My second time… 1985!

Just to not be redundant you can read about it here and about the third time I told someone my father was a child molester!

My sister and I moved to Arkansas for a little while after my Mom died.  And I was cold, weird cold.  I did not even cry at her funeral.  To be honest I was relieved I think.  I do not feel guilty about it either.  It was how I felt and I had good reason.  I was sad for my sister and brother.  They were still so young and needed a Mom.  I was especially sad for my sister because she saw my Mom die and she was the closest to our Mom.  But my sister was safe (or so I thought).

I did not live in Arkansas long.  Long enough to have sex for the second time.  Robert S.  I waited 3 years before venturing down that road again!  Part of it was I was sixteen!  And part of it was because I was hurting and I wanted to be loved.   And to be honest I felt loved and actually better.  Robert to this day is such a nice guy.  Not normal “mean guy”  for his age at the time.  He was so sweet. I think I loved him a little.  But my love was warped.  And was for many years to come!

I think this is when the sex = love thing began for me.  I used to believe every girl felt this way.  But now I think girls who are abused feel this way.

Sex = Love.  Withhold sex = withhold love!

And so it began, years of searching for love.  Years of not understanding how a guy could have sex with you and not love you. Years of weight problems, depression, heartache, suicidal feeling, worthlessness.


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