As I write today, I write with so much exhaustion. I have found my past, recognise the pain. I have reach into the grief.
Now, now I am so tired.
All I want is to know is I can be whatever I can, and be held a bit by others.
Although I have only met most of my readers through this blog, I have felt an emotional support that you give.
I find very hard to express how much this means to me.
As I have written elsewhere, I have always felt isolated and trapped inside my past.
You by your faith in me have help me get the mental strength to break down some of my past.
I have always live as roles. I have forgotten who I am .
I have been the role of the good child. This did stop abuse. I have the role of the delinquent. This did not keep me safe.
I was the role of the silent “whore”. This did stop the men being sadistic. I was the role of the girlfriend. This never brought me near affection.
As I played roles, I lost who I was. I forget that I had a self.
Now, I am living with safety and a stable life. Now, I still have no idea who I am.
When alone and in silence, I feel like an empty cask. I have no thoughts, just a space that need noise or other people to exist.
I want to know that I have a self. That I am more than a performer who watches and listen to other to understand how to fit in.
But that is why I am exhausted. As I live and reach for some authentic self, I am alert trying to see the rules for next role.
I am scared that the role of exited prostituted woman and girl, the role of radical feminist, is just another fitting in.
I have no idea if I am real, or just wanting to be accepted.
I think this may be authentic, for I do find the restlessness and pain I feel when I try to avoid viewing my existence as a prostituted girl and woman is forcing uncomfortable truths to the surface.
These truths are things that I wish I know nothing about. I wish I could just dismiss and carry on with my life.
I don’t want to feel tortures in body memories.
I don’t want this endless grief of losing so years.
I don’t want nightmares of rapes where it is always faceless men.
I know it must be true, for I really would prefer to know nothing about my past.
I wanted to say to my readers thank-you for letting me be honest enough to show how confusing surviving incest and the sex trade is.
Every time I think I know some answers, I get more confused.
I feel you do hold me when I am so tired and so close to despair.
Today I was told I will not be paid for ten days. Without the support of you wonderful women, I may of slip over into my pit.
But I do feel you coming through my computer wire.
I send you all hugs and all my best wishes.
Thank-you for being with me on my terrifying journey