Be Like The Coffee

http://www.socialeverythings.com/2016/01/she-tells-her-grandma-that-shes-just.html?m=1

Great analogy because just the other day, I was met with some emotional setbacks and was reminded of the time I was molested when I was 9 years old. Long story short, things happened multiple times. Things finally stopped when I got the courage to threaten to tell my mother.  When I finally told my mother “something” happened and I mentioned that I was “touched”, (She never knew exactly what happened. She refused to hear and or ask for the details) I was told that “nothing” really happened since I was only ‘touched” and to forget it ever happened, never talk about it and never tell anyone about it either.  If I do, I will be forever damned and our family would be ruined.

When I turned 10, I started my period. I thought it was from what happened a year ago. But my mom didn’t say what or why I was bleeding.  She just told me what to do.  I don’t recall if she told me how often it would happen either. When school started in Fall, some girls were talking about getting theirs for the first time. That was when I learned about menstruation but even then I couldn’t help but think about what happened a year ago caused me to bleed and perhaps my friends were getting theirs because they were “touched” too.

At age 11, we had sex education for the first time.  I was horrified. I felt disgusting. I felt dirty.  I felt so unprotected. I was frantically going crazy mentally because I swore I was pregnant from 2 years ago. (sounds funny now but back then it wasn't) Yes PREGNANT. My mother never talked about sex or taught us anything about sex either. It was so taboo. to mention S-E-X. Calling Planned Parenthood from a phone booth didn’t make things better because I had so many unanswered questions and they couldn’t help me.  It didn't help that I didn’t know the right questions to ask either.  I even starved myself to stay as thin as possible so the ‘baby’ would not grow and thrive. I lived a life of secrecy, feeling insecure, and scared to death until age 16.  I don't even remember when I finally realized I wasn't pregnant.

I lived like this through high school when I was able to go and learn as much as possible about what happened to me at age 9.  I went to the library, talked to friends about sex and pregnancy. My one friend knew a lot about sex because her older sister was married and gave her info. I couldn't ask a lot of questions for fear I would be found out.  During my senior year in Physiology,  the teacher taught about male and female reproductive system.  I would finally comprehend what happened to me and learn everything I needed to know about puberty and reproduction.

One would’ve never known what I was feeling or know what I was going through.  At school I was in student council, I was on the volleyball team and was a song girl.  I was “popular” with people but was not in the popular group.  People viewed me as peppy and happy go-lucky.  I would say I was generally well-liked. I knew a lot of people and a lot of people knew me. I had boyfriends in high school, attended proms and formals.  My group of high school friends (7 of us) who I am still friends with made my years in high school a fun and memorable one. They helped me survive my high school years and made me feel safe. I lived vicariously through others who had emotional things I didn’t have. I also found doing good things for others was rewarding. Being someone's friend when no one wanted to be their friend made a difference. When I knew I made someone smile, it made me feel good and gave me some self worth at the same time. It was these little things I did that would help me move on and forget about the negative things. I knew deep down inside my hurt wasn't important but what I could do for others was and it would subside the pain and would help me survive and continue to go on with my life. 

Sometimes, there may seem like there are no solutions when life sucks, but you have a choice on how you live through the bad times. Do you allow the difficulties, bad experiences and heartaches dictate your life and change you or do you take a stand and change it.  Looking back at what I went through, I knew had to take a stand to change things for the better. But I will be honest, it was not easy. I was so resentful. I couldn't trust anyone. I even shut someone out that I fell in love with, walked away from a growing relationship and hurt him.  I couldn't bring myself to tell him why I couldn't be with him. I was humiliated and embarrassed. I didn't feel as if I deserved to be with him. I felt I was never going to be good enough because of my tainted past.   I wanted to throw my hands up and give up. I was at my wits end and an emotional mess.  I let a good one slip away and I knew something had to change and being the mess I was, wasn't going to allow me to have a healthy relationship moving forward.

I found being a friend, giving to others selflessly helped.  And when I became a mother,  I realized I had a purpose in life-  I want to be a good mother to my child.  I want to be there for my child and be the mother I wished my mother could've been to me. I want to teach my child about friendship, how to be there for others and help one another.  I want be a role model to my child, show my child what love is, educate him/her, keep him/her safe and protected. Most importantly, there was no looking back and I knew I had to be the change.  That change was to stop blaming my perpetrator and my mother for my past , stop hating life and being a victim,  be a mother to my child and not let things get in the way of being a good mother. And so I forgave them. It took time but it helped me to be at peace. The dead weight was lifted off of my shoulders.  My first child was born on October 11, 1991 and a new chapter began.

If you look ahead, one day your broken pieces will be put back together. I have had setbacks and I have had times where I still fall apart. (I forgive but I don't forget).  I lash out. I am mad. I feel cheated. I am resentful.  I am hurt -REAL HURT. I find myself asking, "Why me?" I take deep breaths.  I bake. I cook.  I take it out on my boys (poor boys) .  I drop myself on the couch and sulk.  Then I am reminded to ask myself, "Am I a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?"   Neither.  I want to be like the coffee.  

"May we all be like the COFFEE."