They Say I Have A Problem With Commitment

It happened somewhere between dragging a huge backpack and ripped, overflowing duffel bag to the laundromat and trying to – unsuccessfuly – turn on my laptop, which contains all my files and documents, my primary form of communication with the outside world. It was a realization that I can’t afford to live somewhere with insuite laundry, or even a new laundry bag to carry my things in. It was the realization that if I have to buy a new computer, I can’t afford it, partially because I don’t make very much when I could be earning much more and partially because I spend my money on things like alcohol and weed. It was one of those life shifts where you know, you just know that you’re making a change and sticking to it. When you know something’s done and finished with.

I can remember one as far back as 13. I got home with my report card – a few A’s, couple of B’s, maybe one or two C+’s, below par for my usual A-filled report card. High school was proving harder than I’d expected, mainly because I didn’t know how to do homework (I still don’t, really, and I’m done my marketing certification in 2 weeks). My brother came home with slightly lower grades than mine, higher than his usual near-failing reports. Guess who got shit and who got praise? After my parents were done chewing me out I decided I was going to stop giving a shit about school – a decision that got me experimenting with drugs, skipping classes, and bombing out on any shots I had at scholarships.

The opposing memory to that one is my shift back into some form of motivation. At 15 I decided over the course of a weekend that I didn’t want to spend time with my best friend Asia anymore. We’d been tight friends for months, made out once just to experiment, and easily spent 5 days a week together, if not more. She was the kind of friend I wrote notes to in all my classes and shared all my secrets with. She was getting into the rave scene and craving the thrill of partying while I decided over 2 days that I didn’t want to go that way. I came to school on Monday and started ignoring her, refusing to explain why – mainly because I didn’t really know why, I just knew I had decided to and that it was important. I spent a few months eating lunch alone on the bleachers, but the decision to start eating lunch alone got me into theatre, which led to my relationship with my high school sweetheart, Elaine. Theatre got me to totally clean up my act as I became a workaholic and Elaine made me fall head over heels in a rollercoaster of ups and downs. I was nuts about both: theatre and Elaine were my life for two or three years. Both relationships ended at about the same time, though I tried working it out with theatre longer.

Today I gave away my rolling papers and most of my lighters, and I’m going to throw away the papers I use for filters. The rum I had sitting on the oven edge is in a shopping bag of things I’m giving back or away to my friends. I’m selling the ecstasy I have sitting around since last summer and giving away the pot grinders. I’m also going to pass on the tight red dress a client gave me about a year and a half ago – my first professional ho outfit. I’m going to find a sex worker on the street and give it to her, because they’re the the ones that need the most help – and if I can’t help by donating money to shelters or volunteering my time, I can at least help them make a bit more money.

I’m not saying I’m quitting drugs and drinking forever. I’m not saying I’ll never work in the sex industry again. What I am saying is that I need to commit to giving those things up until it’s the right time to pick them back up again – if it ever is. Keeping reminders of those things in my house to tempt me is a bad idea – so out they go. And on I go, with my life. I’m committed to this – I will get my life back on track before I continue or return to drinking, drugs, or the sex industry. It’s time for something new and it’s only just beginning.