You never know how to start telling other people about the bad things that have gone on in your life, or how you’re battling mental issues. How does that even come up? How do you begin to speak on it?
Well I dont know but here it goes:
I was about 8 years old when I was molested by a family member or family friend of my neighbors. It was night time and the kids were all going to the corner store to be treated by one of the guys on our block.
Side note: I was very naive and gullible and had extremely low self esteem at this age. Not giving what happened justification but just to tell you a little about me.
As all of the kids were running fast, excited for free candy, my fat self stopped to tie my shoe. It was close to the alley where I stopped, not thinking anything odd because I grew up here, and there he was just standing there against a side of some house.
He called me over to him and initially I froze because I was afraid of all men. Don’t ask why but I just was. He kept saying, “Come here Lil’ Angie”, over and over. So, I went. I ended up going with him a little further into the alley until I was no longer in plain view of anyone. Now, I was the one leaned up against the side of a house; not moving it knowing what to do. I stood there in silence. He tried to touch my face and I moved it. Frustrated with me, I presume, he begin to touch me places I was taught weren’t places anyone should touch a child. He must’ve missed that memo himself because there he was feeling me, grouping me, ruining me and my childhood all at once, forever.
When he was done or got irritated with my discomfort, his drunken self told me to go on with friends. So I did. I walked out of the alley, no expression on my face, no voice to scream. I wanted to yell out and tell my mom or my sister. I didn’t.
Someone came back, finally noticing I was gone, and called for me to come get candy. So I walked to the store to join my friends to get candy, like nothing ever happened.