Well, my life is officially boring. Maybe this is why I drank. I suppose I've done well on the no-drinking front - haven't had any alcohol with the exception of maybe 4 drinks last Saturday and 2 on Sunday. I know I wasn't supposed to imbibe at all, per my psychiatrist's instructions, but oh well. I maintained control of my intake.
I'm got a marketing analyst job. Like a normie.
I still miss work. I dream I'm back at the club nearly every night, it's so weird. Still playing with the idea of traveling and working a weekend in another city every so often.
Both my closest friends are dating people; one is still dating the mexican's old roommate (over 2 years now!), and the other is dating a guy from her work. This means I'll start dating someone soon because I hate being the only one without someone. Whenever we go do anything its me and two couples. Boo. That's sort of what prompted me to hang out with the mexican however many years ago (2). Maybe workplace guy has a roommate I can sleep with, ha.
I miss the craziness of my old life. Growing up sucks.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
Sunday, July 14, 2013
One week
So I've been completely alcohol free for one week and one day. I feel amazing. I guess I haven't been sober this many consecutive days since last summer when I did my little 2 month sobriety stint. It's like I have a whole new personality; to the point where people around me have noticed a change in my demeanor.
I'm pretty sure I've also landed myself a grown-up job. It's a marketing position, I'm excited to see how I like it.
Unfortunately I do find myself missing work. Not my club, specifically, but stripping. I'm starting to play with the idea of traveling out of town one or two weekends a month to work in various clubs in the southeast. To help with some extra cash and to alleviate some of the boredom I'm feeling being a normal person. We'll see.
Being sober is going to lead to an extra boring blog - I now realize that most 'drama' in my life is alcohol fueled. Imagine that!
I'm pretty sure I've also landed myself a grown-up job. It's a marketing position, I'm excited to see how I like it.
Unfortunately I do find myself missing work. Not my club, specifically, but stripping. I'm starting to play with the idea of traveling out of town one or two weekends a month to work in various clubs in the southeast. To help with some extra cash and to alleviate some of the boredom I'm feeling being a normal person. We'll see.
Being sober is going to lead to an extra boring blog - I now realize that most 'drama' in my life is alcohol fueled. Imagine that!
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Done
So after a 3 or 4 or 5 day bender (you tend to lose track of time when you're trashed for days at a time) and the scariest withdrawal episode of my life it turns out I do have pretty extensive liver damage as well as an acute case of pancreatitis. The somewhat good news is that both are still reversible at this stage, predicated on the fact that I quit drinking.
I now know [honestly I've known for a while] I need to quit - for good. I am at the stage where if I don't I am going to die. It's not the dying that bothers me, but I think it would be an embarrassing way to go. I recently attended a family member's funeral who was an alcoholic. Funnily enough his actual cause of death was COPD, but his alcoholism was a contributing factor to his deteriorated health. He made it to 60, which was frankly older than most of us thought he would. He was in very poor health for the last 10 years of his life. Anyways, at the funeral I noticed all the stories and eulogies given by friends and family members had one think in common. He was nothing but a good guy, if not a bit of deadbeat, but everyone started their speeches with "we all know [deceased] loved to have a good time, probably too much..." or "[deceased was no stranger to alcohol..." That's what everyone knew him as; the alcoholic. I realized that my funeral would be very similar, well, with less attendees because God only knows that most people don't think I'm a very good person and I'm sort of short on friends; but the two or three people in attendance would probably mention my drinking, especially if it was the cause of my death. I don't want to be known as the alcoholic, a title I can only blame myself for. Truth be told, I don't want to be known.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow, something I should have done 6 years ago or so. I guess I always had the attitude that people on medication for mood disorders were weak. Because we all know drinking a fifth of vodka a day and going on week long benders is a much more impressive way to deal with problems.
