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I experienced coercive rape by my ex-boyfriend over the span of some months. After not only sexual but also emotional abuse I was able to leave the relationship two years ago. Since then it has been a confusing journey....it took me a long time to understand what happened and to acknowledge my trauma. Sometimes I still feel very confused. Adding to the confusion, a few days ago, I had sex for the first time after the abuse. I didn't know what to expect. I thought it might be fine and ill have a great time or it is horrible and I´ll finally have the strong emotional reaction I was kind of always hoping for so that I can validate my trauma. Somehow it was neither...but it wasn't really enjoyable. I felt like I was not really present but I also couldn't act to stop it. In the moment I also didn't feel like it was so bad that I needed to stop it. The person I was with was also very respectful and felt safe. Im not sure how to feel about it...I was hoping it might help me on my healing journey but I feel like I am still facing the same confusion as before. It was not nice or enjoyable, I was kind of dissociated and couldn't do anything to stop it....still I have this feeling that it was all not bad enough. At least not as bad as I always expected it to be after experiencing sexual trauma. Maybe someone had similar experiencs...?

just when i think i'm healing, i feel like i’m suffocating. like the whole world around me is collapsing in on itself and i’m in the centre of it all. and just as i finally get to take a breath, it collapses further and crushes me until i can’t take the weight and the pressure anymore. i can't escape my memories, can't escape my body. i'm trapped.

I was sexually assaulted physically and verbally by several of my older sisters boyfriends. She never stood up for me or objected to their comments. Why? I feel so scarred because of this and often cover up parts of my body in public with an intense fear of being verbally assaulted again by men.

As a child i suffered sexual abuse by the neighbor next door. Also through school was bullied , teased , . My Parents were christians . But both were controling of my decisions . It was very difficult growing up as a child , teen and then youth. I eventualy had the confidence to leave home and live on my own .

Most of the time I feel like I have overcome his touch. But sometimes, I still feel the warmth of his embrace. Apparently “all boys aren’t the same” so I get close and touchy with them, tease them, and sometimes even kiss them. I think I do it on purpose. I try to convince myself that I'm over it, I'm over the fact that I've been marked by the wrong person. I'm over the fact that I can’t be alone in public. I'm scared. No, not scared, terrified. I'm afraid of loving another without knowing their intention. I’m terrified that someone is about to take another piece of my soul, I'm afraid that even if I say “please stop” it’s liable to be another 2 words that were misunderstood, I’m afraid of it happening all over again. This is like someone expecting to be burned when they touch something hot, no matter how many times they've been reassured the object is now cool. The fear is still there, even if the danger has passed. I want to be loved but my fears push everyone away. After 2 years of being in an abusive relationship, I thought I could get back out there and move on, but I moved into the wrong person. I was fifteen years old when the phrase “please stop, I'm tired” came out of my mouth. I wish I would never have to say it again. I'm sixteen. It’s almost been 5 months since it happened, but it somehow feels like it was just last week. The thought of his hands on my neck, blurry visions and the sentence “I know you want it” makes me want to curl up in a ball, cry and tear off the layers of my skin until I can no longer feel his touch. ‘PTSD’ they call it. Triggers that bring you back to your trauma. I walk right by my triggers every day; they think you're weak because you can't face them and always find other ways to avoid them. I'm not weak; I just can't bear to feel him on me every time I see that jacket. This is like the feeling of plunging into icy waters; the shock is so overwhelming that no matter how hard you try, you can’t seem to swim back up to the safety of the shore. No matter how much time passes, the trauma still lingers, and triggers bring you right back to that moment. 2 months passed before I spoke up about what had happened. "Why didn't you say something sooner? Now it sounds like a lie" I wish I could, but deep down I was ashamed, scared and hurt. Every time I hear someone mention his name, my heart starts racing, my palms get sweaty, and I feel a sense of panic rising in me. Everyone says it will get easier, but when is that? As the Greek writer Vasso Charalambous once wrote: “The pain you feel today is the strength you feel tomorrow.” I’m still trying to find my strength to be able to trust another man without needing to stress if I need to tape my clothes to my skin I was a victim of rape and have been dealing with its aftermath ever since. The sense of fear, insecurity and vulnerability that I feel every time someone mentions his name is something that I struggle to shake off. While I cannot speak for all victims of rape, I can say that in my experience, the healing process has been invaluable. Through therapy and the support of my loved ones, I have been able to work through my trauma and come out the other side a stronger person. As of right now, I am still trying. I want to use my story to make sure that no other survivor feels alone in their experience. I want to be a voice for those who have been silenced, and I hope to show them that there is still hope, even after the darkness. Being strong and resilient, and having the strength to move forward, are things I'm proud of about myself. I will not let what he did to me define the rest of my life. I am more than my trauma. I am more than my pain. I am more than what he did to do to me.

