It is so hard coming out of prostitution, it is so hard to know and have real emotions.
It is a coming away from extreme torture, where the only way to somehow survive is destroys emotions.
It could be called deadness from the depths of the soul, it might be named as the mind protecting out of desperation.
All I know is I and so many brilliant women had to be robots to stay breathing.
We were not fully alive, so cut off from our emotions.
Emotions became something I barely recognise, but I can and could fake all the time.
But this is changing, and I am really unsure if I cope with having emotions. especially as it is like twenty-five years of knowing violence, hate and degradation crashing on top of me.
This effect everything including fear of being happy, to think and know it could all be ripped away from me.
I am learning to be happy, to know that I have always needed humour in my life.
I look back and know I was laughing and making jokes when it placed my life in danger.
Christ, when living inside hell, I somehow would find some resource somewhere that made take the piss out of johns if they treated like a girlfriend, somehow on rare occasions say the truth that were crap at sex.
This I thought was pointless and very dangerous rebellion – but seeing from a distance it was my emotions of anger, of hate and of I am someone rising to the surface.
Sure I was tortured, I was raped and I put in fear of my life – but I very proud that I was not silent all the time.
But at the time, I learnt quickly to shut up, I learnt to buried hard that I was a person.
I wanted to live more than to have rights, to be human.
Being a full human is a wonderful privilege that could when living with safety and dignity.
Since my Dad died, I have gone in and out of grief.
I do not understand grief, I just try to let it happen.
This week in London, I cannot stop crying or feeling exhausted.
It is not London, it is 25 years of having so much to scream with raw grief about finally being set free.
It is good but by god it is terrifying.
Being mentally attacked by pro-sex trade idiots only make me bury emotions, and try to act as if does not affect me.
But on Wednesday, when I was in a part of London with hotels I knew, surrounded by men in suits who undressed could just yet another sadistic john.
When I was surrounded by brilliant women who believed, understood and fought against the hell named indoors prostitution.
When I stopped for several hours, long enough to know and feel all the tortures my body endured, all the fear I could not know and remain alive.
On Wednesday, I crashed, all I knew was I could not move, I could not feel – I knew I was alive, but I could not understand it.
I yelled to leave me alone, knowing left alone I force in my self-hate and terror of not being dead, till I walked to areas of London dominated by the sex trade.
The women I was with knew to not allow to be alone, knew I was playing with pain and gazing longingly to death.
I got drunk, and stay awake to state of beyond exhaustion – it was brilliant coz my grief, anger, wanting very sick jokes, acting the rebellious teenager came out with a vengeance.
I refuse to sensible about the utter insensible torture that was put into me and millions of prostituted women and girls.
There are no real words for their hate – only every one of must named and punished as a criminal.
I find that now I have finally got the beginnings of emotions, I cannot understand that I still am banned from them.
Too many viewed a prostitute as tough, non-emotional, in control and basically a sub-human.
I am told am too emotional, when all I am is writing or speaking of the realities of prostitution.
I know I very careful to be as honest as I can, which is often more detached than emotional.
I speak from the dead space, the space that view horror underneath ten panes of glass.
On the rare occasions, I allow emotions out in public, I go into deep trauma. So I am bloody careful.
I speak truth to power, so being too emotional would give them yet another excuse to do nothing.
I know I am very courageous, but is a very lonely place even when surrounded with friends.
I will finish here – I really hope this ramble gives greater understanding.