“I’m Surprised You’re Not a Stripper”

When I had thought about starting a writing blog, I was looking at old journals, getting ready for my move from Boston to NYC this past month. There were so many entries that only just touched on extremely significant moments in my life. These were moments that I don’t think I ever fully reflected on or overcame; moments that have changed the way I think and act as a person. It was almost funny, reading these entries, some of them I didn’t even remember; some of them I was utterly shocked at.

My voice as a young woman was kind, sweet, and very naive. I was walked on, quiet when I was faced with an injustice, and always thought the best of people even when I shouldn’t have.  I admit that I still do this at times, but I am much more aware of the cruel power some people in this world find joy in.

A friend recently made a comment to me over a glass of wine. We were talking about our previous relationship experiences and parental upbringings, “I’m surprised you’re not a stripper!” she said. That has stuck with me since. Other people have said similar things to me after hearing personal stories. I take it as a compliment that I have overcome so much, but I know that these experiences have affected me and I need to address them. Therapy is expensive and I’m just a poor artist, so here is my blog, my outlet, my own personal therapy session.