I didn’t understand that I was being molested. I was four years old, and I was the center of the universe whenever the predator who chose me was around. He was a family member so at every gathering, I was a little star. All eyes were on me as I danced and said cute things. I was showered with love and gifts. He made me uncomfortable on one hand, but on the other I was loved, cherished, and adored. I basked in the adoration of everyone around me. I was walking on sunshine. I was the sunshine. Then one day, it all stopped. He completely ignored me, was cold to me. I was hurt and confused. He actually said derogatory things to me. He treated me with scorn. What had I done to lose his love?
As an adult, I can translate the memory of that little girl and know what happened. The footprint of that experience, however, caused me to crave the love and adoration of men. So, the cycle repeated itself over and over. It doesn’t matter how much love and affirmation I get, because it will never be enough. When men have left, or even if I’ve been the one to end a relationship, I’ve experienced the feelings of that little girl over and over. The pain runs deep and I obsess, trying to figure out what I did to cause the eclipse of the sun, yet again.