Being Molested-- And Wanting a Love Like That

The funny thing about being six years old is that everything is a game. When your sister’s friend asks you play house, you think nothing of it. When you find yourself under the covers performing sexual acts with her, it’s just…what you happen to be doing.
It wasn’t until a few years ago (I am currently 21) that I fully understood and accepted what went on in my childhood’s version of “playing house.”
The truth is this. An eight-year-old girl molested me, and my mind never fully comprehended it. Somehow, the little girl inside of me knew what was happening and she frantically took cover, seeking to steer clear of any emotional ramifications. For most of my life, I thought I had avoided grappling with the messy consequences from being molested. In reality, I battled endlessly against intimacy my entire adolescence.
In high school, my life turned into a whirlwind of breakups, church separations, popularity and alcohol. When I dove completely into the deep end of parties, lying, sneaking out, and lashing out, I saw that although everything inside of me wanted to throw my body into the raging hurricane I had created, there was nothing inside of me that longed to be intimate with anyone.


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