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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...?

I am an independent woman who did not grow up in a loving home, but had nonetheless moved from the UK to Australia, and had managed to live a reasonably productive life by hard work and paying my bills on time. I enjoy solo travel, exploring new courses and film and am not afraid to try new adventures. It is important that I set up my story this way, in order to show that I have a lot of resilience and self reliance - however, this would not protect me when the unthinkable happened. 10 years ago, I was 51 years old, and managing stress, mortgage repayments, and looming and unpredictable menopause symptoms which I hadn't yet fully processed or mastered yet. During this 'transition' I remained productive, working, going out, going to the gym, believing that I was doing the right thing - and had no idea that my struggle with symptoms and stress overwhelm had set me up to attract a most sadistic, predatory abuser. I barely knew him, he was a personal trainer at my gym. I recognised his behaviour as kind of perhaps that of being offended by me. He was a dominant male, with lots of people vying for his attention and unfortunately, with my menopausal symptoms being new to me and unpredictable, I chose to keep a low profile, get my reps over and done with, then exit the gym, though remaining polite as I went about my routine. The personal trainer began a smear campaign, and it became obvious from the behaviours of other staff members that something was brewing. I chose to come to the gym at odd times or alternative days and downplayed what was happening. Finally, I was pushed into taking action, having been ambushed by some members (who physically sandwiched themselves front and back by members) as I coming into the gym. The personal trainer had pushed his campaign to becoming almost physical, and at this point, I left the gym, but not without putting in a written complaint to management and a detailed explanation of what had happened. I thought that would be the end of it. Little did I know, it was just the beginning. This personal trainer was psychopathic, a very very clever abuser, with a range no doubt of extreme level personality disorders. Within 2 months, he had moved into my apartment complex, and began recruiting my existing neighbours to carry out abuse by proxy. Ceilings and walls were banged, synchronised events - and I was now under siege. I had street theatre out side of my window, right around the clock and relentless, death threats, gang stalking and noticed that my contacts on Face Book and my work place relationships were all changing, and were replicating some of the phrases and behaviours of those already recruited in the smear campaign. This man, had thus, infiltrated every corner of my life, and recruited all people who were closest to me. This is a common scenario when being abused narcissistically. Eventually, I had to let the people go, it was too toxic and unhealthy. My now ex mother and ex sister were also recruited by him, and to this day, have dropped contact with me, and stand firmly with his dominance in this situation fully supporting him. The smear campaign was long term - and although the shouting has subsided, what remains is his dominance in the community, he gains entry to people's dwellings, and is constantly inside my devices, tracking, monitoring and controlling for new alliances that I may form which he is paranoid about. I had reported frequently to the local Police, and unfortunately without anyone to corroborate my story and objective evidence I was not able to prove my situation to them and all they did was to send me to acute care with a complete misunderstanding of the situation I was dealing with. Almost 10 years passed. I had stood my ground, and had survived, and wasn't pushed out of my home (which he had pressured me to do so). I stayed in resistance to his 'game' of trying to make me less financially secure, or have homelessness insecurity. I had withstood his attempts and remained solid, thanks really to my self reliance as a person. Me, an almost senior aged single woman now, and him, in his prime, with powerful allies, with enormous support and resources and the benefits of having taken all of mine now his. The crux of the story is actually not about this psychopathic person. But rather, how our leaders in our community are afraid to "judge" and he was permitted to stay and had the OK from my now ex-mother to engage me by acting out as part of his "therapeutic" process. To this day, he has never accepted an invitation to 'communicate' with me as an adult and explain himself and try to work out an outcome he would be happy with. I stood my ground, but with his current dominance and tracking, i am not able to pursue "fair go" relationships, and the social isolation he has created is a common trait with abusers. This is why I am using my voice and to share my story. This is every bit about him as it is the character of those who can make a difference in the face of extreme abuse, and choosing the path that was easiest, rather than what was right. Thank you for hearing the intro to my story. I am wondering if I will use what has happened to write a book?

In March, I met someone. By summer, we were friends—the kind that share meals and watch anime on weekends. There was never any hint of more. Then, one night in August, a bottle of bourbon and a game of truth or dare blurred the lines I thought were solid. The conversation turned intimate, and the dares followed. What started with a kiss escalated into something I did not want. I remember saying "no," many times, my hands holding tightly to my clothes as a boundary. I was told "no means yes." In my intoxicated state, my resistance was overcome. I held onto one clear thought: no penetration. That line, at least, was not crossed. In the days that followed, I did everything I was supposed to do. I reached for every lifeline. I took the emergency pill. I made the calls to 1800RESPECT and SARC, navigating support systems in a language that isn't my own. I am awaiting medical screenings. I devoured Chanel Miller's "Know My Name," finding solace in a story that mirrored my own confusion. I talked to AI, tirelessly analyzing every emotion, trying to logic my way out of this pain. I found the courage to call a friend and speak the words aloud, and her belief in me was a anchor. And yet, a persistent voice still circles in the quiet moments: Did I overreact? Was it really that bad? He was nice once. This doubt is a ghost, and it haunts me alongside the heavy grip of my history with depression, which makes everything feel so much heavier. I have made a decision that brings both a sense of relief and a profound sadness. I will likely make a report, but I do not think I will request a full investigation. I have come to the quiet, painful understanding of how difficult it is to prove a violation without concrete evidence, of how the system often fails to deliver justice. My heart breaks for all my sisters who have stood in this same place, who have chosen to prioritize their own survival over a fight they know they cannot win. So, for now, I am choosing to fight for myself instead of against him. My act of rebellion is not in a courtroom; it is in my own healing. It is in believing myself when the world teaches me to doubt. It is in acknowledging that even without legal justice, what happened to me was real, it was wrong, and my pain is valid. I am choosing to care for the person who matters most in this story: me.

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

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.