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I was 17, he was 26. It was my first boyfriend and I was head over heels excited that I had my first boyfriend and that he was older. First year felt normal and I felt so happy. After I turned 18 there was a big shift. The following years were filled with coercion, manipulation and grooming. He hurt me for the first time while my friend was sleeping next to us at a house party. I had to stay silent while I was wincing in pain. When we got back home that night he hit even worse and it hurt to walk the next day. He cried and said it was my fault and said I made him do that. Manipulation continued, coercion got worse with threats like not letting me back into his apartment till I gave him what he wanted, another time he punched me in the arm out of anger and gaslighted me into thinking he never punched me after a bruise was visible. 4 years into the relationship, I always say to myself now it’s like a lightbulb turned on in my brain and told me this isn’t right I need to leave, I could have a better life than this. So I did, I opened up to those around me and found support in them. It was hard, I still had emotions to let go of and he tried so hard to keep me around by being extra sweet with me, but to this day I am so happy I didn’t fall for it again. Memories of him still haunt me, but I remember I am free now. People always ask DV survivors “well why didn’t you just leave?” It’s more than that. Once you’re in that cycle of abuse it’s hard to get out of. I pray to everyone experiencing this one day too has a lightbulb turn on in their head. I see you, i hear you and i wish you all the freedom

At age 15, my doctor asked me if I was sexually active. I cried and said “sort of”. When she asked me why I was crying, I told her it was because I thought it was embarrassing. I’m now realizing that I was not crying because I was embarrassed but because I was ashamed. I felt ashamed for having sex at 15 years old (which I felt was too young for me), and even more ashamed at how it happened. I had consented to fooling around with my boyfriend at the time but did not consent to penetration. I was not expecting to look up to hear him say “it’s in”, when I had clearly told him that I did not want penetration. I pushed him off and started crying. However, I brushed it off as being part of a normal healthy relationship, not knowing any better as this was my first relationship. For the next year and a half, I stayed with that partner while dealing with many ridiculous commands and events that I did not realize was unhealthy until much later: being told I wasn’t allowed to wear leggings because then other people would see my butt; being told not to drink coffee (still did); not seeing my friends other than at school; being told I couldn’t wear makeup because if I wore makeup, it would obviously mean that I was trying to attract other guys to cheat on my partner (meanwhile he cheated 3 times); being stopped on the street by a stranger asking if I needed help who then called the police about a domestic violence dispute (i wish I knew who that woman was so I could thank her today); being slut shamed; if we argued, being told I couldn’t leave him because no one else would love me since I was worthless and unlovable; finally, being controlled and manipulated. I’ve heard somewhere (not fact checked) that it takes women on average 7 attempts to leave their abuser before an attempt to leave finally sticks. I remember it taking me 3 tries but it’s possible that I’m forgetting some. Oct 2nd was the day I finally left. We’d broken up numerous times before but he always reeled me back in. He’d reel me back in by forcing himself to cry or to throw up, or by threatening to tell everyone that I was a worthless whore. That year and a half long period of my life still affects me. While I can’t blame all my problems on one person or one situation, I strongly believe that that relationship is the root to my insecurities and anxieties. Fortunately, the past two and a half years, while tough and emotional, have been periods of self love and self discovery.

I am a child sexual abuse survivor living in Canada with an NDA for childhood sexual abuse for the past 28 years. When I sought to lift my NDA in 2018 after my abuser had died, the British Columbia court denied me and refused to lift the NDA. So, for the past seven years, I have been advocating both provincial and federal politicians in Canada to ban the misuse of NDAs for childhood sexual abuse survivors. With the passage of Trey's Law in both Texas and Missouri (and more states soon, I hope!), this will place pressure on the Canadian government and the provinces to pass similar legislation. I'm very heartened (and healed too!) by all of the survivors sharing their stories in the Missouri and Texas legislatures. All of this testimony is very important as evidence to prove the long-term extensive damage of an NDA on a childhood abuse victim for ensuing court cases. (This kind of evidence of long-term damage was missing in my BC court case; as a result, my application to lift the NDA was denied). We all need to keep speaking out to change the future for children. We might not be able to change the past, but we can certainly change the present and make the world safer for others. After a great deal of suffering for many years, I can see now that the suffering has had a meaning. As a result, I have become a stronger person. I am not thankful for the abuse, but it seems to me that a greater force in the universe is helping all victims to completely change the world right now. It is an unprecedented moment in human history and we all need to keep moving this incredible change forward. Thank you to Trey's Law and to all the survivors who have spoken in support of Trey's Law.