I guess I figured I could always make excuses for my drinking. In the beginning there was truth to my excuses; I drank at work because it made it easier to not think about what I was doing and hey, it was fun. I drank at bars because I went out with friends a lot. I drank at the pool all day because it's a holiday weekend. It's only when I started drinking by myself at my apartment that these excuses tended to fall apart. Now I don't necessarily think that day drinking or even drinking alone are indicative of alcoholism. Drinking to the point of incoherence and then risking your life and the lives of people around you to drive to the liquor store to continue drinking is definitely indicative of a problem.
Whether I was self medicating or bored or depressed or whatever I don't even know. I was so good at rationalizing and lying to myself that I can't even tell you what my reasons were. At the time I put a lot of blame on the ex. No doubt what he did was shitty - ditching me to go to a wedding with his ex and not telling me or contacting me - definitely shitty. Most people have crappy relationships and break ups and deal with sadness for a while and then get the fuck over it. Causing it to debilitate you to the extent of barely functioning indicates a deeper problem.
Point is, I'm not sure where my love of alcohol turned into dependence on alcohol, but it definitely happened somewhere along the line. Everything I read says that alcoholics, if they decide to quit, need to quit for good. Some get the idea that they can moderate their drinking after a bout of sobriety and within a week or two they're back to crippling alcoholism. I guess that means I'm done. Not to mention my dying liver and pancreas. It's going to be hard. My friends, all two of them, are heavy drinkers. Not in the same way I am, but they like to go out and drink and they drink a lot; usually to the point of blacking out or incoherence. I'm not looking forward to be the person that has to say no to every drink. I used to make fun of those people. "I can't trust someone who doesn't drink," is what I'd always say. Oh well.
I really hope my shrink appointment goes well. Even if it means going on anti depressants or anxiety medication for a while; God knows that's a hell of a lot less embarrassing than being some loser alcoholic.
In other less depressing news, I stopped by a nearby strip club last week because my neighbor works as a bartender there and she said I should stop by and check it out. I guess they're looking for a waitress, but in my sober state I know that working there would lead me back down the same path of self destruction. Well, I ran into a customer there, and he bought me a dance. From a guy. This is the club I worked at for a few weeks 5 or so years ago; the one with a guys' side and a girls' side. The dance I got this time was even more disturbing than the dance I got there a few years ago. The male stripper not only took his penis out, he started rubbing it on me. His bare penis was rubbing my chest. I was grossed out and asked him if he was gay, he said no. Luckily the dance didn't last very long and I left shortly after to go sanitize my penis caressed body at my apartment. I wonder if the guys I danced for doused themselves in sanitizer after they left - I sure did! There was never any genital on skin contact in my dances, so it's still way less grody.
I now know [honestly I've known for a while] I need to quit - for good. I am at the stage where if I don't I am going to die. It's not the dying that bothers me, but I think it would be an embarrassing way to go. I recently attended a family member's funeral who was an alcoholic. Funnily enough his actual cause of death was COPD, but his alcoholism was a contributing factor to his deteriorated health. He made it to 60, which was frankly older than most of us thought he would. He was in very poor health for the last 10 years of his life. Anyways, at the funeral I noticed all the stories and eulogies given by friends and family members had one think in common. He was nothing but a good guy, if not a bit of deadbeat, but everyone started their speeches with "we all know [deceased] loved to have a good time, probably too much..." or "[deceased was no stranger to alcohol..." That's what everyone knew him as; the alcoholic. I realized that my funeral would be very similar, well, with less attendees because God only knows that most people don't think I'm a very good person and I'm sort of short on friends; but the two or three people in attendance would probably mention my drinking, especially if it was the cause of my death. I don't want to be known as the alcoholic, a title I can only blame myself for. Truth be told, I don't want to be known.
I'm seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow, something I should have done 6 years ago or so. I guess I always had the attitude that people on medication for mood disorders were weak. Because we all know drinking a fifth of vodka a day and going on week long benders is a much more impressive way to deal with problems.
