Although I am very tired. Still have many pain in my body. I feel I have come to a place where I can feel some pride.
As I view my childhood, I can now hold that time.
I see with tears in my eyes. I see and let my suffering flow out.
I can see with pride me letting go of my shame.
Shame that kept me silent until I could not form words even in my mind.
Shame that made me tidy away any evidence of abuse.
I cleared my bedding with blood, sweat and sperm on it.
Clearing out any pain that I felt in my body.
I cry and cry that I had to forget that I was a child.
I could not play without looking over my shoulder.
His presence was in me whether he was in the house or not. He was under my skin.
I did not want friends, for I fear they would see the badness in me.
I was terrified he would rape my friends.
I cry as I see me trying to find how to be a child.
Then I cry.
In the calm after the explosion of remembering, I do cry.
I let myself see I was a child.
It was never completely stolen from me.
Now I see with pride that I can say what I saw in the porn.
I do not always need to slam an iron door on those images.
I can say with pride I will and do face that fear.
I see women looking dead as men rammed into every hole they could find.
I see objects forced into women who are made to smile.
I see images of gang-rapes made into humour.
I saw cartoons children being raped.
I saw images of girls being screwed.
I saw so many images of S/M.
I am proud that I remember some of what I saw.
But always I feel a terrible blankness that what I remember is just the tip of the iceberg.
But I feel pride as I face my fear of hard-core porn.
I face it and fight to destroy it’s power.
PROSTITUTION AND OTHERS
I feel I have been through a massive rush of memories seeing the sexual violence I had outside of my family. This has overwhelmed me.
My pride is that I see that past without falling back into self-hatred and self-harm.
I have not got drunk.
I have not abused food.
I have not forced myself to stay awake.
I have not cut my arms.
Instead I have face my past in the eye. I have look straight at all that I had blanked out.
I open the door on how the men tortured me.
I look directly at their hate.
I have seen with a clear eye that they planned all the sexual violence that they did to me.
I see and hold how much damage they did to my mind and body.
I hold and cry that I was so near to death.
I cry that my best friend died through male violence.
I am proud that I survived that world.
I am proud that I kept my intelligence. Even when men try to beat and rape it out of me.
I am proud I still small spaces where I could give and feel love. As I was held by girlfriends I could briefly remember I was human.
I am proud I kept in contact with my grandmother. Then I could pretend I was normal.
I grieve that I lost my teenage years.
I was not safe enough for angst.
I could be vulnerable enough to be confused.
My growing pains were trashed as men raped me, beat me up and made me a sex doll.
I was not a teenager. It was stolen.
I cry for that time
I let pride into me now.
I am very proud of this blog.
I am proud that my truths are coming in a strong and vulnerable voice.
I am proud that I can say I have confusion. That I do not hide behind making a neat and tidy story.
I am proud I show the reality of the tortures that I had to live with.
I am very proud that others Survivors read my words and can feel a connection.
Survivors are my most important readers. Their belief and encouragement make me face my past and not run away.
I am proud that I face being call a liar and mad, and not given up.
No, it has made more determined to say my truths.
So, now I have space for calmness.
I will say
I am proud.