Dropping By

I have a major block to writing, so I will write anyhow.

I am blocked by grief.

Grief how I was made sub-human.

Made sub-human by the way my stepdad built his sexual and mental abuse of me – until he reach the pinnacle that he could feel me up everywhere, put his hands and mouth into any hole in my body – could do all this without allowing me to move, without allowing me to speak or make a noise.

He made me the living dead.

He made me the perfect whore.

I grieve that.

I grieve that I know hard-core both from the inside and as an outsider.

I know hard-core porn as a young girl forced to view it. Force to know real terror, force to know the agony was never acting, force to look into their dead eyes.

As a child, I knew these images were my future – and I grieve so deeply that that became true.

I knew hard-core as I laid dead on the bed, as inside prostitution, my sexual tortures were filmed.

I live with the knowledge that I have no power or rights to destroy images of my sexual torturing, images of a prostitute will no access to consent to be inside porn – I live with the terror and deep sorrow that those images could anywhere in the world – with men wanking over it, and others making a profit out of it.

I have no rights over my own image – it is a stealing of my soul.

That is a grief that can never be mended without access to justice – that justice is a million miles away.

This gives me writer’s block – but I write anyhow.


2 responses to “Dropping By

  1. I had a friend who she went to a therapist for anxiety attacks, she was a victim of child sexual abuse too. She told me she had an out of body experience during the session and that she felt the most unbelievable sense of love and safety she’s ever felt in her life. She didn’t think it was possible to ever feel that much joy and love. She said it was beyond any drug or any other feeling of happiness she dreamed humanly possible. And she said she sensed a soul there, she wasn’t sure of it was a spirit guide or God or an angel or whatever, but it told her that her soul is not damageable, that whatever trauma she’s experienced it is ultimately superficial because it could never affect the soul, because nothing and no one can ever harm that part of you in the physical life. Even though it may seem like there is some harm that can’t be undone, a person’s soul is powerful and perfect, beyond what cruelty humans inflict on each other.

    It was something she said gave her so much hope and peace, knowing that that love and peace and sense of wholeness is possible again. I’m not a religious person, I just hope that sharing this is a tribute to her memory and can give other survivors hope.


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