I am a survivor. Doesn’t that sound trite? I must admit it is an overused phrase these days. But I am not a victim, I am a survivor.
I am a woman who was molested by my mother until I got too old when I was five. She moved on to my baby brother then. I remember it. I remember that I was relieved that I did not have to have special mommy time anymore. I was happy to be invisible.
When you are a child, you have no defenses. When your parent is the one hurting you, what should you do?
I grew up thinking that there was something wrong with me. Some reason why that little space between my legs was the most interesting part of my being. I have heard that because I was a child and do not remember every occurrence that it should not matter that it happened to me. I should get over it.
I am a woman who was molested by my mother. I am a woman who was rejected by my father and thrown out. I am a woman who was raped by my boyfriend. I am a woman who has been strong and survived to make a life for herself.
Here I am. I survived. I will continue on.