I feel that I have never been able to be who I truly am. I was abused by my uncle from I think around 6 until 18. We lived with them and the reason I don't know the age I was when it started is that I remember nothing in my life prior to it. I know the exact story of the first time it happened and it then happened so frequently that I couldn't count. Many times a day, many days a week, many weeks a year etc. It has ruined who I am and my personality now is one of full compliance. I can't say no to people, i let people abuse me in many ways, not just sexually because I do what I have to to please those around me. I told no one of the abuse until 18, and have only told my husband. I have now found out that another cousin suffered the same and her life is absolutely off the rails. I think it happened to all of us, there are five girls but we simply never speak of it. He is still alive, I don't see him, none of us do as he is a drug addict. I want to seek justice but don't know if I am strong enough to survive that. He made my life a nightmare, he changed who I was, he destroyed me.

It ended with me. I remember the day my mother slammed my head into the floor until I bled, I was 9. I remember her nails digging so deep into my arm that I hid the cuts and bruises they left, I was 12. I remember my dad protecting me as soon as he understood, I was 14. I remember it because I live it every day, even though it hasn’t happened in 6 years. A survivor is a survivor for the rest of their life, no one gets to take their strength away from them anymore. They know how much it’s worth.

10 years ago, my body did something amazing. It separated me from myself so I would not experience directly (follow me) the trauma of what was happening to my body. They call this disassociation. It's not been until 10 years later, years of reliving, remembering and traumatic re-trauma that I have begun to appreciate, be grateful for and understand this mechanism the nervous system provides us in our most darkest of moments. It's a soul-protection mechanism, it often keeps us alive (for those of us that make it), and whilst it can take years to realise this or even entertain the idea that it was for our own survival, rather than a forced escape, it has been the most beautiful part of my healing. Let me share what happened. Ten years ago, (I am not 'allowed' to discuss my age publicly, my former employer or his name), but I can speak the truth on everything else; ten years ago, I worked for a tech company. It was male dominated, competitive and scarcly unhostile. I had anxiety every single day I went to work, starting in my first week when my then boss, demanded I not consider having children for the next 2 years at least, if I was serious about my career.....That first week should have been my swan song, and I take my exit. Instead, and somewhat predictably (based on my personality, nature and vulnerability), he preyed on the discomfort he sensed from my response and I eagerly went to work 'proving myself'. It was exactly what he wanted me to do.... I had worked with this person before, for many years but never directly. My perception of him was coloured only by what I had seen previously and I had not been warned that he was dangerous. By anyone. In fact, me joining the company was facilitated by friends who also shared the perception that this person was successful, caring and a 'family man'. They, like me were sorely mistaken. For the next almost 15 months, I was groomed, manipulated, put down, abused verbally, physically touched (in the office), visually raped, auditorily raped (yes turns out this is a thing), orally, digitally and finally penetrably raped by my former employer. He isolated me from my partner, my friends, worked me harder then I have ever worked before all whilst putting me down or building me up just enough that I became confused, lacked the ability to judge A from B, and did anything he asked me to do. He did this through multiple mechanisms, but the primary one was of malignant narccissm and power imbalance. He would remind me of how stupid I was until I started to believe it, stare at me (like prey) during meetings, with such gall that he almost didn't care if anyone noticed. He'd adjust himself (on purpose) under board room tables non-verbally provoking me to see if I would respond, or crack or speak up. I never did. I resigned 3 times before he finally 'let me go'. By this time, he was 'interviewing' prospective partners on my behalf, making plans to send me overseas where he could 'see me whenever he wanted' and taking control of my finances 'through monetary bonuses' or incentives to perform at work. He had carefully and methodically taken over every aspect of my life, including my own free will. But I have myself, and some angels to thank for my escape. Which, by that time, I was so broken down I became paranoid, suicidal and could barely function. All the while, he behaved like I was nothing, noone and at the same time said things like "you're more of a man than I am..." obviously representative of the bravery I had in getting away but also the determination to do what is necessary to survive. I've since validated my story in multiple ways, 1) I went to the human rights commission. The process, whilst broken and not survivor focussed, was a way to validate my experience first. It took ten years, and getting very very physically ill (and becoming disabled) to get the courage to do this. Through this process I had to face him, virtually (thanks to COVID - another angel), and I couldn't do it. I felt sick to my stomach, my nervous system could not tell my body that 10 years had passed, it only had muscle, nerves and neurons of memory and it was retraumatising. I took it as far as it could go and they granted me the opportunity to escalate it. 2) I went to a lawyer, multiple actually, but they were not that helpful in the end. They got what they needed out of it and I was able to connect with a softly spoken legal aid who helped me tell my story in detail. They defended me as best they could but in the end a non-empathetic barrister derailed me taking it all the way to court. It became clear during this process that it was not a civil matter either, this was criminal, so I wasn't on the right path to begin with. I knew from the past, and before the #METOO movement even happened that it was going to be really tough proving what happened to me. That it was going to be my word against his. This is where most stories end...BUT it is not where mine will end. The reason, I believe, that most women in particular, do not tell or share their stories, or hold their perpetrator accountable, is fear. In many ways it's because we blame ourselves, we look at our own deficiencies as to why these things happened to us. What did we do wrong in that scenario. Nothing. We did absolutely nothing wrong. Our only issue or fault lies in existing at all. And guess what, that is not our fault. I am going to say this again: We. Did. Nothing. Wrong. You. Did. Nothing. Wrong. What happened does not belong to you. It belongs to the person that did it. Who often are so closed minded to their own dysfunction they don't even realise what they are doing is not OK. So they do it, mindlessly, focussed only on self gratification. It's like an animal only. Not a human. That is how broken, soulless and miserable another human must be to inflict such horror on another. And it happens to 1 in 3 of us women at work. Worse if you're a woman of colour, worse if you are a woman of hispanic or indigenous background in Australia. I've decided, the time ends for me to separate my soul from my body to survive. In fact, as my nervous system has deteriorated after childbirth, and I've become palliative, I have now faced death so many times. Actual physical death. NDE's or near death experiences have taught me that survival, living is a choice. We can choose to be defined by our experiences, as the sole ones we focus on for the rest of our lives, haunted by ghosts of the past. OR we can speak our truth, so loudly that it drowns out all the other voices. We can work together, we can create something together, we can make things different than our past path set out for us. Noone gets to own us, no matter how much they infect you and your mind. In many ways, I have been lucky. Lucky to have had the opportunity to live, through so much trauma and still be standing (with my favourite walking stick of course) to spend whatever time I can with my family. Or in meditation, or stillness. He doesn't get to touch that, or me, ever again. And, my decision, is to not tell what I can about my story, to whoever will listen, as often as I need to, until my story is drowned out by voices of 'no, stop or I am calling the police'. And our girls, and boys are so highly tuned to avoid these people, that it just doesn't happen to them. Our stories may have rendered us powerless, as they happened. But the true miracle is that we have inbuilt survival tools, there for us to protect ourselves, even in those moments by dissociating our souls from our bodies, and floating (in my case as the chair sat in the corner of the room) or out a window or the ceiling. I didn't have to really be there to 'feel' what was happening to me. I was lucky. I now have the amazing opportunity to find my way back into my body, as a whole soul and can slowly and carefully unravel and re-wire that trauma from my life. I think that makes us true survivors. And that is a gift. Thank you for letting me share. Please, share your story too, the more you tell it, the easier the unburdening on your body and mind. xo name (aka sharky) or Mamma Sharky.