I can't remember the month I met him or the day he became a coworker. I just remember meeting him and thinking he was shy. I remember him having a friendly smile. Something about him made me feel safe. He was kind and patient and empathetic. I guess our friendship started when I needed someone and I was vulnerable. I've been happily married for over a decade. Even now, I've haven't spoken about what happened. I feel dirty. I haven't been able to write about what happened to me. For a long time, I blamed myself because I was high when it happened. I was so high that I couldn't feel anything. There are blank spots within my memory, but I do remember the first night. A few coworkers and I had decided to go out for drinks and play pool at a local bar. He offered to drive me home and we talked. It was nice. After a few hours, he picked me up again and we drove around the city. It wasn't long before the feeling on his hands were on my skin. I asked him to stop and he did for a while. He drove into an old church parking lot and we continued to talk. He knew I was married, but he wanted to kiss me anyway. When he leaned in, I told him no. I don't quite remember the rest of the evening but I remember reading the time and seeing 2:13am. I told him that I needed to go home, but he said I had to do something first. I thought he was joking. He placed my hand on his lower body. I pulled away and told him no. He said, "Please. It would feel so good and I really need this." I told him we shouldn't, but he was persistent. He continued to grab my hand and put it on his crotch. He said it would feel better if he was able to "take it out". I asked him to stop and he said, "Sorry." I was grateful he apologized. "I thought you wanted this, though. You got me hardd, so now you have to finish," he said. I kept saying no and he continued to be persistent. The only answer left was to say yes. Externally, I said yes but internally I was saying no. I figured if I could make the situation less unpleasant, it would end quickly. I laid in the passenger seat feeling his hands move from my upper body down to my groin. He asked me to turn around and bend over. I told him no. He said, "I'm almost done. Please.. I need this." Even after saying no, he was persistent. I should have walked away or called 911 or called my Mom. Anything to save me. But I knew if I did, it would cause chaos. I was located 30-45 minutes outside of town - it was dark out, and I was worried he was going to hurt me or kick me out. I feel guilty for allowing him to touch me. It's hard not to feel guilty even though I froze and did what I could to survive. I returned home confused about what happened and acknowledged that I had not consented to that encounter. I know what assault is. I didn't want this to happen and I said no. Yet, it happened anyway. I learned about sexual coercion a few months after. This continued for a few months. He told me that I was a cheater because I didn't walk away. I feel like a cheater. I feel useless and powerless because he told me I had no choice. I feel responsible for what happened, but confused because it was unwanted. All along I've been wondering what he took from me. He took my consent.

A man named name didn't take my no on a date. He pushed himself on me and did things to me I didn't want. I was so in shock because I had known him for years and always felt safe with him. I ended up seeing him a second time because I thought somehow I misunderstood or exaggerated the incident in my mind. The second time only served to prove it was exactly what I thought it was. Sometimes I think about making it public but I couldn't handle the embarrassment for even agreeing to hang out with him and that is flirted with him. I was naive, I was in a rough place in life. But I don't think anyone would get that. I hate him. He almost killed himself once and called me totally out of it. I reached out to a friend of his who got him to the hospital. Sometimes I wish I hadn't.

I was raped by one of the heads of location in city, state. Don't go here.

