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This one good deed eventually cost him his own life.
In this milieu, any shred of humanity is a deadly weakness.
When I was a little girl in my native Belgium, I was put to work as a sex slave.
My mother sold me, and drove me wherever, whenever she got the call. Their faces were familiar to the masses, while I was confronted with the dark side of their power addiction — the side no one would believe existed.
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They made a deal: he would work for the politician, extend his shady services in exchange for my life.Power addicts, world leaders, and corrupt politicians who abuse children are themselves like children who never grew up, driven to power to avoid ever feeling the humiliation of child abuse again, unconsciously seeking revenge from a place of hurt by recycling the abuse. Those of us who have suffered sexual abuse, incest or sex trafficking need to learn to harness our survival strength on our own behalf, so we can heal our damaged ego, and channel that strength to lead the way towards a future in which former victims conquer by love, understanding and compassion for all. had lived in Anchorage, Alaska, for three years and still hadn’t met people she felt a real connection with when she posted about her frustration on Yelp.Trippy, spacey music was oozing through the atmosphere and most people were too high to notice me. He looked scared, but he held my gaze for a brief moment, and seemed to feel for me. I never saw him again in the network, but years later I did spot him on TV. The teacher had been calling on me, and I had been too spaced out to hear.
She wondered out loud if I knew the answer to the question she had asked, and I sat in embarrassing silence while the class laughed.
Though I suffer from PTSD, and, for example, I still become nauseous whenever I hear a certain kind of airy, trippy music, I've become so mindful of triggers that they don't control my everyday existence.