I was a shy 17 yr old at my sister's house party on new years eve. I found myself alone on an outside couch with one of her friends who she worked with. he was in his mid-30s and I felt pretty cool hanging out with him cause he was older. we chatted for a bit and then he mentioned he had some coke. I was pretty new to the party scene but was excited to try it out. he led me to the laundry and closed the door then leaned up against it. we had some and went back out. it was fun but a lot for me so I didn't want any more. he kept pestering me, asking if I wanted more, and I didn't want to say no so I said "not right now". I ended up saying yes. we went back to the laundry and he leaned back against the door blocking the exit. I didn't want any so I just had a little, he kept getting me more so I tried to distract him by kissing him. he was trying to undo the button of my jeans but said that the kissing was enough. he tried again and I didn't say no. so he did what he wanted then we left and I felt sick. people started to leave and I wanted to get away too. so I told my sister I was walking back to my friend's house nearby. she wouldn't let me go out alone in the dark so I was set up in the spare room. he stayed on the couch. I couldn't get to sleep from all the drugs so I just lay there. I heard the door creak open and he crept in and then into the bed I was in. I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I'm not sure how long it went on for but it seemed forever finally I spoke up and pretended I heard someone and got scared so he had to leave. I didn't get to sleep. he texted me the next day and said we should meet again. he still believes he did nothing wrong but I didn't tell him that he did.

