As I uncover my life, I have finally come into contact with grief. I not use to it, now I feel grief help me to connect.
When I view my childhood, I hit my sadness.
Sadness that I had to forget being a child. I slowly stopped playing. I lost friends.
I could not be a child, it was too vulnerable.
That makes my heart cry.
Sadness that I lost how to laugh. That was stolen from as abuse penetrated into my every cell. I could not laugh as that made me a target.
Sadness that when I was nine I first wanted to kill myself. Then I discover I could not believe in hope.
At such a young age, I was getting skilled at harming myself so no-one would notice. It was my only privacy.
Sadness that I started running away from a young age. I run without understanding why I was running.
I could not see how I was living with abuse. I could not see I was running because I felt trapped.
Being shown hard-core porn put me into a stunned grief.
A grief that that froze me.
I felt sadness as I look at the images, seeing how dead they look.
Sadness that I could show fear as I look at the tortures in the images. All that I remembered was all feelings disappearing.
Sadness that I found porn was great training for prostitution.
Now I come to my overwhelming sadness.
Sadness that I so lost that I thought violent sex was all I deserved
Sadness that no-one saw me, and no-one thought to force me away from the life I was living. I wanted to be rescued.
Sadness that I became a robot as men raped and tortured me. A robot that knew to smile. A robot who automatically took her clothes off and got on to their bed. A robot who know what porn poses to go in.
Sadness that my pride was broken. Broken as I raped in outdoors and indoors. Broken as I went with any man who paid me. Broken as they raped parts of my body I had forgotten existed.
Sadness that I could not feel pain. As every hole was filled. As I beaten in the stomach and round the head. It was so often and painful, that my body could no compute in pain.
Sadness that I stopped eating and sleeping. I not care enough to have care of myself.
Sadness that my world became silence because I believed no-one would believe such things happened without my death or that I went mad. I was terrified to say my life, for I could not believe it myself.
Now I am living in the aftermath. Now,grief has taken over my body.
It come out in a sense of loneliness. The loneliness of seeing and feeling of the pure hate of male violence.
Even when I know it is happening to women and girls all the time all over the world. There is still the loneliness of the individual acts of violence coming out through my body and mind.
Grief makes sick. My body has carried all the memories of violence, and not had anywhere to place it. Now, it can come out as sickness.
I am feel so weak in the body.
My mind has the strength to see the reality, but my body is terrified.
Grief is transforming me and it is bloody hard.
Grief gives me courage.
As I grieve, I can connect to others.
Now, I can say I was prostituted. As I say that word, my eyes and heart are open to the violence done to prostituted women and girls.
I cannot get justice for me, but I will work damned hard to get justice for other prostituted women and girls.
As I write my pain, grief help sooth the wound.
Finally, grief had made me reach out.
In this blog, I have often spoken words of pain and sadness. I have found who do not turn away from those words.
You have given me back my heart.