Our options for our post this week are...
- The simple things...
- Write an entry inspired by the word: Yellow
- A memorable sporting even
- Sex Education! How old were you when you learned about the birds and the bees? Who taught you? Describe that experience.
- This month the theme of Oprah's Magazine is intuition...write about a time your instincts were wrong.
- Create a video where you share your opinion on when bloggers should stop blogging about their kids
(for my post, I will be going with 4 for now but will possibly touch on 5 in a future post)
I learned about sex at a very young age. Up until the age of five, when the state took us away from her, my two siblings and myself shared a room with our birth mother. It was a one bedroom, crappy, run-down apartment that most of my childhood memories are wrapped up in. Her taking off for days at a time, leaving me to fend for not only myself, but for a one year old and a newborn baby as well. Memories of them crying for hours on end, and me, trying to feed them Pepsi in their bottles, and Mr. Goodbars, because that was all I could find. I honestly don't remember if we even had a refrigerator. It really irritates me that the only things I can remember from that apartment is the bedroom and the flight of stairs leading down to our door. Both seeming like nothing at the time but significant now that I look back on it. Looking back on memories that I don't want to remember.
That bedroom is one memory that I have tried to forget. The silhouettes, the whispers, the noises, and me crying, thinking that someone was hurting the one person that was supposed to protect me. The one person that never did. I actually crawled out of my crib one night, grabbing a flyswatter to hit the man that I thought was hurting her. (this was a mistake I never made again) He jumped out of bed, spanked me and put me back into my bed, not even making the effort to cover himself up. A stranger, standing nude, in front of me, this strange thing dangling between his legs, disciplining me, and my mom laying in the bed, saying nothing. After I was back in bed, sobbing like I was dying, they went on with their play, this time, totally uncovered. I could see it all, and I guess, because I was no longer asleep, that there was no need to be quiet anymore either. This was my first experience of sex.
*jump ahead 6 years, summertime, 11 years old and most of my childhood innocence gone due to abuse, I am in the bathtub, and my grandmother comes in to use the toilet and decides this conversation is appropriate*
GM - "Heather, have you started your period yet?"
Me - "Have I done what? I didn't do anything, I am just taking my bath like you asked."
GM - "You aren't in trouble, don't you know what a period is?"
Me - "Unless you are talking about punctuation, I have no idea what you are talking about."
GM - "Don't get smart with me, I will get you a book that will tell you all about it. And on that note, if a guy ever asks you to give him a bj, don't do it, it's nasty."
Me - "A what?"
*she leaves the bathroom and she never talks to me about it again, nor did she get me the book. Summer ends and I start junior high school*
Sixth grade, the year I started middle school. Also the year my body decided to develop and the year I started my period. (ahh now I get it) Luckily, by now, I was no longer uneducated due to my sixth grade health class. I will always remember that year as one of my both best and worst years. I could ask all the questions I wanted and I had the most patient teacher who answered everything appropriately, and never left me hanging or feeling confused. But I was also cursed with aunt flo and all the damn things that come with her.