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I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

This story is not easy to read but it's harder to live. I am a survivor of narcissistic abuse, sexual assault, and systemic failure. I share this not for pity, but for truth. For every woman who's been silenced, dismissed, or retraumatized by the very systems meant to protect her. I write this to reclaim my voice and to help others find theirs. It took me until my fifties to realize my worth. I’d spent decades carrying the weight of a childhood that stripped me of confidence and self-worth. That was heavily influenced by a nefarious dictator who called himself Dad. The physical abuse was bad enough but he managed to see to it that his children sailed into adulthood without knowing our own value, and no self-esteem whatsoever. I still managed to marry, raise children, and hold good jobs. I’m intelligent, I carry myself well. But until recently, no one knew how little I thought of myself—even me. Then came the man who would nearly destroy me. He was younger, persistent, and now I understand: he was conditioning me for narcissistic abuse. What followed was three years of daily trauma. I ugly-cried every single day. That’s over 1,095 days of emotional devastation. By the end, my energy, my vivaciousness, and my tenacity were barely hanging on. He did the most heinous things. He killed my cat. He threatened my life and my children’s lives. He kept me tethered with fear. He destroyed everything I owned—including my 2009 Tahoe, which I used for work and to care for my kids. He blew it up shortly after he sent me to the ICU, fighting for my life. I had refused to give him the name of the hospital or my doctors. I was there for 18 days. It was touch and go every single day. A chaplain visited me daily. Because it was a very Merry Covid Christmas, my teenage sons weren’t allowed to say goodbye. Looking back, I realize that was a blessing—no one spoke death into my children’s lives. God is good. The infection that nearly killed me, and almost costed me my right leg, came from a sexual assault. I went home on a PICC line, receiving grapefruit-sized balls of antibiotics daily, for 6 weeks. My kids administered them. I had four surgeries in three months and a blood transfusion. Two days after I got home, my truck exploded. I was one of those cars you see on the freeway engulfed in flames. After I got out of the hospital and my truck blew up, I knew I had to fight for justice. I had proof—medical records, pictures, witnesses. I had been choked, stabbed, assaulted, and received death threats in writing and on video. I waited a year to file because I was mentally and physically broken. I had nothing left in me. But when I finally did, I thought someone would help me. I thought the system would protect me. It didn’t. The DA never contacted me. Not once. I had to rely on VINE alerts just to know when he was in court. No one told me anything. A judge denied my protective order and called him “honey” and “baby” in the courtroom. I had a strong legal team from a nonprofit, and even they were shocked. They wanted to move the case to another county, but I was scared. I didn’t want to poke the bear. He was still stalking me. Still watching. I was re-victimized by the very people who were supposed to help me. The police ignored my reports. The advocates mocked me. One even made fun of me for asking about a Christmas meal after I had all my teeth pulled from the damage he caused. I had a minor child at home and no food. And they laughed. The Attorney General’s Victims Compensation Office helped with the hospital bill for my teeth removal, but not with replacing them. They wouldn’t relocate me because we didn’t live together—even though he saw me almost every day. They had help, but not for me. He got six days in the county jail. That’s it. No restitution. No accountability. He still knows where I am. He still stalks me on social media as a way of eminding me that someday he will make good on his threat to come after me when I least expect it. I don’t know where he is. And I live with that fear every single day. After the justice system failed me, I had nowhere to turn but inward. I went through three different women’s centers and maxed out every therapy program they offered. I showed up for every session, I showed up for me, and for my two sons who had seen the whole drama play out—even when I could barely speak through the grief. I wasn’t just healing from physical trauma. I was healing from being ignored, dismissed, and re-victimized by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. And when the therapy ran out, I didn’t stop. I found free entrepreneurship training through Memorial Assistance Ministries, and I poured myself into it—not because I had a business plan, but because I needed something to remind me I still had value. I enrolled in the Navigator program and just being at a feedback meeting at United Way I was able to tap into some education through some of the country's most prestigious universities. I earned certificates from the University of Maryland, the University of Valencia, and even Harvard. I got my graphic design certification and used it to create empowerment products, journals, and visual storytelling pieces that spoke to the pain I couldn’t always say out loud. I earned 17 certificates through the Texas Advocacy Project, becoming a trauma-informed, lived experience advocate. I did all of this while still healing, still growing and approaching my 60th birthday. Now here I am, still unable to find a job. I have all this knowledge, all this training, and nowhere to apply it. I’m still standing. Still creating. Still trying. But the silence from the world around me is deafening. I didn’t just survive—I transformed. And yet, I’m still waiting for a door to open. I’m going to keep writing. Keep pushing. Keep showing up for my health, even when the systems around me make it feel like survival is a full-time job. I haven’t been able to resolve the dental issues yet, and that alone has impacted my confidence, my comfort, and my ability to fully engage in the world. There’s a very real possibility that I’ll be facing a housing crisis in the coming months. Living on disability isn’t sustainable, and the math doesn’t add up no matter how many ways I try to stretch it. But I’m not giving up. I’ve come too far, learned too much, and built too many bridges to stop now. I’m looking for a miracle—not because I’m helpless, but because I’ve done everything I can on my own. I’m ready for a door to open. Ready for someone to see the value in what I’ve built, in what I know, in who I am. I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for a chance to turn all this lived experience into impact. Into legacy. Into something that finally feels like justice.

