Being a stripper would be easy if not for social anxiety.
It’s so simple! Be nice. Look sexy. Suddenly men are throwing money at you!
Except I am not a sociable person. Which seems counter-intuitive considering how socially demanding my job is. Not to mention, the men who say, “You seem so confident/not shy/extroverted!”
I learned how to act at a young age. I was taught by my parents to pretend that nothing was wrong. Pretending to be okay meant protecting my family. Of course, later in life I learned how effed up such a mentality was, but it became my fundamental coping mechanism. Pretend that nothing is wrong. Pretend that you are okay. Over time I was highly proficient in this area. I had a lot of practice…
Such a survival skill has served me well. Men who talk with me are left with the impression that I am a natural leader, a friendly and confident extrovert…
Yet I feel terrified. Every waking moment. I am so scared. Scared of being judged, of being yelled at, of saying the wrong thing.
Lately I have turned to drinking to cope. My father did the same. I have moderated myself by only drinking when men buy drinks for me… but men buy me a lot of drinks.
On top of this stress, I think about my sisters nonstop. I think about what my unstable mother is subjecting them to. What my perverted stepfather is doing or not doing. But I am not allowed to speak to them because I refuse to speak to my mother. I have decided that my mother is extremely ill and a lost cause. I will never sway in that decision. Nothing I ever say or do will change our relationship. I have accepted this fact.
What I can’t accept is my siblings’ suffering, how I have contributed to their suffering, and my powerlessness to end or curtail that suffering.
I suppose that is why I continue to drink. I feel ashamed of myself. I abandoned my siblings. I escaped like a coward to rescue myself. Meanwhile they continue to suffer in her so-called care. I hate myself for it. Drinking makes me forget. Makes me feel like a normal person for a little while.
To my little sisters, I am sorry. I am so sorry.
Except I am not a sociable person. Which seems counter-intuitive considering how socially demanding my job is. Not to mention, the men who say, “You seem so confident/not shy/extroverted!”
I learned how to act at a young age. I was taught by my parents to pretend that nothing was wrong. Pretending to be okay meant protecting my family. Of course, later in life I learned how effed up such a mentality was, but it became my fundamental coping mechanism. Pretend that nothing is wrong. Pretend that you are okay. Over time I was highly proficient in this area. I had a lot of practice…
Such a survival skill has served me well. Men who talk with me are left with the impression that I am a natural leader, a friendly and confident extrovert…
Yet I feel terrified. Every waking moment. I am so scared. Scared of being judged, of being yelled at, of saying the wrong thing.
Lately I have turned to drinking to cope. My father did the same. I have moderated myself by only drinking when men buy drinks for me… but men buy me a lot of drinks.
On top of this stress, I think about my sisters nonstop. I think about what my unstable mother is subjecting them to. What my perverted stepfather is doing or not doing. But I am not allowed to speak to them because I refuse to speak to my mother. I have decided that my mother is extremely ill and a lost cause. I will never sway in that decision. Nothing I ever say or do will change our relationship. I have accepted this fact.
What I can’t accept is my siblings’ suffering, how I have contributed to their suffering, and my powerlessness to end or curtail that suffering.
I suppose that is why I continue to drink. I feel ashamed of myself. I abandoned my siblings. I escaped like a coward to rescue myself. Meanwhile they continue to suffer in her so-called care. I hate myself for it. Drinking makes me forget. Makes me feel like a normal person for a little while.
To my little sisters, I am sorry. I am so sorry.
