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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?

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.

Before moving to California, I had lived in Pakistan. This story is from 2008. My mother had convinced me to marry a man who was well-settled despite I wanting to marry someone else that I had liked at university. The man I married had a very kind demeanor and was respectful. I told him the situation but he told me that I would fall in love with him if I gave the relationship time. I agreed on the condition that he would sleep in a separate room and there won't be any intimacy while I choose whether to accept him or divorce him. He gradually tried to charm me. At first, by requesting to kiss my feet, then by massaging my legs and shoulders. One day, as usual, he asked to kiss my feet while I was watching tv. I caught him looking up my nightie from down there. I got annoyed. He apologized but then asked to massage my shoulders. I agreed. While massaging shoulders, he raised my arms and licked my armpits. I got really upset. pushed him away and ran to he toilet. When I came out, he grabbed me, pushed me into the bedroom, forced me onto the bed, tied my wrists together and attached the rope to a chair near the bed. I begged for him to stop and resisted with all my strength, but he penetrated. I started crying. He apologized, asked for forgiveness but there could be no forgiveness there. My aunt (in police) arrested him. I asked for maximum possible punishment for him. He was given 10.5 years of rigorous imprisonment, 200 lashes with the whip, and paid a large monetary fine to me as well. I personally participated in whipping him. I later forgave him and his sentence was commuted to whipping. We eventually divorced but I felt satisfied that justice was done in this case and I finally married my university flame.

It started in high school, NAME was a friend of friends, so I had met him and seen him around school. But we didn't interact much but I discovered he lived on the same street. It's complicated at this point, but I was bullied a lot for 'being weird'. I was told by classmates I was pretty, but it was weird that I didn't date. Honestly, I wasn't attracted to anyone. One night, my house got egged; my much younger little sister was terrified because it made such loud bangs. I ran outside and but didn't catch anyone. I thought NAME was involved, and I knew his number, so I called him and yelled at him then hung up. I found out later who was involved and it wasn't NAME (but it was his friends), so I offered to take NAME to the movies as an apology. While we were watching the movie, he tried to kiss me, but I moved my head away and said 'no'. A few months later, he rang me asking me out (we hadn't spoken much since the movie), I said I'm not interested in dating, I want to finish school'. A few months more and I graduated high school, he left me letters at my house, I ignored them. Then he rang me asking if we could go for a walk that night as he was in hospital. He had tried to commit suicide and wanted someone to talk to... I didn't want to be the person that turned my back on someone needing help so I said yes. He met me at my house at night and we went for that walk, he had bandages on his wrists, I can't remember what we talked about exactly... Him being sad, lonely, ugly, etc and before I went home he asked me out again. I didn't want to make him rip open his stitches again to kill himself so I said 'ok'. I don't know what my eventual plan was, I just couldn't be responsible for someone's life. We started dating, and eventually it felt nice, I didn't get a lot of attention from my parents and looked after my sister a lot, so I was surprised that someone actually seemed to love me. We moved in together and I left my parents house. We were together for five years and got engaged in the last year. During those years I would cook, clean; worked full time and went to uni full time. He barely worked. He would vent his frustrations about me and at worst hit me. He would ask for sex, and wouldn't stop until I said yes. When I was too tired, and refused to let him pester me into having sex, he would say things like 'you can sleep through it' and I would let him have sex with me. A few times, I woke up with him having sex with me. The worst time I have spent the last 13 years trying to forget. It was about halfway in our relationship. I was on the phone to my mother, sitting on the bed, and he started trying to grope me, I pushed his hand away and walked into the walk-in-wardrobe and sat down. I was still on the phone He followed me, and pushed me flat, then pulled my underwear down and began touching me. I kicked at him and slapped him with my free hand, but I felt ashamed and didn't want my mother to hear, so I wasn't very strong and kept listening to her like nothing was happening. He had sex with me on the wardrobe floor, and I just continued on the phone as normal. I said goodbye to my mother, hung up and just couldn't move. I remember he said, "admit it, you liked that". About three years ago, after therapy, I've wanted to tell someone about this time. I've thought about telling my mother, but I don't know what to say... she was on the phone with me and never noticed anything was wrong. Happily I got out of that relationship, but he stalked and harassed me. I got the police involved, but it took months for him to stop because I didn't have evidence and his stalking 'wasn't that bad'. I didn't tell them about the sex stuff, because if I didn't have enough proof that he was stalking me, I had absolutely no proof that he touched 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.