The Void That Suffocates

I wish to try to write into the middle of my trauma, I do not know if I do it, but this post will try to flow into that space.

The centre of my trauma is a void.

The void of not remembering, not knowing my years of prostitution, not remembering feelings, not seeing faces or places, not recording how my body was tortured.

The void is like a rat in my brain wanting and needing to remembering – but knowing to remember each and punter who torture me, to remember each and every part of my body and mind that was polluted with their hate and violence, to remember each and every place I was made into trash – to remember my full past would kill me.

Trauma is that fight – the fight for truth, the fight for justice, the fight to fill in gaps, the fight to know I can be human.

Of course, there is loads more to trauma for all exited women – but for me, that terrible void is the gnawing that will never go away.

I can see my stepdad and in my head I can hate him for sexually and mentally me.

I can see all the men who said they were my friend, then rape me.

I see those men, seeing them I can imagine justice, seeing them I can punish them in my mind.

I know them – I know their names, I see their betrayal, I know how they pre-planned breaking me down.

Knowing them I have permission to hate them.

Hate each and every words they spoke to make me trust them, hate each and every way they abuse my mind and body, hate each and every they said to justify their actions.

These men are solid.

There is no such solidness when remembering prostitution.

It is a haze, it is remembered in gaps and silences, most will never be remembered.

But not remembering means there can never be true justice for the prostituted – for most punters and profiteers are made into a haze or just a general violent man.

My trauma goes directly into that void – all that is left is my silent screaming.

I have no idea how many punters brought me, no idea how often I was raped, no idea how often the sexual torturing made me lose consciousness, no idea how often they force me to say I enjoy whilst I knew I was dying, no idea often how I was thrown away like trash.

I have no idea how many the places this all happened, no idea how often I knew no-one cared as I tortured in a hotels, no idea how often people turned a blind eye as I was raped behind pubs or inside their toilets, no idea how often I acted normal as in flats I was gang-raped or many hours.

I have no idea how many profiteers were making me their goods, no idea how often I exchanged from place to place, no idea how often I was sold to sadistic punters for greater profit, no idea how often what for appeared to be chaos was highly organised.

That is the void I live with.

I believe that void make trauma seemed endless – it fades, I have learnt many ways to deal with it  – but the void destroys access to full justice, and without justice how can trauma disappear.

I know in my heart of heart, that I have remember enough to believe myself, to believe it was torture, to know it was multiple rapes, to know I was made sub-human – that to know that is enough, but still the gnawing continues.

I have no answers here, only say as it is – and to thanks all that stand by and exited women as we are.

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6 responses to “The Void That Suffocates

  1. Raging and screaming with you, and admiring your strength and bright light emanating from the torch that you so fiercely carry that shines light on the dark Truth of the sex trade and what it does to women and girls.

    “without justice how can trauma disappear.” — This sounds like a vastly important piece of the pain puzzle.

    Wishing you tons of all things good.

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  2. Words could never express the sheer evil that is the sex industry… I hate what it does to you and I pray for the day that the men who hurt you face accountability for what they did. And still do to countless other women and girls. Blessings and love always xox

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  3. God bless you my friend, your story reminds us of the evil that exists in this world and as much as we hate it, it exists. Would that my words could take away your pain but alas, they are only words. I hope that you can take some comfort in knowing that those of us who read your words, care for you and hold you up in our prayers in the hope that God will give you strength to deal with the horror and pain, that you will remember that your past is past and does not mean that your future has to be the same. You are strong or you would not be where you are now. As bad as what your past was, you are alive and the possibilities for good and beauty are enourmous.
    While my own experiences were near as bad as yours, I can tell you that forgetting is not needed so much as realizing that the strength that you have now is in part because of the pain you suffered and like the sword that has been tempered in the fire, you will not fall or fail when tried in the future. Justice will come, it always does eventually. You are a survivor my friend, remember that when you are down, remember that you have already overcome what most of us will never ever go through. Will continue to keep you in my prayers.

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  4. I know nothing of this world you speak of. But I see plenty of signs of the perversions of spirit that would help make such places. People who are adicted to abuse … trauma that results. A life ruined to feed someones need to abuse.

    I never knew the connection between trauma and justice.

    I don’t have much life left but I will think of ways to help.

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  5. Tim, let me one thing VERY clear: NO ONE IS ADDICTED TO ABUSE. Yes, I am yelling.
    People are abused because there are perpetrators in this world NOT BECAUSE ANYONE IS ADDICTED TO ABUSE.
    You are blaming the victim and you are ill-informed. Silence would be an EXCELLENT idea for you.

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