I was ten when I had my first sexual encounter. I was babysitting and the eight year-old girl who I was watching wanted to play doctor. Little did I know, I would soon be coerced into having my vagina prodded and poked. She inserted her doctor toys into me. I froze, not knowing what to do or what to say. She was younger than me. This was meaningless fun for her. I'm sure she meant nothing of harm by it, but it wrecked me. I went home that night and told my mom that I didn't want to babysit her ever again. I never told anyone about the 'fun' experiment that she played.
Several years later, I was in a relationship with a female. I wasn't 100% convinced that I wanted to be with her sexually, but she insisted that we be together sexually if I wanted to stay together. She would beg me, plead me, and eventually force me. She would call me names and threaten to leave the relationship if I wouldn't be intimate with her. I never realized how much that force manipulated me into doing something I didn't want. I didn't realize how much it was killing my heart and spirit. It's taken me a while to realize it was a form of abuse. Some days, I still don't call it that and I question myself.
I carried around these small, but intense and graphic scenarios with me for years. Two years ago, a friend and I went out to a bar. A couple of guys came home with us. It was my friend's apartment and she was insistent that they stay. We all laid on the large couch together and I pretended to be asleep, because I was so uncomfortable with them being there. I thought to myself, "If I am asleep, this guy won't touch me." I was wrong. My back was facing him and he started massaging my butt. I just continued to pretend to be asleep, in hopes he would stop. He didn't. He started grinding into me, and then he inserted his finger inside of me. I moved around, again to try and make him stop. I even went to the bathroom to give him time to change his mind. When I returned to the couch, he continued doing the same thing. When he began to pull down my underwear, I went into the other room to run away from him. I was so scared.
These experiences have wrecked my view of myself and my image. I am constantly ashamed of my sexuality, and those pieces of my story stay tucked away. I don't trust people to hold these Truths about my story in confidence. People are mean and vicious. I think I'm afraid that these were just minor infractions, but they had such a large impact on me. I read other stories of survivors, and I know how lucky I am. However, I can't seem to shake these sexual encounters that forever changed the way I view myself and others.