L.A.M.B.S.

As a child, I was molested by my babysitter and by a family member. As a teenager, boys from my neighborhood raped me. The first time I was molested, I thought the child in me died. I lost my innocence, sense of wonder, trust, optimism, stability, happiness, and other things that I didn’t discover until I got older. As a woman, I have repeatedly relived every painful moment and result of the abuse, and I have realized that the little girl in me didn’t die...she was buried alive. When I thought about my life and burst into tears, the little girl was mourning. When I had trouble trusting people and forming relationships, the little girl was resisting. When I insisted on controlling everything around me, the little girl needed structure and security. When I functioned in chaos while everyone around me was falling apart, the little girl was making sense of it all, so that she could go on living. For years, I struggled with the dichotomy of self. There was the strong and confident wom