Involuntary actions – part 2

Tags

abortion, Adoption, defunct pregnancy, exotic dancing, guilty, hiccup in time, partial surrender, pool room, pregnancy, Repression, Stripper, Stripping, teenage stripper, Torana Sunbird

[Read part 1 first]

Looking in the mirror I rolled my eyes. I’d no need for bigger boobs – they were already huge before raging pregnancy hormones had kicked in. They were a little tender, too. It was the one visible sign of my now defunct pregnancy and I fervently hoped they’d shrink again, eventually.

But otherwise I was fine, and with a few days rest I was back to ‘normal’. Only, no one knew I’d been pregnant except for my best friends. And we didn’t speak of it ever again.

It’d been all too easy. Thanks to my rather lucrative-if-seedy line of work, paying for the procedure wasn’t a problem and I could easily afford the time off.

But all the literature and movie portrayals of women having abortions had sucked me in. I believed the hype and found myself feeling guilty for not feeling guilty about what I’d done, as opposed to feeling guilty or remorseful at all. There were no tears for my lost child. No sadness at its ending. I never imagined how old it would be over the years, what it might have looked like or any of those things. From a very deep place within, I’d known all along it was the right decision for me…

And so I went on with my life as though it had never been, except of course for feeling bad about not feeling bad. Was I normal? Was I totally cold hearted? I couldn’t be sure. Of course, it never occurred to me that no one has the same reactions as another person, and that feeling bad about not feeling bad meant I couldn’t possibly be cold hearted. I just thought there was something wrong with me. But then, when did I ever think there wasn’t?

I was still working as a stripper although the fiery anger with which I’d danced had gone – a side effect of one too many stereotyped oafish men paraded in front of me as I (another stereotype myself), removed my lacy lingerie and pretended to be interested in the bug eyed men from all walks of life ogling my flesh mindlessly. Football clubs. Private events held by rich men for their friends’ amusement. Working class pubs all over town. Huge money-making events in Melbourne or interstate where strippers were just a side dish to the more extreme sex shows on offer. Married men at bucks parties. Ermm, yeah…

And then the 21st party I was booked for. Must’ve been someone’s idea of a bad joke because it wasn’t just a bunch of randy post-teen boys, but mums and dads too. Everyone was gathered in the pool room – literally a room with a pool in it. Completely. Unsexy. And just kinda naff.

I can’t recall the exact trigger that made me go back to my parent’s house or when. But it wasn’t the abortion. And I still hadn’t quit the “exotic dancing” industry. My sister was in the last year or two of high school, the same one I’d gone to and I know she was copping flack from the rumours that flew around the school.

Possibly it had something to do with wanting access to the car my parents had bought for my sister and I – my great aunt and uncle’s old Torana Sunbird. Maybe there was another reason, but to be honest I can’t remember.

However before I could move back into my parents’ place there was a Conversation To Be Had. Or maybe it happened the night I returned: Lots of Hard Questions and Answers, and plenty of Berating of My Actions.

Your boobs will sag down to your knees, I recall my mother saying… You dropped out of high school and you’re stripping? You never finish anything you start… think they both chipped in on that one…

Oh really? Are you sure about that? I challenged, I had an abortion, you know.

Silence.

Probably wasn’t as long as it felt. I could almost hear them regain their composure… Well yes, I guess you could say that’s something you finished… What? When? How?

More silence after brief answers designed to give away as little as possible.

Of course, I didn’t think about it but my mother’s emotions right then must’ve been intense. She’d been only a year younger than me when she nearly died giving birth to her first child and was then forced to give him up for adoption.

Two more people who knew about my abortion, and I’ve never talked about it with them since then either.

That was that, so I thought. A hiccup in time that didn’t mean anything to anyone. Not even me. Except for the guilt about not being guilty, of course.

And so we tentatively negotiated the terms of my partial surrender return to the family home, none of us sure what would happen next. No trust in any corner. No Conversations That Matter. I wasn’t giving up stripping, not yet, although my parents were opposed. Oddly though, I was asked to pay rent and I agreed.

Yeah, take the money I made by selling the right to look at my naked body and be damned…

[Read part 3]

~Svasti

History of a spiritual quest – part ii

Tags

acting, Bellydancer, Halloween, high school dropout, leaving home, magic, Melbourne, Newtown, NIDA, Pagan, paganism, Pagans in the Pub, performing, Stripper, Sydney, topless waitress, VCA, Wandering gypsy, witchcraft, Yellow Pages, Yoga

[Read part i first]

I left home permanently at age nineteen, though I’d lived away from home a couple of times before that.

Summary of a teenager

Some of the experiences of my teen years have been documented on this blog already, with more to come (see Timeline for a list of related posts).

If ya don’t have the time/inclination to read them, suffice to say I was a pretty unhappy, wounded and messed up kid. And read the summary below…

Before I turned twenty-one I’d already clocked up two different addresses. And then came my move to Sydney. Why was that again? Oh yeah…

Moving out of the family home wasn’t far enough away from my emotionally and physically abusive older brother. He could still turn me to ashes with one of his laser-like hate and anger filled glances, directed solely at me. Even though he couldn’t hit me any more, his hatred still cut deeply.

