I was so desperate for love as a child. I felt so rejected and alone, so lost. That feeling continued into my teenage years where I met my first boyfriend. I was 14 years old when I met him. I was so nervous, but so excited. He thought I was special, and cute. As a matter of fact he loved me. It was amazing, yet so scary. I had been so long since I had been complimented, been appreciated, felt love.
He asked me to do things that were uncomfortable for me. I was so shy and timid. My first kiss for starters. I was so not ready for that. Then he wanted to come over after school while my parents were at work. But when he did we would just lay on my bed and he would hold me. Oh how amazing that was! I had longed for something like that for so long! I just knew that was what love felt like. Real love.
We spent as much time as we could together. I was completely enamored. As always in a world that is surrounded by darkness and despair, that was to end too. That came early the next year, on Valentine’s Day as a matter of fact. I’m sure I was excited at the thought of my first Valentine’s Day with an actual boyfriend and someone to be romantic with. I honestly can’t remember now, because only one thing stands out in my mind from that day. The one of the gifts he gave me was a condom. I was a virgin, and sex was not on my mind. It was not something I wanted to do, or was ready for at all. Apparently the gift was a sign of what was to come.
He has decided we were going to have sex. That was that. He was going to come over early one morning because we had a vacation day from school and my parents would be at work. Then we were going to do the deed. He informed me he was tired of being a virgin at the ripe old age of 15. I protested much, but in the end I told myself I would do it because I loved him.
The day came and he was at my door bright and early that morning. I felt sick. I did not want to do it. I told him as much. He was adamant that it was going to happen. He chased me around the our tiny duplex trying to get my clothes off. Finally I submitted. I did it because I loved him. That is what I had to tell myself to get through it. Because that is what love does.
I did not enjoy it, not one little bit. His feeling was not mutual. He wanted to have sex all the time after that. I did not. I argued and told him no, time and time again. Relentless as he was, I could not keep up the fight. After all, I did not want to lose my only love. So again and again I gave in. I went numb inside, cold. My depression and despair grew deeper. But it was not rape and that was never a thought in my mind. I was desperate for love.
The relationship lasted about a year. So it was later in that year that I finally broke up with him. And in that freedom I realized that all those times I laid there and let him have sex with me, it was wrong. It was rape. The realization came rolling over me like a tsunami, but one that comes in slow motion. It crashed over me with a destructive force. How could I have been so stupid to think that was love? I was disgusted with him, and ashamed of myself.
I didn’t give up on love though. I was a drowning girl looking for a life vest in any form I could find. Anything that would save me; anyone that would love me.
It is hard to sit and write this now, 24 years later. I stuffed that memory down for so many years. It came up during various points in my life and I tried to deal with it, to forgive and come to terms with it. It has caused me many problems in my relationships over the years. Trust. That has been a big one.
I can’t say I am 100% over my trust issues, but I am moving into a new and wonderful place with trust. I have had an amazing healing power that has begun to restore me recently. A power so strong, to think about it is causing me to weep. Tears of joy and of thanksgiving. Yes, that is the beauty of walking out of the darkness, and into the light.