Growing up, I was like any other kid. I loved playing outside, watching cartoons, and eating all the candy I could get my hands on. I was a sweet, innocent child with big dreams and an even bigger heart.
But everything changed when my uncle came to stay with us for a few weeks. At first, I was excited to have him around. He was always the fun uncle, the one who would sneak me extra cookies when my parents weren't looking. But that all changed one fateful night.
I was sleeping peacefully in my bed when I felt someone climb in next to me. I opened my eyes to see my uncle's face inches away from mine. Before I could even process what was happening, he began to touch me in places I didn't even know existed. I tried to scream, but his hand covered my mouth. I was paralyzed with fear and confusion.
And just like that, my childhood innocence was taken away from me in a matter of minutes. My uncle left the next day, leaving me feeling dirty, scared, and broken. I didn't understand what had happened, but I knew it wasn't something I could tell anyone. So, I buried the memory deep within me and tried to move on with my life.
But as the days went by, I found myself drawn to anything that reminded me of that night. I would sneak into the living room and watch Ann Margret in "Tommy, Soap suds pouring out of her tv like a beautiful waterfall on her knees rubbing soap suds all over fishnet jumpsuit. . I couldn't explain it, but it made me feel safe, like everything was going to be okay. And before I knew it, my obsession with soap suds turned into a form of healing for me.
As I got older, my need to play in soap suds turned into a need to masturbate in them. It was the only way I could temporarily escape the pain and trauma that I had experienced. But with every release, came a wave of self-disgust and shame. I hated myself for needing a roomfull of bubbles.
Now, as an adult, I find myself questioning why I think the way I do. Why do I find solace in something that is supposed to be so innocent? It's funny, isn't it? How one moment can shape the rest of your life.
And the saddest part of it all is that I fear no one will ever love me. Who would want to be with someone who thinks about being in there garage with a tv set and foam machine covering me in soap suds and orgasming. instead of flowers and love songs? I must be crazy, right?
But deep down, I know that I am not to blame. It's not my fault that my uncle took advantage of me and scarred me for life. And even though it may take a long time to heal, I am slowly learning to love and accept myself for who I am.
Because at the end of the day, I am not just a victim or a survivor. I am a human being, flawed and broken, but still worthy of love and happiness. And one day, I will find someone who will see past my scars and love me for who I am. Until then, I will continue to heal in my own way, one soap bubble at a time.
But everything changed when my uncle came to stay with us for a few weeks. At first, I was excited to have him around. He was always the fun uncle, the one who would sneak me extra cookies when my parents weren't looking. But that all changed one fateful night.
I was sleeping peacefully in my bed when I felt someone climb in next to me. I opened my eyes to see my uncle's face inches away from mine. Before I could even process what was happening, he began to touch me in places I didn't even know existed. I tried to scream, but his hand covered my mouth. I was paralyzed with fear and confusion.
And just like that, my childhood innocence was taken away from me in a matter of minutes. My uncle left the next day, leaving me feeling dirty, scared, and broken. I didn't understand what had happened, but I knew it wasn't something I could tell anyone. So, I buried the memory deep within me and tried to move on with my life.
But as the days went by, I found myself drawn to anything that reminded me of that night. I would sneak into the living room and watch Ann Margret in "Tommy, Soap suds pouring out of her tv like a beautiful waterfall on her knees rubbing soap suds all over fishnet jumpsuit. . I couldn't explain it, but it made me feel safe, like everything was going to be okay. And before I knew it, my obsession with soap suds turned into a form of healing for me.
As I got older, my need to play in soap suds turned into a need to masturbate in them. It was the only way I could temporarily escape the pain and trauma that I had experienced. But with every release, came a wave of self-disgust and shame. I hated myself for needing a roomfull of bubbles.
Now, as an adult, I find myself questioning why I think the way I do. Why do I find solace in something that is supposed to be so innocent? It's funny, isn't it? How one moment can shape the rest of your life.
And the saddest part of it all is that I fear no one will ever love me. Who would want to be with someone who thinks about being in there garage with a tv set and foam machine covering me in soap suds and orgasming. instead of flowers and love songs? I must be crazy, right?
But deep down, I know that I am not to blame. It's not my fault that my uncle took advantage of me and scarred me for life. And even though it may take a long time to heal, I am slowly learning to love and accept myself for who I am.
Because at the end of the day, I am not just a victim or a survivor. I am a human being, flawed and broken, but still worthy of love and happiness. And one day, I will find someone who will see past my scars and love me for who I am. Until then, I will continue to heal in my own way, one soap bubble at a time.