I theorize about my take on why I've had sex.I wanted men to fix me. I wanted the right man to be the salve to the part of me that was violated. Take that part of me that triggers and heal it. I never dealt with being molested after it happened because I didn't know what exactly was going on. There was this kid, Raymond [he's in some of our family photos], and what he use to do was lead me to his room, to his bottom bunk and place me on the bed. He'd lie on top of me and simulate sex. I didn't really understand what he was doing but I saw it as a type of playtime. When our family moved, and had babysitters, one girl would sometimes have her brothers/cousins substitute for her when she couldn't babysit for my parents. Anyway, when they did the same thing, I don't think I understood what they were doing to me. There was no penetration that I remember, although I think I might remember that. I don't remember exactly how I felt about it at the time, just not excited. I remember being asked if I liked what was being done to me and saying "No", but this was disregarded. There was one time when the same question was asked and I answered "Yes", thinking this would stop them because saying no did nothing. One of the brothers, either Gary/Tony[?] or the other guy, ejaculated on me. I got upset and when I tried to tell his sister about it, he was discouraging me from it. I thought he peed on me, having no clue about ejaculate.After we moved away, I must've blocked it out of my head. I remember entering grade 4, not doing very well as a student and then failing it. I don't know if it was the combination of the molestation and the separation anxiety of moving or one of the two, but it had some sort of impact. I saw something on the tv, some news report about some nursery where the children were being molested. When one of the kids told their story, hidden with a hoodie, I had a rush of memories right there, realizing that that's what happened. I didn't do anything about it. I suppose my view of sex was that it would make me feel complete somehow. Like I'd discovered my wound and that special someone out there would heal me. When I was raped several years ago, there was something about it that was eerie; I fought verbally, afraid of physical violence that might escalate his anger and frustration at me saying no so often. It's like I was that same little girl again and he was just a child molester. I didn't feel like an adult when he raped me. I felt like I was moleste again. I also feel that because I was an adult, that I could've easily gotten away from it because there was no excuse for me to have it happen. There's still a part of me that feels that sex is a love balm/salve of some sort. I want to reprogram myself to think and feel otherwise. Being touched is a wonderful thing, but it can be damaging. I want the Annihilator's Touch to be erased by the Beloved's Touch. I don't know how to think about sex anymore. I just know that as much as I'm scared of its consequences, I so want to have sex and feel like a brand new person, that sex won't hurt me, that the one I'm having sex with will want more sex with me and not just as an itch to scratch or as a time-waster. I've always felt worthless afterwards when I wanted to feel worthy. To want worthiness from sex is bad, no? I haven't made any good choices, then this gets inflicted on me and I'm still to blame! I must want anyone with the healing power to erase this feeling I've carried with me for most of my life. I think this is why most people who've been violated, those who are compulsively sexual, to want to heal from sex in a negative way. I could be wrong and only speaking for myself. I have thoughts like this on the busride to and from work mostly.