The worst thing about someone touching you when you're young is that you can't put a name to what happened, but you can feel it.
You don't know what to call it, but your bones do.
You don't remember every detail, but, what aches the most stays. The feeling that you let it happen. The shame of being embarrassed to tell. The confusion of not wanting him to get in trouble and telling yourself he couldn't have meant to touch you...that way.
It's not something you think about, until you do.
You barely remember the details, but your bones can't forget.
When Someone you aren’t familiar with goes in for a hug an you flinch. You're intimate with the guy you're in love with and your body still takes time to relax. Every touch, every embrace, and intimate moment is something you're training your brain to know is...safe.
You can’t help but think this couldn't have happened to a better person.
Digging up repressed memories isn't your thing. You don't actually want details on the tough stuff. It happened, but you forgive to give yourself permission to forget.
Now every hug, every touch, every sex, every everything reclaims your autonomy.
You're healing by welcoming these experiences, and your bones start to feel that too.
This for anyone who is still healing though something they can't put a name to. You are not alone.