Letters Unsent (Mature)

I’ve been sitting on this for a few days. A fellow blogger has encouraged me to write about my experiences as a teen. I don’t if it really will help. Most people say things like this are “cathartic”. This confuses me because I had to look up the definition of cathartic and it didn’t make a lot of sense. “Evacuating your bowels”? Not sure how that’s going to help me, maybe that’s just stress, fear, and anxiety blocking my ability to see the real meaning in what they said.

I have a lot of issues that start before my relationship with this … this… I really can’t think of a word that doesn’t do a disservice to someone else. Maybe my issues made me an easy target, maybe they are the reason I didn’t speak up, maybe it’s my fault, but I don’t want to believe that.

Anyway, I wont tell you to “Enjoy” this post. Most of you wont, I’d be willing to bet some of you wont make it through the whole thing. The things that happened to me would break your heart, of this, I have no doubts. Keep in mind, I was 15 years old when all this started. I was barely 105lbs. I was very much an innocent, little girl. He was also 15.



To The First Guy I Ever Loved,

I loved you, as much as I could have. I was naive, I was stupid, I didn’t know any better. Emotionally, I wasn’t ready for what you would do to me and I hurt every day because of it. I can’t trust my husband, though the man has never raised his voice to me a single time and wouldn’t dream of raising his hand to me. The way you did. I’m sorry you felt the need to make yourself feel better by violating me. Repeatedly. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know what I was doing that first time. I felt more stupid and ashamed when I found out about your friend in the next room and what he was doing to the sounds of my soul being torn for the first time. I have regretted it every day of my life for the past 12 years. My heart was violated, my body was broken, my eyes teared up and my soul cried out. You never stopped. You never cared to love me back. How many other girls did you sleep with while you were raping me? How many other broken bodies and violated hearts did you leave in your wake? When I cried, you yelled louder. You made impossible rules and expected me to follow them exactly as described. We were kids, but you treated me like a slave. You didn’t know my soul was already fragile from molestations, sexual harassment and abandonment. Or maybe you did? Maybe you played it to your advantage? I don’t know. I wish I could say I don’t care, but I can’t lie.

I loved you, as stupid as it was to do. I didn’t know what I was doing. I was naive, and you played that to your advantage. It’s your fault I lost my way when you finally left me for that slut. It’s your fault that I was an alcoholic at the age of 17. It’s your fault I bounced from one relationship to another without ever getting to know myself. It’s your fault I can’t truly trust my husband or have friends. You violated a part of my soul that I don’t believe even God himself can fix. My husband is a real man and because of you, I can’t be his real woman. I can’t love myself because of you. I don’t think I’m beautiful. I don’t think I’m smart. I don’t think I’m worth more than dirt. I feel guilty for wanting to have sex with my husband. I feel dirty for wanting to express my desires to him and with him and for him. It’s your fault. You broke a piece of my soul and I don’t know how to fix it.

I want to be a woman. I want to feel like a woman, not an object. I don’t want to be embarrassed by sex with my husband. I don’t want to fall apart because someone said something that brings memories of you flooding back uncontrollably. I don’t want to think of you. I don’t want your memory in my brain. I don’t want your memory on my body. I don’t want you in my dreams, in my mind, in my life. You shouldn’t have this much power over me. I shouldn’t still be blaming myself for what you did to me ten years ago! I shouldn’t hate myself because you hated me. I don’t want to hate myself anymore. I want to hate you! I want to hate you so much, but I can’t. I blame myself too much to hate you.

I wish I could stop passively loving you. I’m sure that I still do on some level. We’ll always be connected. You were my first love. You were the first person in my life who made me feel like both a diamond and scum. You were the first person to violate my heart, break my body, make me cry and shred my soul.

I’m 27 now. I don’t want you to own me for another ten years.

Waiting to Heal,