My Exposition...

Growing up with a best friend is every little girls dream. Although this dream would later be deemed a nightmare...the kind that leaves you numb, insecure, and disgusted with yourself. Being adopted into a family that always tells you, "We are not your real parents.", but says to call them "mom" and "dad" is not the most welcoming situation for a 4 year old. Your mind is constantly clouded with unrecognizable emotions and a longing to finding a sense of security. With these unknown emotions flourishing in your mind, you realize that you can not place your trust within this house of strangers. So you find it somewhere else, this being a little girl who is only a year older than you. You and your new best friend participate in all of the same activities and after school care, you both become inseparable in no time. Your parents became friends too and planned ways to make the similarities in our schedules convenient for them. By splitting transportation routes, you began living out of each others houses which inevitably made your friendship pivot to a more "sisterly" bond. From doing school projects together to having a special handshake before taking the competition stage, you two soon became an iconic duo to the outside world. During this time of bliss, no one would know how sour this sweet story would turn. Your friendship slowly went from the purest form of love, to the most gut wrenching experiences of your life. Nap time went from sleeping alone to not being able to sleep without each other. Inside jokes turned to secrets that you kept from your parents and other friends. It went from playing house with Barbies, to demonstrating sexual acts with them. The movie nights went from watching Disney, to binge watching videos on adult sites. The pool parties went from twenty kids, to just you two in a bubble bath that allowed learning more about each other in new ways. The bedroom went from a place of laughter to a place of stripped clothes and locked doors. You wouldn't realize that the heartbreak and tears of sadness shed when your best friend of 8 years moved to a new school would return years later. Only this time the heartbreak and sadness is for yourself and the little girl you were that didn't quite understand why something so "right" was so wrong. Realizing what had happened to yourself, you close the chapter of naivety to begin the chapter of depression and identity insecurity. ____________ __________ For many years I was angry. Angry at my childhood friend who did this to me. Especially angry at my parents who failed to see the signs of Sexual Abuse. From extensive bed wetting into my teen years, to casually touching myself in inappropriate ways, and even having new "terms" for my private areas. I hated that all of my "first's" were taken from me. I envied the idea of having a childhood full of innocence and enjoying the little things. I hated that I would be labeled as "weird" as a teen for enjoying movies and shows meant for little kids. I hated that I would never have the normal middle school or high school experience. That I would struggle with intimate relationships and the most basic forms of physical touch for the foreseen future. However, what I hated the most is that no one would understand how being sexually abused for 8 years and living in a reactive household would mentally delay me and how I regulate my emotions. Until one day I thought about someone other than myself. I realized that she too had been exposed to these experiences. That she is a survivor herself, showing me "love" in the only way she was taught. I beg that you learn the signs of COCSA and know who your kids are spending their time with. For anyone who denies that COCSA is a real issue, and that kids are "just curious", the human body does not take note of the difference in a child, mom, dad, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, teacher, or neighbor in that moment. What the body understand is that sexual assault, is sexual assault. The trauma stored in the mind and body from this experience will remain, no matter the age, gender, or relation of the "abuser". I wish you all a life changing recovery, even if you tell everyone or no one at all. Everyone heals in their own way. Do not compare your story to someone else's to discredit your own experiences. Your story is valid. - E. <3