I guess I figured I could always make excuses for my drinking. In the beginning there was truth to my excuses; I drank at work because it made it easier to not think about what I was doing and hey, it was fun. I drank at bars because I went out with friends a lot. I drank at the pool all day because it's a holiday weekend. It's only when I started drinking by myself at my apartment that these excuses tended to fall apart. Now I don't necessarily think that day drinking or even drinking alone are indicative of alcoholism. Drinking to the point of incoherence and then risking your life and the lives of people around you to drive to the liquor store to continue drinking is definitely indicative of a problem.
Whether I was self medicating or bored or depressed or whatever I don't even know. I was so good at rationalizing and lying to myself that I can't even tell you what my reasons were. At the time I put a lot of blame on the ex. No doubt what he did was shitty - ditching me to go to a wedding with his ex and not telling me or contacting me - definitely shitty. Most people have crappy relationships and break ups and deal with sadness for a while and then get the fuck over it. Causing it to debilitate you to the extent of barely functioning indicates a deeper problem.
Point is, I'm not sure where my love of alcohol turned into dependence on alcohol, but it definitely happened somewhere along the line. Everything I read says that alcoholics, if they decide to quit, need to quit for good. Some get the idea that they can moderate their drinking after a bout of sobriety and within a week or two they're back to crippling alcoholism. I guess that means I'm done. Not to mention my dying liver and pancreas. It's going to be hard. My friends, all two of them, are heavy drinkers. Not in the same way I am, but they like to go out and drink and they drink a lot; usually to the point of blacking out or incoherence. I'm not looking forward to be the person that has to say no to every drink. I used to make fun of those people. "I can't trust someone who doesn't drink," is what I'd always say. Oh well.
I really hope my shrink appointment goes well. Even if it means going on anti depressants or anxiety medication for a while; God knows that's a hell of a lot less embarrassing than being some loser alcoholic.
In other less depressing news, I stopped by a nearby strip club last week because my neighbor works as a bartender there and she said I should stop by and check it out. I guess they're looking for a waitress, but in my sober state I know that working there would lead me back down the same path of self destruction. Well, I ran into a customer there, and he bought me a dance. From a guy. This is the club I worked at for a few weeks 5 or so years ago; the one with a guys' side and a girls' side. The dance I got this time was even more disturbing than the dance I got there a few years ago. The male stripper not only took his penis out, he started rubbing it on me. His bare penis was rubbing my chest. I was grossed out and asked him if he was gay, he said no. Luckily the dance didn't last very long and I left shortly after to go sanitize my penis caressed body at my apartment. I wonder if the guys I danced for doused themselves in sanitizer after they left - I sure did! There was never any genital on skin contact in my dances, so it's still way less grody.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Friday, June 14, 2013
The last update
So I officially quit for good when I graduated in May. We'll see if this quitting sessions lasts; I have a feeling it will.
I had to stop by my work the other night to ask for a favor (which was granted ), and it got me thinking about my time at the club. Every time I walk in after a break it's the same feeling. The feeling of familiarity. Every single time it's though I never left. I miss it. I miss it every day. I suppose I tend to miss things that I don't have anymore, even if I hated them while experiencing them.
The house mom said it was good to see me, and gave me back my license that I left there months ago. I'm going to bring her some lottery tickets next week as a thank you for helping me out in my latest...endeavor. She loves lottery tickets.
When I reflect upon my time as a stripper I wish I had more cognizant thoughts on the matter. Disregarding the fact that I was drunk out of my mind 80% of the time, even sober I can't articulate the experience. What did I learn? How did this job affect me?
People tend to separate into two camps when it comes to strippers; either they see it as degrading and gross, men taking advantage of damaged and desperate girls, or empowering; women using their sexuality to their advantage on their own terms. I'm not sure I belong to either camp. Were there times I felt degraded? Not really. I was frustrated and disappointed a lot; when a customer didn't spend as much money as I hoped or I got denied for dances. Were there times I felt empowered? Maybe powerful, but not empowered. Sure, I could get men to spend ridiculous amounts of money on me. Yeah they would sit there, eyes fixated on my body in some sort of trance. But empowered? No. Unfortunately I generally felt blank. I would remove myself from the situation entirely, going through the motions but not processing any of it. Almost 6 years of being absent from myself. Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time coming to terms with my age. I don't feel 25. The time I spent stripping shouldn't count. I wasn't growing and developing as a person; I was frozen.
