Posts Tagged ‘prostitution’

Every night since I was a child, I would cover myself in piles of blankets. I would sleep with my blankets cocooned around my body, pulled up to my ears. Didn’t matter what the weather was, I needed to have at least five blankets over me.

I never really fell out of the habit of needed to keep myself warm at night. My grandfather joked about it a few weeks ago when I said how cold I was at night, even with my sweater and socks and pj pants. I smiled at his joke, but the safety I find in being buried under a pile of blankets goes deeper then a physical need for warmth.

It’s not something I ever really thought consciously about, even during summers when I’d have to cocoon myself at night to the point where a/c didn’t do enough, but I had to sleep with a fan and without clothes and was still hot.

I get it now that I really have no privacy, living with 40 some other people in co-ed dorm-like buildings. Especially since last night I had the best sleep yet in Israel because I had a real blanket, plus sweater and socks and pjs. It was a relief to wake up in the middle of the night because I was too hot. And I wrapped the blanket around myself even tighter.

I was thinking about that last night, the womb-like cocoon of blankets. It’s something I’ve only ever done when sleeping on my own. Cause once someone else is there, the sense of safety has already fled. Imagination can’t be worse then the reality lying beside me. Or something like that.

Bottom line: blankets equal happiness and love and (mental) safety and (mental) security.

I hate uncertainty. I need clarity in all things. With that in mind, I hate even more when I allow the filters through which I was taught (brainwashed) to see the world to influence me. I know where those lenses came from. I know why I think this way. So why can’t I stop it?

While I feel free here in Israel in a way I never have before, there are times when I pause in terror of conflict or potential conflict. This includes times when I’m asked where I want to eat, whether I want to do something or not, what do I think of (blank)…

Then there are the bigger things. I’ve finally loosened up to the point where I can not only interact with others, but I’m actually having fun. And then I feel like shit for having fun. Like its so exhilarating, it must be wrong. I half expect some sort of punishment to fall on me.

Fun has come in the form of dancing mostly. This week drinking also, since I’ve realized if I’m not set out to destroy myself, it’s okay. And drinking doesn’t mean drunk. Drunks freak me out. But so do clubs.

Anyways. I avoided clubs and dancing for the longest time. My experience of going out to dance included seeing how many guys I could lure at the urging of my ex. This was when I was recently exited, and had turned down stripping jobs (as if that would have eased me out of the lifestyle. NOT). He knew all this. That’s why he got a sadistic kick out it (just like he did when I broke down crying cause I didn’t want to work anymore in any aspect of the trade). Not to mention being molested in clubs by drunks. Which my ex thought was funny.

So. Dancing. I went dancing before I left for Israel. It was a transformational experience. It had nothing to do with seduction, pretense, performance. Just feeling the music. Was amazing.

I don’t think I’d be able to go out now if I hadn’t that night. The only thing I care about is the music. No one else matters, nothing else exists, it doesn’t matter what I look like.

This is intensity. Reaching the moment where I am so overcome by the beat that I lose my Self in the moment. I dance smiling like an idiot cause it’s the greatest high.

Unfortunately, I later come back to myself. And with returning self-awareness there condemnation and doubt, even though I know there is no reason for it.

But I think to myself of the way I have gone out of my way to avoid people who party or drink in any way. Avoiding, but not judging. So why do I judge myself? What am I judging myself for? What is harmful about enjoyment?

I feel like I’m heading in the right direction, doing things I would not have been able to do months ago, even. Its amazing. And terrifying.

It’s a learning curve that feels more a twisted maze.

Free choice. Something that I really didn’t have for most of my life. Whether it was from doctors, being overly medicated, being pushed into choices due to disability, to being dictated to by a multitude of abusers. One would argue I never had to make any real decisions of my own.

I say ‘sure‘ in response to most things. My ‘sure‘ is not an agreement, but neither is it a disagreement. It is a neutral yet polite and positive response to something I have not yet made my mind up about. And it may very well take me a long time to make my mind up, because I like knowing my choice comes directly from me. I dislike any hint of being pushed in a direction I am uncertain I want to go in.

