Let My Mind Flow

I have put on 60’s girls groups and as the Dixie Cups sing innocent and light songs, I will try to reach into the parts of my mind that has been giving me insomnia.

I find I can face the dark if I play cheerful music.

It may not make sense – it may be that it my way of detaching myself from my own words.

All I know is I write to the parts of me that were crushed or made sub-human, I write and maybe some of the music reaches those parts.

I will try to mend some of that past, I will try to give it a voice, I will try to hold the wounded warrior that cries inside me.

I cannot get images of my broken past, only if I let my mind flow I can feel enough to come to terms with it.

I can learn deep forgiveness for that I could stop what happened to me.

I can feel grief, even if I cannot cry or show sorrow.

I am learning not to deadened myself by vanishing into my TV, not to deadened myself by making sick jokes and acting as if nothing can or would hurt me.

I am learning it is ok to be vulnerable, ok to trust others, ok to say in a clear voice yes it is still hurting – and that hurt is going around for a long time.

By saying that I am finally my true strength and courage – not the fake bravery that claims nothing can ever hurt, the fake power of saying I coped with being inside prostitution.

Let me make it clear – no human can truly cope with being prostituted with deep trauma, without needing to deaden yourself to just stay alive.

There is no such thing as an undamaged prostitute – but all the damage is placed into the prostitute, it is never the fault or some weakness of any prostitute.

It is easier to blame the prostitute – then see the cold hate that create the sex industry that feeds on male violence to the whole prostituted class – be that female, male or children.

All I know is one to survive prostitution is not know the reality of the world you are in.

It is world that is organised, but pretends to be chaotic and run by individuals.

It is a world where the prostituted are pass around, and place into many aspects of the sex trade.

I was as an example was move to several cities, I was placed in flats, in hotels, in clubs, pick up on the street, pick up in pubs.

All this done to confused and mentally abused the prostitute – often making her feel is disgusting for she “chooses” to go to multiple places.

There is always control over the prostituted – the best control is made invisible to the prostitute, so her self-hate and sense of shame will keep her trapped.

It is natural in the situation where you have no control, no access to an exit – it is natural to turn the world of the sex trade upside-down.

It is normal when embedded in prostitution to say that it is empowering, that it was freely chosen, that of the prostitution is fun.

To survive prostitution with some degree of sanity, it is normal to close down the reality of violence, close down the fear that is so deep that most prostitute cannot feel it.

That fear, pain and confusion is always there, only to survive the prostituted learn to firmly not know it part of their reality.

The voices of the “Happy Hookers” are voices of deep damage.

They are voices that cannot think back to how and why they enter the sex trade.

They cannot see or know when they could still be terrified, when they could wordlessly know they were being raped and/or tortured.

They are the voices that cannot see the hurts and pushes that place into the role of the prostitute – for they have to believe it was just their choice to somehow make sense of the insanity they are existing in.

We should not be angry at these voices – we should have deep compassion for their pain, grief, fear and confusion.

We should not hate the Happy Hooker for she/he is being manipulated by the sex trade profiteers and their cynical allies.

Of course, the sex trade has the intelligence to push the voices of these damaged mainly women forward, and for punters and sex trade profiteers to feed them what to say as they hide.

I have written enough for now.







2 responses to “Let My Mind Flow

  1. You, my sister, are a badass warrior. The bravest. I wish people saw that. I wish more people could recognize your strength, your valor. Please never stop writing. Thank you for your bravery, for your honesty and for having so much courage to share. I’m moved by your writings, that I really am at a loss for words.


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