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it still hurts. sometimes i feel like i am too harsh on myself. i only spoke up about waht happened when many years have passed. i knew i wasnt comfortable with what happened but i could expressed it, i kept it deep down and try to supress it from my mind. when i finally spoke up a long time have happened, i am hard on me because i knew it could have get better sooner, i am hard on myself because sometimes i feel like i am making a big deal out of something small. i try to remind myself that i am strong, that i am caring and this shall pass too.

The first time I saw a penis I was 11 years old. A man flashed open his coat when he passed me by in the street and there I saw it, that odd fleshy bit hanging out of his open zip. I remember feeling panic, disgust and shame, as if it was my fault somehow. When I was 12 and on a holiday camp, one of the older guys working there invited me to his cabin to play some music and made me wait while he took a shower, coming out from the bathroom with his robe semi open. Again, panic and shame. In my first job, age 20, the boss became obsessed with me and I had to literally run around the conference table in order to avoid his hands on my body. Every time I was called into his office I asked my colleagues to interrupt the meeting after 5 minutes, so I could safely escape his harassment. I told my mother and she laughed it off, saying it was just classic men behaviour. I eventually had to leave the job cause he was becoming more and more persistent. I'm 56 years old and I personally don't know ANY woman of my generation who hasn't been through similar situations.

I was raped by my uncle when I was 11 years old. Most of my family didn't believe me. That was really painful and prevented me from getting the support and help I needed at the time. I developed an eating disorder and started self-harming as a trauma response. I had no other way of coping. I wish I had known more about SA when I was younger. Not to prevent it because I believe that it's the perpetrator that makes the choice to harm. But to understand that it wasn't my fault, that I was a victim and to report it when I still had time.

It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

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.

