My First Time

On September 6, 2017 I had sex for the first time, I was Twenty-six turning Twenty-seven that November. Yes, I remember the date, I know many will think that’s weird. I wrote about it in my journal that day. I also wrote it in a journal that I specifically use for therapy. It was a big moment in my life, especially since I have a sexual abuse history. I wanted to mark the moment I never thought I would have or get through. So those are the reasons why I remember the date. Many told me that when I have sex for the first time it will hurt a lot. The more I have sex the less it will hurt. The thing is it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. It didn’t hurt as much as I was told it would. For about a minute or so it hurt, but it was more like a pinch then full out pain. I had a pretty easy time with sex, and I think it was due to the person I had sex with. He was very kind and gentle with me. He stopped when I needed him to stop, he slowed down when I needed him too slow down.

I can’t speak for him, but I had a pretty great time. We haven’t had sex since then, but I didn’t expect too. I was okay with it being a one time thing with him and if we decided to have sex again then we would. Neither of us were expecting to have a relationship with each other or anything beyond this moment. We knew we would be better as friends or acquaintances rather than partners even before we hung out this day. So, I think that’s why we were both okay with it being a one time thing. I know many people regret who they had their first time with and when. I really can’t say I have or will ever have regrets with who I had my first time with and when. Again, I can’t speak for him but no, I didn’t hang out with him for the purpose of having sex. We were just getting together for the purpose of hanging out. Although we didn’t initially discuss having sex when we were talking about me coming over, I was prepared for sex. It’s not because I expected it, it’s because I’m always prepared you never know. I always have a condom in my wallet, even before I started having sex. Okay not always but 95% of the time.

I get praised a lot for waiting till I was twenty-six. I also get asked a lot why I waited so long? I get asked if I was waiting till I was married or something? I tell them I don’t want to be praised or get brownie points for waiting. I also don’t think it was that long too wait too be honest. I was and am still young. Nothing against them but I wasn’t a forty-year old virgin, I was twenty-six. I wasn’t waiting for marriage or this idea of it needing too be perfect. Which most people especially women tend to want it to be perfect.  I was not expecting the roses, lingerie, sexy lighting, music etc. Yeah all that would’ve been nice, but I wasn’t waiting for that. I also wasn’t waiting for marriage. If it happened after I got married then that would be nice, if I had sex before marriage that would be nice. If I never had sex then that would be nice, I wasn’t having sex anyway so, I didn’t know what I was missing, not really. I really wasn’t waiting for a moment. I guess if anything I was waiting for the person I chose and was comfortable enough with to have that kind of moment.

Of course, I was extremely nervous and scared too have sex, it would be a lie if I said wasn’t nervous or scared. What made me feel nervous and scared was not actually having sex itself. What made me nervous and scared was what my reaction too having sex would be. This was my first intimate experience of any kind since the sexual abuse ended. That’s including dating, kissing, holding hands etc. I wasn’t sure if I would panic in the middle of it. He didn’t know everything about what happened to me, but he was aware ahead of time about my past when we were learning things about each other. So, he was very respectful and gentle through it all. He periodically made sure I was doing okay.

I was able too let go of everything. I let go of the anxiety, my depression, my life, just everything. I was completely vulnerable, and I enjoyed the vulnerability surprisingly. I say surprisingly because I’m not a vulnerable person. I don’t make a habit of putting myself in vulnerable situations. It may seem weird too a lot of people but the one person I need to thank is my Therapist Lacey.

When I say I need to thank Lacey for my sex life it’s not anything creepy. Whether or not the sex was planned, if it wasn’t for my time with her, if it wasn’t for the progress she helped me make I don’t know if I would’ve come to a place in my life where I felt I was ready. For a survivor of sexual abuse your first time after being molested or the first time after a rape is a crucial moment. I’m not sure if I would’ve gotten to the other side of the hill to even consider sex if it wasn’t for Lacey.

I look forward to having more sex in my future. I hope people have the same positive experiences as I did. Everyone no matter who you are or what you went through deserves a positive experience. Just make sure it’s with someone you respect and who respects you back.


Please stay safe.

The Dream II

At one point I ended up having The Dream again, from beginning to end. For the most part the dream was the same but there were some differences. I will give you a short recap of the originally dream and the short version of the new one: I was grabbed by two men on the way home from the store and took me into a dark area. They both ended up rapping me but not before they tortured me. I was kicked, hit and cut with glass. I was a bloody mess. They did all this until they were finished with me and they just left me there lying in pain. That’s what happened to me in the first version.

The Dream II

I had the dream again but someone I know and someone I’ve come very close to ended up in the dream as well. I won’t mention what her real name is, you know for privacy reasons but if she ever comes across this she would know. At least I think she would. At first, I didn’t recognize her because of the lighting in the dream.

