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My earliest memory is watching my mom get the shit beat out of her, and my brother holding me.

When I was a kid (10 ish) my foster brother and I had these two friends who were girls. They would come over and play seven minutes in heaven, but refused to kiss me. They would only kiss him.

I was kidnapped and taken across state lines to live with family and kept away from my mom and brother for several months. I was 7.

The first memory I knew was something that was truly fucked from pretty early childhood, but didn't realize just how much it fucked me up.

The second memory is, obviously, less intense that the others. But it really fucked me up. I have never, not a single time in my entire life, felt desirable, and the more I work on myself, the more I peg it back to that moment. It's a vicious cycle. You're not desirable, so why take care of yourself? You don't care of yourself, so you're less desirable. You're even less desirable than before, so why put in any effort? Et cetera, et cetera.

The third memory I've only recently come to terms with in the last few years. I've always felt like I over reacted, or that I shouldn't whine about it because I was safe, I was with family. It wasn't "really" a kidnapping, it wasn't "really" abuse. Fuck that. Yes it was. And it did genuine damage.