I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

10/10/18 My Daughter, These Things I Know Do not go to bed angry Make eye contact Offer a firm handshake Smile at people—stranger and friend alike No one will remember in one month Exercise your mind Go outside Studying does not count without a pen Focus on your lifestyle over your waistline Say yes to travel Say yes to long car rides Say yes to sharing one on one moments Pick up a book—the closest we have to time travel Take pictures Please and Thank you matter Raise your argument rather than your voice Time heals Your body is yours—to explore, to protect, to celebrate There is strength in vulnerability Know when you do not know Parents are just people too Never turn your back on the ocean You will make mistakes Forgive yourself—now try again It is alright to not be alright Write it down Practice loyalty A habit forms in seven days—stick with it Sing in the car—blame the voice on your mother Do not get on a motorcycle Be kind—stranger and friend alike Stay humble Stay curious Do not walk alone at night Do not pretend that is fair Stand your ground Know when to not stand your ground Find your people—love them fiercely and fully Trust your gut You are not alone

Deep Breath Betty was a background character in her own life So Tired of seeking the answers, so tired of living in strife Her mother taught her many things, but mostly just how to stay “Let him rage and let him scream, sometimes that’s just a man’s way” It didn’t used to be like this, otherwise she could have known But it isn’t like the first kiss, tells you how it’s gonna go And many years since then, rings exchanged and baby on the way, The man she knew before then, is not the man he is today She dreams of being free Of something just her own, She dreams of what she’d achieve If nobody here could tell her no She dreams of a real life Not just running to horizons new Where she can finally take a deep breath And have it be better than she’s used to. But when she’s finally made a plan And packed herself a little case There’s nowhere she can run to, not when he’s about to chase That’s the thing about a small town, everyone knows everything But when you’re just a blow in, no one’s gonna let you in And Lord, she needs some money, yeah, can’t rent a place without enough But ever since the baby, that’s been eating all her money up And he said it would be better, if she stayed at home all the time So the baby has a mother, so the big man feels he’s got the wife. She dreams of being free Of something just her own, She dreams of what she’d achieve If nobody here could tell her no She dreams of a real life Not just running to horizons new Where she can finally take a deep breath And have it be better than she’s used to. And when it all goes south and the doors are being slammed When the neighbours just pretend they didn’t see a thing again When the makeup on her eyes is cried off and shows the truth When only in hindsight did they see what he did to you But did she have a place to go? Was there a place to stay? And her dreams are just for sleeping and now we are all awake She won’t ever get the chance to run away. She won’t ever get the chance to be okay… She dreams of being free Of something just her own, She dreams of what she’d achieve If nobody here could tell her no She dreams of a real life Not just running to horizons new Where she can finally take a deep breath And have it be better than she’s used to. Where she can finally take a deep breath and be safe.

