At the age of five, I was abused by a close family member. He was always left to baby sit me and every time he would touch me inappropriately or make me touch him. Then one day he went to far. He raped me at the age of 6. It hurt so much because he was a lot bigger than me and I bled. I was scared of him, but still I didn't tell anyone. I thought it was 'normal'. The abuse and raping carried on until I was 11.
Then one day, he babysat me again. He left me downstairs and told me to stay and watch television. He didn't come down for hours, so I wandered upstairs to find him hanging his bedroom, blood dripping from his wrists. He committed suicide. The most sickening thing was that he had my name tattooed on his arm.
Still after all these years I haven't told anyone, I feel my family deserve to mourn his death. But that's not where it ends.
At eleven years old, I was stupid enough to lose my virginity to a much older man, just to show myself I was over what happened. I felt dirty and sick. Then I started hanging around with the wrong people and got into violent relationships one after the other. I was used to be hit, taken for granted, abused. That's when I became suicidal.
I tried hanging myself three times, overdosed seven times and started self harming. Then one day I met this guy. He taught me that my life was worth so much more and that even after all the suicide attempts I was still alive should be telling me that i wasn't to die yet. I finally confided in him and told him all about my past and from that day he has stood by me and I'm finally happy with the person I'm becoming.
I'm now in a relationship with this guy. Although each day something reminds me of the past, he's there to pull me through. The message I'm trying to get across is this: Don't bottle everything up when there's always someone that can help you. I let it ruin my childhood. Don't be like me, find your own way in life.