This week I have had a headache all week.
It the screaming of my soul. It is the grief that can never get released.
It is my prostituted self coming alive.
Or on the mundane level it the menopause.
All I know is I can look at my times of prostitution, times of unwanted sex with strangers who did not hand over money – I see that time with a clear eye.
I was once told to see and know pain from our lives – it should viewed as an eagle see.
That is in focus. Imagine there is a wounded rabbit in a field full of rabbits. See it from a mile in the sky, see the prey. See no surroundings, no distractions – just see your food, all else is of no purpose.
Then when you dive for the target, you will not miss, and it will be an instance kill.
That is how I must write to speak for and with my prostituted self.
My life then was utter chaos.
I lived inside a world that made no sense.
The only sense I could make was that I must be evil for I was getting damaged over and over and over again.
I made sense by refusing to be fully alive.
So now, I can only unpacked my past by having an forsenic eye.
To know my truths I have be harsh with myself and see all I can without judgement.
I cannot paint a clear picture of the innocent victim, when my guts knows my self-hate made me not care how I was fucked, how I was brought and sold.
How my self-hate had anger when kindness reach out to me, knowing I was worth nothing so why should I be pitied.
How my self-hate give me anger in wrong places. Anger when no men brought me drinks, or pay for me, but still wanted sex. Anger that I never fought back. Anger that I manipulated men to get a bed so I could run away from my own head.
Anger that I know all I was was sex, while I hated it at the same time.
I see all that with an eagle’s eye.
An eye that does not pity, does not expect to repair that past. No, my eagle eye see and knows without judging.
My headache is the tears that I cannot cry.
I am going forward, but my journey is very tough.