A sliver of light

The author heading out for a travel trip, while still staying grounded with the concept of "home".

Last night I attended my first group therapy session. I’m on a waiting list to be matched with an affordable professional for my individual journey. Hopefully one versed in dealing with anxiety and eating disorders.

But in the meantime, it was suggested that I try out the motivation drop in group that meets online weekly. I was told it might help simply to feel supported, or to listen to what others are saying about challenges they are facing.

It was only recently that I began speaking out publicly about these issues that affect my daily life. In the past, I felt I had to put on a brave face, smile at the world, and never let on that inside was a constant battle. That a relentless conversation went on in my head about whether it was okay to eat, did I earn the right to eat, was I going to be worthy of eating, was it really necessary to eat.

And like the proverbial snake that swallows its own tail, my anxiety - an entity completely separate and stemming from traumatic experiences in my past - fed the eating disorder. While the eating disorder - an issue with roots in my childhood - increased my anxiety.

Ironically, now that I am safe, in a happy and loving romantic situation, building a life in a warm, welcoming, accepting community, both the anxiety and eating disorder have escalated. That’s not unusual.

Known as “decompression” or “safety paradox”, this phenomenon occurs because the lessening of the major stressors give space for the previously suppressed emotions or reactions to surface more readily.

Let’s face it. No one has the luxury of dealing with your issues when stuck in survival mode. So it makes sense, that shizzle comes up when you feel safe.

Unfortunately, health care being ridiculously lacking in the States, means that even when you have the time, and are ready to face your challenges head on, finding affordable care may not even be an option.

So thus I found myself on a Monday night, with insurance that covers nothing, still on a waiting list to be matched with a therapist, and attempting a free drop in group session so I could FEEL proactive in my care.

Now nothing makes me more nervous than discussing myself with a group of strangers.  (Except for discussing myself with people I love. That’s even worse.) Although I’ve been in the public eye for years, until recently, much of my life remained private. Ask those who have known me “well”, and they will recite the 20 or so litany of facts about my life which I allowed to be revealed. Without many details to flesh out the experiences.

It isn’t that I want to remain mysterious. But it seems like the more information people find out about my “unusual” journey, the more questions they have. Until at times I felt I was sitting on a witness stand while a jury of my peers interrogated me about every facet of my existence. Often accompanied by comments such as “but how is that possible” or “that’s just not done”. Only in my life it WAS possible, and I DID do it.

But in the past six months, I’ve wanted to share more with my community, and with my loved ones. Perhaps in the naive wish that a part of my story would positively affect someone else’s journey by providing inspiration or hope, or an example of what might be possible. 

Or maybe I am just tired of being seen ONLY as the fantasy in the pictures, and want others to know the girl inside who has such faith in this world that she keeps going, even when it seemed like too much.

Funny enough though, it’s much easier to share with 3000+ strangers on my social media profiles, than a small intimate therapy group dedicated to helping in some way. I felt connected to my online community as you all have been witnessing and commenting on my journey for years. However I recognize that you are not equipped to offer the help I need to heal and be healthy.

If I want to continue to show up for you, and those I love in my life, I need to show up for myself.

So I found myself last night, lighting some candles, pouring myself a glass of water, and settling in front of my computer.  I laugh a bit this morning, because I had even set up my ring light to make myself look as bright and healthy as possible. Funny now, because no one saw my face. 

All video - except for the facilitator’s - was kept off. An attempt to preserve privacy, but also to perhaps encourage the freedom to share without worrying how we all look. And as this was a group populated with those of us in the sexy spicy industries, I would imagine it must have felt a relief to some to be able to just speak without our appearances being a distraction.

At first it was a bit awkward. We introduced our preferred name for this session (I just used my own name), our pronouns, and whether we might feel like sharing. It seemed like NO ONE was interested in doing so. And I felt my anxiety already start to spiral. What was I doing here? Were we going to sit in silence the whole time after the introductions?

Yet I sensed that people wanted to speak or contribute. So after a few tense moments, a couple people spoke up. And we gave emoji reactions, contributed in the group chat, or offered a response based on our own experiences.

I felt a bit uncomfortable still. As though I was sitting in a dark room listening to disembodied voices. A part of me wanted to leave the Zoom. But then the facilitator asked if anyone was doing something difficult and leaning into being “uncomfortable”. And my heart screamed “yessssss!”

So I turned on my audio and spoke up. 

