My every BUT. My STORY 📖📖

MY EVERY BUT. MY STORY I was supposed to be like them. Like every normal child. Normal. Innocent. Carefree. And happy. But mine was the utmost opposite. I learnt things quickly. I learnt to keep quiet, not to say a word, else trouble. I interpreted and understood even acts and signs. At the height of it all, at age 9, I could tell you almost everything you knew—and didn't know—about sexual intercourse. HOW IT ALL STARTED That afternoon, Mom and Dad were out and left me with her. She was a relative, Dad's niece. The guy who came in and what they did was something adults were supposed to understand. Just that... just that... just that... They didn't consider the fact that an innocent little being was there before them. They gave me snacks and a whole bottle of drink, all to myself. Not like I cared about what they were doing, but somehow, that event got saved in my memory like a document. Another scene I remember was how she caressed my body, disguised as a child's play. She was supposed to be like a big sister—a neighbour, too. I remember how they touched me. Older kids. “Warning, I tell no one.” And me nodding like a leaf. Not like I understood what was going on, but somehow, it felt good. I vividly remember the “Mommy and Daddy” game. One that was supposed to be about playing with sand, gathering sticks, matches and other fun things. But it always had additions.<img alt="" src="/media/inline_insight_image/IMG-20260918-WA5579.jpg"/>Many more things happened. And I grew up with all of these. I was continuing in them, and it almost became a habit. You might be wondering about my family's setting. I had a very abusive father. One who turned his wife into a punching bag. A womanizer. Someone who lavished money around while his wife and children were at home, just there. And then there was my mom. Disciplined, I should say. Strict. No-nonsense. A prayer-fighting woman. She only failed me in some aspects. BUT... As I grew and continued in those acts, I didn't know Mom had witnessed one of the scenes when I was still a child. She said nothing. And what broke me was that she used it against me as I grew, while I was still trying to understand myself. To her, it was a way of protecting me. She never wanted to see me with anyone she considered a male, else I'd be given names no child was supposed to hear—or even know. “Apara.” An Ibibio name for prostitute.<img src="/media/inline_insight_image/file_0000000002008246a67b793dfdf2bd14.png"/>That was one of the regular names she called me. Whenever I needed to talk to someone and felt she was the only person I could go to, I received SILENCE and INSULTS before a single letter could drop from my lips. I remember some crazy moments from that same childhood/teenagehood age. I was having my normal puberty growth. My breasts were beginning to shoot out. I had always watched movies where teenage girls discussed things with their mothers. Fathers too. And since my dad was a total NO, my mom still had a PASS in character. So I told my mom about the changes. I really don't know why I expected something different when I clearly knew what I was going to receive. Anyways, I was expecting her to tease me, joke about it and, above all, tell me what to do and what not to do. Y'all know what I got? She dismissed me like I was being foolish. It was okay, abi? She sha didn't call me “Prostitute” that time. Even at that, I felt hurt. Getting the opposite of your expectations hurts. I LOVED and STILL LOVE HER regardless. I later got to understand why she did some of the things she did. Her own mum—my granny—and her church didn't believe in lecturing children about their bodies and sex. They felt talking to children about such things was almost like introducing them to sin. BACK TO ME... I continued in all those acts as I grew. BUT. This very BUT that has somehow been helping me... I never had penetrative sex. The final breaking point? Yeah, all other things were done. I won't mention them. You hear. 😂 I actually feared that part because I had heard and read stories about how painful it was going to be. And honestly, I had already had enough tears. I didn't need another reason to cry. Another fight I had to deal with was MASTURBATION. Even when I became more sensible as a girl, the struggle was still there. I got traumatized. I really did. I couldn't talk. There was no one to talk to. No guardian. And my parents were... 🤦💔😭 That was how my life had been until maturity. REAL MATURITY. Not the “grow fast” type. Real and natural maturity. It set in, and I began realizing how much my life was getting ruined. I knew I needed to set my life straight and get on the right path. And the hardest part? I had to do it mostly by myself. Believe me or not... I DID SET IT STRAIGHT. Still on it. I started withdrawing from those acts. I started reading good books. I listened to great podcasts. I sought out things that gave me the sexual education I should have received earlier. The education Mom didn't give me—not because she couldn't, but because she simply didn't know how to. And here I am. Still GROWING. Still LEARNING. Still HEALING. Still FEELING NEW. Wait! I didn't tell you how I knew about my escapades. SHE TOLD ME HERSELF. Though I remembered it, I denied ever knowing such. Was there any need to? Maybe there was. Maybe the little girl who nodded like a leaf didn't understand what was happening after all. Maybe she was simply trying to survive the only way she knew how. And maybe... that's what every BUT in my story has been about.

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