I'm going straight to the deep stuff. I am a Christian young adult.
My mom and dad divorced when I was three years old. She basically neglected my brothers and I. The state stepped in when I was about 5 years old and we were wards of the state, until mom proved that she could take care of us. Strangely, we remained at home. Around 7 years old, my baby brother was born. Around that time was when the rape began. It came from my father, then from one of my brothers. This went on for three years, ending at 10 years old. My brothers and I were in family centered services, receiving therapy and occasionally, foster homes. We were going to church every Sunday, but my mom was a poser. During those three years of my life, I felt God wasn't there.
The youth counselors were all Christian and trying to help us kids, but mom wasn't letting them. "They go to church every Sunday. Ruth and Jimmy were baptized at the same time. She was 9 and he was 11. They don't need you." Then an argument came out of that. My mom yelling and screaming. I would hide in my room.
At age 12, my uncle was murdered, just down the road where we lived. He was intoxicated and couldn't defend himself. My brother Steven was the one that found him. Later that week, I was sure God had left us, because I had seen my strongest big brother break down and cry, and I had held him the whole time. Where was God? Why would he let this murderer kill Uncle Roy? And why did he let Steven find his bruised and bloody body?
Age 14. Rape had taken a toll on me. I was depressed. Desperate for love, I fell into Alex's arms. He was 16. 3 weeks later, I was on the floor of a public outhouse with Alex on top of me, slowly taking my virginity. A week later, my mom found out and began to call me a slut. She had read my journal and told everyone in the house. As if I didn't regret it already. Mom hit me that day, leaving a bruise on my shoulder. Two days later, Alex broke up with me and everyone was yelling at me for having sex and not choosing to do the right thing.
I ran away from home. I spent hours at the graveyard where my uncle's ashes were buried and cried. When I was done there, I went to my youth counselor's house. She called my older brother to let them know where I was. Steven and his best friend, Veronica, came and picked me up. We avoided home because they knew I wasn't strong enough to put up with mother. I spent the night at Veronica's.
I moved away from my mother in June. I am currently homeless and a senior in High school. I am doing a job hunt and am happy as can be.
I've had sex with 7 guys since I've turned 18. Wyatt is my 8th. I love him and I don't intend to leave him. My last boyfriend, Jon, tried to get me pregnant. He's hit me once or twice, and I left him, even though he was my fiance.
I am a sexually active teenager. I love God. God comes before Wyatt, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
