The Chronicles of a Survivor

13-year-old me: Young, beautiful, and naive. Extremely. I was convinced that to be seen, heard, noticed, and loved I had to at least be with a man who is older than me or just a year older. I was at the stage where at this point of life you had to look like what society had looked like. Black, beautiful, “thick” as they would say it, flat stomach, fat ass, thin eyebrows, no cellulite, no flaws that could be seen. You had to be almost perfect to be seen and valued. My father than bought me one of the latest smartphones, Blackberry.

Every single person had that phone, if you did not, you were seen as minority, small and pathetic. I mean who did not have this phone at this point? We were easily able to connect, we were easily able to chat to our peers, find new people and connect. It was this feeling that felt amazing, finally I could be seen. Seen by men I mean. I finally met someone who saw me for who I was, who appreciated every single moment of me, who appreciated every single flaw of myself. I was joyful, little did I know I was blinded by infatuation and not love. Love is not sharing nude pictures and videos to be told you are loved; love is not forcing someone at hand to do things they not comfortable with. Love is more than that, I am sure you know what love is. Love can be different things described by different things. Anyways before I go off track, he made feel seen, however like I said I was so blinded. One day 11 months into our relationship, it was found that he had been cheating for 7months with another girl, who was older than me, she had her own money, she was able to see him. I was not, I was young I was only thirteen. I was not able to do things most kids could do; my parents were so strict on me. It is as if I was in this place of confinement that had tall walls that I cannot escape. I just could not do anything, and African parents truly carry the belief of you cannot find love at an early age, because you do not know the true meaning of love. I thought it was just a vicious belief that they carried; however, it was the best thing I have ever heard because they are so right. When you are young, you are excited by the emotion love. You are excited because you are not used to such a feeling. My parents were never the affectionate typical “I love you’ every time I go off the phone with them. This emotion was so different to me, it was a foreign emotion that had moved into my body. I forgave him, I was in love, there was no way I could lose the only thing that saw me. That appreciated my body when I could not, I thought it was love. I needed to be seen else I could not. Well, he had been with another women, I had found ways to feel unseen, I felt broken, I turned to self-harm. The most malicious thing you can do to the temple of your beautiful body is by self-harming. The universe has created us to always be appreciative of our temples, regardless of what it looks like, the universe created us so uniquely that we would not look like anyone and that we would be our own person. Self-harming felt right at that given moment, maybe if he knew that I was so in love with him to the point of me killing myself he would than come back and love me wholeheartedly. Once again, if someone loves you so deep and it is pure, intentional, you will never ever have to prove yourself worthy of love to anyone. Do you have any goosebumps or salty tears down your eyes yet? Well, that is only the beginning of my tragic first love. Bittersweet experience, he knew I was young he knew I was naive; he knew I would do just anything for him. Until many years later, at least when I was 14 or 15, I had the courage to leave him for good. It was painful, I could not bear the fact that the only person that had seen me left me in this box that was so dark, the box that only carried a small bit of light, the box that felt like it was closing every single second of the day. My self-esteem dropped to the bottom of the pit, I could no longer love myself, I saw myself as unworthy. At this point in my new journey, high school, people had lovers, some had their virginities broken already, some had multiple of men to see them. That is the life I wanted! I needed it; male validation is what I yearned for. I knew being seen by men would make my self-esteem so much better. Question is, did I even know what self-love meant? did I know what being worthy of myself meant? Did I know what loving my precious temple meant? I never knew anything. This is the beginning of my journey that is so never ending, that is so bittersweet, that is so tragic, that is so merry, that is so high. We are not done, come with me hold my hand. See more for yourself