When I was very young (maybe 10 or so) we visited distant family on a farm in Kentucky. I remember loving the farm and our annual summer visits. I remember the fun with my cousins and the great food we always shared at the end of the day — always fresh grown right there on the land. I remember churning butter and ice cream on hot summer days, shucking peas in the shell and just swinging on the porch swing.
Until that day …I cherished those summer vacation times. My “uncle” decided to show me the barn and the cows one afternoon. I still don’t remember all the details from over 50+ years ago but I do remember him removing my panties…beyond that it remains a blank in my mind. Even after all this time, I still cannot recall any details. My psyche has buried it so deep, I can’t or won’t retrieve it. The one positive thing is that when I got home back to my parents, I told them immediately what had happened. I don’t know what was said or done among the adults from that point on, but I do know that I and my cousins were never again left alone with my “uncle” and I, specifically, never saw him again. So, in that respect, I knew that I was safe and that my parents would protect me. I do, however, often wonder if my increased weight and inability to lose it don’t have a relationship to that trauma buried so deep? Until that year of my life, I had always been very thin and then in one year, my weight doubled and I have never been able to successfully shed it. Even though I cannot fully recall the event, I wonder if somewhere deep inside, I have been burying the trauma with food for all these years? I guess I will never know for sure.