Self-Hate is Hard to Kill

This week, by which I mean seven days – I have full of self-hate.

I blame myself for my own pain, I hate I have to live inside my skin.

Yeh, my logical brain knows it is pointless hating myself – but that habit is bloody hard to break.

This week my pills for my blood pressure and thyroid run out last Wednesday, and this Wednesday I will go to the doctor and get more.

So, I have brought this pain onto myself – yet again I giving myself what I deserved.

Pain is all I am – that I taught all my life.

Of course, I spend so much of life building a future without pain. But, I don’t always know how to find that future.

I cannot know how my body would if it wasn’t numbing itself from feeling itself.

I cannot breathe in deep without being scared.

Self-hate shelter me from knowing myself.

This week I have so many memories of the times I was embedded inside prostitution.

Self-hate make me unable to name that time, to believe that time, to feel that time.

All I do is stand and state –

I was whored out, I was fucked into nothing, nothing but porn-toy.

I see and know that time, and desperately want run to the safety of self-hate.

In blaming myself, I can not see how I was controlled, how there was no escape, how I not alive just breathing.

In self-hate, I could believe that I choose everything that happened to me.

I was a whore – so whatever happened to me was all I deserved.

I had to believe I just was designed to have sex with a great many violent men.

Men who hated, men who refused to speak to me, men who didn’t look me in the eye, men who made my body into an experiment of how much pain one person can take without dying.

Men who love my degradation, men who tied me up as a laugh, men who fucked my anus and cunt until it bled, men who threw me away.

I was their porn-toy, so nothing would matter.

I could know all this, all I had was to fall back onto self-hate.

Self-hate gives rules – rules that makes no sense, but help me survive inside hell.

To survive being rape in the thousands, all I could do is to believe I must have wanted it.

I must have chosen to be treated like a piece of shit.

I was just one of those sick, bad girl. I must be – nothing else makes any sense.

What else was I meant to believe.

I was in a world where my mother had made me believe I had forced myself onto my stepdad – I had made him fuck me. I was nothing but a slut.

I was in a world that all the johns that bother to speak words in my direction said – fucking whore, slut, you know you love it, does that hurt good, look what made me do bitch, I could kill you anytime.

I was in a world where money increase the more I was near-death and degraded.

My world embedded my self-hate in every cell of my body.

Now, I fight so hard to find that I like or even on rare occasions love myself.

But I would happy to just feel one with my body, and not alienated from it.

I have written this not from self-pity – but I want everyone to know the reality of trauma of women who were embedded inside prostitution.

I know my pain, grief and trauma is normal for the many women who have managed to exit prostitution.

After to survive prostitution is to survive multiple abuse on a scale most women can never imagine.

It is being raped to death, it is rape inside factory farming.

The farming out of cunts, mouths, anuses and hands of women and girls. The waste product being their right to safety, their ability to dream, any concept that no has any meaning and any essence of the prostituted women and girls.

It is torture in plain sight. Prostituted women and girls are mentally, physically and sexually tortured, and then told they loved it, it was their choice to do that job – hell, they can leave at any time.

Prostitution will kill a huge percentage of the women and girls that enter it, those who do not die will live the mental scars and physical illness or pain for the rest of their lives.

Most survivors will go on to make better life for themselves, will learn to hide their grief, pain and anger from that past – but few will ever completely lose the remnants of self-hate.

Please do not turn away from that self-hate – for it comes from all the poison of johns and the sex trade had poured into whores’ bodies and minds.

See the self-hate – and know that it a major reason to destroy the sex trade.

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One response to “Self-Hate is Hard to Kill

  1. “Self-hate gives rules…”

    This is so true – so sad and so true. Sometimes it’s the only control a person can have.

    Thinking of you,
    Sea

    Like

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