Lately all these thoughts are coming back up, specifically about my mother, and about the time I was homeless. A lot of times I don't think about those as much because other things that happened to me were less subtle and easier to classify... if that makes any sense...
I remember in middle school always misbehaving on purpose so that I could get a detention, and not have to go home right away. My mother didn't have a job and she was always at home in the afternoons. In the evenings she would go out so I'd try to stall and not get home until after six, but then there was always the possibility that she and my stepdad would get home before morning and one of them would come into my room and do things to me. I didn't have any friends whose houses I could sleep over. Sometimes kids came over my house, but it was mostly because my stepdad was rich so we had a nice TV and stereo and video games and things.
I never understood my mother, and I still don't. She would always act so horrible to me unless she wanted something sexual and then she seemed to do a 180. I don't know if she was actually attracted to me and then beat me because she felt guilty, or if she was just using the sex as a way to screw me up, or revenge against those who abused her, or something. I can't figure any of that out.
I remember fighting with my sister once, and she shouted something like "I know Mom loves you more! She hates me! Don't think I forgot all the times we were little and she'd let you sleep in her bed and not me!" I was astounded. I hadn't known that she'd known about me in my mom's bed (she was usually asleep when my mom took me) but I'd always thought that if she had known she'd have understood it was something scary. I wanted to shout at her, "Don't you know what she did to me in that bed?!" but I didn't, I just shut my mouth and didn't say any more...
I'm trying to put things into words but I can't. I have these scraps of memories of coming home from school with her at the door and she would touch me kind of gently all over and as soon as I felt that touch I zoned out, I still do sometimes, if someone touches me like that. I can't deal with it. I have all these... I guess they are "body memories" that I don't know where they come from exactly, but I guess it's what I did with my mom. If someone touches me gently on my face or shoulders I shut down right away. It's like a button you can press and I just shut down.
And then when I was fourteen I was living at my dad's house, and I was doing a lot of drugs and getting into a lot of trouble and he could not deal with me so he sent me to live with his brother in Boston. Soon thereafter his brother kicked me out as well. I think that the message never got back to my father that I had been kicked out because I don't think he would have just left me to fend for myself on the streets if he knew. All that summer I was homeless, I suppose I was lucky that it was summer as the winters get really cold around here. I did what I knew how to do and sold myself. I wouldn't say it was abuse because I did it on my own free will, but I hated the sex, I would always shut down but by then I was an expert at it so I could do everything on autopilot. I knew how to be what they wanted me to be.
There were a couple guys who wanted me for longer than a night, there was one old guy who I mentioned in another thread. I stayed with him for a few weeks, in his house. He gave me food and shelter if I gave him sex. He wanted to take me to Italy with him but I declined... because I didn't know the language and thought I wouldn't get along well there. It didn't occur to me to say no because I hated it when he used me for sex.
There were some times when guys didn't want to pay me for whatever reason so they just brought me somewhere and fucked me and then left. A couple of them had guns. It didn't scare me really, I was used to it, but it made me mad, if I didn't need money I wouldn't have done all that so the least they could do was pay me. I guess some of them were just cheap. Other ones I could tell had issues, there was one who kept calling me Andy and made me say that I loved him. I think he was doing this to work out some sort of trauma. I guess it was better than if he raped some little boy.
It kind of makes me sick to think about the guys that wanted to fuck me then, I was 14 and I looked about 12. There's a lot of sick people in this world. I'm glad they chose me instead of someone innocent, though. I was doing it on my own free will and it's better they had sex with me than raped their neighbors or nephews or anything like that...
And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly
From the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Neutral Milk Hotel - In the Aeroplane Over the Sea