Just words. You have trouble talking about these things. You realize you have trouble talking about a lot of things. You remember being excited about your first job at Company Name. One of your friends works there and you know a lot of people work there as a summer job. It’s the 1990’s and it’s been grandfathered in that they can pay you less than minimum wage because it’s like a part time training experience for students getting their first work experience. Like a newspaper route. Those are for boys. You got so excited after being nervous you asked for an application along with your friend. You don’t remember meeting him then. So many people want to get chosen for that crap job because for some reason it’s become a sought after thing among the cool kids. You do remember the phone call that you can come for an interview. Walking home you wonder if being cute and having larger breasts than most almost freshman girls had something to do with it. You met Name and remember him for sure this time. The way you look has been a curse far more than a blessing. One reason people would not feel that bad for you. 'God sure blessed you, honey." You have so many bad memories, blocked memories, repressed memories because of Name. You are having second thoughts as tears build up. You need a drink. You quit drinking years ago and today you have three months and eight days sober. Your record is nine months and two days. You are strong. Most of the time. You are hollow. All the time. Name wasn’t the last but he was the first. You change his name although you don’t want to. He is the symbol of your hatred of all that is wrong with men. You were tricked. Name got what he wanted from you. Too many times. Too many times before you stopped going back. Just stopped. You could have just stopped after the first time he held you close and caressed you before your mom picked you up that night. The first time. You still don’t understand or forgive yourself for that. You had let a boy at a party and a boy at an 8th grade dance put their hand up your shirt. You had liked it so much those times. It had been exciting and happy. Name did not make you happy. You went back. You want to talk about something else now. Not the other men who thought your body was their plaything. Not the time you went to Ireland with your Aunts and mom. You miss mom. That was a good trip. You got back to that a lot. You sat down to talk about things you don’t talk about. On a family trip to Adventureland you asked your cousin if was considered losing your virginity of a boy did it to your boobs. You pretended it was a cute boy, not Name. It was hard to breathe with him sitting on your torso thrusting. You sometimes break things and scream. Never when your son is around. You have two jobs and don’t really like the one that pays the most. Your college degree does not count much. How much life is wasted on despair and doubt and taking the wrong path? You feel relief when he finally finished. You hate when he finishes because you know he is stealing his ultimate pleasure from you when he has a wife. He acts like it was just another day at work to keep you on his leash. You are pathetic. His remnants are inside you every time you go home after closing with him. Just another miserable day in the life. You say nothing. You tell no one. You are worthless except as a vessel for him. Your parents say nice things to you, about you. They always have. They have to. They don’t know what you really are. A black shame is the times you felt pleasure in your body while he was doing it do you. At least while you remained quiet and motionless there was some dignity. Defiance. Insult to him. When your body and voice reacted like you liked it it was a betrayal. Like you liked that tub of disgusting man on top of you and inside of you, fucking you on that tile floor, kissing you like a lover. You befriended a group of guys by mid high school. Over a year after Name was more than thorn in your soul. A deep callous. The group figured out what you were. They played football. They were important and had strong will. They shared you and passed you around. They told you they loved you. That you were the coolest girl. They took what they wanted when they wanted. Why? Name 2 was you lab partner for biology. He was the first. He was the only one your age. You went in his car for lunch and met some others. They wanted you. You volunteered. It is all you are good for. Draining them of their juice so they can be happy and feel like men. So you can feel empty and dirty. Even after they graduated they got together for group fun, or had you sneak out at night to go for a ride. You headed far west after you graduated. A fresh start. An exodus. An escape. You went to one reunion. The ten year reunion. Name 2 came with his wife. He introduced you as his ex-girlfriend. You let hm take you to the disabled restroom and have his quickie. You went to the bars afterward and ditched your real friend and let Name 3 take you back to his hotel room to live his fantasies just because he claimed that he always loved you. They say attractive people have sex more frequently with more partners than normal people. The darkness behind that statement is that for females it is no always because they want it that way but because of the relentless pressure from men and how they will do anything if they get the opportunity. You are not a nice innocent girl. Would you have been if it had not been for Name like you want to think? Would you have let your much older cousin you barely know take you back into the woods with him behind their house to the shack where he smokes pot after a wedding. Then wait there for him to call his friends after he found out you were a bad girl and wait for them too. Swatting flies in your underwear while you waited for them. You did not drink because your mom did not allow it even though kids younger than you were. But your cousin and his local friends did. Four of them counting your cousin old enough to be your uncle. Still, you acted like you liked everything they did. They took it so far like you were the world's greatest toy. Porn star, they called you like it was the best thing you could be. The anal was excruciating. It was easier to just wash off all your makeup than to try to fix it after all the sweat and sticky. Smiles and complements followed by the deep hollow feeling of total isolation in the station wagon on the way back home from Kansas city. Hating Name and feeling like you betrayed your aunt because one of them was her fiancé. You got an infection and it was embarrassing when the doctor told you. At least it was a female doctor. The idea of a male gynecologist is unnerving. The one time you were examined by one was terrifying. You were in college. He was way too thorough and talkative like he was working up to asking you out on a date and you decided never again. The only one you ever had that did not wear gloves for the breast exam. The most sensual digital vaginal exam you ever had to check the cervix and ovaries for pain. Was his thumb supposed to be brushing your clitoris? You even wonder if he was recording it on his phone that you saw him adjust twice as it was peaking out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. His stupid November mustache he asked you if you liked. So some days you don’t eat. You exercise to maintain the body they want. It gives you value to them. You are nothing. People always say nice things. Hollow things. What if you had never met Name? What if you never got fucked on the floor for $3.45 an hour. On your back, on your hands and knees, sometimes even on top of him. Your first orgasm on that floor that smelled like stale milk and bleach. Having to tell your mom pick you up 45 minutes after the place closes for your cleaning duties. You used tampons just to keep from his semen leaking out on the way home. You pretended to be a virgin when you were far from it. He told you not to worry because he had a vasectomy. That part must have been true. You don't got on dates even though they always try to set you up. Not a chance. Your son is a good excuse. And a real reason. Real love. The Earth spins in space. Why can’t it just freeze and die like me? Your boss doesn’t go all the way with you because he won’t cheat on his wife. You give him oral because he doesn’t think that counts. Preserves his purity. He says he wants to so badly, like he can take whatever he wants from you but he is strong and valiant. You are nothing. He is handsome. You let him kiss you and fondle you. You long for his touch. He is not a great man but you long for him. The closest thing to a good man you have known. A father figure. Your son needs a father figure. He is everything. He deserves better. He loves you. He tells you are a good mom and that is worth enduring the world for as long as it takes. You put on a good face but he knows you are hollow, deep down. A wounded duck pretending to be a swan. Always pretending. Was there no pretending before Name? Maybe not. The days begin and your mind pretends and it is hard and the days end. Bad dreams on both ends. Will he be a good man? The funny thing is you want him to be a prince because he is your prince but even if he is like most men you want his total happiness. You want beautiful girls, good times, and strong friends for him. You exist to fake it and to have let those men enjoy you but mostly to give your son the best life possible beyond you. You are not worthless. It is not your fault. You are stronger than you know. Hollow words. They have to say it. They always have. No creativity. No insight. No truth. Just words.