Hopefully I can get myself a college degree-worthy career and start becoming a better person.
I had to stop by my work the other night to ask for a favor (which was granted ), and it got me thinking about my time at the club. Every time I walk in after a break it's the same feeling. The feeling of familiarity. Every single time it's though I never left. I miss it. I miss it every day. I suppose I tend to miss things that I don't have anymore, even if I hated them while experiencing them.
The house mom said it was good to see me, and gave me back my license that I left there months ago. I'm going to bring her some lottery tickets next week as a thank you for helping me out in my latest...endeavor. She loves lottery tickets.
When I reflect upon my time as a stripper I wish I had more cognizant thoughts on the matter. Disregarding the fact that I was drunk out of my mind 80% of the time, even sober I can't articulate the experience. What did I learn? How did this job affect me?
People tend to separate into two camps when it comes to strippers; either they see it as degrading and gross, men taking advantage of damaged and desperate girls, or empowering; women using their sexuality to their advantage on their own terms. I'm not sure I belong to either camp. Were there times I felt degraded? Not really. I was frustrated and disappointed a lot; when a customer didn't spend as much money as I hoped or I got denied for dances. Were there times I felt empowered? Maybe powerful, but not empowered. Sure, I could get men to spend ridiculous amounts of money on me. Yeah they would sit there, eyes fixated on my body in some sort of trance. But empowered? No. Unfortunately I generally felt blank. I would remove myself from the situation entirely, going through the motions but not processing any of it. Almost 6 years of being absent from myself. Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time coming to terms with my age. I don't feel 25. The time I spent stripping shouldn't count. I wasn't growing and developing as a person; I was frozen.
Hopefully I can get myself a college degree-worthy career and start becoming a better person.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Like a lollipop
Well, things are back to how they're supposed to be, I guess.
I'm back at the club. I'm back to heavy drinking (I was completely sober for a month a few months back and had been drinking only lightly since then). I'm hanging out with L again. I'm single. School starts back tomorrow. I guess this is just my place in the world.
I only worked Wednesday and Saturday last week. Wednesday was forgettable. As in I really can't remember anything that happened or what went on. I wasn't drunk or anything, it was just that blah.
Last night was more 'exciting'. Not in a good way. Well, I made $700, so I'm not completely miserable, but it was just one of those nights.
The first thing that set me off was when a customer accidentally broke one of my nails. My nails have been ridiculously awesome lately, no short stubby ones, always painted and looking sweet. I'm obsessed with nails and nail polish, not sure if that's been mentioned. Anyways, luckily the break wasn't too bad, nothing below the tip of my finger, but it's gonna take at least a month to grow back out. The guy who broke it did do an hour vip with me, so at least some of the $400 he gave me will go to getting an acrylic put on.
Then a customer of mine who I hadn't seen in a while came and tipped me on stage. He's the guy who used to live in the apartment complex that I also lived in. The one who was creepily staring at my friend and I when we went to the pool. Anyways, I go over to his table, and there's already a girl there, but he wants me to stay. She's new, and really pretty. I'm pretty lit at this point, and we convince him to take us to vip. He's the one who strips down to his boxers, (which is a bit weird, but he doesn't try anything gross, and the bouncers know about it so whatever).
We get back there, and the girl immediately asks me if I party. I hesitate to answer (mostly because I don't want me customers who don't do coke to think I'm a coke head or anything). I tell her that I don't mind if she does, and figure I'll get a line in while he's not paying attention or something. I haven't touched coke for probably a year, so I have to admit I was excited to do some. "Wow, my night is getting better" I start to think to myself.
