I have been stirred up and sent into massive trauma this week.
I am giving my speech at Feminists in London on the 10th, and going down to London on the 8th. But this week has been a nightmare.
I have been sick all week.
Sick at heart, sick in my stomach, sick with memory, sick with grief for my Dad, sick at the power of my own words.
Yes, I have said it, it is in print, I can know that my words have power.
It is a power that I try to detach myself from. But the sickness stops me doing this.
I owned that my anger is legitimate, I owned that the terror I write is still ripping my body apart, I owned that I was trapped, I owned that though I can hardly ever cry my grief is a lake in me, I owned that I can feel hate, I owned that I may never be whole again.
All that makes me sick.
I just asked that you hold me in this difficult.
If you are spiritual/religious, say a prayer for me.
If you are campaigning against the sex trade, then put some of my words into your work.
If you are a survivor of the sex trade, know that my speech is for you first and foremost, part of my sickness is my fear is that I may let you down.
And if you on the fence about the sex trade, know my words are true and that millions of girls and women are living in similar or worse conditions in the name of prostitution.
Please hold me.