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

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

At the end of my freshman year of college, I was at a house party. Towards the end of the night, after I had already been drinking, I said I wanted to go smoke and a guy who had been interested in me asked if he could come with me. We were friends at the time so I agreed. We went to the area in the back, which was an enclosed greenhouse-type porch and no one was back there. After we finished smoking, he leaned in and kissed me. I was shocked but went along with it at first. He proceeded to kiss me more intensely and started to touch me. Feeling uncomfortable, I stopped and told him I wanted to go inside. I sat at a table inside and he was next to me. I started feeling the high from smoking as I was having a conversation with my friends who were right across from me. Suddenly I felt his hand move up my thigh and he proceeded to rub me over my shorts. I was in frozen in shock thinking, "what the fuck is happening right now? This is really weird and i'm not enjoying this. Am I too high to do something right now? There are so many people around me. and no one knows what is happening. What is going on?" After a what felt like forever I felt him try to go in my shorts and that's when I snapped out of it and just looked at him. I didn't know what to say, and I don't really remember what happened at this point. I was just. in shock. He said something to me, I probably said something back, and then he just walked away. The day after I cried and had breakdowns in the bathrooms of the student center. I was confused and conflicted with myself trying to process what had happened. I felt like it was my fault because I googled things like "what constitutes as sexual assault/harassment?" because I wasn't sure if what i had gone through had "counted." I thought that since it was only touching it wasn't a big deal. I thought that because I was under the influence it was my fault. That I shouldn't have been that fucked up. That I shouldn't have been leading him on and making him think that I was into him. That I should protect him because he was friends with so many of my friends. But at the end of it all, HE WAS IN THE WRONG. I WAS PUT IN A SITUATION WHERE I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE AND HE HAD VIOLATED ME IN A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE. I'm here to say that no matter the action, no matter how small, if you were violated your feelings are VALID. If you did not give consent and you felt uncomfortable, it IS ASSAULT. It is still your story. YOUR trauma that you have to live with. Do not brush it off or belittle it because you don't feel like it's worthy of being labeled. You are worthy. You deserve to be heard.

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 hope my story will help someone Who may be in an abusive relationship so so long they start to think there is no way out but with your strong will and determination you can and will leave when the time is right for you....It took me 29 yrs to Leave the gaslighting, and other forms of abuse just got to be to much My abuser with help from his dysfunctional crowd he hung around with showed him how to groom me back in the relationship only to show our grown son that he can't be wrong!!! It bothered him so much that I walked out on him he used my vulnerability and grooming to get me back it was the worst descion of my life...let's put it this way I'm lucky to be alive right now to tell you this story ...I hope one day my grown son will see the truth...I believe in God and I know my ex significant other Will have to come to terms with his demons when he decides to get clean If not for himself for our wonderful adult son who takes care of him each day since I left...

