My Father Sold Me and Gave Me Away, a child prostituted speaks out

I knew, in my conscious memory, that my father gave me to his three, twenty-something Air Force buddies for their sexual pleasures when I was around two years old. I call that "my earliest clear memory" of being prostituted. 

In the past few years, flashbacks revealed the ten year old incident where I received money from the scrap metal guy after performing sexual favors. I even included that event in my book, Always and Never Alone.

Then, there were the large events like the Christian men's Thursday bible study group whereby I was forced to sexually satisfy anywhere from 3-12 good Christian men. Those happened regularly, not every week, but with the frequency of once or twice a month.

There were the "motel incidents" where dad used a CB to entice strangers off the interstate so they could use child me for sex in motel rooms.

Can't forget some of his Detroit Free Press newspaper subscribers who paid extra for a chance to sexually use young girls, me.

The list, the list continues to grow of times that my dad used me and my body to make money to feed my siblings. I'm becoming convinced that within my remaining lifetime, it is entirely possible all child prostitution incidents may not get an opportunity to be revealed. There is only so much time for therapy each week.

The latest, the latest memory flashback that surfaced this week, again involves multiple men. The family friend who was a butcher. He paid dad, for using me and his meat delivery drivers, he paid dad in sausages, fresh, ground right in front of you hot dogs, sausage and kielbasa. Yet another injustice done to me on a routine basis.

It's difficult to have any sense of self, worth or self-esteem when your father and grandmother routinely sell you. Just sayin'. 

I'm not like you. I'm not like most people, even most child sexual abuse survivors. I was incested by my father, grandmother, great grandmother and great uncle. I was regularly sold to a multitude of men to be used for their sexual proclivities. I'm not normal or average. I'm not unbroken or a walking miracle. I'm broken, heavily damaged and disillusioned. I live in my own little world where I don't have to be hurt or used or violated anymore And I see the world, I see men, in a most negative way as I was used in ways most unpleasant and perverse. I am different and I talk about the vile crimes that my family and the molesters committed.

It was Never my fault.

I never had a choice. 

I did Nothing wrong yet I'm the one who pays for it every single day.

Two and a Half Months, Adjusting to the New Therapy Office

It took 2 1/2 months for Autistic Multiple Us to calm down and stop freaking out every time we stepped into the new therapy office.

Here are the factors:

Time- we showed up, terrified of course, twice a week for 12 weeks. We showed up which was huge and courageous on our part. Each time one or some of us could check the new place out, becoming acclimated a little more each visit. 

Common Interest- after over 4 years in therapy, we finally found a neutral outside interest that we both shared. Small talk. Finally, we discovered something that we could talk about that enabled us to interact.

Proximity- when everyone got vaccinated and we could sit closer, our People felt safe again. Therapist across the room didn't help us to feel like we could confide or share easily. We whisper frequently. Now, therapist can hear us.

People- the older adults started overriding, showing up more often than the frightened, hurt Littles. Where a Big goes, a Little is sure to tag along.

Therapy feels like it's real again, not just a test or hurdle to jump through.

I'm sure we will continue to have nervous people show up but I feel we have a greater percentage of alters that are going to make this continuing transition easier and easier.

I gotta say, We Are Brave. We are Courageous. And We try really, really hard to do the right thing, the best thing, what we need to do.

Never give up.

Never surrender.