Finding Self Love in Sex Work

Spoiler alert: I never truly loved myself.

If you grew up like I did, you probably read that sentence and thought, "Well, duh. You're in sex work." In the religion and home where I spent my youth, sexuality and sex work were unequivocally a sign of low self-worth, desperation, and sinfulness. Sex work wasn't for people who had self confidence; it was for people with mental illness and an inability to feel anything but loathing for themselves.

It was a sad and heartbreaking narrative.

I grew up learning to repress myself and find sexual expression to be shameful. I feared the innate draw of it, even as I grew up and began facing the normal scrutiny of a teenage girl in America. I grew breasts in middle school and had men my father's age hitting on me and asking to take me out. I couldn't find clothing that hid my shape enough without being questioned about being shy. I couldn't ask questions of the adults in my life about the changes in my body.

I turned to the internet. I found content that set unrealistic expectations. Found guilt from viewing these things that I knew weren't meant for me but were too taboo to look away from. I found guilt in feeling a draw to these things that I was supposed to be disgusted in (at least until after marriage, at which point I could indulge in the most vanilla and basic forms). I never knew about the various parts of my body, because the idea of even looking, asking, or exploring were too sinful for me to now be completely afraid of.

In my 20s, I started to explore, just a little. I drown myself in guilt and shame for both not being sexual enough compared to some of my peers and for being curious at all when it wasn't what a proper lady was supposed to do. I got involved with a guy I didn't like that much, let him explore parts of my body that I had never even touched, and disassociated because it was such an out of body experience to not truly enjoy something that every porn-o I had ever watched had told me was supposed to have me gasping and shaking and screaming out his name.

And then, in my 30s, well after leaving my childhood faith and doing trauma recovery work from my relationships with family members, I had that underrated epiphany where something just snapped into place in my brain. I decided I was no longer going to fear myself and my body and my intuition.

I started to explore, and in entering the world of sex work, I felt like myself for the first time. It's hard to quite describe the way it feels when your brain seems to step back into your body and no longer feels that disconnect. To feel more fully in tune with your brain, your heart, and your gut. As I began exploring sexuality in sex work, while holding firmly to boundaries and taking a dominant role, I began to learn how to trust myself and love the body I had feared for so long. The "flaws" I had perceived due to other's cruelty were things I began to love in myself, because they were no longer an enemy. They were a fully embraced part of me that was an accomplice to my joy and pleasure, rather than a potential trigger for something I feared.

Thick thighs, large breasts, even the roundness of my stomach were no longer things to feel self conscious about. They became things I could show off or hide depending on my mood, all in the same outfit. They became part of my exploration and identity. They became part of me instead of something I tried so hard and long to escape from. I found myself falling into online sex work with enthusiasm, because what could be more fun than people paying to see you in silky lingerie and then telling them to fuck off when they asked for more than you were ready to give? There is so much power in showing off and still holding your boundaries. There is so much power in taking back ownership of your own body, especially as a woman, and still knowing that people crave and want more but don't have the power to sway you into giving it.

It empowered me to explore other things beyond simply indulging in fantasies and softcore pleasures. It catapulted my desire to test the other waters I'd long been scared to breach.

I wrote a book.
I started an e-commerce store.
I started wearing my thoughts and beliefs proudly and calling out other people's bullshit when it occured.
I stopped blaming myself for other people's issues.
I stopped taking on the responsibility of guarding other people's opinions of me.
I embraced myself, my abilities, and my own innate inner Goddess.

Sex work, in a sense, saved me.
And for now, I plan to indulge and explore until it no longer excites me, and no longer serves me, and I feel ready to instead dedicate my time to pursuing other interests.