When I Was Molested #lorijean #lorijeanfinnila #teensatcrossroadsofamericaandbeyond

Funny, but finding out the meaning toward me of being a child molestation survivor (from when I was a baby/child-not sure of exact age-I was in a playpen in diapers, mom pulled me away before it got below the diapers) meant that people could rightfully offend me again, expect that I would aid and abett to the groups of this cause, and expect to have a less meaningful life was all supposed to be part of it. I could get the 'best looking' in high school, ride in the prettiest girls in high school parades, date the football player, and wear a pretty dress-that was all. My choices would be known to be limited in partners, education, and my whereabouts.

Not so funny.

I talk about the side effects that I had, or at least thought I was supposed to have. I've found later that the rearing from adults afterwards can be worse than dealing with the actual effects yourself.

It's Not our Problem. It's theirs-the perpetrators-to be left with them.

The laying down with my arms crossed over my chest in a somewhat seemingly experimental position, crazy talks of sexual asking questions in curiosity, and too deep of inner soul searching at a very young age-is all instilled by those covering it up.

I was supposed to be watched all the time-afraid I would give away their secrets, made sure that I wasn't educated enough, (and drugged regularly on a non regular schedule-this made me look off and unbelievable), and kept in a crowd of those who don't express.

Being well educated obviously would make me too believable, ending in crashing the party. Being around those opposing breaks up the groups. Finding comfort and security outside these closed-in bounds leads to freedom and conversation-breaking away.

Be Free!! Fly!