January Blues

January has been my least favourite month for most of my life. In this post, I will try and explain why.

I have put on JJ Cale coz he is very calming, and has no connections to my past, for I “discover” his music when I was old.

January is a time when some of most soul-destroying things happened to me, January is my month where I grieve.

The crap weather does not help, cold and wet usually, not classic Winter weather like the movies, just miserable English weather.

But it is my PTSD that is the problem – it is the poison poured into me that is the issue.

I look to the outside and present issues to run away from the pain of my past.

I will write to examples of why January is so hard, I hope I can write in a clear way – I hope my past can make some connections with my readers.

I will start with my clearest memory of January, for most are made into a blur – the January when I was 17.

That January was when I was determined to die, that January I became reckless with my life, that January I lost belief in hope.

It begun with attempting to kill myself, a suicide attempt that my mother just laughed at saying –

“You’re too stupid to even kill yourself.”

It was that January I stopped caring how much pain and fear I was going – I decided I was nothing but a whore.

It was that January I learnt to stop feeling pain, learnt crying meant nothing, learnt to be hollow.

It was that January I was violently raped by a pimp – to keep me in line – and that January I had an abortion.

All this was in two or three weeks, but it was an example of what it is to be prostituted.

Think of that January as a spur to fight for abolition.

But do you need more than my individual “story”, more than my personal truths.

I cannot give facts and statistics – just years of hearing from other who were prostituted.

I cannot be academic – but I can tell what my heart is screaming as it fights for abolition.

All I know is that punters are sadistic most of the time, but certain times attracts certain ways to be sadistic.

January being cold means punters use indoors prostitution for longer sadism.

For some reason that I really don’t care to understand – January is a popular time for sadist punters.

Maybe they want to stay more hidden from their families and work colleagues.

Maybe they just like to be warm as they slowly torture the prostituted.

Or maybe it is just they are selfish bastards.

All I know is January was a month when punters seemed to spend more, and feel entitled to be sadist for long periods.

Often in January I was brought to stay with a punter for several days, even weeks.

In some ways, I cope with this by blocking out the bad and searching for the good.

I would focus on having somewhere to stay that was normally quite posh or a hotel.

I was usually given presents and good food, and allowed to watch their TV.

I would focus on these creature comforts – blocking out the reality that I was just a cossetted sex slave.

I was often locked in when the punter went out.

I was often left with little food or food I had no idea how to cook.

I was often sleep-deprived, as punters would demand sex at any time.

I was often tortured mentally, physically and sexually.

I was mentally tortured as punters would throw endless questions at me, trying to “know” my private life, trying to break the part of me that I had to keep hidden – my sense that I was more just their goods.

I was in constant fear and on alert of being beaten up, being strangled and being killed. I could never rest, for to relax was to be vulnerable.

And the sexual torturing was my norm. I was tortured in ways that if I had been a political prisoner, Amnesty would be a letter writing campaign to free me.

I had my head place into the toilet or bath water, as I was anally raped.

I was raped in every hole in my body, had sperm forced into my hair and eyes.

Always the worse torturing was done with punters seeing it as entertainment or like it was some kind of scientific experiment.

Punters would laugh at my pain, painters would analyse my fear, punters would pick me up and throw me into the trash.

I do not know how I survive that world – all I know is I was very lucky.

I feel it is my duty to stop the torturing of all inside any aspect of the sex trade.

It is the least I can do – for having that luck to live.

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