February 22, 2015

Stripper Heels to the Rescue

NoFearYep…that’s right. I’m going there.  When I started this blog that I have been neglecting due to well – life – I mentioned briefly becoming a stripper when I was in the middle of my breakdown.  Now I am here to elaborate.

First I will tell you I am not ashamed of being a stripper.  The other ladies there were just that – other ladies.  Women trying to make a living.  They had kids, lives, and it wasn’t a place where breaking the rules was tolerated even by the strippers themselves.  The majority didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, went home to their families and maybe even worked a day job.  Feet were tired and in rough shape from hours of being on them in those famous “stripper heels” that everyone now wears to their day job cubicle.  So don’t judge..really.

Now I was working for an ambulance service doing billing and accounting.  At this time I was taking Prozac and didn’t “feel” anything but still had LOTS of crazy running through my head.  I was just numb to it which brought its very own type of fear.  The fear of just not giving a damn.  I was a temp and they decided to hire me on full time with a promotion.  That was just too much – so I never went back.  I had played with the idea of being a “dancer”.   I wanted to do something completely, utterly different.  No desks, no real responsibilities – dancing and “easy money”.  So my friend and I went to one of the nicest clubs in town – lied about our previous experience (which was the norm) and they put us on the day shift.

Now one would think with all the partying and drinking I was doing that I would HAVE to be drunk every time I danced.  Nope -I decided I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of nor was I going to fear what I was doing. It not only was against club rules but against mine.  I was done being afraid.  I was always straight and sober.  My first run on the catwalk was like I had been doing it for years.  I was fearless. And it felt good.

No I am not suggesting everyone become a stripper or the like. However what I realized is that every night I was working out – really hard.  I danced and loved it.  I was drinking lots of water, wasn’t drinking alcohol or doing any other types of drugs.  It was helping me to get physically healthier.  Now what I hated was “asking for a dance” and I just couldn’t pretend very well to be someone that I’m not.  But when I was on stage I felt good, sexy, defiant.  I never felt in danger – the club owners made sure of that and the girls were all really tight.  So basically I was working out, drinking and eating healthier, resting more, got some self esteem back without giving away everything to everyone and I made a lot of good friends.  I started feeling better.

I could go home and my anxiety levels were cut in half – less thoughts – less crazy – more in control.  So after about a year I felt more like myself and after watching a new girl accidentally OD I decided it was time for me to get out.

So again – you never know who you are judging when you do – so just don’t.  I was a scared, hurting woman – I was a stripper – and those stripper heels helped me to save my life.

Be Strong.  Be Beautiful.


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