Bleak prospects

Oh, the wonders of Skype. From my vantage point here in the Land of Israel, I had a therapy session with my extremely well-meaning but very Catholic psychologist. When I’m in America, the cultural disconnect is clear but not insurmountable; here in Israel, where nuances of Jewish life saturate every word, every expression, and every second word in regular English conversation turns out to be Ivrit (Hebrew) anyway….it was difficult.

Im kol zot (oh sorry…”even so”) it was a good conversation.

If you have been following my blog you will know that my “About Me” section talks about my inability to form lasting relationships due to my injured nervous system. Or something like that.

And you might recall that over the past few months I’ve written about a Beloved who loved me not merely in spite of who I am, but because of who I am.

That was great. Amazing. Wonderful.

He came to see me in America for a week. It was fantastic.

Then I went to see him in Israel (which, by the way, is really my home). And the house of cards came tumbling down.

It wasn’t real. It was an illusion. It was everything I hoped it wouldn’t be.

I’m not going to go into details. It’s not worth the aggravation or the worry that he will see it (he reads my blog from time to time) and cause trouble for me in one way or another.

This blog entry is really about the conversation with my therapist, anyway.

We talked about my deep woundedness, and the fact that I was wounded as a baby, and then continuously until I left my parents’ house. And then the comparatively subtle wounding morphed into the gross, large-scale wounding, as I turned into a street kid and learned to barter sex for food, shelter, drugs, companionship: all the necessary things of life, I got by trading sexual favors.

Heck, even music lessons. One of the most horrendous rapes of my life happened with an Irish flute player who had been teaching me the fine points of Irish flute ornamental notes when he reached over and grabbed me and….not here, I won’t write that here. It had been understood that I would pay him in sex, but he wanted what he wanted, wanted it now, and it wasn’t what I was planning to give him, or would have wanted to give anyone else, for that matter.

So the question is, am I too wounded to be able to identify a “normal” person? I mean, as a potential mate?

Is that why all the people who are attractive and attracted to me turn out, sooner or later, to be violent, manipulative, coercive, egotistical maniacs?

Do I attract them because of my woundedness? Am I like a child sex abuse victim, overly seductive beyond their years, wearing their only means of surviving their childhood like a tight red dress and spike heels?

Unfortunately, my psychologist’s answer was in the affirmative.

Are there people who are too wounded to be able to have a healthy life partner relationship? Am I one of them? At this point, I rather think so. I think I never developed the antennas that tell you whether people are safe or dangerous. My life as a child prostitiute (let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?) put the final nail in the coffin of my childhood of emotional and verbal abuse.

I’ve been in therapy now for 28 years. Continuously. I’ve done lots and lots of special therapies like Neurolinguistic Programming, a special acupuncture treatment that drives out inner dragons, Rolfing, etc. etc. and listen, what it boils down to is that I lack the templates for normal relationship. All of my relationship templates are for “predator,” “drop-kick,” “sucker punch,” “egomaniac,” “narcissistic asshole,” and things like that.

True, I am in the acute wound-licking stage of my most recent failure. It’s especially painful because I spent the previous seven years in celibacy, hoping to erase the previous templates and build new healthy ones. Not a chance. This one turned out to be a screaming asshole.

There is good news, though. I didn’t stick around for it. I gave him twelve days to straighten out his act. Things only became more scary and heading towards violence. So I left. And I have not answered his emails, or any requests for contact.


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  1. You will find someone, one day. It’s admirable and amazing that you can still trust in love and want love, after everything that happened to you. Even the men that were nice to you were still committing a crime since the age of consent is 18 in America. I wouldn’t call you a prostitute, because you had no choice – you didn’t want the police to take you back, so what else could you do? And you didn’t intend to ‘prostitute’ yourself – you obviously must have thought, when you ran away, that you would eventually find a place to stay; perhaps you did stay at friends’ houses at first before you had to leave – I seem to recall you writing about those events before you fled and ended up in the garage. And if you didn’t use sex, you would’ve had to beg like the people I’ve seen begging and busking on the street, so one way or another you would have to get money from others if you couldn’t find a job or find a way to get sent to foster care instead of “home”. I wonder if other teen runaways experience the same thing. Maybe the law in USA should allow 16 year olds to live on their own, so people wouldn’t have to experience those things. It really speaks to who you are that you want love. It really does. I don’t trust love, and I don’t want love, just sex. That’s all I want, and all I will take, and all I will give. I read your post on the Soul Destruction blog too. I hope your life turned around a bit once you reached 18 and were able to get welfare or a flat. It makes me so sad that if only the law had said you can live by yourself at 16, all that stuff would never have happened to you and you’d never have been homeless (well maybe for a night or two while social services got you sorted.) It just makes me sad that this could still be happening in the US today (unless the law has changed). Obv people run away before they’re 16 too and get on the TV news, but here they always get found in a couple of days, usually at a friend’s house.

    • Hi Kalika,
      Thanks for your amazing comment. You bring up some interesting points: is prostitution really voluntary? Is it ever really voluntary? My friend and colleague Ruth Jacobs writes extensively on this subject at</a.

      After what happened to me I’m not sure even emancipation or having welfare etc. would have helped.

      Thanks for your kind support!

      All the best to you,


  2. You’re welcome 🙂 “Amazing”…well, I try 🙂 I do derive a lot of inspiration from your blog, though, and your ability to trust hasn’t been broken like lots of people who were abused as children.

    As to voluntariness, I can only speak for myself – I don’t know if you know this, but I’m selling my virginity which is why I started my blog which is also on liberal feminism – and my prostitution is voluntary, the culmination of three years’ wishing and fantasising. I think the motivation and situation prior to entering prostitution varies a lot and obviously if someone’s on drugs, a runaway, started while underage or was still emotionally messed up when they started sex work, then it would not be voluntary. I studied sex work at uni and streetwalkers I’d say are usually not voluntary. But most students/graduates doing sex work would be voluntary, or those who have another job as well, or anyone not addicted to drugs etc. Though I wouldn’t call you or others in similar situations, nor most sex workers in developing countries ‘prostitutes’.
    Yeah, I’ve been reading Soul Destruction practically from day one! I really want to read what happens next. I think some of the organisations promoting the interview are just using Q’s story to get sex work criminalized, though, (there’s a consultation paper in Scotland now put forward by an MSP to turn Scotland from decriminalization of prostitution to criminalization)which would only harm sex workers and put them more at risk of rape, especially the vulnerable drug-addicted, career sex workers (because they can’t report rape without being jailed for prostitution, and they can’t just stop sex work once it becomes a crime, unlike student or ‘temp’ sex workers who don’t want criminal records so would stop. And only ‘dodgy’ clients would remain as educated clients don’t want to commit a crime). And legalization is bad, too, but I won’t ramble on. (I studied all this at uni, so I have a tendency to go on and on. My friends think it’s hilarious that I did an exam on prostitution!)


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