My Story (Trigger Warning)

It was summer time when it happened. I was six years old and going into the first grade. I was an adventurous, playful, curious child and that day I was playing outside with my neighbor. I am not sure how old he was at the time. Maybe 16? But in my six year old perspective, he might as well had been a grown man. We were on my driveway, not sure what we were playing, but he asked me to come back to his house, which was right next door. I excitingly agreed and was eager to see what the inside of his house looked like. I always loved exploring the inside of other people's homes for some reason. He had me sit on his foot, and walked with me, sitting there. I was laughing, I was having fun, I didn't have a worry in the world. 

I can't remember the couple minutes it took to get from the front door to his bedroom, I just have an image of the living room, with the tv set on and the back of two heads (his parents) watching the tv. The next moment, we were in his room. At first, it was still playful. I think he was throwing me on the bed (in a playful way) and I was still laughing and having fun. I think he asked me to sit on the bed? I can't remember if I was scared at this point or wondering if he was going to play another game with me. But then he held me down and in an instance my carefree self was gone, and fear and panic rose up inside of me. He took off his pants and exposed himself.  He was forcefully trying to put his penis inside of me. I was so terrified. I was screaming, crying, trying to fight him. But I couldn't fight him, he was too big. In that moment, I felt fear beyond what I knew existed, I felt helpless, I felt like I was trapped and would never escape. The moment seemed to last forever, but it must have only been a couple of minutes. Luckily, he never got his penis inside of me ( I don't remember feeling any pain), or at least, he didn't have time to because all of a sudden there was a knock on the door. He stopped abruptly, and dressed himself. I guess my pants came back on? His parents answered, and I heard my mom's voice asking where I was. I remember being so relieved, I think I ran out of that room. I don't remember anything else after that. To me, I thought I looked very upset like something bad had happened. Whether or not my mom asked if something was wrong, I'll never remember. I just remember from that point on, I felt so so so ashamed, disgusted, embarrassed, (the list goes on), about what happened that I swore to myself I would never tell anyone.

I kept that promise until I was 16 years old. The only reason why I told my mom was because I was having a panic attack and thought that if I told this secret, my mind would feel relieved and my panic attack would subside. It didn't. The secret was out there and I did not feel any sense of relief at all. By this point in my life though, I felt so disconnected from myself and reality, that it didn't mean anything to me to expose that secret. The only thing I remember feeling was scared to unveil this ugly part of me to my mom. 

I started having really bad anxiety and panic attacks a month away from my 16th birthday. 

I still suffer from anxiety and depression, I'm 21 now, and I know it is because of the reality my mind constructed after that incident, and carrying the burden of that experience and all of the negative emotions I felt from that experience, inside of me for so long.

I would definitely say I am still in victim mentality. I have no self-esteem. I honestly think I am a worthless person. I think everyone is better than me, even the guy who tried to rape me. 

I am not trying to receive pity from anyone. This is just the honest truth of how I feel about myself, and it's annoying telling someone who has never had victim mentality before, all of these things. Because they're immediately going to look at you like you're crazy for feeling this way, and try to comfort you and tell you that none of that is true. But it is true, if you have victim mentality. I construct who I am and how I feel that I am, and what I feel I am now is a victim. A weak, worthless, victim. Obviously, I do not like feeling this way. It's horrible, to hate a part of yourself. To be your biggest enemy. But that's just my state of mind at the moment. Deep down, do I know these qualities are just manifestations of victim mentality? Well, yeah. But I have had this suppressed, core beliefs since I was six years old and am just now starting to uncover them. I love my soul, but I hate myself. If that makes sense?

Oh well, this is long enough already.

If anyone feels or has felt the same way as me and could give me some support or a conversation, that would be what I need. 

Stay positive everyone, and remember that life is a journey and no matter how much damage someone, or yourself, can do to your mind and your body, your soul is what will always remain true to you. Nothing can damage that.