I want to thanks my readers for your patience whilst my PTSD has been so bad.
I have felt your faith in me that I will go forward, even when the pain, grief and confusion has made me to give up.
PTSD is horrific.
I am dragging round pain from all the years I had no feelings. My head aches. My vagina and anus scream out all the injustice done to them. My mouth and throat refuses to swallow without remembering.
PTSD makes me so sad.
Sad that I was made to believe I was nothing but trash to raped and tortured. Sad that my life is common in the sex trade. Sad I can never get true justice.
PTSD makes me sick.
Sick as each sexual torture courses through my body. Sick as I remember no-one was there to help me, only those standing round were watching or making a profit out of my fear. Sick as I regain my essence.
PTSD make more determined to say my truth.
Each time I speak out or write down my reality, the pain in body pushes me forward – yelling out it’s freedom. As my reality lands into the world outside the sex trade, I accept disbelief, ridicule and anger at my words. But often I get a silence of belief and shock at such an atrocity.
At first, I was scared of that silence, imagining no-one give a damn. After that message was drummed into me by the propaganda of the sex trade.
But slowly I realise the silence came from a place of compassion and frustration that so little that could done to eases my pain and the pain of millions of girls and women who have lived through the sex trade.
I begun to know that the world was not just made of hate and violence, but there are people who that care, but were determined to bring about changes to prevent atrocities such as I lived through being just “part of life”.
I felt I was held in my battle to build myself a life that was mine.
So thanks so much. Yes I do the mass of the work on my own, but I do know that I finally have a community round me.