the difference between being excited and being nervous. This is definitely progress.

A new friend called me a couple days ago to talk about the airing Sex Rehab. I’d become overly concerned with how it will effect my life. My core issue surround this was as follows: I’ve already changed so many things, I’m perfectly happy with the way things are unraveling right now, and as most addicts hate change, I’m not sure I’m ready for anything more. Everyone around me keeps saying “Oh, things are about to get crazy” or “Your life is going to change drastically” and catastrophic thinking led me to believe that crazy, and drastic change don’t necessitate good and positive things. This friend of mine called to say that he didn’t think my life would change. That he had in fact decided it wouldn’t change. It started me thinking if this motherfucker can decide on a whim that my life isn’t going to change than I can decide the same. Because the insurmountable changes I’ve experienced since April 6th 2009 have to do only with me, and the people closest. The change that other’s spoke about is in regards to people I don’t know, and people who don’t know me. And as I have no control over that, nor do I want any, I realized I can either decide that yesterday was the calm before the storm, or it was just yesterday. Halloween. The day before the show premiers. Halloween was great, and I’m glad I choose to live for that day.

Seven months ago I spoke with my Dad about how I’m going to make tons of money by running some webcam studio in the valley. About how I can finally retire from porn because I’ve found an occupation that wouldn’t discriminate against me for being a one time camera whore. He supported my decisions and wished me luck on my new career. Today, I spoke with my Dad about the script I’m working on that involves a character modeled after him. He cried, and told me write about whatever I need to write about.

Today was a beautiful day.

Posted in: Beautiful Days