by Anonymous
As a little girl I looked forward to having breasts, I wanted to look like my Barbie dolls and I knew my breasts were going to be beautiful. When my breasts started to grow at around age eleven I was excited and although it was painful I embraced the way my body was changing. At this time my mum had recently begun a new relationship and moved in with her new partner and she began to seem uncomfortable with the changes happening to my body. One day my mum sat me down and told me in no uncertain terms that my new breasts must be kept hidden at all times. I was not allowed to wear strappy nightgowns or clothing anymore, even if it was a 35-degree summer. She also said that this order had come directly from her new partner.
I could feel that in a way my mum and her partner were trying to get me to understand and be aware of the need for modesty as I turned into a woman, however, their obvious discomfort in addressing the matter, left me with a deep sense of shame. I remember feeling absolutely humiliated after that conversation. I don’t remember exactly how I got this impression but I remember being given the impression that if I did not cover myself up I would be putting safety and honour in jeopardy. It was clear that the changes happening to my body made both my mum and her partner uncomfortable and I began to feel like I had done something wrong simply by becoming a woman.
Teenage years and early Adult Life
By the age of sixteen my breasts had grown significantly and were hard to miss on my tiny frame. The boys at school had a lot of derogatory nicknames for me that focused on the size of my breasts. These names made me feel as though I meant nothing. Every time a boy would call me a name it felt like they were saying we have the right to turn you into a sex object, you do not matter as a person, we do not respect you and we can hurt you. The worst thing was many of these comments and nicknames were masterminded by the boys that I was actually friends with. I remember being humiliated by the name calling and comments but was afraid to speak out about how I really felt. I suspected that if I did say something I would be teased even more and labelled a cry baby, frigid or unable to take a compliment. My girlfriends understood that the nicknames were hurtful but agreed that I should just take it all as a compliment (even though we all knew it wasn’t) and laugh it off.
Sadly I feel that the decision to stay silent allowed more abuse to happen to me and my breasts.
From about age sixteen my breasts were constantly swollen, sore and seemingly filled with fluid and I often developed lumps under my arms.
As a teenager and throughout my 20s I endured many more comments about my breasts from both men and women. Despite the fact that I was careful to ensure I never showed any cleavage, it seemed that everyone felt they had the right to an opinion about my breasts.
Throughout my teens and early adult years I was incredibly hard on myself. I was absolutely my own worst enemy. I constantly told myself that I was ugly, stupid and would never amount to anything. My feelings about myself were confirmed by the actions of my stepfather who verbally abused me on a daily basis. Occasionally I would yell back which would result in violence; this continued until I left home when I was seventeen.
Once when I was eighteen years old I attended a music festival and a man standing behind me grabbed my breasts so hard I was left with bruises in the shape of his hands. Unfortunately that incident was just the first of many breast gropes I endured from strangers over the next ten years or so; my friends all had similar stories to tell.
At this point I began to hate my breasts and wish they were smaller.
After I left home I pushed myself hard and took risks that reflected my lack of care for my own wellbeing. I procrastinated constantly and while I was at university I would think nothing of writing an assignment in the 24-hour period before it was due, often pulling all nighters assisted by copious amounts of coffee and sugar. When the all nighter was over I would beat myself up for putting off what I needed to do and then feel depressed and anxious. It was an awful way to live but I continued to live this way in some form or another throughout my 20s.
It is no surprise to me now to recall that up until I was in my 30s my breasts were constantly tender, painful and swollen and lumps would form under my arms whenever I had driven myself a step too far.
I discovered the work of Serge Benhayon and Universal Medicine at the age of 30. Over the past three years I have begun to lovingly listen to the scared little girl that ran the show all throughout my teenage years and my 20s and let her know that it is ok to grow up.
I am now far more loving towards myself and others. Coffee, drugs, cigarettes, alcohol and sugar are no longer a part of my life. Love, joy and playfulness are a regular feature in my days. I have deepened my existing friendships and have formed new ones. What stands out most is the beautiful connection I now feel with people in general. I am now able to be myself with others in a way I didn’t dare to believe was possible before.
I am now living far more true to the expression of the beautiful woman that I have always been.
Despite all they have been through, my breasts are an integral part of the amazing healing that continues to unfold for me.