Retiring from sex work
Six months ago, I decided to hang up my stockings and suspenders one last time and retire from sex work. I loved my time in the industry and created memories to last a lifetime, but I was ready to leave and embrace pastures new. My focus primarily being on using my experiences of the industry to help others. However, I was not prepared for what came next.
Everything that I’ve had going on over the past few months, I’ve digested with my therapist. I find human psychology all so fascinating. I owe so much to my therapist.
The initial sense of freedom I felt was overwhelming! Freedom to cook an evening meal, freedom to go out during the day without having to rush home for last minute bookings, freedom to go make up free, freedom to take a break from nail appointments, freedom to go bra-less, freedom to live in my sweatpants (during the winter, I nicknamed myself, ‘sweatpants Sandy’), freedom to not over analyse every inch of my body. Freedom to just be my natural self. It’s as though I went through a process of stripping myself bare, back to basics, no longer hiding under a mask of make-up. ‘Blossoming into a flower’ as my therapist said.
But then came the exhaustion. And oh my, how I was not prepared for this! Something I now understand as a ‘trauma response.’ Just to be clear: I wasn’t traumatised from working as a sex worker but most likely it was the years and years of living in a state of high alert when meeting new clients and/or the years of hiding, living in shame. When this state of mind finally came to an abrupt end, it’s as if my body finally said ‘stop.’ For weeks and weeks, I had this intense desire to lay down and rest my body. It was as though I had a weight pulling me down by my back telling me to stop and relax. It was totally baffling. I just couldn’t figure it out. I wasn’t depressed. I’d been depressed, I knew how that felt. I became frustrated at myself for struggling to find the motivation to function.
Since analysing it all with my therapist, I’ve come to learn that it was a natural response from my body. It was telling me to finally rest and go easy on myself. My body was exhausted and just needed a break. I’ve always said that working as a sex worker is a bit like the life of a racehorse: A hard and fast life then early retirement. Sex work was physically and mentally demanding at the best of times, full of inconsistencies, unsociable hours and ‘last minutes.’ So, feeling like I was constantly on standby became second nature.
Even so, it’s been challenging making the adjustment from sex worker back to ‘civilian life.’ Sex work was my identity for so long, my safety net and I now find myself navigating my way through a new way of life. A new identity. I certainly underestimated how hard that would be. It’s almost like I had to grieve the loss of ‘Lady Olivia’ (or whichever name I had given myself at the time), let her go and say goodbye in order to move on.
The thing that keeps me going is my desire for change. To use my experiences in the sex industry to fight for law reform and a better way of life for sex workers. If ever I’m having a bad day and experiencing a moment of self-doubt, out of the blue I’ll receive a message of support that will have me in floods of tears. It’s those kind words from total strangers that gives me the motivation I need to keep moving forwards.