If you lost your virginity @11 yrs old, you’d be effed up, too | #DiggingInTheBag |@phettehollins #DITB

Digging in the bag is metaphoric for Digging in the soul. What I discovered as I was scavenging through old photos was how different I was “back then.” Of course, as time progresses the hope is to grow. But sadly, some folks don’t. They stay stuck, stagnant.


I want to take the time to celebrate growth…and healing by sharing the head space I was in during the time of the photos compared to where I am now. We are who we are for a reason. We behave in the manner we do due to our upbringing, pre-disposition (genetics), experiences, what we’ve been exposed to, etc.

I knew I had serious issues shortly into my marriage. At a time when I should’ve been happy (especially since 3 of the men I dated previously got married after our breakup), I wasn’t. I didn’t know it then, but that took a toll on my self-esteem. Subconsciously, I didn’t feel worthy.

Prior to getting married, I blamed all of my exes for my failed relationships. I was absolutely, positively NOT the blame. They were all liars & cheaters and had issues, NOT ME. I was good.


My childhood wasn’t traumatic like some of my friends’ was. My mom wasn’t on drugs. A relative didn’t penetrate me with his penis; he used his fingers instead. That didn’t count as molestation, right?


I was good & grown when I learned that inserting your fingers inside an 8 to 10 year old’s vagina is a violation, and that a parent can live in the home & be just as absent as the drug-addicted parent in the streets.

Because my experiences weren’t “as bad” as those I saw in the movies or that of some of my relatives & friends, I minimized them, until they got too big for me to ignore.

I talk about patterns a lot. Mine was:

Meet. Sex. Relationship. Cheat. Break up. Get back together. Cheat. Break up.

I didn’t take the time to get to know anyone. In hindsight, that was because I didn’t care to. I didn’t even know who I was. Didn’t know what to look for. I was winging it and doing a bad job at it. All I knew was that I liked attention…from any & everybody. But baybeeeeeee…all attention ain’t good attention.


I said it before –>HERE<– and –>HERE<– annndddddddd –>RIGHT HERE<– , I grew up in a non-affectionate family. So, I sought it elsewhere.

I lost my virginity to a 15-year-old. Though I didn’t look 11 (almost 12), that doesn’t negate the fact that I was a child.

On the left: Ponytail w/bangs in the front & back. On the right: Farrah Fawcett feathered do w/the satin blouse AND brooch #iMgrown
Will you look at the transformation. Can you see it? The pic on the left, I had a little bit of innocence left. On the right…it’s GONE!

30+ years later and it still saddens me because I blame my mom for dropping the ball. My grandma, too.

Being a parent myself, I understand that we (parents) cannot be with our kids 24/7 & know their every move. So when I say they dropped the ball, I mean they gave up on me, for whatever reason.

I’m convinced that when I turned 13, my grandmother stopped liking me. I could surmise that maybe my attitude had something to do with it. But, shit, don’t all teenagers got a bad attitude?

My mom allowed me to come & go as I pleased, for the most part. She didn’t follow-up with parents to ensure I was over such & such house like I “alleged” to be. She was preoccupied. With what? I don’t know. She was a very private person. I knew very little about her life, but the little bit I do know speaks volumes.

She was still that wounded, hurt little girl who never healed. So, she felt all she had to do was make sure I was fed, clothed, and had shelter. Dassit. She could not pour into me because she was empty, which made her emotionally unavailable.

So she didn’t notice my bloodied clothes after a 15-year-old boy just popped my cherry. I came in the house and she didn’t even bother to look up, which I knew she wouldn’t. I just slid on upstairs and camouflaged my clothes in the garbage.

2 weeks later, I was happy to celebrate my 12th birthday AND my menstrual cycle.


I didn’t know much about the birds & the bees, but I knew a period was a good sign. So, when I didn’t get one for 5 months, I knew that was a bad sign. My mom finally noticed and took me to the dr. I was 5 months pregnant and forced to get an abortion on June 2, 1990 –2 days after my 15th birthday. Because I was so far along, the procedure took 2 days. This still affects me.


Afterwards, the dr. advised my mom & I that I rest for a couple of days. I did some crossword puzzles then got bored. I asked my mom if I could go around the corner over a friend’s house, the same house where I lost my virginity 3 yrs prior. Against the doctor’s orders, she let me go. Again, preoccupied. Unfazed.

I would go on to get pregnant again at 17 years old. On purpose. While kids were filling out college applications, I was planning to have a baby. Not because I was trying to “trap” a dude. Nope, nothing like that. But because I wanted someone to love & to love me back. I knew by the time I had the baby I’d be 18 and couldn’t be made to get rid of her.

For the next 25+ years I would engage in unhealthy relationships with men & women because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Now that I’ve gotten to the root of my issues and have been doing the work, I am clear about what I want & will no longer attract strays (those who have no place to go), cheaters (those who are married or in a committed relationship), or abandoners (those who are emotionally unavailable).


Stories connect & heal us. Let’s get unstuck together. 😊😊😊

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7 thoughts on “If you lost your virginity @11 yrs old, you’d be effed up, too | #DiggingInTheBag |@phettehollins #DITB

    1. Thanks Leshawn. I know I’m not the only one who was suffering in silence. That’s why I’m choosing to share. Thanks so much for reading and please share with those who could benefit πŸ˜‰

      1. You’re welcome truly appreciate you sharing your story for all of us we are. All survivors thank you for being strong and transparent and a voice for those that can’t be transparent truly inspiring

  1. I love you and I’m sorry you had to experience these things many being very relatable so I understand and feel your pain

    1. I love you too Mone. I appreciate u taking the time to read it. All things happen just as they’re supposed to. So I’m just thankful to be able to acknowledge & heal from these things. I look forward to hearing your story one day ❀

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