Another Christmas, Another Year Gone

I have taught myself to love Christmas – it has been a long journey but the older I get the more I understand Christmas.

Christmas means nothing to my prostituted soul.

Christmas was stolen from my abused childhood.

Now, I hold Christmas to my heart, holding not any religion, holding no desire for commercial goods – but holding out for deeper meaning of what love can be.

Love was a concept I was taught to mistrust.

Love was always a silk glove with a dagger in it.

I wanted and needed love as much as any other human being – so I learnt to block out that longing by freezing out all signs and symbols of human love.

Christmas was love, so I taught myself to hate everything that touch my heart associated with that season.

I hardened my heart, I acted the cynic, I pretended it was just another rotten day – whilst all time an inner crying was reaching for joy and peace.

But how can Christmas matter to an abused child? How can the prostituted know that season?

Tell me would care enough to reach into their hearts – in doing so then maybe truly understand the meaning of Christmas.

For Christmas is not about competing for the most showy present, or who can eat the most.

No, Christmas is a reminder that humans can reach out and care for others.

A reminder that we can know joy in small and big events, and knew joy helps build us up in feeling empathy and knowing we do not need to hardened our hearts just to survive.

A reminder that peace is the long-term achievement that all humans should strive.

Not just the ending of political and international wars – but the deeper peace of reaching out to those we think we do not understand or want as our neighbours with love and empathy.

Christmas is never one day or even 12 – the spirit of Christmas is striving of all that is good in humans for all time, it is nothing to do with religion, it about each human soul finding it is connected to all other humans.

I have no belief in god, religion or any supernatural ways of thinking.

I do not have belief in organised religions, in goddesses, in paganism, in witches, in fundamentalism, etc etc – no I believe in the inner strength and a kind of spirituality in all humans.

I believe we are more capable of love than we know, I believe the human heart is built to connect with all other human hearts.

We closed down our own ability to be good and built a better future, for we are afraid.

Instead, humans find it easier to be cut off from love and built a world that is cold and full of pain.

Each and every moment – humans are destroying hope, destroying our link to understanding others, destroying all that give meaning to being alive.

It is human that destroy the spirit of Christmas – and always we blame everything but our own actions.

So I believe it an act of revolution to stand up for the meaning of Christmas.

A spirit that will rise up all those abused children and all the prostituted living inside terror.

Let me look back to my abused self, and see my desire for that Christmas spirit never truly disappear. I will give a few small examples of my resistance to my abusers murdering the spirit of Christmas.

I was taught there was no Father Christmas in the harsher way possible.

I learnt as I thought Father Christmas was reaching into my cunt and feeling me up.

I open my eyes seeing it was my stepdad – and his French kissing suffocated me as he left the stocking at the end of the bed.

I wanted to believe in Father Christmas so much, I wanted there to be magic, I wanted one night without being a sex object.

As an adult, I hold on to laying out stockings for all – adult or child – that moment of joy is a gift I refuse to rob from me.

At aged 17, I reached the end of hope, of wanting Christmas to be part of me.

That Christmas, I dreamt and attempted suicide – but somehow life refuse to let me go.

I remember that hell as I cut myself, took pills, and attempted to walk into the sea.

I remember my mother laughing at for being too stupid to even able to kill myself.

I remember all the time my stepdad eyeing me up and down.

I remember his hands in me as I try to eat Christmas meal.

I remember running from that home into punter’s flats or into sex clubs.

I remember being gang-raped over some winter period.

I remember a New Year of rape and abortion.

Happy Christmas and New Year was meaningless for my 17 years self.

But even – there was an inner voice saying you deserve so much more than this shit – something, some spirit forcing me to stay alive.

I wanted to live coz there must be more to live than pain, fear and hate – something that may called love.

My memories of prostitution at Christmas are confused, and full of grief and trying escape the pain.

All I know, that when I was escorting, being girlfriend material – the Christmas period was busy and often well paid.

This was because the punters were greedy and wanting do more sadist sex – they would pay more for that entitlement.

To be brought round the Christmas period, is to be enslaved – it is expected that many punters will own the prostitute for long periods and make her his living porn-doll.

I hated Christmas as a prostitute – even though I got many gifts or trips, and could spend money like water.

I associated Christmas with pain in every cell of my body, it was a time where I touch death too often.

Christmas was a time of torture, a time to forget about hope – a time that would not end.

Only even my prostituted soul held on to Christmas – a reminder of having innocence, a reminder that not all human want or cause pain and hate.

I held on to Christmas as I listen each year to carols, often it was surreal, but it give me some sense of peace.

I held on to Christmas by playing Phil Spector, jazz Christmas classics and Wham – songs reaching to hidden space that wanted joy.

And I held on to Christmas, as I saw children with looks of wonder at Christmas lights – holding to that part of me that just wanted a simple routine life.

So I have written this post, to say however cruel human choose to be – they will never truly destroy the spirit of Christmas.

They may make it hide for a while – but in the long run the courage and determination of those who are oppressed will force joy, peace and innocence back into the world.

Merry Xmas everyone.

 

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3 responses to “Another Christmas, Another Year Gone

  1. Merry Xmas to you, too!

    I am here alone (except for my beloved cat) and I will be alone this Christmas just like the past several Christmases. If anyone bothers to think of me at all, they may think that’s sad. But, I am very happy to be here, behind layers of locked doors, with my self-defense items ever handy, finally safe and without any man here to abuse me. This will be another rape-free Christmas. This is truly a wonderful gift! The thought of being free from my abusers, of being where they can’t hurt me anymore, puts a smile on my face. I dance. I sing. I laugh at my own jokes. This is going to be another wonderful abuser-free Christmas for me and for that I am truly grateful.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. My dear Rebecka, you are read, and regarded, and who can read your thoughts and not consider them at this time of year. You never fail to bring me to tears and that is a sign of truth. Thank you for writing. My admiration and affection goes out to you. We are all in a way alone at Christmas as our illusions are stripped away. But we muddle along. We are filled with the spirit of life and we must not give in to the pain.

    Vliet

    Like

  3. We are so very sorry for your experience of being sexually exploited. Being prostituted is profoundly cruel. We are listening to you. We are listening to all survivors. We are offering our compassionate hearts to you with a book supporting recovery called: Heal Your Sacred Sexual Self~~Emotional & Spiritual Healing for Sexual Dis-ease. It truly is a human tragedy that there are so many sadistic men wanting to hurt and abuse wombyn.

    Like

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