Maybe the only to know prostitution is to under the skin of who I had to be in the past. Maybe then, I will know how I survived.
To me, the wondering how come I did not die, that I think I did not lose my mind, eats away at me.
OK, I accept there will never a place where I will totally at peace with “survivor guilt”.
How can I when every day I know women and girls in or out of the sex trade are dying.
They are murdered by johns because they seen as throwaways.
They died “accidentally” as johns strangle, rape, suffocate them just so they get an orgasm.
They kill themselves coz their mind sees the reality.
They die by accident of drink, drugs or just being careless of their safety.
Christ knows why I am alive, and not on a cocktail of drugs.
But, I feel guilty, like my lifestyle now is making the past invisible.
It like I can hardy connect now to then.
Then, I lived in chaos, living by breathing in and out, no more and no less.
Then being fucked, being tortured and being bashed up was what I thought was normal.
Then I thought safety was falling asleep without anyone wanting my body.
Then I accepted the unacceptable without blinking.
There was no bridge between now and then.
To force a change, to force life back into me – I had to completely rewrite my life.
I run away from the town I lived in. I abandoned all the people I had known.
I know to live I must have no connections to mental threads that draw back to the sex trade, back to being a sex object. Back to violent sex being all I knew.
I could not look back, else then I really would die.
So I run hard.
As I was running away, my soul was safe enough to return to me.
I was terrified, but an inner strength was growing in me.
A strength that once it felt safe enough grow more and more powerful.
I learnt that I was only person who could save myself.
God, things were terrible for several years, but once I choose to transform my life there was no going back.
I was still raped, I was still going with men that I knew hated me and all women, I was still drinking to drown, I was still refusing to sleep, I still got beaten, I still knew sexual torture.
But there was a change in me.
It felt like rape, it felt that I was being harmed, it felt that I wanted to scream no.
It felt like I could not take it anymore.
I was wanting an exit, I just had no idea how get out of the trap that I was, I did not know the world outside of being a sex object.
That I had to force myself to learn.
Learn that I had rights.
Rights to be safe. Right not to be raped or sexually tortured. Right not to murdered.
Rights to dignity. To see a woman, not holes to be fucked.
Rights to think for myself – not have my every move and thoughts fitting into the will of men who only want to damage me.
Hell, those rights are basic – and most people take them for granted.
I had to learn I was worthy to be a full human being.
Who can tell me that the sex trade is harmless, when it took that away from me.
Now, I am in a place where fitted my past with my present is very hard.
It sickened me, as I come to terms, and know it was real.
Now, I live in order and a quiet life.
Now I choose my friends, I choose when I drink, I choose to be celibate.
Now, I am happy with music, TV and going out to restaurants or art galleries.
I don’t want chaos, I don’t that fear back in my life.
But it so strange that I am who I am now, I know it is connected to my past.
But, I want to see the connection clearer.