At the age of four, my mom used to take me out to the trunk of her Jeep and beat me for 20-30 minutes at a time. She would hit me, pull my hair, and scream profanity at me. The physical abuse lasted until I was 11-years-old, and she only stopped once CPS got involved. My dad knew; he did nothing. At the age of 6, I got sexually molested at school by another female. My mother told me it was not molestation, and that I was just "playing around." At the age of 11, I was sexually abused by the neighborhood boys. They were in their mid-teens, and would touch me inappropriately, rub their penises against me, and tell me inappropriate jokes. At that same age, I was also dry humped on the face by multiple boys who I considered friends. At the age of 16, I was raped by a 26-year-old man. He groomed me beginning at the age of 14-years-old, and convinced me he was a safe person. At that same point in my life, I was raped by a 23-year-old that I had known for two years and considered safe. He took me to a room where we could "be alone" then proceeded to force himself on me. I was crying and telling him to stop, but he didn't stop. I dated him for three months after that, and he continued to pressure me into sex and emotionally abuse me. Starting at the age of 14-years-old, I began getting harassed online. I stupidly gave out my phone number and address to someone I had trusted, and they were posted on 4chan (a public image board). I was harassed daily: I received death threats; I received threatening phone calls; I would receive calls to my school. I then found out that the person I trusted killed a girl in his home city, and that they had proof I was going to be the next victim. At the age of 17, my step-dad physically assaulted me and almost broke my wrist. He put a cigarette out on my head, strangled me, and threatened me. My mom watched, holding the phone, and told me it was my fault for "not leaving when [she] told [me] to." The only help I got was from a neighbor who saw me run out of the house, covered in blood. That same year, I was kicked out because I refused to lift the restraining order off of my step-dad, and my mom gave me an ultimatum. I refused and went to live elsewhere. At the age of 18, I moved in with my first serious boyfriend. He was abusive and cheated on me multiple times. He would call me every name in the book and threaten to harm me and break my belongings. I did not get away until I was just turning 19. At the age of 20, I moved in with my dad. My step-mom was jealous of my dad and I's relationship and physically assaulted me and kicked me out on my 21st birthday. My dad did nothing again. At the age of 21, I developed life-threatening bulimia and anorexia and began drinking heavily to self-medicate. My fiance helped me through these disorders and saved my life. I am now 24-years-old and have many stable and healthy relationships--both in friendship and love. I am also receiving help via medication for C-PTSD, GAD, and major depressive disorder. I began therapy recently, too, and am learning to confront my traumas and move on. It's hard, and there are many things I remember each day that send me into a panic, but I want to heal and reclaim my innocence, power, and self-worth.

"The lady bug and her spots " Hello guys its me again ! :D I am the magic behind " To become A dandelion " (go check it out ! ) I would like to introduce you to a special short I wrote dedicated to my loving boyfriend, boyfriend initials. my father father initials my mother mother initials and my very best friends multiple friends initials (I wont be releasing any names due to safety of others.!) and anyone who has ever struggled, been hurt, abandoned , struggled with mental health problems grew up with a hard back ground felt alone in a cluster of people was neglected , felt unloved or hurt by a parent, domestic violence , sexual violence, rape neglect or anything else that pains a soul. This is for YOU. This is how WE GET OUR SPOTS ,. Did you know a lady bug only lives for ONE YEAR?. That's only 365 days. Now you tell me , if that lady bug knew that she or he only had ONE YEAR to live,. do you think the lady bug would curl up in a leaf ? comforted by its Veridian arms with last nights dew drops laying cuddled up from the night before ?. Do you think the lady bug would see the leaf of its past life begging it to stay close for it wishes to be safe?. Absolutely not. That lady bug is going to do anything in its efforts to SURVIVE and that's exactly what all of you have been doing, I myself included, we have given ourselves a limited amount of time and haven't realized we have our WHOLE lives to heal, and its okay if youre only on day, one.. However just like a lady bug you kept going. Regardless of the weather, you kept going now look at all of you. You literally glow,. Your wings have finally came in and its time for you to soar. You see thats what its all about, some say we earn our stripes with ever lick, every unkind word , every heartbreak, lost job or struggle with ones self,. But really its not about remembering the bad, a memory is only a thought we keep alive,. No this is about feeling the good bad and ugly and still seeing the sunshine,. Its sitting next to your bestfriend of 20 something odd years and remembering how much trouble you caused,. Its forgiveness of others after you have burned to many bridges,.. Yet they still hand you a cup of water because they love you. Its the work meetings that melt your heart because together your family is not always bonded by blood its created by so many different qualities all by others with just as many licks and just as many or maybe even more or less spots then us. But regardless we are here we are ALIVE and we have our whole lives to gain those spots. I will start with mine today,. Its not about how many spots you've got on your back,. Its about when you finally realize you're a lady bug.. just fly already,, Its time to live guys, . ITS MY TURN. ITS YOUR TURN. So please, . Go fly. Thankyou for all who have read,. and continue to support my writing,'. remember to become a dandelion you must first remember a weed is only a flower if you look at it that way,. And a lady bug is only a insect if you look at it that way,. But in a world full of roses,. Don't be afraid to stand out such as the dandelion and never be afraid to show your spots,. You never know what flowers you may attract,. <3 -sincerely yours truly author initials

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

I don't even know if this is sexual abuse/cocsa honestly. My cousin was 9/10 i was 8. All I know is he started touching me and I wasn't allowed to tell anyone. I don't know if this counts as cocsa and I don't want to take away from people who were sexually abused.

he wouldn’t listen to me when i told him i didn’t want to go to his room. i told him i was too drunk and i didn’t feel well, that i wanted to go back to my room. he took me with him anyway. he stuck his hand in my pants and i told him to stop. he did for a moment, then he tried again. i told him no again, and he did stop. we went to bed. i wish he had done more, because now i’m traumatized and having panic attacks but don’t feel like i should be, because he stopped. i feel even worse for wishing he hadn’t. because then my feelings would be valid.