As a child I was left vulnerable by abuse, neglect and sexual assault. I’ve been telling my story in my blog and on livestream but there is one story I particular that I feel a deep cry to find other victims. I was 15 years old and school had just ended for the Summer. A boy I know, he was my tech class helper. He often would offer me extra help on my assignments. Getting closer. Around school we would be flirty. Prior to school ending that year he asked me for my number. For whatever reason I gave him my home landline instead of my cell phone. Days after school got out he called and asked if I could come hang out with him and his friend. It was his friends birthday. My dad didn’t want to give me permission or say no so he told me to call my mom. I told my mom a little white lie and got permission to go out till 11pm. The boys buttered me up with flattery as we made our way to what was said to be the one guys’ house. When we arrived we talked a little bit about where we go to school and who we know. I mostly asked about my family that went to the same school as the boy I had just met. We began to play truth or dare, eventually I was naked and this boy whom I just met asked me to have sex. I agreed but I didn’t want to. I was scared and it would have been my first time, because I was scared the boy was not able to penetrate me but he kept trying. Eventually I told him to stop and put the lights on. When the lights were put on two guys I didn’t know were there game out of the closet. One I recognized from student council at school and the other, I didn’t know, seem a little older and was naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. There was one more boy I didn’t know was there that came out from under the bed. I felt humiliated and hugged a pillow against my naked body. I demanded they all get out and so they did. I was trying to get dressed but they had stolen my underwear. The boy I knew, the one that I had liked, walked me half way home. I didn’t want my parents to see him. He kept asking if I was really going to have sex, and I kept avoiding giving any sort of answer. I didn’t want to admit I was scared. He then asked if I was going to tell anyone. I said “no” and asked “why?”. He said “because it feels rapey”. I asked what was happening and he told me it was called “a cinema” and it’s where guys watch while one guy has sex with a girl and she doesn’t know they’re there and then they switch places without her knowing. Because a group of guys agreed to and code named their act of gang rape I know it is a thing that was being done, not just a one time fluke and because they chose cinema, I also know that they do it for entertainment. 3 years later when I was 18 a friend from work and school, although I had already graduated asked me to go to a party. I went home, changed and asked my housemate if she wanted to come and so she came along. When I arrived my friend was highly antoxicated, and she was the only female at this party in a house of around 20 men who all played for th same hockey team. Her boyfriend and her friend were trying to get her to leave but she wouldn’t. Her boyfriend’s friend tried to appeal to me telling me I don’t know what these guys do. The hockey team was not allowing them in the party and chased them off down the street. Eventually they gave up and the night went on. I found the hockey team to be quite obnoxious and I didn’t have the mentality to deal with it. I looked at my housemate who wasn’t having a good time and asked if she wanted to go. I said “okay, let me get (my friends name)” my friend refused to leave. I felt it in my gut that I shouldn’t leave her but I left with my housemate. The next morning my friend’s mom showed up to my apartment demanding to know where her daughter was. I thought I was being a good friend by saying “I don’t know”. Her mom kept saying “she’s only 17!”. It only recently dawned on me that she was likely a victim of the cinema but she never confirmed it or denied it to me. Because of my friend, because it kills me to think about the young people I love could be victims, I am telling my story. I hope by telling my story it empowers other victims to come forward so that together we can try to prevent another generation from being victimized. Thank you.

I was in High School and he was my boyfriend. I don't remember the amount of times he SA me, but I do remember how he did it. I remember the things he would say before he did it. The things he'd say during. And how quick he was to put the blame on me once he had finished. While I was enduring this abuse, I was perceived as a psycho girlfriend who was emotional and dramatic. No one questioned the bags under my eyes, the bruises and cuts on my body, my sudden weight loss, how uncomfortable I was in his presence, or the fact that another victim of his came forward. Instead they perceived me as the girlfriend who was an emotional wreck, an attention seeker, a drama queen. No one cared to look deeper. I felt failed by my peers, by my friends, by my best friend, by my teachers, and by the one guidance councillor I opened up to. I still feel failed by them. But there was one person who DID help me. She was a surviver also. A girl who opened up to me about her story in class one day. "Until it happens to you" began to ring true to me. I wasn't judged or questioned by her. I was accepted. I felt accepted. And so I want to thank her. Thank her for saving me, in a time where she also needed saving. For helping me understand something she didn't even understand herself. For having the courage to speak her truth, despite only knowing me for a short period of time. And for looking deeper. Please reach out to other survivors if you are feeling alone. The mutual understanding between survivors is a feeling unmatched. I love each and everyone of you, and wish you nothing but a safe and happy future.

