I used to think you didn’t effect me. I used to be proud of the fact that (I thought) I dealt with all those years and scattered memories by myself. All those years before I turned nine. All those times at grandma’s house that I barely remember. What do they call them, repressed memories?

Out of the few instances I do recall, I remember bits and pieces of you. I remember my first tongue kiss, with you. I remember the first time I saw and felt a penis – your penis. I remember my first “break up,” with you – I scribbled a note calling you a bad man. A very bad man. You left me alone and I felt powerful, might, accomplished.

But you had stolen my power long before I decided to start acting like a big girl.

“Cat got your tongue?” That’s what you always used to say. It was you who stole my voice, stole my power, stole my innocence, stole my childhood, long before I realized they were all gone. And I sure as hell said nothing. I did nothing.. You stunted my voice since I wrote that note to you when I was nine years old.

I used to think you didn’t effect me, but the joke was on me the whole time.

I’m the girl with the hard personality who’s really emotionally fragile on the inside. I don’t speak up in crowds. I rarely let myself out of my shell. I don’t let anyone cross me or try to control me – should I thank you? But I also don’t let anyone nurture me or get close to me, thanks to you. My mom says I don’t care about her and my best friend calls me a “b-” because I’m uncomfortable with showing her affection in their times of need. I have to tell my lover that I’d prefer that he didn’t use his fingers because it doesn’t please me. But I don’t say the reason why it doesn’t please me is because all I can ever think about is your fingers. I don’t explain the parts of myself that were damaged by you. Cat’s got my tongue, again.

Even at 19-years-old, I have mini panic attacks whenever any older man looks at me too long, tries to get my attention, or gets too close to me. In my mind, they’re all the same as you. And I’m still a helpless little girl, even though I seem fearless on the outside. And I used to think you didn’t effect me.

Yes, I should have spoken up about you doing the things you did right under my family’s nose—and then the cat would have gotten your tongue—but I did not. At first, I never spoke up about you because I thought my nine-year-old self solved the problem. For a second, I thought I was big and powerful. Then, I never spoke up about you because I wasn’t looking for a pity party. A part of me felt special because my story didn’t have a dramatic ending where the man goes to jail and the girl who gets thrown in a counseling program. Little did I know my story would be far worse—there is no ending.

I still struggle every single day – not with the facts of the matter, but with getting my voice back, breaking out of my shell a little more, and realizing its okay to feel and show emotions. These, which seem so simple to overcome, are long hard battles for me. Battles I will overcome. So, yes, you’ve affected me..

But I’m taking over now.

_

Kiara
Cultivator of BEWILDHERED, a source of inspiration for the lost, the wild, and the free. I enjoy drinking green tea, reading New Yorker magazine, shopping (more like thrifting), and vibing to all types of music. In life, I value growth, adventure, intellect, sincerity, and creativity the most. I spend majority of my time writing my heart out, digging into books, and doing other nerdy things (like marketing and digital strategy). I’m currently a student in Atlanta but my heart is set on Seattle. + find me on twitter: @kiaracfair and instagram: @kiaracee