Everything that happened in the original dream happened, but as I said someone was added to it. She was trying to get these guys to stop hurting me. It took awhile but they stopped. In result of them stopping with me they began to do everything they did with me to her. It hurt so much but I managed to get up and grab the closest thing to me and threw it at them. They stopped and one of them came over to me, grabbed me and began pulling me closer to her. I looked down at her and there was so much blood. I began to recognize who she was it was my therapist Lacey. I looked in her eyes and they weren’t filled with the light I remembered them having. There was only pain and suffering. The second guy handed me a gun and pointing at Lacey he told me “get rid of the filthy bitch.” I pointed the gun at her, but I was shaking. I looked at her and I told her “I’m so sorry.” I turned the gun around and shot myself and then it was morning.

That second dream was more difficult for me then the first one. In this dream this woman was someone specific but she just represents people in general. I would rather die in place of another. It’s the whole I need to protect others because they matter, and I don’t thing. So, I shot myself instead of Lacey. I shot myself in order to save her, but I realized I don’t know if she was indeed safe. I realized I shot myself and left her with the two of them.  It just seemed the right thing to do at the time.  You know dreams will do that, not very logical. So, unless the dream somehow continues from where it left off, I will never know if my actions saved her. I hate when my mind goes to places like that.

It’s Been awhile

I would like to apologize for not writing for so long. life just happened and I became busy with it. I need to make this blog one of my many priorities. I’ve been working on new entries and I plan on posting them once they are edited the way I want to present it. That’s another thing I don’t want to post a story or what’s going on just because I can. Although similar I don’t write this as a diary/journal. My blog is for the eyes of others, my diary/journal is for my eyes only. So, I want to make sure what I put out there is something I want out there. Please stay with me, i’ll be updating soon.


I’m not a huge birthday fan, well at least when it comes to my own. I would love it if I could just forget it. My birthday is around the holidays so it’s not easy to pretend it doesn’t exist.  The reason why I’m not a fan is because of what used to happen on my birthday. We would have a party and of course invite family and friends over. That included the person who sexually abused. Any chance he could he would get me alone. When he did that’s the time he would set aside too touch me. This would happen every birthday until the abuse ended. That’s why I want to forget my birthday. My birthday is just a yearly reminder of a time that wasn’t so kind too me.

Suicide Attempts

I’ve had a few suicide attempts in my life. It wasn’t because I wanted to die. It was because I wanted the pain I felt too go away. Many say that suicide is selfish, but it’s far from selfish. Sometimes you just hurt so much you want it too end. I’ve cut my pills and taken pills more then once. There’s no good way to explain why we feel suicide is a solution unless you’ve been through it. Too those who don’t know might think this is the worst thing we could do. For those going through it it’s not.

Eventually I found a different outlet that helped me get through every day. I was reading Harry Potter By J.K Rowling.  Those books helped me get through my darkest times. I started those books in 1998 I was turning eight that year. The abuse started a couple years after that. The older I got the more the books helped me because I started understanding the messages of each book. I also started taking my writing seriously, So I increased how often I wrote in journals and I started writing poetry.

I came to learn that suicide isn’t the answer even if you feel in that moment it is. Now I know reading and writing is my way out.  Even though I fought against it for a long time going too therapy helped me as well. Reading, writing, and therapy isn’t for everyone but for me personally it helped. You have too find what helps you get through the rough patch. It may be tough, and it may take a while, but you will get through. I’m just one example of someone who made it out. It’s still a struggle believe me, but I have too work hard and keep working at what helps me.

If you or someone you know needs help, please contact the suicide hotline or anyone you trust to help.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline


Dating in High school

My last relationship ended my junior year of high school which was 2008/2009. It was the year before I graduated. The guy I dated was sweet, kind, and would never hurt me at least not on purpose. You may be asking “if he was such a good guy why didn’t It last longer?” Well the last year of high school I moved and because of where I moved It was hard to see each other because I was in another school. Neither of us did anything wrong it was just our time too split and we decided too split while it was good. Although we don’t talk as much we used too we still are friends and talk occasionally.

Our relationship was so innocent compared to the other couples at the school. We dated a few years but kissed once, we rarely held hands. We would go on dates at the mall, go to the movies, have lunch but it felt more like hanging out between friends. Although we truly liked one other we had our different reasons for dating each other. He was hiding a secret from his family and I was freshly off the sexual abuse and was trying too fill the void of that part of my life. We both knew it even if we didn’t mention it. We had a good time with each other and a great friendship. The relationship we had we both needed at the time.

I didn’t date for now almost ten years. My dating experience in high school wasn’t great but it wasn’t bad. I wish I dated for the right reasons, but that’s something that I can’t change. My dating life as an adult is similar but quite the same but that’s a different story for a different time.

An Overdue Letter

In 2015 I decided to write a letter too my past self. At the time of writing this letter I was twenty-four years old.