I live in a home with someone I wish great harm on (even death), with another person I am Coming to resent for not believing and worst of all a third person I cannot properly protect, because you see Only one of the 2 people that are the main people in this mess, are telling the truth. there is no way to find out the truth with out causing more harm to who I believe is the victim, to Possibly find the truth will tare apart the victim's family which they do not wish, they rather live as if to pretend it didnt happen ,just move on. For Me I sit and think if, I said anything would leave the victim in a position of more harm,in a position of being marked for pitty,or disbelief, for the many years left of there life, and least of important the victim would come to resent me. How do you protect someone without causing their whole world to fall apart, there is no possible proof to make sure, only space to break the victims hart more.

Abuse isn't always physical. Your trauma is real and valid. I am sharing my story of abuse in hopes that it will help someone who feels lost. Someone who was in the same situation as me, unsure if they should go to therapy, confort their abuser, report them, or any combination of those things - because they thought they were "being dramatic" or "overreacting." Your trauma is valid, your feelings are real and deserve space. When I was 20 years old, I got into a long-term relationship with a man who was very fun, charismatic, outgoing, charming. Everyone seemed to like him, and he had a lot of friends. We will call him Partner 2. A few months before meeting Partner 2, I was in a short-term relationship with someone (call him Partner 1). One day I felt something weird "down there" and went to the hospital, where I found out Partner 1 had given me three STDs, one which was not curable. I broke up with him because I found out he was cheating (which is how I contracted them), and went to get tested again for the same STDs. I took two more tests, both of which came out negative for all those STDs. With this confusion and conflicting results, I disclosed this information to Partner 2 when I met him so he could decide if he wanted to pursue a realtionship. He consented to starting a relationship under those circumstances, and we began dating. The red flags appeared in the form of alcohol abuse, where I would find him drunk out of his mind wandering the streets of our small town, wandering into traffic, as well as drinking and driving. He did many things to hurt me that weren't "abusive", but as we fought about those things, he got increasingly "fed up" and the arguments got worse. One example I will give is: on the day of my birthday, he left town. When I called him in the morning of my OWN birthday to ask if he wanted to get breakfast, he said that he was busy and that he had been "planning this weekend for months" (to go fishing with his dad). Obviously, I was hurt by this because he knew it as my birthday and chose that specific weekend to leave town. It is something that any couple would fight about, except he did things like this ALL THE TIME. As months passed he began to get increasingly comfortable saying horrible things to me while he was drunk (blaming it on the alcohol). Then he began being comfortable saying them while he was sober. Until about 1 year into our relationship, he was diagnosed with the incurable STD I had warned him about months before. That is when things took a turn, and he began physically abusing me. Now, when he would get drunk, he would say "you did this to me you b****, you gave me this disgusting disease", "you're a effing whore", "you deserve to die" and other things of that nature. The first time he "touched me" was a year and a half in. I remember very clearly, I did nothing to "instigate" a fight. He was drunk, and he thought I said something that clearly hurt his ego. He grabbed me and started choking me on the bed, and as I fell onto the bed my leg went up as a reflex and I kneed him in the stomach. He blamed the "fight" on me, saying that I kneed him in the stomach and he was defending himself. I took my things and left immediately, only to find he had followed me. He began choking me further, pulling my hair, and eventually picking me up and throwing me into a ditch. My parents came to pick me up as I called them crying, and they documented several bruises all over my body. The next day, he apologized and promsied it would never happen again. That he was "just drunk" and that I can't let anyone else know it happened or he wouldnt forgive me (again, blaming ME saying I started the fight). After that, the physical abuse escalated in frequency. One night he was drunk, he picked me up and threw me on the ground again. Another night he was drunk, he choked me on the bed at a party and went out to mingle and dance with his friends as if nothing happened. I always had bruises on my body. While in the beginning he would say "I will never do it again", it later became "you deserve it, you gave me this disgusting disease" and even telling me that he hates me to my face. He threatened me saying that if I told the police, that he would tell them I gave him the STD without his consent and that "it must be illegal" (I didn't know if it was, I was very young and unaware). One night we were invited to a house party with his friends in another town. We would have to take the train to go. Right before we left, I felt a lot of sudden urges to pee. I had to pee every 2 minutes. By the time we got on the train, I couldn't hold it anymore and I knew I had a UTI. I asked him if he could come with me to the hospital and he said "I don't really wanna miss this party" and I got off the train by myself. I got on a taxi to the nearest hospital, with the WORST case of a UTI I have ever seen - my pee was just blood. He didn't care, nor did he come to check on me after the party. I was VERY clearly not loved by this man. One of the worst nights, we went to ANOTHER party for one of his friends. His friend ended up wanting to meet us at their house after the club. "The after party". They gave me the address since he was drunk out of his mind, but gave me the wrong one. I was trying to tell him in the cab that we were at the wrong place, and he jolted out of the cab. I quickly ran up to him and said, "we have to go this way" and he was like "What did you say to me bit**?" and began assaulting me. He pushed me to the ground, and began choking me in the middle of the street. It went on for about 40 minutes, I recorded it. He kept saying over and over "you did this to me, you gave me this disease, i hate you". I ended up being able to become free from him, and when I caught up to his friends in the apartment building across the street, I said to them "he's been abusing me for months" as I was crying, and NOBODY CARED. It was a cry for help that nobody cared for. I ended uup going to the police station that night and reporting him. They asked me if I wanted to press charges, but I was too afraid because of what he had said before threatening me. Cops helped me go and get my things from his house the next morning. When the cops came into his house he was the charming guy all over again, saying to them, "Well, you know officer how these things are. Women sometimes get like this right?". His father, who KNEW he was abusing me, looked at me and said "did you guys get into another fight?" and I said "your son is an ABUSER." and walked past him. After that, it's a blur. I don't remember how or why we got back together, out of my own fear. I never pressed charges because he kept intimidating me. But eventually, I moved to a new town about 3 hours away. I kept in contact with him, he would visit me once a week, but was still abusive. Finally, one day, I met my now husband. On that very day I met him, I blocked my ex and never looked back. He made attempts to contact me, but he hated me so much that I think he didn't care if I left. It was always about his ego and the fact that "no one would ever fuck him with that STD". I am now happily married, and although it was a very traumatic experience, my husband is the most caring, patient, docile person I know. He radiates love and kindness. I hope whoever you are out there, whoever is reading this, I hope you find that too. I hope this helps put into perspective that abuse doesn't always involve punching or breaking noses, but it's also subtlties like neglect and name calling. All those things can escalate and lead to physical violence. I hope YOU get yourself out before it ever gets worse. Remember that your life is precious, and no one can take that away from you.