A little over A number of years ago, when I was 19, I ended a numbermonth relationship with a man I had met in college. We had met during orientation, and he pursued me romantically very quickly. I was so delighted to be finally seen; I had never been in a relationship and no one had ever been interested in me before. Things moved very quickly, and in hindsight, it should have been a sign of what was to come. He kissed me suddenly one day when we hugged and I didn't turn him down. He was very pushy to progress things along faster than I felt ready for, but I convinced myself that I should be ready. Naively, I agreed to be in a relationship with him a week after meeting. Within a month, our relationship had become more sexual. He had forced his way to take my virginity when I just wanted some foreplay, but again, I didn't object and soothed myself that at least I didn't have a one-night-stand. Two months later, he wanted me to go on birth control when a condom and emergency contraception failed and I had an early miscarriage. He was particularly interested in me getting an implant. I didn't think it was a bad idea, as I didn't want to get pregnant again. Unfortunately, this enabled him to abuse me even more. The relationship turned violent as well as sexually abusive, and he wore me down psychologically, saying I was a terrible girlfriend and pointing out everything I was insecure about. He was very suspicious of my friendships with my male classmates (I was one of four women in a class of 40, I hadn't much choice) and accused me of emotional cheating and flirting with them when it wasn't true. Eventually, I had struck up a friendship with one of his friends he introduced me to from school, who I confided in that we weren't having a happy relationship. I didn't disclose any real detail during our conversations, but he was horrified by his verbal treatment of me and what my boyfriend said to him about me, and encouraged me to leave him gently over several months. I eventually did break up with him in a public space in order to try to be safe. Strangely, he was fine with it. He took his belongings from my apartment and left without any issue. The following day, he had already moved on to kissing another girl in a neighbouring college and ended up being in a relationship with her for many years - his insecurity about me cheating was a projection of his own behaviour. I ended up dating the friend who helped me to leave that relationship and we are now very happily engaged and cut ties from my ex completely, so I'm thankful we met despite the circumstances. Unfortunately, I never had any real evidence besides anecdotal to bring a case against him for what he did to me without my consent. Dates of those events are non-existent in my memory because I accepted it as being my duty as his girlfriend, and I remember very little now (possibly due to my brain wanting to forget the trauma) unless I get nightmares and flashbacks - there are a few moments that won't leave me. I am currently attending counselling and I'm so lucky to have a fiancé now who has always respected and loved me how anyone deserves to be treated, never been pushy for sex, and supported me so strongly when I disclosed to him fully about what happened in that relationship. I'm sad that my abuser walks free and I don't have any way to have justice, nor protect other women from him without facing defamation legal implications. It is hard to feel safe on my own if I am back in the same city where we went to college. I have seen him a few times in public, but thankfully he never saw me or didn't approach me. I have had some panic attacks out in public when this has occurred. I can only hope that maybe he has changed.

When I was 13 was sexually assaulted by a person I'd rather not name. I've known him for a while yet never spoke out because I like him. He never saw it as sexual assault because it was "only the fingers" Whenever I think about it, I get sick to my stomach. Knowing I had no strength to stop him. I cry everytime I think about it and I'm too scared to tell anyone. Please anyone, what should I do. What can I do.

