Her Shattered Confidence  

Posted by H in

G. just suffered a major mood swing the other day. Let's just say, so as not to give too many clues, that she had quite a setback in her real professional career as some big shot school she wanted to transfer to let her down cold and without any form of justification.

This is the type of things that can get to you faster and deeper than you would think if you are not prepared for it or in a vulnerable position at the time it happens.

Like I said in previous posts, she's been focusing on her studies a lot more recently and for the last 3 months, and has produced the best results I've ever seen her. And as it happens, she has already some decent recognition in her field to know that she has a valid potential to grow as an artist and make a career out of her works.

So when she decided she wanted to get really back in the game and transfer to either one of the most well-known schools of her profession, she started going at it really hard again and to practice on a regular and intensive basis, perfecting herself and reaching new levels of expertise, I must say.

Still, amongst good results and positive others from various institutions (among which ones, some really popular ones), one of them simply shut down the gate and told her to back off. No reason, no comment, no appeal. And it kinda crushed her.

Though poor G. was quite satisfied of all the other positive answers and reviews, she expected all of them anyway. Whereas that one caught her by surprise, and here she goes going her personal stages of grief. Which sort of come in reverse order as opposed to the medical ones: acceptance, anger, denial and depression.

At first she acted as she usually does: as if it did not affect her. And as if it was expected (she said a few times she would probably not get in) and normal, as if good old Earth would be spinning the right way. Though of course I did not believe she did not feel a thing, she seemed to take take it quite well.

Then she became angry at their answer and their dismissive manners, to later enter complete denial and ramble and contest in every possible way their decision, claiming its impossibility and silliness. I won't judge in this difficult situation: I am a stranger in her professional worlds (plural, because I am both a stranger when it comes to escorting and her artistic moves). But being the devil's advocate that I am, I can still see valid points for her dismissal.

But I was still trying to be supportive (something I apparently really bad at, where my only authorized comments should be, if not "they are all idiots", at least in the same direction as hers, and not in anyway supportive, even for the smallest bit, of her detractors. Fair enough, I suck at this.

Anyway, following anger and denial came depression, under the form of an unstoppable flow of silent tears, inconsolable despair and immutable abandon of all hope. The darkest realization was finally here: her life was on a right path for a few years (even when she did not like it) and then even on the way to fame and glory (even though, now liking it, she had to commit to the side affairs that we talk on around this weblog), but had come to a stop. She had lately almost always taken the worst possible decisions, ruined her life, crushed her career by driving it herself into a dead-end made of shards of glass, and partially ruined my life and careers at the same time by means of perverse collateral damages and side effects.

Let's say it: she is a failure, and might has well stop everything altogether, just keep f*cking around with clients and go on with her life as she enjoy it with me and then become the bitter and hopeless old women she so much fears to end up living as.

Or so she thinks.

To be perfectly honest, if one had to ask me if her life is a failure or a success, what would I answer ?

I'd say she's taken crappy decisions. And I mean *really* crappy, and that she sometimes went against all possible reason, for no gain. That she had (and sometimes still had) this evil attraction for the
deadly-ending self-destructive spiral, so easily recognizable with many teenagers (me included back then). You think the world stink, you don't want to be a part of it, and you're so f*cking proud that when
the world comes around to give you hand, you stab it with a screwdriver, hit the ground and run. And though you know you're dead-wrong in your doing, you just won't accept it to anyone but yourself during depressing (drunk/baked/whatever) self-lament sessions.

But some of these crappy decisions still led her here where she is, and she managed them with, well, success. She took the hard path through the woods where after playing hide and seek with the bad wolf for a while, she jsut realized he was sort of her own nightmare and did not really exist, except in her own mind, and kept on marching and stepped right on him when he finally tried to confront her. She ignored him and carried on. She took useless crappy decisions (we all do), and she took necessary crappy decisions (and though we all do, some of us can't resolve to take them).

And that's where her successes reside, here and in managing to develop her abilities to fulfill her own dreams *while* marching through the forest and teasing the wolf.

She's talented, she's clever. She doesn't have 3 PhDs, but she's got that street-smart approach to life. Sometimes a bit dark, but to the point and efficient. Though sometimes, her candide attitude rushes back in all its naivity. Guess when you're a kid and you get to learn the hard way on the streets, you do get the street-smart moves, but you still get the kiddy brains. You still dream a little, from time to time. Because dreaming is harmless, isn'it ? And though you should know better, when life comes back with a vengeance to hit you hard again when you thought you'd finally vanquished the demons, you're still a bit surprised.

Some people never completely let go of this genuine approach. Fortunately, in my opinion, otherwise you live a disenchanted life. And as I used to be like this, I somehow know enjoy all the little miracles that happen in my life with her, though they put me sincerely back deep in the mud. But it's a delight.

So you hit a wall, you realize you are a sex-worker. An escort. A prostitute. Some people consider you a whore (because according to a dictionary, you are, no matter what), a naughty brain-less chick with no aptitudes, who is doomed to live in the shades of shame and its cortege of lies.

And when you look back at all these, and you see no future, and only this dark past, you can only give them the right to think so.

Well let me tell you, that is just wrong. And I say this not only for G., but for other ones like her, who also struggled, and did this because they had no other choices, or even more despicable ones. Though I'll always think you do have a choice, because in the end, doing it is a choice. You are the one dressing up or down, pulling the trigger when poiting the gun at another or yourself. But you still took this one choice out of a spectrum of horrible possibilities, and it might be just as good. It's here and it's done.

Many young (or older) girls and boys face and will face these type of decisions. Whether the choice was the only one or not, it was, in your own sphere of references, objectives, desires and needs, the right thing to do, as long as you embrace the ethical consequences for you, your entourage and society, and also the roots of your situation. You are not alone in this, and you did not reach this point only because of your mistakes, but because of all the previous mistakes made by others before you. This is not fate, this is not bad luck, this is just life. There's no explanation to it, no greater order. No great Evil or even greater Good.

When I see (or read) girls like G. or Amber [Being An Escort] who feel completely lost because of this, because things pile up, and that an history of mishaps and failures let them lose sight of her own magnificience, I feel sorry, not only for them, but for all of us who are partly responsible for their state.

In the end I could talk G. out of her misery, have her reach true acceptance that this rejection was not important, and that it would not be the last one. That maybe she was at fault or that this particular institution was, and that no matter what she still had a million possibilities of achieving what she wanted. Maybe not so easily, maybe not so directly, and maybe by struggling again as she always has been so far. And that it's also just how it is, how she is, and how it will have to be. That giving up is not an option, that she has achieved many beautiful things, and fill achieve countless great ones for years to come. And that it will hurt again on the way.

I just hope there are other ones to tell the same to the ones I don't know or cannot reach. The ones who feel depressed when facing other kinds of rejection, from loved-ones (or so-called loved ones. you don't get to pick your family, and you can't know what's hiding behind the mask of all the other relationships) or from the establishment. Those who don't have anyone to tell them they'll be OK, though they're kids make their lives a nightmare, their friends beat them and laugh at them or abandon them as a sinking ship.

They have all my (useless, nevertheless sincere) sympathy.

Confidence is like trust: it's a long way to build it up and earn it, and it takes the smallest grain of sand to clog the machinery and have it all disappear.


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