Then , one day we decided that I would go to his house . As the day approached on my calendar , anxiety engulfed me , but he was my boyfriend , and he loved me , or so he said . These are the thoughts that had been planted in my head . Then , the day came where I walked to his house one morning instead of going to school . I lost my virginity , at his house , but I lost so much more that day . It changed me . That day was the beginning of my hell .
Although I was an eleven-year-old child , I was held accountable for what happened — at least that is how I felt . What happened was my fault was the lie I began to accept . Years later , I learned to accept that what happened to me was not love ! I read one day that if a nine year old walked down the street butt naked holding a sign that said “ take me ,” she should not be touched , because she is still a child .
I had to train myself that what happened to me was not consenting or my fault — I was a child ! Memories of the forceps used in the rape kit tore my skin worse than having sex with my boyfriend . I soon fell into a deep depression . I had entered the world of childhood and womanhood faster than my mind could process . It was one thing to play or talk about sex with dolls than to actually experience it .
" I had to train myself that what happened to me was not consenting or my fault "
This turn of events resulted into what would be my first nervous breakdown , as I was pulled from school and inundated with therapy , lawyers and court dates . All the while , I was processing in my mind that this was my fault . No child should have to experience this . Within six months , I was diagnosed as being Bipolar .
Once I was slapped with this label , my life only seemed to go downhill . From the age of twelve to seventeen , I was hospitalized from one mental health facility to the next . There are events that happened in my family of which I have no recollection . I was dealing with mental illness
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