Maintaining Your Mental Health as a Sex Worker

I'm an autistic introvert who works a job that depends on connecting with people. A job that society says is wrong, dirty, and shameful. A job that puts me at increased risk for interpersonal and systemic violence. However, I also have a job that allows me to meet people from many different walks of life. A job that makes me feel confident in my bodily autonomy. A job that gives me genuine pleasure in so many ways and has helped me grow into who I am today. In our capitalist society, most of us work for the majority of our adult years. It stands to reason that our work has a fundamental impact on how we see ourselves and the way we experience our mental health. This is a challenge in our day and age for most, but those who work maligned jobs carry stigma on top of the daily struggles.

I'm often curious about how other providers feel about their work. How does it impact their mental health? I have had some of my best mental health days and my worst mental health days since beginning sex work, and I’ve never really talked about it with another provider. This work is so deeply personal because we’re connecting with people in vulnerable states (both us and them), and time with us is the product. This structure makes it challenging to maintain one’s confidence and a sense of security when you are struggling to get clients. It’s extremely looks-driven, and it often magnifies the stratifications in our society in which people are already marginalized. Couple that with the financial reality of needing clients, and you can get a recipe for stress, anxiety, and low self worth. 

I have had some of my best mental health days and my worst mental health days since beginning sex work, and I’ve never really talked about it with another provider.

To make matters worse, the current political environment across the world remains (and in some places further entrenches) anti-sex work. Maintaining your mental health care as a sex worker in the midst of all of these factors should be considered an Olympic-level sport. It is not the impact of the work itself; it is the container in which we do that work that weighs so heavily. A container that makes us jump through hoops for our own safety and security all while devaluing the work. 

As someone with a fascination for mental health care, I often find myself reading about the ways in which society harms people emotionally. This is disproportionately true for those experiencing multiple layers of systemic oppression. For sex workers, the impact on mental health can be huge. Unfortunately in the United States, access to quality mental health care is limited and typically is the least accessible to those who need it most. This is largely due to our abysmal healthcare system and the insurance companies that limit coverage for mental health care for many, paying mental health care providers poorly and pushing them into the private sector.

So what's a whore to do when they need mental health care support? 

• Find a support group: Many support groups that center folks with marginalized identities are low-to-no cost. Check out your local organizations that support sex workers and community mental health centers for options.
• Utilize already existing peer spaces: If you’re struggling with something, there’s probably someone else out there who is too; you’re not alone.
• Create your own peer support space: If it doesn't exist, build it!
• Lean on your support system: Who are the real ones you can go to at any time?
• Pull from your own resources: Develop a care plan for hard days that you can turn to for steps to follow when you’re not at your best

When I'm having a rough day, I like to consider my care plan. It starts with resources within myself I can lean on–things like affirmations, mindfulness, and breathing exercises. The next step if I’m still needing support is activities that bring me joy: re-watching favorite campy horror movies, baking a chocolatey dessert, playing with my dog. Moving further on, there are people I can turn to for distraction, people I can turn to for comfort, and people I can rely on to show up in times of crisis. Having a care plan allows me to feel like I have an infrastructure of support, even if I can’t talk with a professional.

It would be glaring to not acknowledge that these are all individual-level solutions to what are systemic-level issues. This is not an endorsement of toxic positivity or the idea that one can 'manifest' their way out of oppression (or depression, for that matter). However, in a world that does not care about us, we can’t be holding our breath for change. We need to build our own systems of support within our communities, and that starts with caring for ourselves so we can also care for our peers.

I’ll leave you with this meditation to reflect on:

I am grounding in my sense of self.
Who I am matters,
regardless of my work. 
Who I am,
at my core
is kind, good, thoughtful.

There are parts of me that can be mean.
Parts of me that believe I am
not worthy of care
or kindness. 

When I connect with
and listen to these parts,
I can empathize with their fears.
I understand
that they are doing their best
to try and protect me,
To harden my armor
To build my walls
but I can tell them I’ve got it.
I am held.

They can step back.

Are you a sex worker with a story, opinion, news, or tips to share? We'd love to hear from you!

We started the tryst.link sex worker blog to help amplify those who aren't handed the mic and bring attention to the issues ya'll care about the most. Got a tale to tell? 👇☂️✨