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Losing Myself
Non-FictionTrigger Warning / A very personal story involving thoughts in my mind, things I have/am currently going through, and questions I have. I write things as I go, and in no particular order.
Trigger Warning: Sexual AssaultIt was never actually taken from me, but I felt a piece of me break off years later. I was too young to realize what happened, but it was still classified as a "trauma". What was "trauma" supposed to mean, anyways?A type of damage to the mind occurs as a result of a severely distressing eventWhy did it happen to me? What did I do to deserve such a thing? Was there anything I could've done to prevent it? Maybe I shouldn't have slept in the same bed as my cousin. Maybe I should've called out for help. Maybe I shouldn't have let him kiss me. Maybe I shouldn't have worn that nightgown; I could've worn pants instead. That would've prevented it right?Why me?Why me?Why me?No, I wasn't raped, but a part of me died that night. At six years old, a part of me died. I can still feel the empty spot where that part should be. My feelings of safety, comfort, and sanity. I hadn't even realized until recently that what had happened to me wasn't normal. It wasn't normal to have your nine year old cousin do things to you while you were trying to sleep. I didn't realize it wasn't normal to wish you were someone else for a little while, just so you could get away.I hadn't even realized that it wasn't okay until I was joking around with my boyfriend and I mentioned it. He stopped and said, "Babe, that wasn't okay. You were sexually assaulted." And it all came back. Even memories that didn't have anything to do with that moment.Why me?Why me?Why me?Did I do something to provoke him? Once again I was trying to sleep, only this time in gigantic gray sweatpants while lying next to my boyfriend at the time. A friend, who I had known had a crush on me for a long time, laid on the opposite side of me, making me the middle man. As I was lying there with my head pointed at the ceiling, trying to sleep, this friend decided to slide his hand all the way up my thigh until I could feel his hand on me. At that moment, another part of me died. My feelings of friendship, trust, and belief.No, I wasn't raped. I got up and left. I slept in my boyfriend's parents' room. When I think of either of them, I can feel them touching me again. I feel his hand on my inner thigh and I scratch at it until it turns red. I can't breathe when I think about them.Why me?Why me?Why me?I can't help but think that I somehow caused it.
