January 25, 2012

Recovery

Felt less awful today, especially after my 'Wordless Wednesday' award. People have called me 'strong and courageous' before but it was hard for it to mean anything. It wasn't a choice, I woke up, sometimes in the middle of being brave. Answering back, making phone calls, remembering everything, smashing up their objects, smashing up their people. I get too cocky about the violence and omit that one of my survival skills was nothing to do with violence although it did motivate it. I fell in love with people, I would see someone who had something I needed, a position of power, a personality trait, a way of seeing things and would dedicate my life to giving them as easy a ride as possible, sometimes literally. I would fight their abusers, hide their money, give them new names, new identities, everything I couldn't do for myself. I was well aware that part of my motivation was just that, to give someone something that I needed but couldn't get. But there was also the hope, that if I helped enough people enough ways someone was bound to come back for me as I had for them. I didn't work out that way, even on the rare occasions someone did try to help me as I had helped them they were generally ill equipped and ignorant of what was needed. Seeing them try and fail was no confidence boost, it just ground it in even further, I was doomed. The best I could hope for was isolation, NHS support and a family that were no longer involved and that is what I have. As much as this brings satifiastion, I try not to beat myself up too much for wanting more.

I will never become a business women, musician, a dancer, or see the 'legal' money again. People would pay a lot for the sort of information, insights and skills I had. It was so good to work my multiplies for myself. But now I am left in a position where I avoid all serious stress in case they come back, the multiples and their skills, their insights and their experience. The memory loss terrified me, it means I can't trust myself and I'd rather be doing nothing than being doing stuff I am programmed to hide from myself. What the point in being Wonder Woman if you never remember what you did and never know if you won or lost the fight. I get flashes, of properties I thought I owned, of business I believed I was running, of war work that saved a lot of people a lot of misery.

It shocked me that those I thought I loved were so determined for me to take orders, to be a whore. But in a way it made it easier, seeing Ferris and Provenzano making deals, ignoring me, drugging me, taking advantage made it so much easier to walk away. The world isn't ready for fair trade cocaine, clean heroine, unraped policemen, celibate escorts or an abuse free music industry. Its their loss, I did my best.

I am not integrated I am sleeping.

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