Necessary Unwrapping

Every story has a beginning. Sometimes it’s neatly laid out and easy to understand. This won’t be one of those stories unfortunately. My story, my life, is a bunch of middle content that I have to find ways to express. I need my trauma, my luck, my coping, my life to have purpose. In order to do that, I need to unwrap memories I’ve neatly packed away. The memories I dressed in colorful paper and bows so no one would see the evil inside. I’m hoping that my searching and my careful ripping of the facades will give someone, anyone, guidance; I think it will be okay if that someone only ends up being me.

I’ll dive right into the overview of my story in the way I would normally, reluctantly, open up to someone in my life. I was in a sexual relationship with my band teacher in middle school. I can’t remember the exacts as well as I used to. I believe I was 14 at the time it started. I was easily manipulated into a situation that I knew wasn’t right. I didn’t know how to say no, but also, I was being fed exactly what a vulnerable teen girl wanted to hear. My dad discovered something was going on, which I will explain in detail later how. At the time, I thought my life was over, for a million and one reasons. I never hated my dad over this, but I know I was not kind to him. I did not treat him as my savior, which I think he is. I think he not only saved me, but he also saved any other girl who may have crossed my abusers path. (I’m making a mental note to be sure to properly thank him sometime, even though it will probably only be on this blog.) After that catalyst of justice, teens at my combined middle and high school were not understanding. I went through years of bullying and harassment that extended beyond my school life. All the while battling a depression unmatched.

If you haven’t already gathered, those situations had me struggling more than most my age. I also had family situations at home that were in the process before any of that sparked, and I suspect my anxiety was underlying in early childhood as well. All these contributed to who I am and how I handle myself and my issues to this day. I think I still have room to improve of course.

Ultimately, my story is going to be about what happened to me, what I hid, what I purposely forgot, and why it’s important I’m remembering now. My necessary unwrapping.