8M (me) 11F (cousin) 12M (cousin) were at a family function just playing house (it just dawned on me that 11-12 year olds don't play house and that the only reason we played house was for this) until it was night time in which we all got in the bed I lied at the bottom of their feet as their child as they had sex in front of me not even .5 foot away from me I just hid in fear 10M 13F 14M my older cousin led us into the woods and told my female cousin to strip she complied and then they started going at it with each other I just stood silently observing this horrible sight; seeing my female cousin in such a way felt so wrong to me my cousin then asked me to join him and I did, I was clueless just stood their as it happened; biggest regret of my life this one mistake started a snowball effect that still haunts me 12M 15F 16M yet another family function my cousins were drinking this time and came up to me hammered and asking me to come upstairs we end up smoking weed and my older cousin starts to tease my female cousin; by this time this ordeal had happened at pretty much every meeting of us I had even started pleasuring myself watching them (I never got involved because I wanted to keep myself) this time however my older cousin has fallen into a drunk slumber and my female cousin was already "ignited" she came up to me and said "lucky for you ive been ignited and all I need is for someone to come diminish me" (I remember those words 1:1) my female cousin then took my purity from me, I didn't even try to fight her or try to ask her to stop I was telling myself I didn't want to yet I pleaded for her to help me I still don't have it wrapped in my head if I was a victim or if I was just as predatory as them, I know that my older cousin started manipulating my female cousin and I didn't stop him because I enjoyed it, yet again I was 10 years old I couldn't grasp the gravity and severity of what we were doing I even viewed it as just complimentary and normal and that we were just helping each other, but the other part of me hates me for it.

I would like to help women ( or men) learn that you can overcome the difficulty of leaving Domestic Violence and start life , in my case, for the 1st time I was "married" for 20 years in the DV and have been out for 13 years. It is a difficult process, but worth the effort to give yourself your life.

I have tried numerous times to share my story. Although my story is 40+ years ago, I am just beginning find a very painful path to healing. As a male abused, abandoned and left to survive without support I think makes my story harder to relive and tell. Thank you for this safe space. Hopefully soon I can return and tell my story.

This is a interactive blog I created to share my sexual assault story, and my journey to healing. I only hope that others will have the courage to speak their truth. We all have a story and we are all in this journey to healing together.

I was in my early 20's, moved to Long Island from an upstate town for college and graduated with honors. I was excited to land a job in NYC with a large financial/insurance company. My boss was a young fairly handsome married man with good manners and was so nice at first. I was warned by a few woman to watch out for him because he was a player. Well naive me fell for his attention. At first the things g's he did seemed innocent, like walking with me to Penn Station. That turned into stopping off for drinks which then turned into kissing and touching . I look back at how stupid I was as he reeled me in and wonder why I did this. I can only say that I had left home because I did not have a good relationship with my dad and I was attention starved and he pounced on that. One thing led to another and I met him at a hotel. I felt awful after and wanted to end it but he threatened my job that I really needed. People started suspecting things at work and before I knew it, this smart student had a reputation. This went on for months and he was very controlling. He also would do things to make me jealous and to undermine my confidence. I hated myself. I believe his higher ups talked him into transferring me to a different dept in a different building so he could advance in his career. He did advance, quickly. I, on the other hand, moved and so did my reputation and my low self esteem. I had a couple of other encounters in the new area and finally changed companies altogether, which was the best thing I ever did. At the new company I remade myself and became and was seen as the true professional I am. I went back to school for my masters, have a beautiful family and a great career. BUT... I still have bouts of shame and at times my self esteem p!unges. None of my family or friends know any of this. I still harbor resentment against this man who retired at a very high level and runs a consulting company now. I wonder how many other women and careers he affected.