I don't know the majority of my surrounding family, just my parents, siblings, a few cousins, uncles, aunts and grandparents. My sister had her wedding a while ago. I was her maid of honour. All the bridesmaids were wearing simple non-revealing dresses that were a pretty blue colour. During the reception, everyone was obviously drunk, as you'd expect, when it came to the end of the night guests were coming to say their goodbyes. This relative of the groom, I believe, had come over to say goodbye, I'd never met this man before and I wish I never had. As I was standing with the other bridesmaids laughing at their drunk conversations, he came up behind me and another bridesmaid and slapped and shook our butts. He was very aggressive and it hurt, I was shocked and didn't know how to react so I just ran away to the bathroom and cried. I'd never been touched or violated in my life and I never thought I would. Since this thing I've never felt comfortable standing around men or boys, I don't like standing in lines alone with guys behind me. I've become overly aggressive in order to make guys uncomfortable and want to stay away, I isolate myself from the opposite gender so that I can feel safe. Now I only ever feel safe with the female gender. This event that changed my life happened when I was thirteen, I'm older now and have never recovered from that feeling of fear and dread and have only recently told my mother of these events and revealed a wedding photo of the man who violated the other bridesmaid and me. My sister and her husband have dropped all contact with him and are disgusted by his behaviour. The other bridesmaid was so drunk she didn't even know he had violated her. I know this story is relatively minor compared to some, but this thing has changed my whole outlook and view on life. Thx you for giving me this platform to share my story.

I was first a victim of child-on-child sexual assault when I was 4 years old, my abuser was 9. She was a family friend, her and her family were always very close with ours. She would sexually assault me every time she saw me. A few years into it when I was 7 her younger brother who was 8 had begun sexually assaulting me too. Neither of them knew the other was doing it to me too so they would end up making 'accidental hand offs' of me. One would finish with me and send me off to go hang out with the other. This cycle continued until I was 13, it was my last time ever seeing them again as I had moved to the other side of the state. On my way home from that visit I blocked them completely. The last time they did it the older sister was 18 and the brother was also 13 as his birthday was later in the year. They sexually assaulted me countless times for 9 years straight and nobody noticed. My mother confronted me about it when I was 14, I had accidentally told a school counselor and they called her, she had multiple weeks to confront me about; However she chose the best time to talk to me about it was whilst I was dying in a hospital bed due to a suicide attempt. I am horrified of sleeping, every time I close my eyes all I see is what they did to me, I force myself to stay awake for multiple days in a row simply to evade the night terrors and memories. No matter how hard I scrub or how hot the water is it feels as if I'll never get their hands off of me. I can always hear what she said to me in the back of my head "Be quiet, they'll hear you". Both of our families were in the next room over. I still sleep in the bed they violated me in so many times, when I was 8 I would crawl under my bed and draw a little tally of how many times it happened; I gave up shortly after starting because it was getting too difficult to keep track of. I want to feel safe. I want my body to feel mine again. I fear I may do something to myself.

When I worked for a grocery store one of the mangers a male who was in his 40s began to talk to me and slowly build a friendship with me. This started when I was 19 and I had just moved out of my families house due to a toxic household and I was very lonely . I feel he may have taken advantage of this but I began to have feelings towards him and he began to slowly take things further and further. Until I eventually told him I was uncomfortable he would then back off a bit but he would slowly start reeling me in again and again I feel like such an idiot for falling for it.

When I was a child, I grew up being regularly sexually abused. By the time I was 10 I fell pregnant. I didn't understand fully what was happening to me, I knew I was going to have a baby which terrified me, though at the same time I have never felt more love for anything than I did for my daughter. my family and the people i was around at that age never noticed I was pregnant or if they did, they ignored it. I was somewhere in my third trimester when I was assaulted by multiple men at the same time and went into labor as a result. I gave birth alone at home and she came out sleeping. I buried her myself and could never bring myself to speak of her for over a decade because of fear of other people's reactions and because it hurt too much to say out loud. though now I am finally healing enough to be able to say her name and talk about her. I have a lot more healing still to do and losing her is a pain that will never go away, but now she doesn't have to be a secret. this year she would have turned 14. her name was Emilia

So I was sexually assaulted last night and I feel nothing today. Nothing at all. I was grateful when the guy let me go this morning. He didn't care that I was crying, or how I was feeling or that he was causing me a lot of physical pain. There was no way to get away. He was a foot taller than me and so much stronger and he had his hand around my throat. I was afraid he would snap my neck or choke me out because of how his hand was gripping my neck and how much of my neck his hand covered. He told me he was glad I was very small, and how size matters when it comes to strength. I felt like a mouse in the jaws of a lion. I struggled to breathe. I was afraid I was going to die. He was upset with me last night because I started bleed a lot while he was assaulting me. He was fucking mad at me for bleeding on him. He was mad at me this morning because I was trying to sneak away when he fell asleep. He started assaulting me all over again and for some reason decided to stop and let me go. Maybe because he was tired. As soon as I got away I was walking and walking and called an Uber to take me home. I felt so numb. All I knew was I had to get home. I had to go celebrate my friend’s birthday with her this morning and smile and pretend I was ok. Then I had to go to work. I'm home now, and I just feel so numb and like I don't care about anything. I just don't care anymore. I don't care about me. I don't matter at all. That's how I feel. I just feel like I'm nothing. And I don't want to see my friends or anyone. I just want to lay in my bed forever and sleep. I have to go to work tomorrow. I have to keep going about my life like everything is ok. I have to be normal and not fall apart. I haven't told anyone apart from here right now. I won't tell anyone. No point. People will be like it's your fault. So I'm just going to pretend I'm fine. I'm not fine. I hate myself so much for having put myself in the situation where that could happen. It was a date. I should know better than to trust any man or ever try to find love. It doesn't exist. I am not a person, I'm just an object. I'm going to ask doctor tomorrow (they aren't open today) for meds to prevent pregnancy and treat any possible stds. I won't tell him what happened because I don't want to talk about it with anyone I know personally. I just want to forget about it.