I was 19 years old and a sophomore in college. I had never had sex. I was naiive. I met a senior boy on a dating app during finals week and told him I didn't want to have sex, but eventually agreed to a make-out session. He immediately pressured me into doing more. I gave him a blowjob to try to appease him, but he wouldn't stop, even when I said I was a virgin and wasn't ready. I said no many times. He said he'd use a condom but didn't. When I kept saying it hurt, he said, "You just have to let it happen." When I left, he asked me if I had a good time and I said yes. I hate myself for it. I went to the hospital and got a rape kit done. I struggled with panic attacks in the days after and went back to the emergency room on suicide watch, which I remember vividly and which was extremely traumatic. I lost my entire friend group over it and sank into the deepest depression I have ever known. I struggled with extreme anxiety, self-hatred, shame, and hopelessness. The next semester of school I did everything I could to keep myself alive, especially because I was rooming with the friends who had emotionally abandoned me and now were being cruel. My assault was on campus and I would have to drive to local coffee shops to do work without triggering a panic attack. I am now 21 years old and a senior in college. I have a new friend group, all of whom are good people. I have a 3.91 GPA and I am writing a thesis about which I am very passionate. I am singing again. It is easier to breathe. I still struggle a great deal with depression, resentment, and shame. I feel like I am grieving what I lost and who I would have been. I had to grow up so fast, and it hurts that I have so much to carry at so young an age. But I have also found great strength within myself. I think I am a kinder and empathetic person because of what I have gone through. Some days are worse than others. Sometimes it hits me by surprise. I am still figuring out who I want to be. I've struggled with dating since my assault, but hopefully someday that will be a possibility for me. It is still so hard, but I have hope again.

When I was 9 years old, I had a best friend. I would go to her house often, and I never questioned or tried to stop her when she taught me sexual things. Looking back on it now, I know she was being sexually abused. She told me to keep it secret, and consistently teased me into thinking her grandmother was going to walk in on us. It’s all learnt behaviour from a predator. Her grandmother never checked up on us, I didn’t see it back then but she was neglected and severely lonely. She would tell me to take my clothes off, we would sleep naked together. She told me it was exploring, and I truly wish I could remember all of it because there are so many gaps in my memory where I think it couldn’t have been that bad or maybe it was worse than I remember. I remember her in between my legs but I don’t remember what happened, I get really really disgusted at myself for having encouraged this. I never told her to stop, and now I have a hard time accepting that it wasn’t my fault for stopping her. Either way, I remember constantly having UTIs that never got checked, and I can’t blame anyone for the situation. She was taken advantage of as a child only a year older than me, and it’s not her fault. I can’t help but blame myself, and it plagues my mind on the daily. This went on for 2 years, and I remember the UTI being so frequent and so bad I had pissed on her bed while naked. this was while I was 10, and it was completely humiliating. My past is something I find so so shameful and I struggle to come to terms with the fact that this will never leave me. I can’t help but wish the best for her, the anger is directed at me more than anything. I am healing from this, and I hope one day I can help others who went through complicated SA experiences that aren’t as openly discussed.

i was sexually harassed at around 7-8 years old by a kid in my class. he spread open my legs during gym and i didnt know what to do so i just sat there and he tried to pull my pants away so he could see my underwear, and he did and he yelled out what they looked like to embarrass me even more and people laughed at me and mocked me and i just felt so gross i still go to school with him and it makes me feel horrible every time i see him get praise i feel disgusting in my own skin and i havent worn shorts in years because of him i dont forgive and i never forget

