StealthHealthSTL

This site is designed to be a reliable and comfortable source for teens to get information they need about sexual health. It was imagined, created and developed by members of Teen Advocates for Sexual Health (TASH), a teen program in St. Louis, MO. The stories on this site were provided by members of TASH, and have links embedded in them to useful, medically accurate information.

Anorexic for life.

Anorexia. It's like alcoholism: you are never "recovered," always "recovering." You are better for a while, and then you relapse. I've been anorexic for about 4 years now. I know some people who have been for a lot longer. It's scary, really. Now that I'm "recovering" I think about all of those website, and blog pages. "Pro-ana" or "pro-mia" sites where (mostly) girls give each other tips on how to not eat for longer than you ever have before without passing out. Share cover-ups and lies about how to sound convincing when you say "I don't feel well" or "I already ate." Websites I used to spend hours on every day. Looking at "inspirational pictures": impossible ideals. Sometimes even those pictures used to show how severe anorexia can really get, you know, those ones of people who are literally only skin and bones, people use those for inspiration. There are people who actually WANT to look like that. I remember some of those pictures, even though I have been avoiding those sites for the last 3 years. They are burned into my brain. Especially this one.. it was my favorite. A girl in a loose t-shirt, standing by a rock. Turned to the left, staring at the camera. Her thighs looking smaller than my calves are now, and I'm borderline underweight. That's how I try to think about it now. As "underweight" rather than thin. To try to remind myself that it is unhealthy, that 1 out of every five people who have this disorder die from it. There is absolutely nothing glamorous about this disease. It's not a diet, and it's definitely not a "lifestyle." It's an illness. One that is a result of our obsession with being thin as a culture. If we didn't have to look at tiny stars on tv everday, see pictures of tiny people in magazines, a lot fewer people would feel like they need to be skinny in order to be accepted. A lot fewer people would suffer and die from this disease.

Awkward Encounter

It was on a Wednesday, after school my something of a boyfriend came over to my house. We had been dating off and on for about a year and nine months, so we were pretty comfortable with each other. However, our relationship had moved very slowly up until this point [which was favorable for the both of us]. So on this lovely Wednesday afternoon, I gave my something of a boyfriend a hand job. My first time giving, his first time receiving. Needless to say, it was a nerve-wracking experience. So when it was all said and done, we were just making out and such, when he starts seductively sucking on my fingers. He had no idea that these were the same fingers that has so recently graced his penis. However, I am well aware of this, as well as still adrenaline-pumped from my recent endeavors, so I feel the need to notify him, by saying, "the ironic thing is...", and I needn't say another word. He sprung backwards, hit his head on my closet doors, and proceeded to gag and cough and make ridiculous faces. I found it very much hilarious, while he was a little miserable; but a week went by and he found it just as funny as I.

Molested

I was molested when I was 4...or 6. That’s the thing, the mind blocks things such as dates and times out when a situation too devastating to handle occurs. But it doesn't block out enough to stop it from killing a person inside. I wasn't "asking for it". And I sure as hell didn't enjoy it. Statistics are true when they say that most victims know their predators previous to the abuse. The pervert that molested me was a member of my family; not that I would ever consider them family. I remember the little things: like the furniture; the time of year; what I said; where I was. But I haven't a clue my age. My parents never learned of the molestation, nor did anyone really. But the hell of it was: EVERY CHRISTMAS AND EASTER TO THIS DAY, I AM FORCED TO GO TO THEIR HOUSE AND ACT LIKE NOTHING EVER HAPPENED. Not to mention the occasional forced hug. Which is something so revolting, infuriating, and emotionally damaging, that only a victim could understand it. When I was seven I started cutting myself. This lasted until I was twelve. I did it because I felt as though I had no other escape. Molestation is shameful like no other. People told me it wasn't my fault, and hear them, but I don’t believe it myself. I know that "it wasn't my fault", but I can’t help but blame myself. It’s illogical, but it’s how I remain for the time being. Not a day goes by that I don't think about it. Not a single day out of the three hundred and sixty-five in a year that it doesn't cross my mind, how my life might be different, if only I weren't molested as a child. Not a month goes by that I don't cry myself to sleep about it, and years have passed. Depression has plagued my life off and on for years, and anxiety for a short time as well. I tried therapy, it didn't help for me. Not to say that it could not help others. Victimization has affected every single relationship I have been in. Every doctor’s appointment I go to. All the clothes I buy. The sex I choose to have relationships with. The way I dress myself. My identity as a whole. To end on a hopeful note, I found relief in sharing my distress with a few close and trustworthy friends. Also, I went to the Internet, and found support groups. Even through myspace, they exist. Fake names, real stories--real help. I am not alone.

Surprise Pregnancy

My Ex-boyfriend and I were having sex for 2 years basically without condoms. My mom found out by noticing a condom in the toilet. It was extremely embarrassing, but at least she found out. Then when she took me to go get checked I was 2 months pregnant. I cried for days, but the decision was that I had to get an abortion. My EX wanted to keep it, but I could not. So I went to Planned Parenthood and got an abortion. Afterwards I felt it was the right thing to do.