Not really sure where to start this. I guess by saying that I am in no way trying to absolve myself of blame or guilt. I have just never said it aloud before. When I was maybe 10-11, my step sister and I use to engage in activities that we really shouldn't have. I guess I always just thought we were trying to experiment. We always had clothes on and I know it could have been worse. I can't help but feel such guilt for it. I am older. I should've know better. I think it was maybe a way for me to process my own sexual abuse. But how do I live with that? That I contributed to COCSA.

Numb. All I felt was numbness, this blind feeling of constant knives scraping, stabbing, swallowing me whole; the time I felt like this is one I’ll never forget, the time I lost my home. Home. It could be a place, a feeling or, in my case, a person. This person, you may ask, is it a friend? A lover? Or a family member? No, she was my world, she was my light, she was my everything, she was my sister. So, you may be wondering what occurred for me to lose my sister, well she’s not dead if you’re wondering, but rather her nature, her personality, her character is lost to me. The person I grew up looking up to, admiring, my inspiration, my muse. She is dead, and an imposter was born. Looking back is torture, a constant reminder of who betrayed me, but why is the question I will never know the answer to? “It’s a misunderstanding,” that is all it took to shatter me to pieces. From sister to stranger, that’s all that took. Now you maybe wondering ‘that’s it’ a misunderstanding, well it was not…. The night before my sister engraved those words in my brain, my ex-boyfriend assaulted me, he struck down, pinned down and consistently asked ‘but don’t you love me?’ ‘don’t you care?’ Every time I said, “Yes, but not like this!” But why didn’t I escape? I tried with all my might, but I couldn’t. He blocked me at every turn. I tried to go under the bed, sleep on the floor, and use my phone and play games to distract me, but I couldn’t think straight; my mind needed a distraction, needed an escape, but I couldn’t. He watched me like a hawk, waiting for another opportunity to catch its prey. So, as he left the room, he apologised, and his words of ‘I’m sorry that I assaulted you’ and my response of ‘blame it on the Viagra’ will live in my head for eternity. But how does this connect to my sister? Well… I spoke to her on the plane ride home as she sat next to me and opened up to her, and for the first time this year, I thought I had her on my side… But I was wrong. As soon as we had food, we confronted him on the phone, he said, and I will never forget ‘I didn’t know’ on what planet was he living on that he somehow in a span less than a day, he forget that he assaulted someone. Then, the gaslighting begins. He said we had a safe word, and we did, but at the time of the assault, we had broken up, hence ex-boyfriend. But no, that turned the tide, and the numbness of betrayal from him was enough for me to spiral, but no, that’s not all. My darling sister said, ‘that’s it’s all just a misunderstanding’ and it’s a miscommunication, on what planet does “NO, STOP and DON’T’ not define the lack of consent, clearly, I missed that cue. But she chose him. His side, not mine, the one who was assaulted, his: the instigator, the monster, the perpetrator, not me. She has known someone for less than a year and, at that moment, less than 6 months. My world shattered around me, numb from betrayal, numb from heartbreak; all I felt was numb. But that’s not the worst of it, not even close to, oh, you thought the assault and the betrayals were enough, ha not in my life. The car ride home was deafening; the silence outside was quiet, but my mind was a war and storm raging. She told me to ‘forgive’ him even though I don’t so that his mind could be eased that it was all about him and nothing about me. I felt like a pawn on a chess board that I wasn’t the queen I thought I was but merely a peasant at the hands of others to use; no one could prepare me for the betrayal, no one could prepare me for their admission of guilt when they begged me not to take legal action, begged me not to tell anyone. But as time progressed this year my silence spoke louder that most, when people asked if ‘I was okay’ I replied “yeah, just tired, or I’m okay, I’m fine” When in reality. I was losing sleep, nightmare-consuming at every point in time, restless sleep, haunting nights until his demise. To say I was thrilled would be an understatement; I was relieved that I never would have to face him again; the only problem I face is masking my true colours around her. ‘Karma’s a bitch’ and you reap what you sow; he was the death of me, the old me, I have a long way to trust another, mostly to love another, but my progress is there; I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor, I’m not a pawn, I’m a queen because just like phoenixes I rose from the ashes.