Well I guess you could say that it all started for me at the tender age of 16 . I started dating this guy when I was 15 . We weren't dating very long when I found out that I was pregnant . Yes I found out I was pregnant at 15 and he was 18 . I turned 16 in June and by that October he and I were married. Not something I had planned on but it was a marriage I was forced into because of his parents . They didn't want any "bastard" children born out of wedlock and 2 months later our daughter was born . This is where all the mayhem starts. I wasn't allowed to leave the house unless I took the baby with me , even if I was just going to the little convenience store that was basically right behind our house. It didn't matter where I was going I always had to take the baby with me . The mental , verbal , and emotional abuse I endured for the next 4 years would have been enough to put any vulnerable 16 year old in the Nut House or 6 feet under . It doesn't help the fact that I grew up in a household were my mom was physically, mentally, verbally, and emotionally abused for many years . I'm now 50 years old and I'm just learning how to Love Myself again . I've suffered with zero self esteem , zero confidence, constantly body shaming myself , you know ALL those horrible things that us woman do to ourselves when we hit that all time low in our lives .

I grew up in an abusive home. My father always tried his best, but his negative emotions always got in the way. I’m 20 now. I was in a relationship for almost one year recently with a “Ryle”. I new I didn’t want that for the rest of my life. I deserved better. Yet, I stayed silent. I knew this movie would change everything for me and it did. I finally left him and as hard as it was, it was the best thing for me and for my future. I believe you have one life, why would I let it go to waste on someone like that? Thank you for this movie.

