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Who am I really?
For many years, life taught me how to behave. I walked idly through adolescence and most of my adulthood with no ability to fight, knowing only to hang my head in shame, being misused and judged by most; and suspicious of those who could care less. I was imprisoned – not by the material confines most can identify with but with much stronger barriers, for this enemy was my mind and my captor had spent much time preparing for my destruction. My whereabouts were not in an isolated, dark part of the earth for I seen many people pass. Some looked and shook their head, others laughed and taunted, and yet those whom felt compelled to rescue me went for help and never returned. I am not alone in this captivity, I have heard and seen many of souls that cry out loudly; but I can hear them only because I choose too – I am your mothers, sisters, brothers, friends, neighbors and fellow parishioners; coworkers, children and even your intimate partners. It is now time to break those yokes of captivity, opening the doors for many souls capable of reaching into the furthest corner of the earth to win the souls of the hopeless, lost, and forgotten.
I moved through life believing that I had to have other’s approval. The cost of needing that validation was my first sexual encounter at the age of eleven; alcohol abuse; and abortions beginning as early as age thirteen. I strived to feel wanted, loved and needed – one of the only goals that I was consistent and persistent in achieving. As I am writing there are images of the day I lost my virginity. It was in a bunk bed with a boy I will leave nameless. It was dirty, painful and quick; I had nothing to show for it but a neck full of “passion marks” and blood stained panties. I got a beating that day, because my mother had been searching the neighborhood for my whereabouts – this encounter would be the first of many similar incidents in my life. Another time, after “trying” to “win the affections” of a boy, I was convinced to have sex in the family room of my parents home -- it was quick, painful and nasty but this time I would become pregnant with the child of a fifteen year old, whom lived in the local group home. As I think about it now, even before this incident I had experienced sexual encounters before. Only they took place in the upstairs of my maternal grandmother’s house, with both male and female relatives whom played heavily on my need to be accepted. There are images of my male cousin pretending to give me a “shot” by sticking his penis inside of me from behind. There are instances that I remember kissing and fondling my older female cousin - whom even today is battling with similar types of hang-ups and addictions as myself; leaving me to believe that if wounds are not healed people will seek any means necessary to soothe life’s pains. I remember humping the side of my mother’s sofa, and her asking if anyone was doing anything to me. But that is where the inquisition stopped; I also remember being caught in my bedroom closet with a female friend, Tonya, whom was much older than I. Do I believe myself to be a lesbian because of these few encounters? No one will ever make me claim that title; however this pattern just amplified my need to feel accepted by just about anyone.
Alpine Access
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Copyright © 2008 Tiffany M. Drake. All Rights Reserved