My self-worth still comes in waves. My husband always reminds me of how important and loved I am, but my self-hatred comes and goes. There are certain things that I call “dark moments”, where I hate being touched or looked at. My husband is so understanding and loving when I have these flashbacks… First and foremost, I understand why people did not believe me when I needed the most support. I lied about where I was going that night and who I was going with, but I never lied about what happened to me. I was with a group of friends during spring break and was on anti-depressants/sleeping medication. I told you specifically, please leave me alone while I am sleeping. My mom said she used to talk to me and I never remembered a thing, it was not an invitation for you to do anything to me.Spring Break
Salt air and wind running through my hair.
Skipping a dose of my medicine, I did not dare.
I told you of my inability to recall and warned you, to be fair.
It became very apparent you took it as an invitation and did not care.
When I was dropped off at my home, I had flashbacks I could not bare.
As soon as I asked if you took my virginity, you sent me a photo.
Who would do that for such an intimate moment, who did you show?
I quickly deleted the photo and my self-esteem quickly began to slow.
I turned to my family and friends, but they did not know what I know.
Almost everyone sided with you and I was left all alone.
People saw you as “trustworthy” and it set the tone.
I eventually went back to you because everyone was throwing stones…
BUT AT ME…
Your true self eventually came out for others to see.
By that time, all of your actions dramatically changed who I was meant to be.
I learned behaviors to protect myself and still have the scars that you left on me.
I do, however, blame myself… I could have been the key.
Maybe if I were strong enough smart enough trustworthy enough, people would have supported me when I needed to be free.
I was only 17… I did not know his intentions, so I was care-free.
For that I blame my own self to a certain degree.
It is weird sharing this poem… because I know if I read this from another person, I would not blame them for what the person chose to do to them. From my own perspective, I keep blaming myself because I heard how everyone perceived me. “You were asking for it” “Why else would you have still taken your medicine” “It is your fault for going” “Why would you have gone back to him”. Everyone made it seem like what happened during spring break was my fault or unspeakable. Because of the reactions of those I told, I pushed it down… I thought it was somehow normal… Like the poem says, I was 17. At that age, I trusted almost everyone around me. I no longer do and have learned from that experience, but I am still scarred. There were instances before this that made me hate being touched that I may never be able to share… After spring break though, I hated being touched even more. I’m so lucky to have a husband, who loves me like he does. He has helped me heal in countless ways. I just felt as if I needed to write it down.