When I was younger, I experienced inappropriate touching from my two cousins, as well as other men. Thankfully, nothing more severe happened, but I chose to keep it to myself because I remembered the negative impact it had when I confided in my mom.
During my childhood, my mom was my hero, despite her being intimidating. I loved her wholeheartedly, as she was a single mom without any support. I understood her struggles because life had been harsh to her.
However, I can't help but hold some resentment towards her for instilling fear in me. I never had privacy in various aspects of my life, from friends to food choices and even my clothing. I accepted it because she was the only family I had, unlike my absent father.
I vividly remember her checking my virginity daily by touching my vagina, even when I didn't fully understand what it meant. At the time, I believed she was looking out for me, but that perception changed when I turned 14.
When I reached 14, everything changed. I experienced my first painful and annoying period, and my mom introduced me to a man who was younger than her. While she seemed happy, I despised him from the moment I met him. It was the first time I felt hatred towards someone, aside from school-related matters.
Once he entered the picture, my mom's behavior shifted dramatically. She became overly nice, but I detested the way he treated me like his servant and the repulsive way he looked at me. Whenever I tried discussing my concerns with my mom, she would dismiss them, claiming I couldn't see her happy, which only angered her further.
I learned to ignore their behavior until that fateful day. Instead of coming straight home from school with my friends, I decided to take a leisurely walk through the neighborhood. Little did I know, that decision would forever change my relationship with my mom.
When I returned home just five minutes later, my mom appeared furious, as if she wanted to kill me. She interrogated me about where I had been and started hurling derogatory slurs at me, insinuating that I had been promiscuous. Mind you, I was only 14 years old, and she did this in front of her guests and her husband. She dragged me into a dreadful room, humiliating me in ways I had never experienced before. Ultimately, she confirmed that I was still a virgin.
I can still vividly recall that moment, as if it happened yesterday. There was no trace of remorse or guilt on her face, and my heart sank. I couldn't help but laugh, thinking I must be going insane. I understood that being a single parent was challenging, but did that make me a mere object? Don't I have feelings? Am I not a human being? It hurt me deeply.
She walked out of that room, taking a piece of my heart with her that day. I was never the same again.
Her smug husband stood at the door, demanding that I apologize to my mom for worrying her. I simply walked away while they yelled after me. In a fit of anger, I wanted to sleep with anyone, just to lose this meaningless virginity. Thankfully, my cousin intervened, the same cousin who had been among the men who molested me as a child. Thanks to him, I didn't make a regrettable decision in that moment.
Years have passed, and now I'm 19 years old. I have no friends, I avoid going out, and I despise my mom. Unfortunately, I still have no privacy.
Last year was particularly difficult for me. I resorted to cutting my wrists, but unfortunately, my blood wouldn't flow. I had to seek help from my mom again, and her response was dismissive, stating that it was embarrassing and not worth calling an ambulance on a Sunday. It's ironic that nearly dying was seen as less important than potential embarrassment.
Thank you for listening to my frustrations.