All for Love Coaching

I’ve been in a “helping” field for my entire adult life. On a resume it would be branded a “human services” field, but most people use the former wording when discussing it. “I became an XYZ because I wanted to help people!” “Oh you’re so noble for helping XYZ demographic!” Hearing either of these statements makes me feel kind of grody. And I never really knew why. Especially because when I tried to formulate my own career desires, it generally also boiled down to “help” someone do something. Then, on a recent call, one of my clients absolutely blew my mind. Casually discussing her own issues, she said “The dark side of help is control.” Once more for the people in the back: The dark side of help is control. Well… fuck. If you read my last post about leaving behavior analysis, that was kind of my whole deal. I went into a field that I believed would raise people up, and instead found it forcing them down into boxes. Instead of environmental modifications, accessibility options, or gene...

Well, maybe not “you” specifically. But the vast majority of people? They have no clue. Let’s define our terms. “Sex work” is “the exchange of sexual services, performances, or products for material compensation.” Prostitution is the one most people think of, but lots of different activities fall under the umbrella of sex work. Stripping, porn, camming, phone sex, all of these are forms of sex work. Sex work, most importantly, is valid work. Sex workers clock in, perform their contracted or agreed-upon services, and clock out. It is no more “selling your body” than any other physical labor we perform. Sex workers have a right to all the usual worker protections, even though in the US they are not currently granted them under the law. I have nothing but respect for those who perform sex work. I’m just not one of them. For context, I get approached to do sex work on a regular basis. Mostly by people who don’t understand the term “coaching” in the context of polyamory and kink. My coachin...

Why I'm Abandoning My BCBA As of June 2024, I am no longer a Board Certified Behavior Analyst. That goddamn certification took me a Master’s degree, years of work, a gnarly exam, and more money than I care to disclose in a public forum.  I chose it, so why am I ditching it? This camel has been taking o n straw for a long time. I think the answer can only be found if we go all the way back. And I do mean, all the way.  All The Way Back Picture a tiny chubby ginger hellion, unable to sit still for any amount of time, communicating in high pitched squeals. Then standing next to her, a seven year old with perfect manners and an expansive vocabulary, practically a miniature adult. Both of them were me. I had rituals, rigidity, difficulty communicating, sensory seeking and sensitivity, struggles socializing with peers, the lot. If I were born today, I would have been diagnosed as autistic basically on sight by most professionals.  But I wasn’t. I was born in the 90s. And I hit ...