Then, I hadn’t finished high school properly and I dropped out of repeating my final year. Shortly thereafter I wound up working as a topless waitress and a stripper.

I also performed in all kinds of theatre productions (I’d been acting since my early teen years) and working as a waitress earning just enough money to make rent with a little to spare.

Somewhere in there I’d gotten into the party drug scene rather significantly, and at the time of my move still had a few years to go before I gave it up.

Wandering gypsy

I also couldn’t feel or see a future for myself in Melbourne. What I really wanted to do was go overseas, but I didn’t have enough money for that, and living away from home, I was having trouble saving anything.

Unsettled and flighty, I had no idea what to do with my life (I still struggle with that!).

However, I was auditioning for two famous drama schools (VCA in Melbourne & NIDA in Sydney). I already realised that if I got into NIDA, I’d be moving interstate. My next thought was: What if I don’t get in? What will I do then?

Speedily, I decided if that happened, I’d go to Sydney anyway. That decision brought sunshine and possessing possibilities to my world…

What happened next was, I auditioned and almost got in to NIDA, but didn’t make the final cut (and bombed the VCA audition). Disappointing as it was, I was excited about moving to Sydney!

I decided I’d try to get into NIDA again the following year, and in the meanwhile I’d study at the prestigious Actor’s Center in Sydney. That was the plan.

So I packed my meagre belongings, bought a plane ticket and landed in a brand new town – one that felt like home from the moment I arrived.

Pagan leanings

It’s fair to say I was fascinated by magic and witchcraft etc before I ever knew what they were. Like there was some kind of electric pulse that bleeped whenever I thought about such things.

And so, around six months after moving to Sydney and through a series of very strange events (a tale for another time perhaps… in which I ended up having a fling – twice – with a supposedly gay man), I was living at my third Sydney address in lovely inner city Newtown.

Back then, Newtown was still very gritty, artsy. Yuppies hadn’t discovered it yet and the vibe was all hippy/uni student-ish which suited me perfectly.

I spent half of my Sydney life there and I’ll always love that place passionately.

It was the launching pad for my career as a bellydancer, where I took my first ever yoga class, met my ex-fiancé, and began my spiritual quest in earnest – and much more.

So yes, I’d once again begun thinking about my interest in paganish things.

Only problem was I had no idea where to start. So… what does a girl do in the very early 90’s before the internet was widespread?

Picked up the Yellow Pages (print book) of course! I laugh about that now, but it seemed so logical at the time. Hey, perhaps I can find witches in the Yellow Pages!!

And it was Halloween.

I don’t remember what I looked up exactly. But I think I called the Sydney Psychic’s Hotline. Some kinda hotline anyway.

Spoke to this lovely man, who kind of freaked out when I told him what I wanted (I was still unsure of the labels).

Oh, you want to know about witchcraft? Paganism? Just so we’re clear, we don’t do any of that stuff HERE. But I can put you in touch with someone who does.

That was my introduction to T – a darkly witchy type, all dressed in black with his redwood bookshelves, better stocked than many a new age store. We met at his place (a short walk from mine), and discussed all things magical over a pot of tea. It was a tantalising sampler.

He also told me about a weekly event called “Pagans in the Pub”.

Yessiree… you read it correctly. Coz it was a group of Pagans getting together in a Pub. Get it?? Yukyukyuk!! And, tantalisingly, only two short blocks from where I lived at the time…

Even better, the next event was coming up that week. I was going and I’d meet up with T there. I couldn’t believe my luck!!

[Read part iii]

~ Svasti

The first time

Tags

Anger, Confusion, Debutant, First time, History, Lost, Marvin Gaye, Relationships, Sexual Healing, Stripper, Stripping

When she finally said yes, it wasn’t much of a decision to make.

After all, she was most of the way there already.

Angry, confused and reckless. Just eighteen, and not quite moved out of home yet.

It’s not like she spent a lot of time thinking things through.

She just said okay, I’ll do it. Then, she had to think about how, exactly. Covertly and perversely, selecting music from her parents’ limited and old-fashioned music library. Kinda lame really.

Then, the final steps were so mundane.

Surroundings were familiar. So were the people. The location. The activity. The beer.

Except that, someone stole her favourite t-shirt. Although everyone knew the culprit, she never did get it back. It’s probably the most prominent memory of that day.

But really, it really wasn’t so hard to do. Not physically or emotionally. Most of that was… numb, anyway. Not that she knew it right then.

She didn’t have to imagine herself elsewhere, either. Everyone in the pub was a familiar face, wanting her to do well. She wasn’t even nervous, really. There was no shame. No fear. Just… why not?

The day she crossed over from working as a topless barmaid to a stripper.

Dancing to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual Healing. Ironically.

Cue music. Move seductively, wearing white high heels purchased for her debutant ball just a couple of years ago. Eyeball the very familiar punters. Slowly remove prissy lingerie.

Til it was done.

But how did she get there? She couldn’t have told you then. Perhaps she can now…

~Svasti