It happened during my second year of graduate school. I traveled from Boston to Connecticut to attend a friend's birthday party. I had other friends that I knew who were going to be there, so I decided why not. The party took place in a private room in the back of a lounge/restaurant. Most of the people who attended where either in the same sorority as me, were a friend, fraternity brother, or fellow military officers of the birthday boy. We all were either dancing, drinking, and grooving to the music that was being played by the DJ in his corner. I remember the birthday boy asking me to take a series of drinking shots with him and a few friends---all custom made by the bartender. "Give us your best shot! [laughter] Surprise us," is what I remember him stating to the bartender over the loud music. The two shots we took at jägermeister mixed with a few other liqueurs. Black out. I woke up naked in a hotel room laying on top of and kissing another female friend surrounded by at least four other men in the room. They were encouraging us to continue to make out and grind on one another, including the birthday boy. In the moment, it looked and felt like that scene in a movie where a group of drunk college boys are at a party and egging each other on to do something stupid--but in slow motion. The slow motion became faster and reality sank in. I remember becoming fully aware of what was happening and jumping back and off of her. I remember her passing out. Black out. I woke up again. This time on the floor in front of the hotel bed. He was having sex with me as I woke up from my unconsciousness. I remember looking up to his face and looking to the left of his face realizing that the hotel tv was playing in the background. I remember telling him "no" and "stop" and pushing him off of me. I ran to the bathroom. I was still naked. As I entered the bathroom and shut the door, the first thought that came to my head as I looked into the mirror was, "How the hell did you get yourself into this situation? Is this really you? Are you really here right now?" I started to cry and then quickly reminded myself of where I was at. I then said to myself, "Wash your face. Find your clothes. Find your phone. But don't make a scene." So I washed the darkened mascara off myself. Walked out of the bathroom to find my clothes and phone. I realized that everyone except him seemed to be sleeping and there was another person who was sitting on top of the bed watching tv. The same tv that I saw to the left of him. The same bed that I woke up in front of, on the floor. "Was he just watching this entire time and didn't do anything?" That's what I asked myself. I found my clothes and phone. Phone was dead. After some time passed, everyone started to wake up and I just sat in the chair and waited for everyone to get dressed. We left the hotel room and went to a local IHOP for breakfast. I wasn't sure how to process what happened just hours before. I wasn't sure if I felt safe enough to ask them what happened. I felt disgusted with myself. I also wasn't sure if what I experienced was real. I was hungover. They all were in the military, including the female I woke up in my consciousness to the first time. They drove me all the back back to Boston and dropped me off at home. There was no mention about what happened. Goodbye. I entered my apartment, went upstairs, got in the shower and cried. After the shower, I crawled in my bed. Black out.

During grueling clinical rotations the department manager was male. While sitting at a computer, the dept manager entered through the door next to me. I heard a zipper sound and I felt a wet ridged object being stuck into my ear. A “wet Willy” as the kids call it. I screamed and looked up to see the manager laughing. He said “oh I thought you’d think I stuck my dick in your ear” I stood, and told him to NEVER touch me again. I immediately went to HR. The next week I was fired. Weeks later I learned that 3 other women filed complaints of sexual harassment against him and he was subsequently fired.

I was 15. I smoked marijuana occasionally (as I was in my teen angst phase). I had a boy bestfriend and was also in a relationship, not necessarily a healthy one at all but I was in one. One night I felt depressed due to being stood up for a date to the lake I was supposed to have that day. Normally I smoke when I felt down and I felt overwhelmingly down that night; so I smoked a bit too much accidentally. I eventually started greening out and tripping very badly so I messaged my boy bestfriend to calm me down (my bf at the time had went to sleep early for work and lived a town away). He (my boy bsf) invites himself over unannounced and I had to make my way outside to see him (as I was not going to let him inside as it was so late at night and parents were asleep). We then went to the shed outside my house to sit and talk as he "wanted to calm down my high". Eventually it (my high) got so bad I was swaying backwards (while sitting on the floor) and fell backwards. My boy bsf then got ontop of me (as he was/is incredibly bigger than me) and begin taking advantage of me. My body felt extremely weak due to the marijuana and could not pull myself up at all and soon was not capable of moving due to being held down and completely restricted by the boy. I remembered the agony and pain I felt of "it". It burned like fire in me and I tried to scream for help but no one could hear me (as we were secluded in a shed away from everyone in the middle of the night). He left me. The first thing I did due to feeling absolutely disgusted in my own skin was shower... To this day (almost 3 years later) I remember what I was wearing. A tie dye shirt, black basket ball shorts and a bikini bottom that had straps going to both sides (crossed even) to both of my hips. To this day I get scared of wearing bikini bottoms... to this day I fear summertime because of the agony of remembering it. I had kept the bakini bottoms in my dresser because he had finished in them and I believed that was my only proof of the incident. My mother had mistakenly cleaned them.. she had cleaned all if my clothes in my room while I was away in a mental hospital. I am left math nothing but my words. The 2nd thing I did (after I showered) was tell my bf at the time what happened, bawling in tears, pain and frantically texting everything that happened so I wouldn't forget. He, instead of helping or calming me, claimed me as a cheater and left me.