Libby’s Story: 33 YEARS LATER…

Libby’s Story: 33 YEARS LATER…

Still, after 33 years, I cannot get these thoughts out of my head. The first time is supposed to be special, with the one you love, or at least with the one you choose. My first time was not like that at all. Still, to this day, I have a very difficult time enjoying any sexual act due to this stripping of my self worth that took place in 1985. I was twelve. I was singing “Like a Virgin” by Madonna not knowing at all what that meant at the time. Sadly, that night I would no longer be a virgin. I could no longer save myself for my future husband. I could no longer decide who to share this special moment with.
I came to this site today, because after 33 years, I started to look up my attacker on FaceBook. I know his name; however, I don’t know where he lives. I only have one piece of information that can help me find him and that is he has a brother I went to school with. That is how we met. That is how he came into my life and sadly, I wish I could forget him. I have even purchased a pair of Sam & Libby shoes, because my name is Libby and you get the rest. Why did I buy these? Why do I keep them in the box and never wear them? Why can’t I let this go?
Sam was older than me, like I said, we met though his brother. One night, I was babysitting two children in the evening. I invited Sam over. I can still remember answering the door and him standing there. He was so handsome and older than me. I felt special. He wanted to spend time with me. Unfortunately, he wanted more than I was ready for, and he took it. It happened on the parent’s bed. He forced me onto the bed and removed my pants. I kept saying no, but I knew I was overpowered. I can still remember just feeling so disgusting, and used, and motionless. Saying no, but no one was hearing me.
My life changed at that moment… looking back… I changed from an extrovert to an introvert. I stopped dance classes. I stopped going to church. It became apparent to me that I was only an object to men and not worthy of love. I became promiscuous. In fact, to this date, I cannot count how many men I’ve slept with. It’s really terrible to sit here and type this, but it’s true. I’m married for the third time now and we still suffer from my past. I never want to be touched, or penetrated. I do it just to make him happy. I guess in a sense I’m still being abused, because I let it affect me this way. It really pisses me off!



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