Surviving Childhood Sexual Abuse: A Traumatic Journey

What you see here is a microperforate hymen, this is the result of my multiple childhood rapes and this can only be corrected by a painful Hymenotomy surgery. Please take the time - if you will - to read my full story. I thank you.
I was only six years old. He was Joe, twenty one, a neighbor down the road and my babysitter. All I remember from that night is suffocating in the bathtub because he had forced my head down in the water the whole time and being too terrified to scream. He was drunk and on drugs. Following nights I had several hallucinations and night terrors. I couldn’t sleep normally anymore. I understood I did something wrong and committed a sin. I dreamed of hell and Satan a lot. I thought I was being punished by someone and

You are after-all now, an easier target. You either gain or you loose an excessive amount of weight. You stop taking care of yourself and have the most sabotaging self esteem. It was middle school. I was thirteen and there were four boys who wanted to talk to me after school. I remember hearing them laughing the whole time. I was pinned down and full of bruises after they were done. The staff had found used condoms. They pled me to - but I was too terrified for the students getting in trouble and so full of guilt that I couldn’t speak out against them. I was sure no one would believe me anyway. I was new- from a different state and had no friends. I smelled. Who would care anyway? I continued to rationale how I got what I deserved. However, I was so scared that subconsciously whenever I saw or heard a group guys anywhere near me, I’d pee myself. It wasn’t until I was fifteen that I mentally had the control and stopped doing this. The endless amount of bullying and social isolation I faced throughout my schooling had affected my self esteem. Thinking back had brought on panic attacks and depression - which eventually developed into

I didn’t like thinking I was tainted and unlovable. While the truth of the matter was I was dirty. I could never be pure. But still - I wanted to believe so badly- even though It was a delusion- that I was still dating and marriage material. My personal survival tactic, was conjuring several imaginary childhood friends in my head. They would encourage me. I could laugh and smile about the scenarios I created in my mind. I could convince myself that I wasn’t mentally lonely. Only others I had met who suffered through foster care - knew my exact feelings of neglect, embarrassment, shame, isolation, deprivation, and the intense fear, inability to trust, or relate to anyone of any age. I cant tell you how many times I held on to sleeping pills after coming home from school. I cant tell you how many times had stabbed myself to avoid being alone. I cant tell you how many times I screamed how i’m going to hang myself and ended up in the hospital on mental