I had to start looking out for myself when I was only twelve years old. Life wasn’t always like that for me. I was loved, protected, and shielded, until my parents’ untimely demise through a car accident. To lose one parent is hard enough already, but I had to deal with the ill luck of losing the two at the same time. I was young but old enough to understand death and grief. 

I had to move from the rural area where I lived with my parents to a bigger town where my grandmother lived. Five months into my stay with Gran, I was defiled. I couldn’t tell anyone about it. To date, I haven’t told anyone. This is the first time I am actually speaking about the abuse openly. 

After that awful experience, I entered my first relationship when I was fourteen. The guy was twenty-seven. He offered something I had been hungry for since my parents’ passing, love. My gran did her best to take care of me but I was not the only child living with her. And I felt I was loved less than the other kids in the house. It was evident in the way we were all treated. That’s why when Dom came professing his love for me, I accepted it. 

We knew our relationship was wrong. However, this knowledge did not prevent us from hiding in the dark to do things. The first boy who touched me hurt me so I was scared whenever Dom attempted to touch me. He told me it was okay. “That’s what people do when they are in love,” he said. 

At fourteen, I was impressionable. He was older. That to me meant he must know better. Oh, but he didn’t. He got me pregnant before I turned fifteen. I was fifteen when the baby arrived. Although having a baby held me back, I did not allow it to cut short my education. I went back to school when I felt ready. By the time I was leaving Dom, I had completed my matric. We were together for four years. I had to leave when I could no longer endure his torrents of abuse. 

The sexual abuse I experienced when I was twelve coupled with my abusive relationship with Dom left me bitter against men. I saw them as people who would hurt me. Even when they were nice to me and expressed how genuinely they loved me, I would shake my head after running possible scenarios of how many ways they could hurt me, and then turn them away.

While I hid from men, I found the company of women safe. Before I knew it, I was in a relationship with a woman. In the beginning, it felt so right. She was safe. No abuse. No manipulations. And definitely no chaos. She felt like a home I didn’t even know I was missing.

I believed she was the solution to the unrest in my soul. I gave her my all until it started to dawn on me that I was only pouring so much love into her because of how much hatred I had for men. I thought by letting myself completely go with her, I would find whatever my spirit was looking for. 

I was wrong. No matter how hard I tried to be happy, I couldn’t lift myself up. It was as if a dark cloud was following me. I finally had to accept that she was not the one for me. It was hard but I had to let her go. 

After her, I met a sweet guy. He seemed different from the others. He made me happy without even having to try. He and I had lots of fun until I got pregnant. I would have stayed with him. He was supposed to be the man I’d spend the rest of my life with. However, I had to leave him when he started doing drugs and got violent with me. The relationship was less than two years old when I left with my two children. 

I found a place to live with my kids but life was not kind. I tried everything possible to get a job so I could provide for my family but it was almost impossible. Out of frustration, I joined a group of fraudsters till I almost got arrested. That was when I stopped and finally landed a job.  

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Along the line, I met another guy and started a relationship. For two whole years, everything was fine between us. I was on birth control then. The implant method. It was supposed to keep me safe but I got pregnant regardless. He took it well when I told him I was going to keep the baby. Everything was going well between us until I caught him cheating when I was five months along. I had no choice but to ask for a breakup. 

Now I’m a mother of three children fathered by different men. I’ve got my own place and I’m employed. I try my best for my kids but I feel like ever since my parents died there is a void in my life that remains unfilled. I am still hungry for love. I feel like since they left, I have not been truly loved by anyone. 

I Found Him In Church Cheating Instead Of Praying

I’m frustrated all the time with myself because of this feeling. I try by all means to always appear happy to my kids and love them to the fullest but for the past few months, I’ve been crying myself to sleep every day. Even when I go to work, everyone thinks I am happy because I don’t show my true emotions to anyone. I’ve always been a loner and after everything I have been through, I still feel very much alone. 

I’m afraid I might do something awful to myself someday. When I think of this, I feel guilty for bringing my kids into my life. I feel they are not living the kind of life other kids their age live, and it makes me so sad. I hate myself sometimes for this. These are thoughts plaguing me that I can’t share with anyone. I have no close friends or family to confide in. That’s why I am using this page as a medium to vent. I just need to be heard by someone. 

— Solana

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