Anniversaries

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have...

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have...

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have...

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have...

Where do I start with how my life has changed because of the anniversaries I am experiencing today?

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... rediscovered the joy of writing for an appreciative audience, reaffirmed my creative nature, and remembered how much richer my life feels when I am examining it through written words.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... changed from a slut to a sex worker, from an adventuresome and promiscuous hotwife in a non-monogamous relationship to a phone whore, from someone with opinions about sex to someone whose experience of sex is worth enough money to pay most of our bills.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... faced my limitations in sometimes torturous ways, and found an abundance of strength in myself, which I had always hoped would be there if I needed it.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... grown from a temporarily self-restrained, religiously conservative woman-child into a confident, sensual woman who was deeply influenced by the freedom of his open relationships, and deeply motivated to avoid the pitfalls he repeatedly stumbled into.

Where do I start with how my communities have changed since the anniversaries I am experiencing today?

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... rediscovered the joy of mentoring others along my path, because this blog has turned into a magnet for new PSOs seeking friendly advice, some of whom I now gratefully count among my friends and support network.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... interacted sexually with an astonishing variety of men, a few of whom I now gratefully count among my friends and support network, which has widened my understanding of the world, driven my already-high libido to the point of requiring daily masturbation, and involved me in a community of sex-positive sex workers which I am honored to join and support.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... shifted how I fill my tank socially from friendly interactions with colleagues during and after work, to online chats and emails and phone calls with friends and family far and wide who I was often too busy to reconnect with when I was working as an IT professional, supplemented by tossing around my opinions on online forums for fun.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... lost all my grandparents, but gained a brother-in-law and nieces and my husband's parents, so the dynamics of the group called "family" have continued to change, but the love and support has never wavered at all.

Where do I start with how I feel about the anniversaries I am experiencing today? 

In the five months since blogging about being a phone sex operator, I have... felt intensely grateful for the creative outlet, amused myself, annoyed myself, entertained myself, and loved the feeling of having a fantastic treasure chest of memories to sift through on rainy days.

In the six months since becoming a phone sex operator, I have... felt sexy, dead sexy, ridiculously sexy, outrageously sexy, powerfully sexy, submissively sexy, domineeringly sexy, creatively sexy, intelligently sexy, playfully sexy, intensely grateful, and sometimes, when I've been very fortunate, I have felt helpful.

In the twenty-two months since inexplicably developing a mysterious neurological vertigo, I have... felt anger, sorrow, pride, relief, frustration, joy, gratitude, and peace with my disorder, my care, the medical profession, the insurance industry, the loving people who have helped me, and myself: all those feelings toward all those things.

In the eighteen years since my father had his fatal heart attack, I have... felt so sad every January 16 that I cannot call him and yell at him for being a selfish sonofabitch for leaving so soon, and I have felt the loss of his perspective on my careers, my relationships, and the wonders of our electronically social age that I know he would have loved.

Where do I start with today? 

The same way I start every day: grateful to be enjoying a life worth living, but today, probably, with a little extra space.