I thought I knew the worse of PTSD. Always it gets worse.
I have been in agony for 16 days now, and it is exhausting and I am hanging on by a thread.
I have hit the depths of grief – but at the same time the void of not knowing the solid form of what I am grieving.
I have a fury inside me that burns into my guts – I have nothing left but to be sick over and over.
So, when others go on and on about how safe indoors prostitution is , how pornography does no real harm to the women in it, that internal trafficking is just a minor problem, that it is bad what happens to child prostitutes but when they hit adulthood it becomes free choice – all that propaganda spread by the sex trade.
When I hear, read or see that shit – I say see my body as evidence – see the damage, see the grief, see the agony of body memories, see the inability to trust, see how hard it me to know who I am after years of being roles to survive.
That is the true harm of the sex trade – and I am a tiny example of millions of women and girls destroyed by the sex trade.
My pain is beyond language, beyond full memory, beyond medical help, beyond even spiritual soothing – it has to run it course, and bring out it truths in it own time and pace.
It hard that I have a void – I cannot remember faces, places, what age I was for most of my childhood, teens and twenties.
But I know and see some of the worse – the most sadistic and unspeakable ways my body was experimented by punters inventing living porn.
The mind gives me the worse – saying this is the truth, that was you being made into nothing, that was you being tortured then thrown away – the worse is just the tip of a gigantic iceberg.
I have no idea how I got of their alive – only that it was a lottery as a prostitute whether you live or die.
The reason it is so hard to remember is that the horror is so relentless and bloody repetitive – the punters always thinks they are so original, so daring with their mental, physical and sexual torture, profiteers may think they are filling a gap in the market – but inside the body of the prostitute is the same sadistic acts repeated over and over and over and over until it all become just one act with no faces, no places and little memory.
That is the true harms of the sex trade.
That is when my pain and grief comes from.