And They Call Me Mad

Tomorrow morning, I have to do yet another medical because I am incapable to work,

It is very degrading and also ridiculous for it ignores PTSD and any sexual violence that I was on the receiving end of.

Instead, I have to a cartoon image of the mentally ill.

I have to say I am afraid to go out. That I have forced out of. I have major toilet problems. I have no friend, because I cannot communicate or I have too much anger.

I have to say that I a helper, that my family try to help but find it too hard.

I need to be very untidy, not washed or have my hair brushed.

I have to say that flashbacks make me lose time and all concentration.

That is some of what I have to do to be the role of their image of mental illness.

Fuck them.

If there more education about PTSD in these medicals, if they were trained to know most mental illness is invisible – then maybe I could say my truth of why I cannot do a paid job.

PTSD does affect me in severe ways, not all the time, but for enough of my life to be disabling.

I freely admit PTSD has a major effect on my mental welfare. But like the majority of people with PTSD, I have had to deal with without any specialist help.

I do not have helper – I have a counsellor, who is good, but not a specialist in PTSD or about the effects of violent prostitution.

As for my family, I do not ask or recieve help about my mental from them. It comes with too much baggage.

What makes me so angry is the concept that I stay in bed, that I cannot read much, that I am afraid to go outside.

This is like a sick joke, coz when I have extreme PTSD, I hate being indoors, for the vast majority of sexual violence done to me was done indoors.

If they had any understanding of sexual violence, maybe they may see why I hate being in bed when I am awake.

It is not rocket science.

As for being untidy, I hate that coz it makes you stand out, when I like being invisible in a crowd.

I am here now, because I forced myself to live. I forced myself to completely changed my life.

No-one help me.

I run away by myself. I found counselling by myself. I found good and true friends by myself.

I am teaching myself how to live without sexual violence.

I finding why to see my past with a clear eye, whilst at the same time giving myself permission to have as much pleasure as I can.

I made and found my path to giving myself back my life.

Where is the specialist help for women like me.

Hell, there is hardly any specialist help for asylum seekers or soldiers with extreme PTSD – so why would they give a shit about exited prostituted women. 

So, I have to play their game – and make myself a role again.

I have to forget pride.

One response to “And They Call Me Mad

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