There was once a time, not too long ago, when I lived my life exactly the way I wanted. I felt sexy, vibrant, loved, and appreciated. I embraced my hyper-sexuality and exercised my creativity by starting an erotica blog. I wrote a story everyday and managed to create a small and devoted fan base. At the same time, I helped my boyfriend manage his glamour photography blog. I even sat for my own photoshoots and took classy, sexy pinup photos. I became Allura Fox, the person I always wanted to be. I was content and truly happy…and then I went back to work.
Although I loved being the sexy and creative Allura Fox and got such a satisfied high off the response to my work, I always knew I’d have to go back to work…eventually. After all, my new identity was possible only because I was fired my job. I could focus all my energy on writing because I didn’t have a job monopolizing my every thought and more of my time than it should. I finally had the freedom to be the person I always wanted to be.
Although I was applying for jobs, I fantasized about being Allura Fox full time. I researched how to publish an e book. I researched how to become a freelance writer and how to make money off a blog. I took professional photos to promote myself. I desperately wanted to avoid going back to a career that caused me to have frequent panic attacks and triggered my mental illness. I wanted to make a change.
However much I wanted to be Allura Fox, reality slowly crept in. I needed money. I was a single mother to a four year old. Child support only covered half of her expensive daycare, which I had to keep her in because there were no vacancies at cheaper daycares and if I got a job, I’d be left with no child care. I was fired mid-May and by the mid-July, I interviewed exactly one time, for a job I applied to shortly before I was fired. They asked if I could start the next day. When they didn’t call back, I called them only to discover they decided not to fill the position. I went from elation to crushed within a day. None of the temp agencies had called me back. The market was flooded with unemployed lawyers. It was damn near impossible just to get on a temp list.
So I drank a little too much and continued writing. I could still get high from the praise my stories garnished. I still had my fantasy. There was still hope that I could somehow make it as a writer before I had to find a job making real money. There was still hope that I could find a job in a different career, even if it was just an alternative legal career. I still had a man who loved me and had brought me into his hobbies. I could spend more time with my child. I enjoyed my summer for the first time since college.
Eventually, I managed to get a temp job reviewing legal documents. I fell back down to reality and it was truly a slap in the face. I found myself in a room full of lawyers, all doing the most monotonous, boring work ever. We were expected to work 12 hour days for very little money and were generally treated like crap for this privilege. We wouldn’t know how long a project would last or when the next one was coming. To make matters worse, my boyfriend dumped me. I sunk into a depression and my work on the blog came to a halt.
After a total of nine months of unemployment and all of two interviews, I received a job offer from the first place I interviewed back in July. If I hadn’t been absolutely desperate, I wouldn’t have taken the job after how they had treated me, but as my situation was dire, I not only took the job, I cried from happiness when I got it.
So for a brief time, during the summer of 2013, I got to be the person I wanted. My circumstances are different now. I have a one year old and it’s even harder to find time to write, but I’m writing when I can and trying to enjoy it as a hobby. Maybe, someday, I can be that person again.