I, Prostitute

Photo by Randy Tarampi on Unsplash

Society judges women (and men) for selling their bodies.
But what if most of us are doing the same thing—just dressed up as careers, routines, and respectability? Effectively selling our souls?

It seems to me that selling one’s soul is far more destructive to the psyche than selling one’s body. And yet, this quieter form of slavery is handed to us by… “the system.” Which is… what, exactly? Society as a whole? Our parents, doing what they believed was best? Fear-based decisions made on our behalf? A set of inherited rules we follow without ever questioning?

What I do know is this: I feel swindled.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a way most people would warn you about. But in the quiet, socially acceptable exchange of time, energy, and self… for survival.

We were promised happiness if we followed a simple formula—go to school, obey authority, go to college, get a useful degree, get a job, get married, buy a house, have kids… and live happily ever after.

Like a set of instructions. A script. Follow the program, and you’ll be rewarded.

But as I slowly checked each of those boxes, I became less happy, less fulfilled.

Somewhere along the way, we stop living—and started negotiating away pieces of ourselves.

I don’t feel good about myself after a long day in the soul-crushing career I somehow chose. I’m often tired, depressed, overwhelmed, or anxious. My body hurts from sitting all day. And I long for meaningful connection with my son and family—something that feels just out of reach after an exhausting day of unfulfilling work.

Caring for my family comes before caring for myself. And even that comes after work.

Once the workday ends, it’s on to cooking dinner, getting my son to activities, laundry, cleaning, feeding the dogs, paying bills… you get the idea. By the time it’s all done, it’s 9 p.m. I’m exhausted—and then, somehow, I can’t even sleep.

I spend far too little time caring for myself. And far too little time with my son, my sisters, or friends.

It’s so far from joyous times from days long past—from childhood and young adulthood, when I spent hours with people I enjoyed and loved, talking, laughing, being present. In person.

Now? There’s no time.

I catch myself snapping at my son and others because there’s always more to do than time allows. And I can’t help but think—our anxiety, anger, frustration, and depression are the natural result of this way of living. Constant motion. Constant productivity. Almost no space for joy.

I often feel judged—and judge myself—for my out-of-shape body, the weight, the weakness, the pain.

“Lazy,” the voice says.

But that’s not true.

I work hard. I put in long hours. And at the end of a mentally draining day, there’s just not much left. I feel like a robot. A cog. Executing the same routine day after day, as if I were programmed for it. Void of joy or fulfillment.

“Cry me a river,” you might say. “That’s life. Most of us do this.”

But really... is this good? Is this healthy? Are you okay with this?

Is this what God/Goddess - or the Universe - intended for us?

I don’t believe it is.

This is the system we were born into - conditioned by, long before we had any say. We weren’t taught to question it. We were taught to follow the rules. By the time something starts to feel off, it’s like waking up mid-program - disoriented, unsure how to reboot.

The system… it’s not neutral.

It’s shaped by governments, policies, and structures that often serve those already at the top—protecting wealth, power, and control. Rarely does the average person truly benefit.

Sure, we have jobs. We pay the bills. Maybe we even get a two-week vacation each year.

We play the part. Smile when we’re supposed to. Perform productivity. Perform happiness. Convince others—and ourselves—that this is normal.

But how many of us are actually happy? Fulfilled?

Some are. Some genuinely enjoy their work and their lives. But I suspect that number is shrinking as costs (not salaries) rise and demands increase.

And maybe others feel this too—but don’t say it. Because appearance is everything… right?

So what happens when you wake up to this in your 40s or 50s?

What do you do then?

Start over? Change careers? Walk away from stability when you finally have enough to get by? With kids in school, mortgages, debt… it can feel impossible.

Too daunting to even imagine a different path.

I wish I had seen it more clearly when I was younger.

I tell my son: don’t box yourself in with debt. Don’t blindly follow the broken script handed down from the generations before you.

Follow your heart. Follow your curiosity. And know you can change your mind.

Your greatest asset is your freedom—don’t give that away.

Yes, you’ll have to work hard. Yes, you’ll have jobs you don’t like. That’s part of life. But those jobs should be stepping stones—not cages.

Work toward something that matters to you. Something that feels alive.

Don’t chase the illusion of safety in a meaningless career just to keep up with the Joneses.

Break away.

Do the hard things so you can build a life you actually want.

Don’t become so busy surviving that you forget how to live.

Listen to your body. Pay attention to what feels right. Get out of your head and into your heart.

Take chances while you’re young.

God, how I wish I had.

Because in the end, two choices shape your life more than anything else: your career and your partner.

Choose wisely.

After high school, I wanted to work. But I was forbidden. And I was too afraid to believe in myself enough to try anyway—to leave home, to take a chance.

It didn’t feel like an option in my small, heavily controlled world.

I can’t go back and change that.

But I can encourage my son to live differently.

And slowly, I’m finding the courage to do things differently, too.

The world is changing. And those clinging to the old script may not be ready for what’s coming.

I hope to prepare my son for that future. And I hope I can find the strength to pivot in time to ride that wave myself.

Starting over after 50 won’t be easy.

But I’m sure it’s the best (and possibly only) path to real joy and fulfillment.

Because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life on autopilot - trading what feels like the last few pieces of myself away just to get by.

Without joy… without freedom…what is life, anyway?