One More Night

(The story below was written by a good friend of mine about her past as a stripper. Our friendship began about 2 years ago. As I have come to love this woman, my love has grown for other ladies that are still out there....one more night. The story below was written for one of her classes- she is a full time college student at Lincoln Christian University. Her dream is to have a ministry to reach out to dancers and help them find the Light.)

One More Night

As I walk up the steps to the stage, I turn off my emotions. I become the robot that I have to be when I'm up there. With my heels tightly fastened and my head held high, I close my eyes even though they remain open, and I begin to feel the music. One more night, I tell myself, one more night in this darkness. As the night comes to an end and I count my money and leave, the drive home is so lonely and all I can think about is the nastiness I felt tonight. Even though I made the goal I set for myself, the hundreds in my pocket feel like pennies in my soul.

My children were always my escape. I only had to work 3 nights a week so it gave me plenty of time with them and being with them made me feel normal. But in reality, our life was never normal. Almost all my friends were dancers and they would constantly call me with all the drama that goes along with this lifestyle- the drugs, prostitution, boyfriends cheating on them, boyfriends beating them, and their kids being taken away. Sometimes I felt like I was the "Mother Teresa" of the stripper life- maybe that just made me feel better about myself. But I was far from better though, although I didn't always share their drama, I did my best to ignore the voice inside me calling out for help. It was a normal day to hear about my best friend being beat on or having another abortion. Us dancers needed each other, no one could understand us the way we could understand each other.

One more night I sat in the dressing room, starring at myself in the mirror. I would tell myself, "I hate my life. How did eight years go by so quickly? Is this all I'm ever gonna be?" So many years I've spent on that stage, numb to everything that really mattered. Money was my idol- my drug of choice. Money controlled my happiness.

I became close to a girl that I worked with, Asher was her stage name. In her face, I saw brokenness from years of heroin abuse and sadness. We would sit in the dressing room and talk about how she used heroin and lived in a whore house in Peoria. The stories would shock me and I couldn't even imagine how she made it through all that she did. I wondered, "Is that what people think about me? Do they feel shocked and feel sorry when they hear about me?" I was never ashamed to tell anyone that I was a dancer. I figured it was a legal job and I was supporting three kids alone so it was okay. I would always make up some excuse to convince myself that I wasn't doing anything wrong. But, the truth was that I was totally destroying myself and I didn't recognize the damage.

Asher and I would pal up at work and do whatever it took to con money out of whoever. Cocaine became our daily bread. I never let drugs get the best of me, but I did do them, lots of them. Asher couldn't control the drugs like I could though and I watched her go downhill fast. I started not seeing her at work and we slowly lost contact. Often, I would think about her and hoped she was safe. After some time I heard that she was badly addicted to drugs, was separated from her husband, and her children had been taken away from her by DCFS. It really bothered me and I started wondering about my own life.

My mother would constantly ask me to come to church with her. I worked on Saturday nights so I would use that as my excuse not to go. But, she would always keep asking. I always thought, "Why does she want me to go so bad? I'm a freaking stripper!" There would be special occassions when I would give in and go with her. Being at church was so emotionally devastating because I felt like I was already in hell. I was figity and anxious and felt a rush of negative emotions. I was mad at myself for being there because I felt like I was a hypocrite. I was mad at God for making me face my demons and I was mad at my mom for just not leaving me alone.

During the worship was the worst. Times before when I had gone to church I would hear the music but not listen to the words, but something changed one Sunday morning, God made me listen to the words. Every word in the songs cut like knives in my heart and all I wanted was the tears that were falling from my eyes to stop before someone would notice and I would have to explain something that I didn't even understand. I needed my numbness to take over but I couldn't shake this emotion. And then, as I was looking over the balcony scanning the crowds of hundreds, I see what I so badly at that moment needed to see- -Asher sitting in the front row. If God could change her and she could be there- then He could change me. I knew from that point on that my life was going to change. I felt God, I heard His call, and from that dark and lonely place, I walked to His light and I was free!

April 2008 I quit dancing. Breaking that tie was not and has not been easy. It continues to be difficult. Coming to God has left me broke, I've lost a lot of friends, and I've had a lot to change. But, I feel happy and proud to know that I am forgiven and if I die today then heaven will be my home.