I shared how I was back in the adult entertainment world full time and loved it. But that almost none of the people in my life that I was close to were. That here I was, for the first time, wanting to share my journey with my partner and polycule, and stay in a community and put down roots. Me, the little gypsy who gets claustrophobic when she has too much “stuff”, wanted a home. That in itself was weird.

But even more so, I felt like I was trying to fuse two different worlds together, all while trying to deal with anxiety and an eating disorder and rebuilding my financial stability after the pandemic and a devastating experience destroyed it.

There was all this good happening in my life, I said, which sometimes felt like too much. Because in the back of my mind I kept wondering when the other shoe would drop. When would my loves not love me back because I was real, and not just a fantasy on a screen or stage. When would they say, “no we don’t want you to come home. This is not your community. Get out.”

At first there was silence. I felt so embarrassed. Had I said something wrong? Maybe people thought I was bragging about having good in my life. Perhaps I was foolish to share.

Then the group chat came alive with comments, and several people spoke up saying they had felt the same way when things went right in their lives.

I exhaled, not even realizing I was holding my breath. 

The facilitator explained that according to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, love and community were somewhere on the third tier. And that it made sense that now that my basic needs - of food, shelter, safety - were being met, my desire for my social needs were igniting my triggers. Even when those were now being met. Because those needs are considered by our society to be more of a luxury.

The facilitator posed a question to the group. “So how can Tink (or all of us when this happens) stay more mindful and more present with what is actually happening - all the beauty in her life - when her anxiety gets triggered? How can she see what is her reality, instead of the fears in her head?” 

It’s a question my partner and I have talked about frequently. He gave me a helpful tactic in which he invited me to look at the “evidence” in front of me. For example if I am worried that he really doesn’t want me in his life, I pause to notice how much space he has created for me. The time he intentionally carves out in his busy week to be with me. The ways he steps out of his comfort zone to offer extra affection or listen to experiences or concerns outside of his wheelhouse. Many times this tactic helps. 

But sometimes the panic is too large for such rational logical progressive thinking, because the memories of past trauma are flooding in and coloring my perceptions. Or on a physical level, I simply haven’t eaten enough to allow my body to have the energy for this kind of thinking. What then?

One of the participants offered this beautiful suggestion. She stated that in moments when her thoughts were no longer in the present, she stepped outside. She found a sliver of light on the ground and focused her energy on looking at that. She took a few breaths. 

And then she noted the beauty of that one piece of light. She reminded herself that this moment of light was exactly how it appeared right now. That it would change later and never be quite that same light again. But that when it changed, it could STILL have a beauty in the next moment and the next. So she appreciated what was happening right now that she could see and feel and witness. And brought herself back to the reality that light would still happen even when it changed moments later.

It’s interesting how the things we know to be true, are more solidified when reinforced by others. Such as my partner’s suggestion to look at evidence, or the group participant’s analogy of light in this moment. I realized as I stayed on the call that sometimes it’s not about learning what we don’t know, but reminding ourselves what we do know, that can make all the difference.

Now if this was a brilliant little story, I would declare the light shone into my soul, and my heart felt whole and healed after group session. That I floated away on fairy wings never to worry about acceptance or love or what to do next, ever again.

However life is not a neat little packaged short story. It’s messy and raw. Gritty and real. Wonderful and passionate. And full of moments and emotions and connections. Much is in our control. And there’s also a lot to deal with beyond our control. 

Last night was just a teeny tiny dabble into the work ahead of me to have the happy and healthy existence I desire so greatly. And the path sometimes seems daunting in the face of all the minutia that consumes my time simply in the course of day to day life.

But I’m willing to keep trying. Maybe even show up to more group sessions as my travel schedule permits. Keeping my fingers crossed that I get matched with an affordable individual therapist soon. 

And I’ll keep sharing with you all too. In the hopes that my messy little life, provides a light to those who need it as well. 

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll step outside, and find a sunbeam to view for a moment.Stay strong out there peeps. I love you all and thank you for being a part of my journey.

Xoxo
Tink

​-----------

PS - Being mindful of other’s private sharing is very important to me. Someone else’s story is NOT mine to ever tell. So when I relate moments from therapy or group, know that I will never tell anything that isn’t my own story or experience. I may share tips and suggestions brought up, or the facilitator’s questions. But I will never tell someone else’s life details or experiences. Healing is an important journey. And I hope all feel safe when in a space with me. It is MY choice to share on here. I would never take away the right to that safety or choice from another human.

---

Have something to say? Feel free to comment below. Want to support Tink's writings? Click the Cashapp link here to become a patron of her work!