I'm Just A Kid

Innocence

TW: SEXUAL ABUSE
- As an adult, I can't stand to be touched. It leaves a mental stain that makes my skin crawl. I tend to get visibly agitated and/or flustered if someone is in my "personal bubble". It's hard for me to show any sort of physical affection/intimacy because the idea of healthy physical touch was stolen from me when I was a young girl.
To put it blatantly, sexual abuse is something I've dealt with for a majority of my life. To this day, I slip up and force myself to relive the pain of this trauma, when it resurfaces, through methods that I'm not too proud of. It's my way to be in control of my trauma, knowing that I'm the one controlling my pain and not my abuser.
It's hard for me to talk about or even think about, and I've spent my entire life shoving these repressed memories into the darkest corners of my mind. I never intended on shining light on these topics because the truth is, it's not pretty.
> I Hate Basements
My innocence was first stolen from me at a very young age. (Before the age of 8)
It's a memory that haunts me to this day. It's a memory that wakes me in cold chills at 3 AM.
I remember the hushed whispers, I remember staring at the bathroom tiles, I remember holding my breath and glancing at the basement stairs begging silently for someone to walk down and rescue me.
It wasn't until I was 16, that I decided to confront this memory. I remember confiding in someone that I thought would support me.
"You can't be r*ped by another woman, that's ridiculous. Just get over it." My heart dropped, and I immediately felt invalidated. This isn't something that you really hear about often, and therefore I felt isolated in my trauma. As I remember this horrific event, it felt like r*pe in every sense of the word. It made me feel dirty and violated, even at 16. I never really spoke about it again, and therefore never got the closure I needed. To this day it still riddles me with anxiety, and I still invalidate my experience because it's not "typical".
Yet at 21 years old, 3 in the morning, I'm that little girl again. I stare at the ceiling, cold air pressed tightly into my lungs as I count the seconds by lightly tapping my fingers together.
> $10
After this incident, I changed. I felt it. I wasn't a little girl anymore. I became very "hyper" to hide that fact that I was in pain, yet I remember that this is around the time I began wetting the bed. Children wetting the bed is a side affect of severe trauma, and I would continue wetting the bed, due to this, until the age of 16.
After this incident, my abuser began selling me to her friends. I remember the very first time this "exchange" happened. My abuser locked me in her room with her male friend and said, "All you have to do is touch him and I'll give you my cellphone lipgloss"
I laughed in her face. All I had to do was touch him for my own sparkly cellphone lipgloss, in my mind I thought it was innocent, and being young, I just wanted my own makeup. The lights shut off and I was dragged into her bed. I remember screaming and kicking and as a hand covered my mouth.
"15 seconds, it's just 15 seconds"
After 100 seconds I shut my eyes and went numb.
$10. My innocence was once again stolen from me for a measly $10.
I never got that cellphone lipgloss, but I don't remember caring.
> I Don't Care For Parties
I'm a teenager now. 18 to be exact. I felt mature and like I knew it all. I was in a weird period of time. I was graduating high school, I had trauma from my childhood and being bullied, I had gone through so many changes and hardships. I wanted to be free. I felt a strong sense of independence mixed with a twinge of rebellion.
My grandmother hardly let me do anything, I'd only had a handful of sleepovers, I rarely got to hang out with my friends, and while I understand she was trying to keep me safe I also resented her for not letting me enjoy my high school years.
So what does any teenager do who wants that sense of teenage rebellion? Sneak out to a party of course.
I snuck out and hopped into a car of boys who I didn't know, and away we went, listening to songs that fuelled that "coming of age" teenage spirit I was craving. As any trauma ridden, "I wanna forget everything", teenager, I decided to make unsavoury choices to numb all the pain I felt. I did heavy drinking and drugs that night, and everyone suggested "hide and seek in the dark".
I was pulled into a room with a guy and he locked the door. Immediately I became alarmed, but I just played it off.
I felt hands grabbing at my pants as I was shoved to the floor. Being under the influence, I couldn't stop what was happening as much as I wanted to. As this was going on I could hear sequels of laugher downstairs and loud music.
That's what I wanted. I wanted to be downstairs laughing, and making memories as a goodbye to my high school years.
I remember getting home at 5 in the morning. I  took a shower and I couldn't fall asleep or use the restroom for days. Some days I believed that it was my fault because I wasn't sober. I pushed all my friends away and I became extremely isolated.

As a female who carried the weight of sexual abuse, I struggled in high school and continue to struggle to this day. In high school I resorted to self harm, eating disorders, hyper sexualization, suicidal thoughts and frequent appearance changes because I felt lost in my identity. I felt unheard. I didn't want to feel like I was begging for sympathy, and because I didn't reach out, I would have large outbursts after minor inconveniences. I was irrational, emotional, and most importantly I was in severe pain.

Today, I still struggle with the PTSD of my experiences. I freak out when my boyfriend hugs me, kisses me, touches me. I'm terrified of the dark. I'm easily over stimulated. I feel unsafe around men AND women who are older than me. It's not easy and it never will be but I have come so far in finding ways to deal with my trauma in ways that are beneficial.

Though I just gave a handful of my experiences, this was so hard for me to talk about.
As I'm wrapping up, however, I feel a huge weight lifted off of my chest.
These topics are hard to read through, and I don't want anyone to be triggered/ offended by my story but I want to say that if you've been through these situations
- I believe you.
- I hear you.
- I support you.
- I want you to know that there's light at the end of the tunnel.

I'm still finding ways to handle these memories. They weigh heavy on my soul at random times. Every day that I work on it and I remain safe, the more hope I regain in restoring my soul and mental clarity. It's not easy but eventually it gets easier. How I dealt with my pain at 18 compared to 21 is greatly different, and looking at it in that timeline makes it so much easier to see how far I've come.

I hope this sheds light on my behaviors, and how certain trauma can affect an individual. The best thing you can do for someone in this situation is LISTEN. Listen and understand, and be patient.
07-10-2020