Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault
At the age of 13, I was a playful, chubby tomboy who thrived in sports and friendships, sporting an unibrow that only added to my awkward charm. Boys weren’t exactly knocking on my locker door, but they did line up to ask me to deliver notes to my blonde best friend.
As I transitioned into high school, I began to embrace my identity as a girl. I lost a bit of weight but didn’t develop in the way many girls do. However, I felt a burgeoning desire to be attractive to boys. After some clumsy attempts at flirting, I finally caught someone’s attention. He became my boyfriend when I was just 15 years old. Our relationship was filled with long phone calls and the thrill of first kisses.
During late-night chats, he would bring up sex. I laughed it off because I was not ready for that, but I also didn’t want to lose his interest. When New Year’s Eve rolled around, he invited friends over to his house while his parents were out.
In his basement, he offered me a drink—Bacardi O mixed with orange soda. I had never had alcohol before, but I was curious about anything my parents disapproved of. I took a sip, and it was awful. But like many teenagers, I felt the pressure to fit in and ended up having another cup.
As the night went on, I began to feel ill. When he led me upstairs to his room, I expressed my discomfort, but he ignored my pleas for water. Instead, he pinned me down, insisting that this is what couples do. I remember the world spinning and my desperate attempts to escape. That’s when everything went dark.
When I regained consciousness, I found myself alone on the basement floor, my face pressed against a garbage can. My makeup was smeared, and I felt utterly defeated. I remember listening to the party upstairs, feeling invisible and ashamed. Eventually, my sister arrived and took me home, but I never spoke of what had happened.
For 15 years, I shared my sexual history starting from 17, convincing myself that my boyfriend couldn’t possibly have assaulted me. It took years for me to come to terms with the reality of that night. Now, in my 30s, I realize that I need to share my story to empower other women to confront their own traumas.
I know firsthand how difficult it can be to voice such experiences. My goal is to create an atmosphere where women feel safe discussing their pasts, enabling them to release their burdens. Many women, like me, have buried their pain for too long, fearing disbelief or judgment. If I struggled to speak my truth for 15 years, there are countless others who remain silent.
To anyone holding onto their story, I urge you not to let it fester inside. You deserve healing. Write it down, talk to someone you trust, or even read it to the moon. Acknowledge your pain, and then begin the process of letting it go.
For those navigating through similar experiences, know that support is available. Resources like this excellent guide on pregnancy and home insemination can provide insight into healing and moving forward.
If you’re interested in home insemination options, check out this informative post for more details. Additionally, Modern Family Blog offers a wealth of resources on related topics.
Summary
Sharing my story of sexual assault was a long journey that started with denial and shame. I hope to encourage others to confront their experiences and find healing through expression and support. Remember, you are not alone, and there are resources available to help you navigate your path to recovery.