Porn and My Parents

I digress for a bit from the nonsensical adventures of my single sex life to discuss a very telling and honest issue with which I am currently faced.

Since leaving the field of therapy and instead embarking into the world of sex, sales, and pornography, I’ve had trouble keeping myself on task in regards to my own self care.

Translation?

Instead of having therapists as co-workers who help keep me grounded and at peace, I now have cock, balls, and cunt to help ease my woes.

Not quite the same touch, both literally and figuratively.

So, with that said, I’ve started seeing my therapist again.

I also booked a ticket back to Jersey in efforts to to escape LA for a week.

It’s funny, because I moved to LA to escape Jersey.

While I initially lied to myself in the beginning about leaving Jersey to go to school out here, the honest-to-God truth was to escape my literal comfort zone:

The same friends, the same people, the same town, the same scene, the same ASININE JUDGMENT I faced by my parents on a daily basis.

Suffice it to say, I can now honestly say to myself and others that I moved across the country simply to be as far away from conforming to all the SHOULDS and SHOULDN’TS as I could.

ANYWAY, what prompted the career change from formal Marriage and Family Therapist to informal marriage and family therapist through the avenue of instructional porn (REALLY I’ve heard I save marriages!) was actually my parents being here in California this past May…

It was at the terminal stage in my educational career (GRADUATION!), of which I had been mindlessly embarking for the past 20 years of my life, and I was faced with an overwhelming pile of questions and directions in the form of,

“Well what are you gonna do now that you’ve graduated? THIS is what you have to do! Now you have to get a job, and then get licensed, and then you have to be a licensed therapist, and then you have to live your life as a therapist from then on out, and you have to make sure you have benefits and a 401K because that’s all you work towards in life to have benefits and a 401K for when you retire so you can die happy without too much debt! So go ahead and just DO THAT ALREADY MAKE SURE YOU DO IT BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT YOU HAVE TO DO!!!!!!!!”

AAAAHHHHH!!!

Nothing like having my parents unravel what 6 months’ worth of therapy has done for me.

Needless to say, I went into a spiral of “BUT I JUST WANNA FUCK AND WRITE AND WRITE ABOUT FUCKING” pity party, as I vehemently resisted the idea of now becoming a therapist BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I WENT TO SCHOOL FOR AND THAT’S WHAT I HAVE TO DO NOW.

With all that said, I suffered an emotional breakdown of epic proportions, consisting of immediately locking myself away in my bedroom for the next seven days the second my parents left (I love my parents more than the world itself but if I could’ve kicked them out of my car without stopping to have to take their suitcases out of my trunk I would’ve GLADLY done it).

I left my room only to pee, feed Lola, and refill my water glass. I survived on eating from the gigantic bag of carrots that I kept at my bedside and showered only twice in the interim.

What can I say? I had a passion for something that was socially unacceptable, professionally unheard of (from my understanding of it), logically unsound, and financially ridiculous considering all the time and money I put into grad school.

But the passion was there and there was no ignoring it.

So I left the field completely and instead embarked on fulfilling my endeavor of spending my days writing about sex.

Surely enough that’s exactly what I’m doing now, despite what I was told I could and couldn’t do.

And would you believe that my parents are 100% behind me on this?

God bless ‘em.

After they left, I ignored their calls and texts for the next three months, terrified of how they would react if I told them I was going to abandon everything I’d been working towards for my entire life.

And here they are more proud of and supportive of me than they’ve ever been.

Go figure.

Jesus fucking Christ (!), I just looked at how long this post was getting and realized I meant only to say one thing:

That I am going back to Jersey, I’m seeing my parents for the first time since my cosmically dramatic emotional breakdown, and I am unable to book a therapy session prior to doing so.

Wish me luck world.