Who am I?
Anyone who has seen Les Miserables will remember the scene where Jean Valjean, confronted with his sordid past, questions "Who am I?" Is he a respectable business man or a desperate ex-con on the run? Of course, he is both. The new life he has built for himself doesn't entirely cancel out the past. Much as he tries to deny it, his old life as a convict has woven itself into the fabric of his personality. Even though it is invisible from the surface, Jean Valjean's past is as inseparable from his future as the sub-basement is from a skyscraper.
Who am I?
Ever since I left the dancing world in Fall 2012 (Oh my GOD! was it that long ago?!) I have been wondering about that. There was never a "last day" of work at the bar. I just left one day and never went back. It took me at least a month before I could think in terms of "I used to be a dancer." After all, dancing was what I did for 9 years previously. Dancing was my first having-my-own-place, paying-my-own-bills job after high school. Dancing paid for my first home and a couple of car notes. Dancing literally put food on my table during most of my son's childhood. Aside from a short time in emergency medicine and my part-time job driving a horse carriage, dancing was the only job I ever really loved. Dancing made me happy.
When people asked me what I did for a living, I never said, "I dance in a bar." I always said, "I am an exotic dancer!" I was proud of it. I was proud that I was still making money dancing, even into my 40's, and I was proud of what I had done with my body. I was proud to be "old school," trading in fantasy and emotion, and not stooping (much) to simple uninspired physical stimulation. I felt strong and beautiful and able to keep up with any girl half my age, dance for dance, dollar for dollar.
Things change. My God, how they change....
Sitting on my ass with my nose in a book did stuff to my body, stuff I am anything but proud of. The first set of pictures I did since I have been done with school made me cry. Stranger yet, at my new job I don't talk about where I have been or who I used to be. I am back in health care. I wear a uniform and braid my hair down the back and look very clean and wholesome. My husband has worked for this same company for 12 years and I know there must be some people here who remember me from my stripping days, but no one has said anything. The official sotry is that I was home with my son since he was born, and I am sticking to it.
But like my favorite fictional character Jean Valjean, my past is still with me. You don't walk away from a 24-year career (with a few holes, it's true) and take nothing with you. Dancing was noat just what I did for money, a dancer was who I was.
So now who am I? I feel as if no longer relating to the world with my sexuality front and center, I am changed in some fundamental way. It's hard to describe, but I am a little more reserved now. I feel I have to think twice before I say something, because I no longer know how people might take it. What was appropriate to say in the bar, while wearing lingerie and sipping wine, is not appropriate to say to a patient or a co-worker. The street clothes I used to wear to and from work send a message I no longer wish to broadcast. What has changed? Is it just my surface presentation, or has there been a deep fundamental shift? Can a health-care professional be the same person as a stripper?
Just who the hell am I?
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