I just read turtlemomma's most recent entry...and I can only think how it's bringing one of my worst memories back (which I'd already been having nightmares about)...

Yes, I did sexual things as a child...but mostly with friends. Things I barely remember, but that are not harmful to my psyche. I know why I started those things so early though...because even then, sex couldn't matter. I couldn't let it matter. While I was sexually "dormant" from ages 12-15 THAT'S when I let myself feel disgusting. The childhood sexplay and the many guys I have slept and screwed around with since the summer before my junior year is not, until now, what made me feel gross. Sex HAD to be nothing. Just another part of my daily life...nothing special.

But now, I realize that isn't the case anymore. I can't hide anymore. Everytime a guy (aside from the 2 times I saw Gabe this summer, and one time with A) kissed me, touched me, tried to fuck me (or in one case with a regrettable threesome, did fuck me) it made me feel so sick. Part of me wants to be that slutty girl again because I can't stand this feeling...I can't deal with this right now. I've worked too hard pushing this away to deal with it now.

I was only 7 years old. I had had my birthday at Disney World, but for some reason or another I had a birthday party at Discovery Zone as well. It was the perfect day...I remember being so happy. Since I was of course was the birthday girl, I was the last one left. I was still playing in the back, and as I remember it, my mom sent back an employee to come get me (why she couldn't do this herself I don't know). I was in this little cube thing in the back, and he cornered me there. He started to get touchy feely with me, and I started to get scared. I tried to scream out but he convered my mouth and pressed himself against me...he used his free hand to push my shorts down and unzip his...I tried to squirm free from his hand pressing over my mouth, but he was pressing so hard I could barely breathe. All I can remember next was a feeling like I was being ripped apart...no other way to describe it. When he was done (which didn't take long) he threatened me into secrecy. Told me my parents wouldn't want me anymore, that I was a dirty girl now (little knowing that he was feeding deeply into the fear that my parents would regret adopting me). I wiped the smear of blood off my thighs and wiped my hand on part of the cube...the guy then urged me to go back quickly to my mother, and made sure of it himself. I went home like nothing had happened. I did not cry. I opened my presents with a smile on my face (pictures to prove it). I was already learning to hide...which is why I'm so good at manipulating people into believing me now. It was my only method of survival, my only way not to fall apart.

This is also the reason I have not allowed myself to be attracted to black men until now (he was black) because I didn't want to remember that moment...but because I have gotten close to A and am now getting close to another black man, I have to face it. I can't let that man ruin my ability to love who I want to love.

I honestly can't believe I just wrote that...I think I just opened a big fat can of worms that shouldn't have been opened...or maybe it was already open and I was just pretending...who knows. All I know is that I need someone to love me...and if this new guy can do it, so be it. I really, truly, hope he isn't bullshitting me. I don't know what I'll do if he is.