Of course that's a cue for things to get weird. The girl starts being very friendly to my customer, and then out of nowhere takes his penis out of his boxers and starts stroking it. I can tell my customer is a little confused, as it was completely unprovoked, but just shrugs his shoulders as she does her thing. At this point I'm trying not to watch (this is where I decide to sneak my line in). Well, I make the mistake of taking a look, and now the girl is licking my customer's penis. WHAT THE FUCK? I want to scream at her, and maybe I should have. I don't know. At this point it all goes downhill. They start making out, he's fingering her, she's confusing his dick for a lollipop...you know.
I decide that our time is up, and go ask the floor man if this is the case. Then I whine to him about the girl, to which he responds 'I had my suspicions, but you just confirmed them.' Well gee thanks for letting me go to vip with a fucking prostitute (I have nothing against prostitution, but keep it out of my club). So I continue to drink and complain to everyone for the rest of the night, and just get a cab home. Gah.
In other disappointing news, I finally got the full story from the Mexican about how he's a cheating piece of shit. Suffice to say I'm done communicating with him in any way, shape or form. If nothing exciting happens this week at work (and I pray that's the case), maybe I'll talk a bit about why men are disgusting excuses for human beings, specifically the Mexican.
I'm going to Virginia this weekend to visit a friend, and then to New Orleans with L next weekend. Yay!
I'm back at the club. I'm back to heavy drinking (I was completely sober for a month a few months back and had been drinking only lightly since then). I'm hanging out with L again. I'm single. School starts back tomorrow. I guess this is just my place in the world.
I only worked Wednesday and Saturday last week. Wednesday was forgettable. As in I really can't remember anything that happened or what went on. I wasn't drunk or anything, it was just that blah.
Last night was more 'exciting'. Not in a good way. Well, I made $700, so I'm not completely miserable, but it was just one of those nights.
The first thing that set me off was when a customer accidentally broke one of my nails. My nails have been ridiculously awesome lately, no short stubby ones, always painted and looking sweet. I'm obsessed with nails and nail polish, not sure if that's been mentioned. Anyways, luckily the break wasn't too bad, nothing below the tip of my finger, but it's gonna take at least a month to grow back out. The guy who broke it did do an hour vip with me, so at least some of the $400 he gave me will go to getting an acrylic put on.
Then a customer of mine who I hadn't seen in a while came and tipped me on stage. He's the guy who used to live in the apartment complex that I also lived in. The one who was creepily staring at my friend and I when we went to the pool. Anyways, I go over to his table, and there's already a girl there, but he wants me to stay. She's new, and really pretty. I'm pretty lit at this point, and we convince him to take us to vip. He's the one who strips down to his boxers, (which is a bit weird, but he doesn't try anything gross, and the bouncers know about it so whatever).
We get back there, and the girl immediately asks me if I party. I hesitate to answer (mostly because I don't want me customers who don't do coke to think I'm a coke head or anything). I tell her that I don't mind if she does, and figure I'll get a line in while he's not paying attention or something. I haven't touched coke for probably a year, so I have to admit I was excited to do some. "Wow, my night is getting better" I start to think to myself.
Of course that's a cue for things to get weird. The girl starts being very friendly to my customer, and then out of nowhere takes his penis out of his boxers and starts stroking it. I can tell my customer is a little confused, as it was completely unprovoked, but just shrugs his shoulders as she does her thing. At this point I'm trying not to watch (this is where I decide to sneak my line in). Well, I make the mistake of taking a look, and now the girl is licking my customer's penis. WHAT THE FUCK? I want to scream at her, and maybe I should have. I don't know. At this point it all goes downhill. They start making out, he's fingering her, she's confusing his dick for a lollipop...you know.
I decide that our time is up, and go ask the floor man if this is the case. Then I whine to him about the girl, to which he responds 'I had my suspicions, but you just confirmed them.' Well gee thanks for letting me go to vip with a fucking prostitute (I have nothing against prostitution, but keep it out of my club). So I continue to drink and complain to everyone for the rest of the night, and just get a cab home. Gah.
