Celibacy is a Scary Word

Anything that brings me up usually — eventually lets me down. Some things don’t let me down gently at all… creating responses that lead me to question my sanity. It’s no good. I know that the root of it all is that I’ve lost balance in my life. I lost it a long time ago, or I may have never had it in the first place. As you know, my early development was incredibly conservative and centered around religion. When I was old enough and what I thought of as wise enough, I went in the completely opposite direction. I’ve lost balance, and I’m hanging on, trying to regain it.

My first thought was to take everything away and start fresh. Then I became all too familiar with the inevitable realization that my body and mind are literally and physically addicted to some of the things I’ve been thoughtlessly enjoying for the last few years. I’m a highly sexual person, and I like feeling high… To start fresh, I decided I would give up cocaine and casual sex.

I’d actually quit coke while I was on my road trip this summer, and made it two months (with some clients even attempting to bribe me to smell what they were smelling) before I decided to dabble again. So, this is really my second time with this. I’m embarrassed to share this, to be completely honest. It’s not easy to admit that it’s something I’ve actually struggled with. When I started it was so casual, I never even bought it and I just did bumps when I did use. It wasn’t a big deal. And now I’m here telling you that I tried to quit and failed. It’s embarrassing.

I’ve never tried to suppress my desire for casual sex, because it’s been financially beneficial for me. I was never a slut. Someone once told me the difference between a slut and a whore is that a whore knows her worth. At first I thought maybe I should be offended, but then I loved it — besides, I really wasn’t a slut. If there wasn’t a financial benefit, I usually had no interest… Then I tried to drop a bad habit, and in a little less than two months, casual sex (of the slutty kind) became its replacement. I quickly realized that anything can be an addiction and that’s when I lost all balance.

It’s been almost a month since I decided to cut it all out, and now I think sex must be the deeper issue. I don’t miss coke, at all — I just miss sex. Isn’t that funny? A drug so addictivethat it’s ruined and even ended lives -but it’s nothingcompared to the feelings I’ve gained and lost surrounding sex. It’s embarrassing to admit that I’ve struggled with cocaine, but it’s so much more devastating on a personal level — to realize that I’ve been struggling with sex. I know I can move on from coke. It’s a fairly recent development in my life and I know it’s not that deep — more than anything, my lifestyle as an escort just made it impossible to avoid. Sex, on the other hand; it’s human nature. It’s primal. What lifestyle change can cure this, and how long has it been a problem?

It’s daunting, the thought of giving it up. I hope all I need is balance, because celibacy is a scary word, one I’m quite honestly afraid to commit to. I went to a couple meetings for sex and love addicts and associated too easily with quite a bit of what was shared. I can’t say for sure if I’ve always been this way, but this cycle is becoming more and more predictable… It’s like a sad song on repeat. Girl meets boy and falls for him, boy lets girl down, girl realizes her expectations were unrealistic and isn’t sure who to blame — herself or the boy… but I’m finally realizing that I’m to blame. I’m an adult and no one is responsible for me, except me. The only people who can hurt me are the people I care about, and the people I care about are all hand picked, by no one other than me.

It’s hard to pick wisely while you’re high. And like I said, I can get high on the most basic parts of human nature. So this is where I come to terms with my dilemma. I’ve let too many of the wrong people get close, because we shared a memorable high… and I’ve connected with some of the wrong people far too casually, chasing and never catching that high.

I think that’s the point where it begins to feel like a problem — when you’re chasing a dream that might have never been real. It’s a problem when you use it to cover the pain of another issue, to numb instead of heal… And it’s a problem when you use it to distract you from what actually is real.