Dozens

I don’t talk about it often. When I was little, I used to have horrible yeast infections. My mom would take me to the doctor. The last time I went, the doctor made my mom leave the room. She asked me if I was being molested. 

I remember telling her no. I also remember this overwhelming sense of fear. My tiny chest pounding. 

I really don’t remember anything but… I think I was. I know when I was four, my cousin Adam and three of his friends touched me. All over. But… I believe I was molested later, by someone else. 

I don’t remember who. I could throw out a dozen possibilities. I don’t remember when or where exactly. It’s just a gut feeling. 

I know I was a “Virgin” till I was thirty. When I had sex for the first time it hurt and I bled. So, I know whatever molestation took place, it wasn’t a full penetration. 

Do I wish I could remember…? Yes and no. I guess with everything else that happened to me in my life, it would just be another shitty occurrence. Another life lesson. Another piece of my puzzle.