This whole thing has been plaguing me for 17 years and it is time I just talk about it, for real. I didn’t tell anyone about it for 4 years and then I finally told my father I was raped. He told me he was watching tv. My stepmother looked shocked. I told a couple close friends I was raped after that. I was lying. We never had sex. Other things did happen. It was just I felt so violated that malested did not feel serious enough. By the time I was ready to talk about it I wanted to be heard. It was a double edge sword because then I had shame and guilt about lying.
When I was eleven years old I was malested at a sleep over. I think it was labour day weekend, or maybe I just think that because that weekend feels cursed to me. We were staying at a family friend’s and I suddenly woke up with their teenage son ontop of me. At the time I hadn’t thought about sex or kissed a boy or anything. He wanted to have sex but I said no. He pressured me into doing other things with him. He ended up leaving so depressed looking and pouty. I actually felt so guilty and terrible for not doing more with him. I also felt a little rejected the way he stormed off. It honestly fucked with my head so much. I was already a depressed, socially awkward kid and this made it worse. I felt powerless. I felt the urge to make him happy. To make it right. I think the whole negotiation of the thing was so confusing. It felt like psychological warfare.
I now wonder if this boy expected to see me alone again. I wonder if it was meant to be mostly psychological to make me submit to him. I wonder if he only gave up because his arms got tired. I saw him once more and he made fun of me for saying something stupid. I had confusing nightmares about him for months. Some of which I was desperately trying to make him happy. I also wonder if my father ever believed me or cared. Maybe I waited too long to tell him. My father was a lot closer to me when I was eight, before all the depression. Maybe he would have listened if I blurted all the details.
I am plagued by maybes, regrets and one days. I was so confused and shell shocked that I didn’t want to talk at the time. All I know is that I am at a point of my life where I want to be brutally honest and open. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone. I’m not that sorry though because I don’t think I trusted my family enough, even back then.