Em’S Story: I Needed to Write This

Em’S Story: I Needed to Write This

Hi, I’ve been debating on writing this for a while. I have gotten drunk and sobbed over it even 6 years later. I have had epiphany and epiphany of how truly, truly horrible it was an how BLIND I was to it. Let me start at the beginning, I was so smitten. I was 15, a freshman in high school and so badly wanted to find my “first love.” And I thought I did, I really did. We had talked about getting married. My friends told me they BETTER be in our wedding and how they couldn’t wait for us to get married. I had a promise ring. I posted countless Instagram posts over the course of 4 years confessing my love for him and telling everyone how amazing he was. It was such a lie. In truth, I was disgusted by him. I wished so many times that he would just be done with me and break up with me. I acted like such a brat just hoping he would finally give up. The thought of touching him and being with him in a sexual matter made me cringe. I avoided it at all costs. I can remember sitting with him and just wishing he would go home. I consider myself a very sexual person, so this just wasn’t the norm for me. And it wasn’t. For a reason. When we met freshman year, I was amazed. We had the same interests, seemingly good parents and we both wanted a lot of the same things from life (all the wonderful things you dream of when you’re 15-19 LOL). So, I invited him over. Our parents knew each other and we were allowed to hang out in my basement with an open door policy. That didn’t matter. We got downstairs and I immediately felt uneasy. Like he wasn’t there for the reason I thought he was. And he wasn’t. He started touching me and I can remember not saying anything. WHY didn’t I say anything? I remember asking him what he was doing and him telling me it “seemed like I liked it.” So, I let him. He was boyfriend after all, there’s nothing wrong with that, right? Wrong. That day literally shaped our whole relationship. I couldn’t stand the thought of touching him and I avoided having sex with him for 2 years by telling him I just “wasn’t ready.” But even then, he pushed me for more. It was always something and it was always over the top dirty and kinky. I spent 4 years of my life thinking I liked nasty, rough sex when in reality, that’s not the truth at all. I had molded myself into what he wanted because that one day he forced himself onto me shifted my self worth. I thought that was all I was really good for and that he wouldn’t love me without it. I put on a face that no one could see through. Everyone thought we were perfect. But we weren’t. This has stuck with me for my entire life. My reason in writing this is to tell anyone who has been a victim of something like this, even though it seems so small and insignificant because “we were only 15” or “we were in love,” it’s not. It’s okay to not be okay with it. Because it’s NOT okay. You’re worth so much more than sex and anyone who makes you feel anything less, shouldn’t be a part of your life. So fuck it. Fuck the “high school sweetheart” fairy tale bullshit. Fuck it. Don’t stay with someone because you think it will make a sweet story to tell your kids one day, when, in truth, you’re screaming inside. Tell someone. Get the fuck out of that relationship. I believe in you.

Author

WYR

WYR

When You're Ready.org is a community for survivors of sexual violence to share their stories.

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