I never liked yoga. It was hard, it hurt, and I especially hated the woman who forced me to do it. Ah, stepmothers. As if my own father wasn’t shitty enough. As if he hadn’t already tried to kill me when I was 7. As if he hadn’t done enough to traumatise me, he goes ahead and marries her. She was obsessed with natural healing. She came from old money, and was an ‘earth healer’ as a full time job. She believed in meditation, yoga, essential oils. So when I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and a few other things at age 9, she decided she was going to fix me. Thus began the weekly yoga classes. I went to each of them. I only faked being sick once or twice… or seven times. I hated it. It hurt, my body would pop and hurt and do everything it wasn’t supposed to. So she decided to start yoga classes at home. She decided to train me to be good at yoga. Meaning, she decided to get me in tights and no shirt, despite my eating disorder and gender dysphoria, and she decided to get her hands on as much of my body as she could. No one believed me, of course. No, I was just an attention seeking little ‘girl’, who hated his stepmom and was being brainwashed into thinking he was mentally ill (yes, they actually said this). I gained my father’s attention for it one time, and one time only. I must have been 12 or 13. This had been going on for years. At the time, they had implemented a strict diet and exercise regime, meaning I was severely underweight and couldn’t stand up without feeling faint. I’m currently in the process of being diagnosed with EDS. Just to give you an idea of how particularly bad that is. Anyway, I finally gained my father’s attention, because I kicked her. In the stomach. She was pregnant. “Why did you do that?” He asked. He was being surprisingly calm. I should have noticed. “Because she was trying to touch me, and I didn’t want her to.” I replied. Not long after, they dumped me on my mother’s doorstep and told everyone else in the family that my mother was a psycho bitch who tried to keep me from them. I feel disgusting.