Dear Jazzy, (My past)

Writing this letter is long overdue. Time will only tell if this letter will help in the days, weeks, months and years too come. Over the years a lot has happened not only too you but those around you as well. In the twenty-four years you’ve been on this planet you’ve had good times, bad times and everything in between. At age eleven a man you called family began sexually abusing you. He also hurt someone who wasn’t only close too you but too him as well. I want you too know and always remember neither of those situations were your fault even if you think otherwise. It’s that monsters fault, he di you wrong. You were innocent, you were young, he turned you into a person you were never meant too be. Everyone who knew seen you as a victim. Everyone who know the diagnoses you had just seen you as your diagnoses. Jazzy the depressed, Jazzy who will go crazy because she was diagnosed with bipolar. You have been sculpted into someone who you were never meant too be. You were sculpted by a monster, by your parents, by teachers and friends, by society. But Jazzica, she may have been brought into this world twenty-four years ago, but she has yet too be sculpted. The moment the sexual abuse Jazzy and Jazzica became two different people. You weren’t responsible for who Jazzy became but you are responsible for who Jazzica becomes. Find out who Jazzica is. Yes, she’ll be hard too find. Jazzy wasn’t created overnight, neither will Jazzica. Jazzy will raise hell before letting Jazzica out, but Jazzica will be free, Jazzica will succeed. I want you to be vulnerable but strong. I want you too love with all your heart but be cautious who receives it.  I want you too cry in happiness, sadness, anger, frustration no matter what. I want you too to be strong but relaxed. Be the dominate person you are but don’t be afraid of submission. I want you too live and live well. Stay you but more.  Remember your beautiful no matter what anyone says.



Jazzica (Your Future)


It’s been a few weeks since my last post. I’ve been going through somethings that I will eventually get into. As for this post it’s not a particularly long portion of my story, but it says what it needs too say without being so long.

Like many people in the world I suffer from low self-esteem. I don’t think highly of myself, but it’s something I’m working on. I get compliments from both men and women, but I have a tough time hearing and believing it. I really don’t know how I got too this point of being so down on myself, but I have. I mean I guess it’s a lot of things if I really think about it. Dating for example my self-esteem ties in with that. No, it’s not a I need too be with someone too feel good about myself kind of thing. It’s just I see so many friends and family dating, getting married, having kids or a combination of one or two of them. I then think too myself, why is it so hard for me to have those things?

I don’t have a problem with getting someone too like me. They just never like me enough too date me or consider dating me. They want my friend or the person they see down the way but never see me. I’m someone who gets friend zoned a lot. I start asking what’s wrong with me? Why am I not good enough? I think it’s also everything I’ve been through, from my body changing too the sexual abuse. I just start picking at all the things wrong with me which makes the self-esteem worse. My therapist tends to compliment me a lot, which is annoying at times. I don’t know if she’s being genuine or if it’s because it’s her job. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

I really don’t find it annoying deep down, it’s just hard to hear. I know she means well when she compliments me. I’m working on believing the good things people say about me. It’s not an easy rode but it’s one I’m willing too be on board for.

The Dream

I’m someone who dreams a lot, but there is one dream that I refer too as THE DREAM. I don’t have it a lot, but I’ve had it enough times too last me a billion life times. It really does scare me. This version is always the same, from what I’m wearing too the end result. There’s two other versions of this dream but I’m on the fence of telling them because of two people that ended up being involved in those versions. If I do tell them it won’t be until later anyway so for now I’ll be focusing on this version. Which is the very first version.


VIEWER DISCRETION IS  ADVISED. This portion is really, graphic and not suitable for those under eighteen unless permission by a parent and/or legal guardian.


It’s evening and I’m out walking home from the store. It was just an ordinary evening for me, nothing special about it. Until someone came from behind me and grabbed hold of me covering my eyes and mouth. I felt someone else grab my legs, and I’m struggling too break free. Suddenly, I’m thrown into a dark room. I heard them walking away, it’s so dark I can’t see clearly. I hear them come back, and I see them in the little light there is. I believe their wearing mask which I can’t understand why I can barely see here face anyway.

The first guy pins my hands down too the ground while the second guy sits on top of me in a way, so he can take my clothes off. He takes each piece off slowly until I’m laying their naked. The first guy slaps handcuffs on my wrist. That’s when the second guy picks me up and slaps me against the wall. ONCE, TWICE, THREE times. I scream in pain at the same time. I hear glass break, but I can’t tell from which direction it’s coming from. I’m in sensory overload. He slams me against the wall again and again and one more time. He throws me on the floor.

I hear pants unzip and I know what’s about too happen. I try and say no but I’m in too much pain. He picks me up, slams me against the wall and says, “You’re mine now Bitch!”. He’s holding my neck and forces himself inside me and I scream. There’s so much pain, I want too to wake up, but I can’t. His hand goes tighter around my neck. He goes faster and faster, harder and harder. He finishes and lets me fall too the ground. I just lay there crying. The other guy comes over and blindfolds me. Why? I don’t know.

I then feel sharp pains all over my body. I realize I’m being cut with the glass I heard break. He’s cutting my arms, legs, stomach, face just about any place he can. I than feel a kick too my ribs. “PLEASE WAKE UP!!” I yell in my head. Suddenly, I feel the glass make its way into my shoulder and I scream. Why is this happening too me? My vision is going in and out, I think I’m dying. I wake up and my body aches. It takes a while for me to calm myself. Compared too other dreams I remember this one the most. I remember this the most I think because of the content. It’s hard for me to take in sometimes. The dream tends too come around when I’m most triggered by something.