First published March 13, 2022.
Today I read in the paper this question: When fear is trying to get the best of you, continually ask, “What’s the worst that could happen?”
People could shun me. Talk behind my back. Insult me openly. Consider me crazy. Misguided. Hate me. Ridicule me. Be embarrassed for me. For my family. My family will be humiliated and embarrassed by me. I could feel embarrassed and humiliated, regretting my choice to speak out.
When I was sixteen, I engaged in survival sex. That’s often what a teen does when (s)he is homeless, penniless, terrified, hungry, lost, and powerless. (S)he engages in sex in exchange for shelter and food.
I write about my experiences in my memoir originally titled, NASTY GIRL. That’s what a psychologist called me when I went to him for help. It’s what the other clients called me in a show of so-called love. “You’re nasty, Polly,” they would say to me on various occasions. I believed them and saw myself as the daughter the rock group The Mothers of Invention lead by Frank Zappa sang about in the song, Brown Shoes Don’t Make It. “I’m going to make her do a nasty on the White House lawn”, Zappa sings. “Nasty, nasty, nasty. Nasty, nasty, nasty,” goes the chorus.
Today, I experience joy
I have since retitled my memoir to A MINOR, UNACCOMPANIED, a play on words that signifies my status at the time, and the first piece I ever performed on stage as a teenager.
Why write about it?
You are worthy of
dignity,
respect,
praise,
attention,
affection,
admiration.
Because girls, and boys, who engage in survival sex, and who often get lured or trapped into sex trafficking, like I did, are not nasty. They are wretched. They are miserable. They are in pain, but desperate to survive by the only means available to them.
My experience was 50+ years ago. It is etched in my mind and heart, but I survived. Today, I experience joy because I know I am not nasty and never was. I’ve always been precious and beautiful. I was just in too much pain to realize it for such a log time.
Deflect Name-Calling
I wrote my memoir to share the shame I felt and to tell others with similar experiences–you are not alone, and you can recover joy, shed shame, and feel self-love. Getting there hurts, yes. But the pain is like a ghost now. Every once in a while, a forgotten trauma pocket surprises me. I feel it, express it, and let it go. The feeling passes and I am that much stronger. I love myself now. Dare I say I adore myself? With a certain amount of humility, yes. After all, I’m deeply flawed, as are we all. You can adore yourself, too.
But you’ve got to love the pain as well. You have to cherish it and hold it dear. That’s where recovery begins. Until we are able to embrace the pain, it will keep us chained to that belief that we are unworthy of dignity, respect, praise, attention, affection, admiration, etc. You are worthy of all these things. Without feeling the pain, you’ll never forgive yourself deep down inside. Face your nightmare. Own it, with help. And get free.
"You don't have to like your experience; you simply don't resist it. Resisting your experience is the same as not trusting the movement of true nature -- believing you must control things to ensure movement because you do not experience the larger flow of reality. By not resisting, you don't get stuck or fixed on a particular feeling or concern, so your experience is able to flow and transform more easily and naturally." "Soul Without Shame--A Guide to Liberating Yourself from the Judge Within" by Byron Brown
Check out my interview with:
National Runaway Safeline Youth HOPE Month blog interview, November 2024.
You might also enjoy: https://pollyhansen.com/how-to-end-self-inflicted-emotional-suffering/