It's kind of hard to label what happened to me because of the circumstances surrounding it, i've invalidated myself a lot, gaslit myself, thought that my experience wasn't valid because people had it worse. I have talked a lot to friends, fellow survivors and they all say it was pretty much sexual assault/abuse (harassment of course too) but it's still different because it was all online, we skyped, called, and texted every day but it was still online and she lives in another country so i could never report what happened. My name is survivor and I am a survivor of abuse. I met Name A in 2016 but only became close to her in 2017, while i had heard of Name B many times in 2016 and 2017, i only became friends with Name B in 2018. Many people said she was bad news and i was skeptical of her at first but like many people I was sucked into a cycle for many years with no way out. When I first met Name B I was 16 and she was 20, Name A was 19. Prior to meeting them, I was so much different, I was confident and passionate, I had this determination and drive but as soon as I met Name B I slowly became her lap dog. I am slowly becoming the girl I was before, I am kinder now that I am out of that “friendship”, more empathetic and compassionate, I am a better person now. What Name B did was she took advantage of a vulnerable teenager, groomed her and stripped her of her self esteem and confidence until she was no longer her own person, but Name B’s object. I was the one that met Name B first and introduced her to Name A. The three of us were inseparable once upon a time, we would spend pretty much all day every day together and back then, we were perfect. However, over time, things started to go downhill, around this time last year in fact, things started to happen that I thought nothing of at first, I thought everything that happened was because I was a terrible person and an even worse friend but now, I can see that what happened was disgusting and should never have happened. Due to me being a minor and Name B being an adult, there was a huge power imbalance. We had our own friend group, it was small and none of us ventured outside of our little bubble, the only people we interacted with was eachother. Honestly the friend group dynamic we had was toxic now that I am looking back at it, there was drama every single day, each day someone had something or someone to complain about and it was draining. Especially after the November 2020 incident, Name B and Name A constantly talked shit about me behind my back, calling me annoying and boring. My friendship with them got dependent, i was dependent on them for happiness and life seemed to revolve around them, my friendships with them were all about them and their ships. I never felt i could talk about me, i did a few times but not nearly as much as they talked about themselves. They came to me and to eachother for everything, I had to talk Name B off the ledge a few times. I got dependent to the point that if i didn’t talk to them for a few days things would feel weird, i felt bad for it. They spent all day roleplaying their ships and no one could talk to them when they were or else they would get mad. Name B would be controlling, she told me not to cut my hair a certain way and one time Name A and Name B mentioned in a call they didn’t like one of the clothes that i got as a present, i ended up throwing it in the bin. Name B would judge my hair, she said i needed to get it touched up as my roots were showing and she hated that. There were times where Name A and Name B would exclude me in calls and conversations, a lot of the time the calls were all about their ocs and ships. I was afraid of talking to Name B about things at one point, she snapped at people a lot (even her own girlfriend) and while she may have said sorry sometimes, she still snaps and is rude. You can’t call her out on anything or she gets upset I wasn’t allowed to have a different opinion and when she started to move away from the toxicity and form my own opinions she got angry. She goes against everything that I believe in and i am ashamed that i supported and was friends with a person like her and her girlfriend, who has the same views. I turned 18 in September of 2019, Name B didn’t do too much to me that i remember prior to me being 18 but right after i turned 18, she developed feelings for me, despite our significant age gap and despite her knowing me at such a young age. In February 2020, she confessed her feelings to me, I wasn’t doing very well mentally so I just shut down and had what you could call an anxiety attack, I ended up not being able to say either yes or no to whether I reciprocated and Name B got upset, she acted as if I had betrayed her and rejected her. Fast forward to July 2020, I was still 18 at this time and Name B was 22. The two of us were just messing around in the chat box, roasting eachother back and forth. Name B would roast me really hard and often, some could say our friendship was based on her roasting me,, a lot of the time her roasts were personal, like she would call me lame or stuff like that. I would roast back but only to be told my roasts were not as good as hers. I then somehow let it slip that I do sexual activities, yeah not a big deal so many people have done it but Name B started to fixate on it and would ask me all sorts of questions and i ended up telling her i had a s** t** and she freaked out and asked for photos of it, she kept begging and i sent her one on Facebook, only to unsend it a second later so she couldn’t save it but then she started yelling, saying “fuck, bitch send it again or i will call you,” and then we called and i had to show her the s** t**. I remember her asking me to turn it on but i never used it on myself. A few days later i found out that Name A was on a skype call with her as we were calling on Facebook. Since then, Name A and Name B proceeded to tell everyone about my sex life and everyone except for a few people would laugh at me for it. I was humiliated, they weaponised sex to make me feel and look bad. It was brought up so many times during skype calls, even when i told them not to talk about it. This was one of the first instances of grooming and what i first called sexual harassment but after talking to many people about it including survivors, I realised It crossed the line between harassment and assault, numerous survivors can agree and vouch me on that. There was a call at one point between myself, Name A, Name B and Name C, I am not sure how it came about but Name B started to ask me these really graphic sexual questions. I tried to tell her “maybe we shouldn’t talk about this,” because we were in a call with others and I was just generally uncomfortable but she told me that it was “natural,” and “nothing to be ashamed of,” I ended up being coerced into answering these questions and she laughed at me. In August 2020 (two weeks after my dog passed away may i add, i was already in a bad state) Name B suddenly out of nowhere admitted she still had feelings for me and asked me to date her after we flirted with eachother for ten minutes. We agreed to date and we texted with eachother for an hour before there was radio silence from her. Not long after that, Name B suddenly messages me saying she is still in love with Name A, who she was in love with for years before Name A rejected her months prior to Name B admitting her feelings for me. I feel as if I was just the second choice, the rebound, the throw away. Name B was also the first person who had ever shown interest in me romantically so it hurt that this was my first experience in love. I was confused at first when i received these messages, it took a while for me to process what was going on. As mentioned in one of the screenshots, everyone thought Name A was straight, that was the reason Name B was rejected in the first place. I had no idea Name A felt this way, so it was a big shock for me as she never displayed any interest in women prior. I messaged a friend of mine who knew that I was dating Name B and i vented to her. However, Name B hacked my account without my consent, looked through my messages and saw me venting. The hacking would turn out to be something Name B did often and each time she justified it by blaming it on me. In this conversation, there was a lot of guilt tripping too and the way Name B would constantly use a childish nickname for me (in general) seems condescending and almost like talking to a child I was then painted in a bad light and I was not allowed to have feelings about being broken up with for someone else, my feelings were invalidated, i looked like the bad guy and eventually i believed i was the bad guy. Everything seemed to be fine for a while until i got into a skype call and an argument broke out, i had an anxiety attack in the call with Name C, Name B and Name A and they all left me to go into a private skype call. Name B took a photo of the private skype call the three entered into and posted it in a facebook story, the call was called “fuck i hated that call,” and i saw it but i never said anything. Fast forward to November 2020, this is when i started to question my sexuality as i originally identified as bisexual but it didn’t feel right for some reason so i did what anyone would do, i consulted a friend, that friend was Name A. I didn’t tell her explicitly that i was questioning my sexuality but i was hoping by talking to her and asking her about sexual orientation that i would be able to figure things out about myself, i thought she would have understood as she had gone through her own struggles. We were in a call with Name B but she had left the room or something but she was still present. I believe she must have heard us having a private conversation and the entire thing was misinterpreted. Name B and Name A thought i was just jealous of Name A and trying to make Name A feel bad but i wasn’t, i was questioning my sexuality and i thought that talking to Name A would help me. I thought she would understand. Late that night, i got a random message from Name B saying that Name A had gone to bed and that she wanted to talk to me. It was very late at night. Name B started to ask me questions about whether i had feelings for her or not. I was very confused. I said no a few times but Name B said that she wasn’t sure how feelings can go away that quickly, i then replied that perhaps i had pushed them down. She then asked whether i would be in a relationship with her behind Name A’s back. I was uncomfortable but i didn’t know what to do and i believed Name A was asleep. Earlier that day, Name B said that she was sad that Name A won’t have skype sex with her. I panicked and said there was something she couldn’t get, it was not an offer, i was making a statement and i admit i made the situation worse, i wasn’t sure if she was serious or not either. I said things that may have made things worse, things I never should have or would have said so maybe it was partially my fault but She then asked if i was offering her phone sex, i tried to say that it would hurt Name A and it would be wrong but she kept going on about it and Name B said she’d be okay with it. She then said she loved Name A and I told her that she needed to stay with her. I had a hard time sleeping that night, i was shaky, anxious and crying, i even tried to message someone about it. I did not tell Name A because i thought she was asleep. I have a problem with not being able to tell people no. She also asked if I fantasise about her when I read smut, I said no because that’s disturbing. I thought she still had feelings for me and had posted things earlier that day that made it sound as if she still had feelings for someone and i responded the way i did as i thought that she had feelings for me and i was afraid to hurt Name B because last time i rejected her, she was really hurt and i didn’t want to hurt her again like i did the other time The next day, i found out that it was all a test to not only see if i still had feelings for Name B but if i would seduce Name B and get into skype sex with her or send her something. I also found out that Name A was not asleep after all but she was awake, watching the entire conversation. I tried to defend myself but i was made to be the villain, told i had failed again and i felt dirty and disgusting. She did more emotional abuse but I won't get further into that. I am also pretty sure i remember her showing me porn on one of those "watch with friends" websites and i was a minor.