This story contains descriptions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Please be aware of this. I am a single, HSP-afflicted freelancer. I am currently 38 years old. Like many people my age, my mother was violent when angry. She also broke things, accusing me of misbehaving, such as tearing down all the posters of my favorite idols that were hanging in my room. When she wasn't angry with me or my sister, she would repeatedly smash the frying pan she was using to cook food into the sink if the food burned or if she accidentally dropped a glass, or she would smash even chipped cups and plates. She would then run out of the house, often not knowing when she would return. I remember feeling lonely even as a child. When I was 13, after my mother broke a plate and ran out as usual, I couldn't bear it any longer and used the broken pieces to self-harm. I cut myself deeply on my arm. I think I told my mother I'd fallen, but the scars I still see today clearly couldn't have been caused by that. It wasn't until I turned 36 that I realized the abnormal relationship between my mother and me. Since the COVID-19 pandemic, we've had a series of unfortunate events in the family. My mother, who should be over 60, has a terrible ability to control her emotions and has no boundaries with me, her daughter. Gradually, I realized that my childhood environment was strange, and that the physical and emotional scars were deeper than I'd realized. It may sound unbelievable, but until recently, I didn't think my self-harm was a big deal. I'd barely thought about these scars in my life. I didn't hide them, but I'd spent decades without telling anyone. My mother and I were close, and we'd talk about anything, so now I'm really suffering. I've always been told by family and friends that I was quick to anger and had a tendency to get angry, which really bothered me, and I've struggled with my relationships. I've tried to understand why I was the way I was, reading various books, researching online, and trying to change my personality. So I really can't forgive my mother for taking out her anger on her children despite being a grown adult, for breaking things, for running away from home on a daily basis, and for laughing at my personality for decades, calling it weird. More than anything, I feel like my life is irreparable, and I can't bear the frustration. If I had realized my mother's abnormal side sooner, I think my personality and the way I build relationships would have been different. I'm in the midst of a flood of emotions. When I have more free time from my freelance work, I often think that being a Shin would be nice. It's a bit disorganized, but I'd be happy if it could be of some use to someone.

“C’mon Name, I thought you loved me?”I desperately stared at the message and I felt a mix of guilt and hatred.I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know what I could do. It was december, the frozen air was all I knew.During a trip through the fluorescent mall, I was starstruck by a beautiful boy with fuzzy blond hair, It looked almost golden in the lights.His eyes met mine and the second he asked for my number, it was given to him.He continued to tell me how beautiful I was, which at the time i didn’t at all believe.I thought maybe, just maybe this boy would be different.I would often think that maybe this time I would get the love i’d been missing for so long, but like every one of my stories, there was a bad ending.The daily texting started to become every second of every day and being the girl I am, I loved the constant affection and recognition. We started to expand into facetiming, all the time. It wasn’t all that big of a deal, sometimes it seemed like he was actually interested in what I had to say too. Most of the time I liked talking to him, but everytime he would call me, saying he missed me, I knew what was coming. He would always start off being nice and sweet, but within a couple minutes of talking, he’d ask for pictures. I would say no, obviously, and for a couple of days at least, he accepted my answer. It wasn’t until I was severely depressed, and grieving the tragic death of a classmate, that he started to threaten himself. I told this boy about my fear of losing people I love, So being the boy he was, he used that against me. “Bro, I swear to god, if you don’t send me pictures i’ll kill myself right now.” I was beyond terrified. To be honest, I knew he had his own issues, but everyone does right? I tried to seek out for help, but I was so, so, so scared, and I now understand how naive I was for believing him. He knew I couldn’t lose anyone else, that's why he decided that I was the girl he’d take advantage of. My vulnerability was radiating through me, making me seem weak, just like he wanted. This continued for a couple months, Him coercing me into things I didn’t want to do, and me, being so fearful that he might actually do something, that I didn’t tell anyone. Eventually, my parents found out. I was relieved, relieved that this burden was lifted off me. And yes, I was still sad, and maybe a little heartbroken, but knowing that I didn’t have to wake up, and be scared of him getting hurt, made it all go away, mostly. I ended up having to report him to the police, which was something I dreaded. I didn’t want him to hate me, or even come after me. But I knew it was the right move, knowing that he had the power to control another girl made me sick. As the disgusting, cruel teenage boy he was, he denied everything, trying to play the victim. It was rough, I will admit.But now, when I look back, I try to forget, I try to take it as a learning experience, I try to make myself believe that i’m not just my looks, and not just my body, but it's hard to believe that after being used and being played. I think this story is important to share because it stands as a warning, to not let anyone take advantage of you, and to understand that anyone, no matter how close they are to you, can hurt you.