.molestation.

it's a hard thing to say,
to admit
it took me years...
years...
for me to even be able to say the word
molestation.


i knew it was wrong,
i always knew it was so wrong.
but, i was so young when it started...
i was so afraid and so brainwashed.
how would i know what to say or do..
i was confused.

stripped.


i was molested.
for over five years of my life.
when it started is vague..i'm thinking six,
but i know i was about eleven when it finally stopped.
when i finally told my older sister..

i remember thinking about telling her for months,
the courage always seemed to escape me.
i remember practicing how i was going to tell her on my walks home from school.
how hard that time was for me.
saying those words, for the first time
were the hardest part of this journey.
this recovery.
this self finding.
how do you find yourself in a little girl that's been molested for the majority of her life?
i was so lost, and i felt so alone.

i remember thinking she was going to yell at me,
and run off and tell my mom.

i was so afraid of my mom.

my abuser had created a monster out of my mom.
telling me she hated me.
that i was a mistake.
that she wouldn't care in the least if i was gone.

and for a very long time
i believed him

that's how i lived,
that was my truth,
the only thing i knew
for years as a child.

really looking back,
it's almost unbelievable to me.

somehow, through all of that shit
an eleven year old girl
found the courage to tell her first someone.

to spit out that word that was deteriorating her entire being
from the inside out.

i was molested.
i am a victim of sexual, physical and verbal abuse.
i was called every horrible name in the book before the age of ten.
i was beaten with any object laying around.
i knew an array of sexual disgusting-ness no kid should ever know.
ever.

all the while under the same roof my family lived in.
without anyone knowing.

with a silent shout i wait
to become stronger, to find myself

everyday has new beginnings