Okay, I think it's time I got something out. Something happened to me years ago, when I was young and innocent and all that cutesy jazz. I've never talked about it because I don't often reflect on it. I don't know why, really - it was a horrible experience and I don't think I'd ever been so scared or confused since or before.
Anyways, rambling...
When I was eight (almost nine, I think), my daycare lady (I call her my aunt) took us and a bunch of the kids from daycare over to one of her older kids' house for a pool party. We all knew the kid and his parents and they knew us, it was all familiar.
Well, after some swimming, I had to use the bathroom. I asked my aunt where the bathroom was and she brought the owner-kid over to show me where. He took me inside, showed me the bathroom, then pushed me and shut the door and raped me. I didn't scream or say anything because I didn't even know what the hell sex was. I just took it. He made me into a dog and I was paralyzed. He left afterwards and I went outside and from there on, I don't remember anything, 'til a week later when I finally told my aunt. She was furious. He called me a liar, but I wasn't.
Four years later, I was home alone. My mom was just a few houses down at her friend's house. I was in my pajamas and watching television in the living room, when someone knocked on the door. I sat there, waiting for them to knock again, and they didn't. So I got up and looked through the peep hole. There was a person out on the sidewalk (having walked away). I thought it was my mom, so I opened the door and instead it was a man I'd never seen before. He saw me and came to the door and said he was selling vacuums, and asked if my mom was home. I said no (biggest mistake of my life). He said alright. Then he told me he'd been doing this all day, and would like to know where our restroom was. I figured, hey, if I was out selling stuff all day in the summer heat, I'd like someone to let me quickly use their restroom, so I let him in and showed him where it was. He went into the bathroom, flushed the toilet to make it SEEM like he'd gone, and then came back and put his hand down my pants. Again, I was paralyzed. He just felt me for a good five or ten seconds, then pulled his hand away and left. I shut the door and called my mom. She found him as he was walking down the street, and the cops were called.
The above explains my fear of answering doors and taking calls. Probably my paranoia too.
I'm glad to get this off my chest, I think.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
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