Epstein Files, The Survivors and The Lonely Island I'm Finding Myself On

I am feeling angry and I don't like how I am feeling because I would never want anyone to be trafficked or sexually abused in any way shape or form and I know that it is never the fault of the survivor so it is conflicting to be feeling what I am feeling. I was listening to some of the survivors of the international trafficking in the hands of Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell. i had heard some other survivor talking about getting paid like $300 -350 dollars for doing massage which led to abuse. In my experience being trafficked meant being sold for money where the traffickers profited financially off of me. I felt angry when it was verified by other survivors because I was thinking that the ones that said this were isolated survivors and surely the other survivors were sold to profit the traffickers but no, they made money and were paid money so it feels different to me as far as the level of exploitation. I think the conflict comes in feeling like I am comparing our abuse and exploitation. Being trafficked and used for sex no matter why or how is wrong and still awful without comparing. I just did not have that experience and what it did to me was horrible. I also know that what was done to them was horrible too. No questiion about that. Also, I heard something else that was very disheartening. Many of the survivors were compensated thorugh the Epstein trafficking compensation fund and 52 others actually did like civil suit and received compensation. So here's the thing. My abuse with mind control started in the late 1960s and I was trafficked starting at the age of 2. These women were 14 and older mostly late teen years. Their abuse started in the 1990s. This is what makes me angry. With my abuse there has not been acknowledgement or compensation after all these years. I realzie that there are millions of files and at least 30 -40 survivors that have come forward to prove this abuse with the trafficking happened. There are many of us survivors of ritual abuse, mind control and trafficking. Anyway I feel too angry to just go to bed and I needed to share this and journal about this because it is not ok what happened to me. it also is not ok what happened to these other survivors. It's almost like there feels like there is a competition here in some ways like between myself and these survivors. They have formed this little Epstein survivor cliche group and they are stronger together but what about us other survivors of ritual abuse mind control and trafficking? I feel like a has been or like now I'm too old to be acknowledged or to be compensated like it happened so long ago that it doesn't even matter anymore. I feel so conflicted with so many different things. The president is not on board with the survivors present day or in my day but I am still alive and still hurting and still needing acknowledged for my suffering and my pain and needing compensated too. My trafficking did so much to my worth and value and while I have come so far in knowing that I have worth and value from God and without anyone or anything, it was so wrong to be sold for money and have men profit off of my innocence and off of having sex with me and I don't think it was even about the sex for them. It was about having power over me and controlling someone and about making money. Why is it that because those women made money during their sexual abuse and because now they are getting compensated does this hit so hard? I know why. I just needed to say this.
I’m grieving that’s why. I’m not in competition with those women. What I”m feeling isn't jealousy and it isn't comparison and I already know that. But ,I didn’t know where to put my grief. I felt like it had no place to land. I’ve been watching a system finally — finally — acknowledge that trafficking happened, that it was real, that survivors deserve compensation and a seat in the room and cameras pointed at their pain. And I’m watching it happen for women who were recruited as teenagers, who were paid during their abuse, and some of whom have received financial restitution. And my body is saying: what about me?
Not instead of them. Not more than them. Just — what about me? I was 2 years old when I was first trafficked. I was not paid. I was sold. The money went to the people who owned me and the people who owned them. There was no recruitment — there was no version of me that could consent or be lured or be offered three hundred dollars, because I was a toddler. What happened to me wasn't exploitation of a teenager or a young woman. It was the commodification of a child who couldn't speak the word no because she hadn't learned enough words yet. And no fund has been established with my name on it. No congressional hearing has been held. No files have been released. No journalist has made a documentary. No group of survivors has been invited to sit in the gallery wearing white shirts. Not for me. Not for the thousands like me. Not for the ones whose abuse started with Operation Paperclip and MK-Ultra and continued through cultic networks that are still operating right now. That is a legitimate injustice. Not a feeling to manage. Not a comparison to feel guilty about. A fact. As much as what happened to all these women who were exploited and abused by Epstein and Grishail Maxwell, was wrong and I would not want any one of them to have had their experience what do I do with the facts that are slapping me in the face? Those women were paid during their abuse. I was not. That distinction is hitting me hard tonight. Not because I wanted money as a child, but because being paid, even in an exploitative context, carries an embedded message that says “you have value to me, even if I'm misusing it.” I didn't even get that. I got the version that says I am inventory. I am a product or a commodity. I didn’t get a cut because product doesn't get paid. The men who used me paid my traffickers and walked away and I was worth whatever price they set, and none of it was mine. Not the money. Not the choice. Not even the acknowledgment that a transaction occurred. When I hear that other survivors received three hundred dollars per visit and then received compensation from a victims' fund and then received a civil settlement my system isn’t comparing my abuse to theirs. But my system is screaming: I was worth nothing to them and I am worth nothing to the system that is now pretending to care about trafficking. The fact that these Epstein survivors have formed a group, have attorneys, have media attention, have each other — and I’m sitting at my computer at night crying and processing alone while trying to build a training and while I put together a non profit for other survivors on no budget….it hits hard. It’s not being petty. It’s the loneliest kind of grief there is. It's watching the house next door get rebuilt after a fire while mine has been rubble for fifty years and nobody ever sent a crew.
It wasn’t even about the sex for my abusers or the Epstein survivors. It was about having power over us and controlling someone and about making money. It’s true for me and every survivor out there whether they got paid or not. The mechanism was different — recruitment versus ownership, payment versus sale — but the engine was the same. Power. Control. Profit. And in both cases the system that was supposed to protect me failed completely, and the men at the top walked away rich and free.
Here is the difference. Those men are finally being named. Wexner. Epstein. Brunel. The names in the files. The men who bought me, sold me, programmed me, the ones who ran the network — their names have never been read on the House floor. Their files have never been released. And I'm sixty years into waiting.
I feel too angry to go to bed. It’s the correct response to have in a world that decided that some survivors are visible and others are not, that ritual abuse is conspiracy and other abuse is real, some trafficking happens when millions of files are leaked and others don’t really happen because there’s no proof, and some survivors deserve compensation and others deserve decades of unfunded therapy bills that we pay out of their own decimated pocket.
I do know this. I am not a has-been that’s too old to matter. My abuse did not meet some expiration date. And the fact that no fund exists with my name on the eligibility list is not evidence that what happened to me was any less horrific. It is evidence that the system is still protecting the people who did it.
I will rest well tonight knowing that the advocating I’m doing for myself and other survivors has not been in vain, the training I’m building, the podcasts I’m recording, the songs I’m writing — are building the infrastructure that didn't exist for me. I am becoming the fund, the hearing, the file release, the white shirt in the gallery for survivors who are right now sitting in the dark the way that I sat in the dark. It doesn’t make my grief smaller but it means my grief is building something. And theirs built something too. And maybe one day those two things will meet in the same room. But tonight, I’m just going to cry. Grieving is something all of us survivors need to do