However, sometimes it borders on ridiculous. I answer ‘sure‘ as if I still am somewhat expecting a violent reaction from others. Which, to be honest, I am. There is a tension still there when a decision to be made is directed to me.

And yes, it is a lot easier to just let someone else make a choice, and go along with it. Which is what I typically do. And which is what I can’t really do here in Israel, where people really know their own minds and voice it.

I’ve even been told that being here is good for me cause it’ll force me to learn to make choices for myself. Which I completely agree with. But it is a statement that also makes me feel very much like a child.

Meanwhile, it is my choice to be indecisive about a lot of things. I choose to take time to make my mind up about things.

I was thinking about this cause it’s been really hard and draining, the last several weeks. I had a moderate freakout which lead to a shared cigarette and buying makeup and earrings for the lobe piercings I retired long ago. Which really isn’t a big deal on the surface, but in my mind it was the first step back into oblivion.

However, smoking made me realize why I stopped in the first place (it’s really yuck. I had to decontaminate myself afterwards). And wearing makeup does not make me look like a whore. Nor do multiple earrings.

Which made me look at why I kept thinking like that, and realizing I’m still internalizing J’s abuse long after his exit from my life. I just figured he was right: I was a whore, therefore I looked like one. So I tried to eradicate any lingering ‘signs’ (weight, clothes, hair, appearance, everything). Which is ridiculous. And brings me back to choice. Perspective too, since anyone who is human could be a ‘whore’, and what does that word mean anyways? Cause it’s really not applicable to me, despite what I lived through (circling back to choice).

Anyways.

So I essentially said fuck you in my head, and hoped he got the message, wherever he is. And went late to class this morning just to put on some makeup.

I did my nails too.

🙂

I nearly decided to leave the country. My visa technically expires today, so I was fully ready to get on a plane and leave and admit defeat.

It’s hard, being here. Having passively sat on the sidelines for years, and having my life run on the whims of violent men, I don’t think I really appreciated what a big deal it is that I actually got on a plane by myself and went halfway around the world amidst a culture vastly different from mine. Familiar to me, since I’ve been here, in Israel, before. But not like this, living in the country.

The main thing was that I had to make a choice. Stay, and truly give it a shot, which is why I’m here to begin with – to transform and to accelerate the restoration process I’ve been going through. Or leave, because this is too big a step for me to take at this time.

It was the fact that the choice was all my own that made it so terrifying. Exhilarating too. But mostly terrifying.

Cause it means learning to deal with day to day life. Something I don’t really know how to do.

I had a couple of truly shitty days. Everything from the fleeting thought of being unqualified for anything but prostitution, to misinterpreting innocent words to mean things my exes would say, to being unable to be around anyone. All of which makes me feel like nothing has really changed, and I start over-thinking things, and once again I fear I will be what I was — zombified on drugs, in a psych ward, on the streets (I worked indoors, so of course, the street would be a ‘demotion’, a sign of how much further I had fallen)

I prayed about it. Asked for direction. Which I honestly had hoped would lead me back to the airport.

But God is bigger then whatever problem I am facing (which happens to be myself).

So here I (still) am. And here it seems I will stay.

Funny. As soon as I actually made the choice in accordance with God’s wishes, all the yucky feelings went away.

 

I closed my OKC profile. Closing the dating profile on POF a while back was a huge step forward for me. This time, it was just a logical step forward. Yet, when I clicked the button to delete it permanently I panicked.

There was this thought of who would know I exist? Which is about as ridiculous as my conviction in my own invisibility.

Like this need to be Seen competing with my need for anonymity. Seen, capitalized. Cause it has nothing to do with my physical visibility, has nothing to do with the skin that holds me together.

I heard a sermon about intimacy and submission to God. Many sermons, actually. And there was this automatic reaction of no effing way. Intimacy, cause it terrifies me. And submission cause.. well, I associate it with abuse and prostitution and sociopathic behaviour and kink.