In other disappointing news, I finally got the full story from the Mexican about how he's a cheating piece of shit. Suffice to say I'm done communicating with him in any way, shape or form. If nothing exciting happens this week at work (and I pray that's the case), maybe I'll talk a bit about why men are disgusting excuses for human beings, specifically the Mexican.
I'm going to Virginia this weekend to visit a friend, and then to New Orleans with L next weekend. Yay!
Friday, August 10, 2012
Rewind
So I'm back at my club. I was for a bit about two months ago, then one particularly terrible saturday night I had somewhat of a mental breakdown and 'quit'.
Well, we all know what quitting means to me...so I'm back. I actually intended to go to another club, but as usual got cold feet.
I've worked two nights so far; saturday and wednesday. Both were decent, and I think the break did me well. I was able to make an acceptable amount of money and blow way under a .08 both nights.
On Saturday I had a regular come in, and he did and hour. That's where the bulk of my money came from. He's a great regular. He doesn't bother me to meet outside of work and try and date me. He understands how things work; he pays me money and I pretend to be interested in his unremarkable middle-aged life. It's great.
Old asian man was in as well. As well as a girl who used to work there years ago...she was one of the 'pretty girls', and I was really happy to see her. Asian man had us dance on the table together and money was made. She asked me if I was married or had any kids. I shrugged my shoulders and replied "no". She had another kid while she was in New York, where she lived during her absence. Part of me is jealous, and part of me wants nothing to do with any such thing. I don't know.
Wednesday was ok. Had a vip with another girl and a guy who liked coke. I had him as a customer a while back. He tipped me on stage, and I vaguely remembered him, but didn't want to mention it because I figured he wouldn't remember me. Well, he did. And I guess we partied a bit last time we went to vip. So we get up there, and while the other girl was in the restroom, he asks me if I will partake in some cocaine usage with him. I tell him I will (hey, it's been a while). Then he asks me if I can get some. WTF?!? Uh, you don't go the vip acting like you're about to do a bunch of coke if you don't even have it on you. I tell him that I can but I'll need some extra incentive. None of the drug dealers that I'm acquainted with are in that night, so I make a big production of going to 'find some', and by the time I get back our vip is over. Score!
Well, back to the same old grind.
Well, we all know what quitting means to me...so I'm back. I actually intended to go to another club, but as usual got cold feet.
I've worked two nights so far; saturday and wednesday. Both were decent, and I think the break did me well. I was able to make an acceptable amount of money and blow way under a .08 both nights.
On Saturday I had a regular come in, and he did and hour. That's where the bulk of my money came from. He's a great regular. He doesn't bother me to meet outside of work and try and date me. He understands how things work; he pays me money and I pretend to be interested in his unremarkable middle-aged life. It's great.
Old asian man was in as well. As well as a girl who used to work there years ago...she was one of the 'pretty girls', and I was really happy to see her. Asian man had us dance on the table together and money was made. She asked me if I was married or had any kids. I shrugged my shoulders and replied "no". She had another kid while she was in New York, where she lived during her absence. Part of me is jealous, and part of me wants nothing to do with any such thing. I don't know.
Wednesday was ok. Had a vip with another girl and a guy who liked coke. I had him as a customer a while back. He tipped me on stage, and I vaguely remembered him, but didn't want to mention it because I figured he wouldn't remember me. Well, he did. And I guess we partied a bit last time we went to vip. So we get up there, and while the other girl was in the restroom, he asks me if I will partake in some cocaine usage with him. I tell him I will (hey, it's been a while). Then he asks me if I can get some. WTF?!? Uh, you don't go the vip acting like you're about to do a bunch of coke if you don't even have it on you. I tell him that I can but I'll need some extra incentive. None of the drug dealers that I'm acquainted with are in that night, so I make a big production of going to 'find some', and by the time I get back our vip is over. Score!
Well, back to the same old grind.
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