i was sexually assaulted before I even knew what sex was.

My first sexual experience was before I was old enough to know what sex was. Too young to know how to say no. Too young to know that it was wrong. Too young to know how much this would affect me when I was older. How if anyone touches my stomach with their finger tips I start crying as chills go down my spine, the only thing on my mind is when I was touched there by someone who should have known they shouldn’t be touching me. How I was questioned hysterically by my mom if I was sure my brother was the one. Now that I am older I understand where she was coming from. My brother’s dad had killed himself, he would have been sent to a foster home. But the scars are too deep sometimes to remember that. Everyone questioned me. CPS, a social worker, a therapist, my family. They questioned me to the point that I didn’t even believe the experiences I swore had happened. So I told them what they seemed to want to hear. It didn’t happen. I made it up. But the effects on my life, to this day, seem so real. Even now I question myself. Did it really happen or was it this scary vivid dream that I convinced myself was real? I have told two people in my life what I have experienced because I am so terrified that it didn’t actually happen. Maybe my experience wasn’t real so why should I tarnish other women’s experience with my shaky memories. I now question myself on everything because of that. I have deep trust issues with myself that stem from feeling as though I am not a reliable source of reality. I don’t even know how to conceptualize that. It feels much easier to push it down.