The journey away from my past is very hard. I need to say that the moreI know what I had to live with, the more I feel humble at my ability to survive.
I believe my survival was partly my determination to believe and to seek for a path out. A path that will lead back to my real self.
If I have the courage that others say I have, it is the courage to keep to my path, and refuse to be distracted off it.
All my life when I was abused, I believed this is not my real life.
I know that I never, ever belonged to my abusers.
As a young child, I felt I had the wrong mother. I was convinced I had been swapped at birth.
This was ridculous, for I was born at grandmother’s house, and there were no other babies near. Ironically, I born in the same bed as my mother.
But I could not believe I belonged to my mother.
I could make no sense that a mother would reject me – when I could see what I had done that was so bad.
My path out was to dream I had another mother who loved me. She was waiting for me, she was crying for me.
When I met my stepdad, I hated him.
My path was to be detached from him.
I could not stop him abusing me. I could stop him making me his little whore. I could not kill him.
So my heart held in my hate.
I dreamt in the day of murdering him, inventing many painful deaths. I imagine my mother divorced him, saying to the world what a bastard he was.
I wanted him to be scared of me.
I follow my path of hate, finding all too often it was a dead-end.
My only path away from porn was to refuse to know.
I blanked from my mind.
But my body would not forget. It remembered as I had headaches where I thought I was dying. It remembered as I was sick in my stomach, sick with fear I would not know, sick with fury I could not know.
My path away from porn was fragile, it made me feel unsafe.
I survived prostitution, so I must of had a path out, but it was invisible to me most of the time.
I may of survived coz I felt so much hate.
I hated all the men that treated my body as their private playpen. As they raped and tortured me, I hated each and every one.
I hated all the men that sold me as goods. Hated they never got their hands dirty, just know that thy had given sadistic men permission to destroy me, as long as they get profit out of it.
I may of survived because I refused to know my reality.
I would allow pain in body. I would refuse to know how I got that pain.
I had to imagined it was my weakness that I felt even a tiny piece of pain.
I would not know that the men that tortured me or made money had hate for all women.
I would not know that the men that tortured me were doing it as an “accident”, but was pre-planned and done without any guilt.
I survived coz I would not know the truth.
I may of survived because I had a few women in my life, women whose lives were as terrifying as mine, but we meet.
These women let me feel some kind of love. A love that we too afraid to know in too much depth.
I meet women where we told sick jokes about our lives. In those jokes, we let ourselves say our truths, but then pretended it was only a story.
With those women, we hid all emotions behind hardness, we told each other we were were tough.
It forced us to live.
I doubt if I ever will know how I survive prostitution, but somehow I found a path out.
Now, I building a solid path so I can survive survival.
This path will be built on believing myself. I will see as clearly as I can what my abusers did to my mind and body.
I will not turn away.
I will let in emotions and not deadened them.
I will face fear in the eye. It was right to be terrified, that was a sane reaction.
I will grieve, my sadness is screaming out its pain and bewilderment. I grieve how much of my life was stolen from me. I grieve that so much of my life was taken away by the bastards that abused me.
And I will let in fury. A fury that drives to destroy the security of a world where men feel entitled to rape, torture, and mentally destroyed women and children.
Fury that the sex trade is built on the pain of women and girls.
I will be part of the movement that destroy the sex trade.
It may not happened in my lifetime, but the sex trade is too corrupt, too built on evil, too full of lies. It cannot exist with all that poison in it.
That is part of my path, it may be a dream.
But dreamers help build a world that destroy the Atlantic slave trade, dreamers imagine South Africa without apartheid. It was dreamers that thought women could vote.
Any industry built on so pain, deaths and hate cannot exist.
I say to those campaigning to bring a better future for prostituted women and girls, you can bring a change.
Please don’t think small, but think of the long-term being to abolish the sex trade, then you will giving real hope to many women and girls who are trapped now.
That is the real path worth following.