This is an old story but not an irrelevant one. I was fifteen or sixteen, swirling in all the chemicals and hormones of my age and intoxicatingly in love. Hanging out in school holidays with my best friend in her small home town (now burnt to the ground)and her group, which included her ex boyfriend, the man, four and a half years senior to me, who I'd fallen for. That was the dating. Fast forward to parental permission to stay with him in his family's farmhouse for a short time. During that time, we attended a party of his family and relations in a near by town. I was underaged but he was consuming alcohol into the night. We came in his car so we left in his car. I'm talking 1969, 70. Not far from his parents home he took a turn off. Parking at an old church or it may have been a hall, hidden by the night and the bush, he raped me. I fought hard against his intrusion but he was far stronger than me. I considered him a good man (strangely enough I still do because I see it as ignorance, alcohol and the behavior of a perhaps spoilt only son of Italian immigrants) That doesn't make it acceptable in any way. I was a virgin. There were more incidents to follow, though that was probably the worst. I was intensely shy and had a fear response of vocally freezing. Somewhere around this time I moved with my parents 100 miles north to the city. Somewhere around this time, he was conscripted for service into the army. Must have been early 70's. In between or after....the rapes continued in an unbuilt new residential area, close to where I now lived with my parents. By then I had given in to it. By then I was engaging in underaged drinking. I had parental consent to date him. I was in love and confused by the events. I had no self esteem, making me vulnerable to undeserved shame. In primary school I didn't usually vocalize school difficulties to my sisters or parents. Into my teens I was even less inclined to speak out. I moved out of home and into a house in an old suburb, with him and a few others-my best friend, the same friend from high school. In May 1975, we married. In 1983, a few years after separation, we divorced. He was my first and deepest love. Perhaps we'd have had a longer life together had he been considerate, restrained and sober. There is of course many details left unwritten here. Over many years I did regain self respect and dignity. I didn't regain trust. I had an innocent trust before that first rape. My father was a considerate, gentle and sober person. Over a long period of time with respectful behavior, some men have gained my trust. Like many, I had material losses. We had moved to the east, leaving many of my precious belongings with his family. Some of monetary value, some sentimental and most of almost three years of my artwork from a graphic design course I did. Rejected by his mother, I didn't return. I was informed items were sold and sent to the tip.

To the man who exposed himself to me when I was 5 years old and the mother who didn't believe me , the man who stole my first kiss without my consent when I was 14. The man who groomed me when I was 16. The man who told me " I have been nice to you all day I deserve something". To the man who refused to wear a condom, held me down by my neck and finished inside me without my consent and justified it by saying he wanted to have children with me. To the man I worshipped who pulled up my dress at the washing machine, used me and tossed me away like I was his play thing. To the guy who pretend to comfort me and used my sadness to attract me when I was at my weakest. To all the men who touched me, objectified me and all the women who justified it, ignored it, allowed it...... Fuck you.