I woke up today and my facebook tarot card was Death.

I know, I know, Death, not the scary card, not really (and thank god it wasn't the Tower, right?) but just a symbol of change, of things rebirthing, newness, new directions, the death of that which is now gone and the birth of something new.

(Actually, typing that out, I mistyped "birth" to make that sentence "the bitch of something new"- which is also often true. Just saying.)

Still, it was a bit of a kick in an already anxious, queasy stomach. The last thing I need now is more change, more adaptation to do. Sometimes I wonder if my attempts to accept and embrace change in my life has just marked me to the Gods as a sucker. And of course it can't come in halves, nope. I often end up in a situation where I'm struggling to catch my breath in between batterings of the change variety.

Apparently my blogs about the mono/nonmono debate and the GFE was too much for Mo, along with the time and distance making it difficult to stay in touch. He said he was with me out of insecurity, that being insecure kept him coming back for more- which is pretty much one of the cruelest things he could've said. In a way, I'm upset, hurt, sad, offended- in another it's almost a relief. It makes my decision to move to the UK much easier- as each thread is severed, it leaves me free to go my own way.

I'm shocked, to be honest, as how insulting he chose to be in the end, as he has a reputation as a nice guy, almost to a fault. I suppose I should be proud of him for being a dick, which is close to having balls, though not quite the same. ::sigh::

Add to that being confronted with Sh (who is a close friend that I still love dearly, annoyingly) and Sh's girlfriend (who I haven't met) last night while working on placement for an art project. I wanted to meet her- she seems very cool, into similar things, pretty, also from the balmy shores of California. I had wanted to meet her one on one, so we could get to know each other as individuals, without Sh there... instead of the ex meets current awkwardness that would otherwise ensue. But since she wasn't comfortable with that, I agreed to go to a party for her, as long as I could bring someone to make it a little easier anxiety-wise. I was cool with that. That interaction was going to happen tomorrow, and I'd have sat with it, done what I needed to feel ok, and chilled myself out.

Instead, I had to deal with it unexpectedly last night, on my own, nothing in place. And it was ok for about a half an hour, where I was friendly (I think) and tried to help with her project, chat with Sh a bit (who, I think, has no empathy about how uncomfortable this made me)... until I suddenly felt my anxiety grab my throat and stomach. Feeling hot, and like I was going to vomit, cry, or both at once, I hastily made my goodbyes and fled, feeling crazy and angry with myself for not being about to keep it together. And I feel like I kind of have to make an appearance tomorrow in order to be politic (and thank GOD La will be there to pay attention to me and pet my hair and prevent a panic attack) but I feel as I knew I would- that Sh's girlfriend doesn't really want to or care about making friends with me, that we're both doing this for Sh, and that Sh doesn't get how SHE'LL get comfort and security from him as aftercare, and I'll be tossed to fend for myself emotionally when I'm already rather fragile. Yay.

And then, today. Today was the declaration of intent for marriage, which scared me (as government anything tends to, to be honest, though I act otherwise). That bit went smoothly (E was amazingly supportive and comforting, which I'm truly grateful for), though the lady processing it wasn't really sure of her computer system... but the train. OMFG the train. First I missed the right train coming out, and managed to get lucky and take another right after- but on the way back, I was in Colchester, boarded the train, got all set up, when it was delayed, then cancelled. No signal. Not in one place, either, no, all the way from Colchester to London. No trains, no idea when there would be others, or what replacement bus service there'd be.

I just about crumpled on the platform to cry. I was so ready to give up. Even now there's tension so tight in my chest I feel difficulty inhaling and exhaling.

Thank god, seriously, for my friends. La has basically been helping me keep a grip on some semblence of sanity. Syph kindly made me a Spotify music list to cheer me up. T&A and H (who I'll have to make proper names for eventually) have been there for me to snuggle me and keep me busy (and often drunk- again, thank god).

When I have this much shit going on it's really hard to work. I'm anxious about money when I'm not working, but I'm getting so clenched up that I think I would offer a shitty session. As a Domme, I'd just spaz out and then cry for the rest of the time... or I'd go too hard, or something. As an escort I think I'd just disassociate, unable to handle all the shit in my personal life and caring about someone else.

And I'm going to say now, cause this pisses me off- NO, it's not about the fucking work. If anything, sometimes the work saves me, because it puts me back in the moment. If I had any other job I'd be on autopilot, and frankly, most bosses prefer you that way. I'm sick of feeling like I can't complain about my work or my personal life in the arena of my work without some agenda-riddled bitch of a "feminist" telling me how it's because I'm so terribly exploited by sex work. I hate feeling like I can't say my day at work sucked because I'll be letting down the sex worker side politically.

You wanna talk about exploited? How about the fact you have to get married to have any real rights if you and your partner are from two different countries? That's incredibly exploitative. How about not having access to free texting for my phone, or a proper bank account, because I don't live here legally yet, so I'm dependent on my savings and pay-as-you-go? Or how about the fact that unless you're a legal tenant, your landlord doesn't have to give your deposit back, or even justify to anyone why?

Still.

For all that anger, there's still a girl in me who is sad to have been dumped, to have been replaced, to have to face that replacement and smile pretty while her heart is acid burned.

I may be a hooker, or a dominatrix, or whatever, but ultimately, I'm still a girl.