Those sermons kinda clicked things together for me, once I got over my stoic freak out.

My intimacy issues have to first be resolved within and with God before I can look anywhere else. And my submissiveness can find avenues besides sex.

Which is why I shut down the profile.

Then on Sunday I found myself nodding along to a variation of no sex before marriage while wondering to myself when exactly did I start agreeing with that?

I have no idea. Cause its not so much about sex, its about recognizing myself as sacred, and being unwilling to be desecrated in any way. Which is possibly why I can’t maintain any romantic interest in anyone. I’m finally gonna pay attention to that. Message received.

So the fact I’ll be out of the country for four months is actually a really good way to take a break from men, and discover me more.

So… I am Seen. God sees me. That’s all that really matters.

Twice this past week I had someone mention the advocacy work I did as a teenager. This is something I tend to forget I ever did. It’s like the way my life veered off track undoes all the good I did. That I am unworthy for giving up and not finishing or returning to the work I started.

I was a youth advocate for those with chronic pain. I had the first website written from a child’s perspective on living with pain, and was awarded a Lifetime Achievement Award when I was 13. I gave speeches to hundreds in various health care professions and was featured in various forms of media.

Then, you know. Sh*t happened.

Anyways, my buddy on the west coast was saying I’m becoming that person again. I had to have him elaborate cause I had no idea what he was referring to. I had shut out all that good stuff. I didn’t think it was relevant in any way. To my thinking, I failed. The end.

He pointed out that the person I was becoming then is the person I am becoming now. More of that ‘reaching my potential’ he’s been telling me about for years, and that until recently thought was total bullsh*t.

Then I had a new friend at church comment on that previous work, since apparently I linked to it on FaceBook and promptly forgot about it.

It was another one of those moments where it’s like being hit by a two-by-four.

BOOM!

Ya, I get it.

The positive direction I was going in to help others is exactly the direction I’m heading in now. Just different area of interest.

But the me that I was becoming is the same me that I am now. Just a bit older, bit wiser, bit more confident (okay, a lot), and more filled with purpose.

Thinking on it, the way I am now is very much like the way I was as a kid. And I like that. A lot.

It’s now been six months since I detoxed from psychotropics and narcotics. I actually had to count out the months.. It feels like a lifetime has passed. And really, I have my um, birthday rapist to thank for all the positive changes I’ve gone through. I brooded for two months, then decided life as I was living it was completely unacceptable to me. So I changed it.

Six months on and I know there are still plenty of things that need changing. Mainly my ability to relate to other people outside of a sexual context. I’m being pretty forgiving towards myself in this aspect. Here’s why:

I’ve been mostly isolated for years, I cut out positive friendships because I didn’t feel I deserved them, and gravitated to those who were more damaged then me, or who affirmed my belief in my worthlessness. I cut all those people out too. But was too scared to make new friends. Plus, how do you create a friendship when the only friendships you’ve had for years would be created out of sex?

So I find myself in a weird position now. My beliefs have changed. My actions have changed. The way I life has changed. But I’ve only really been confronted with having to positively interact with others very recently.

So I find myself having to adjust while around people I’m trying to or want to befriend. Which is really weird.

I guess I would call this stage confusing. I’m breaking old patterns and I’m breaking through the brainwashing.

While the last six months (and longer, actually) have mostly been me by myself, that’s no longer the case. I’m actually trying to connect with other people in a positive way.

Which leaves me… unsettled.

I’m trying to find a new normal. And it’s working. But then every so often I’ll do or say something that reflects the person I used to be, and not who I am now.

I was trying to figure out why I kept acting on this compulsion. Cause I don’t do things believing I deserve nothing better, or to objectify myself intentionally.

I’m just trying to adjust. Which is hard. And could also be a sign that I have to stop placing myself in situations where I’m vulnerable to acting stupid.

To which I can say to myself, “duh”.

Anyways. It’s something for me to mull over.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m4G4IaCOglE (warning: it’s loud!)

Stay safe ❤