When I was a little girl, somewhere between the age of 6 and 10, my cousin who was 5 years older, locked us up in the bathroom and forced me to put his penis in my mouth. I was afraid, I thought it was not a fun game and I wanted to get out as fast as I could. But he said that I had to do it, that it would be fun and that he wouldn't tell anyone. So I did. I remember the smell, I remember the shame and I remember knowing it was wrong and that I should tell an adult in my family. Weeks later, I told my godmother who told my aunt. They decided to keep it to themselves and made sure I was never left alone with that cousin again. Nobody talked to him, noone told him that it was wrong, no one asked why he did that, they did not ask me if I was OK and they did not alert my parents. Everyone was afraid of talking about it. So silence was key to everyone forgetting about it. Later in life, when I was 17 or 18, I was staying at that same cousin's place. he was now in his 20's, and he tooked me in his arms and rubbed his clothed body against my clothed body in a way that resembled sexual foreplay. I was stunned and didn't have the strength to say no. He let go of me eventually and went into another room. I was afraid to move. A similar feeling of wrongness and shame came over me and around that time I decided to start a therapy. I didn't know who to turn to but I was recommended a female therapist in her 40's by my OB/GYN. When I told her the first story, she said that it was just kids playing bathroom bambam. About the second story, she said that it was curious that I did not find the strength to say no. I agreed. It was curious. But that did not make me feel validated. If my own family didn't address this as an issue, and a professional therapist didn't think it was a bid deal as a kid and told me that as a grown up woman, I should just be able to say no, than maybe I had been giving too much importance to these experiences. Maybe they were not that bad. I could always think about way worse things that had happened to other people. Mine did not matter as much. I did not matter as much. In my late 30's, I finally told my mother what had happened. She was furious, sad and angry for a couple of days. She has never mentioned it again in the last 6 years. The worst is definitely not what actually happened. The worst is the silence and taboo around it that grew thicker every year. And yet it has shaped my sexual life, my relationships with partners and with family members. What has helped me for the last 15 years is to have the full validation from an amazing partner who is always ready to listen, allow me space to feel and reflect on what I consider now sexual trauma, for lack of better term. I feel understood and seen by him. Sharing this here I find also very helpful. Thank you for this space.

I believe that my ex-boyfriend, Name — a bodybuilder currently living in State — has been engaging in serious digital harassment, including hacking my devices, spoofing text messages, and attempting to make it appear that I sent messages I did not. I have also noticed individuals around me—such as neighbors or coworkers—acting in ways that seem coordinated, including color-coding, winking, and using specific terms like “widgets” when referring to my family. I have reported this situation to the police, but so far there has been insufficient evidence to link these incidents directly to him. If anyone else has experienced similar behavior from this person, please come forward and share your experience.

It’s been 2 years since my ex-husband and I separated. We have two children together a girl, age 8 and a boy, age 5. After our relationship ended, I began to tell various third-parties about our relationship’s dynamic and what our sex life was like. With this, I started to reflect on the relationship and soon realized how abusive it was. My ex-husband would force me to have sex with him at every 2-3 days and if I didn’t he would treat me terrible, getting angry at me, giving me the silent treatment, acting like a pouty child and excluding me from dinner conversations with my children (speaking only Danish, a language I don’t understand with them.) It was horrible and I feel like whoever I tell this story to minimizing my experience, victim blaming or straight out takes his side. It’s been incredibly isolating and I feel so alone. I can’t get out of bed on the days I have the kids. I just sit on the couch and watch tv or scroll social media on my phone. I don’t know how to move on from this without going to the police but I truly don’t believe that would be good for my children because he’s a good dad for the most part. I feel so stuck, sad, broken and hopeless.

I have a confession. There are a lot of things that people don’t know about me. Some have seen me change drastically since 2015, but very few know what happened back then. Some people may only know me as how I am now, and it’s not something that everyone that I know now gets to learn about me. I am opening up here to share that there is Hope in Hell, even when I didn’t see it at that time. My hope is that I will tell my story of how I overcame what I went through and it will become someone’s guide. We know what this book is about, and you may wonder what happened in 2015 to change my life so drastically. In 2015, I was wrongfully arrested and charged after having a verbal dispute with my partner at that time. I can see how I was the target of the charges, after all, my partner was in a wheelchair at that time and looked oh so vulnerable. The landlord had been outside mowing the grass and “saw” through curtains that were closed, me assaulting my partner at the time, when what in reality happened was we were having a verbal disagreement over beer and weed. I was going to skip the details about the encounter with the cops, but perhaps this should be shared as well. At the time of my arrest I was staring “out” the window (again, curtains were closed) on the phone to a friend of mine, explaining that I had just got in an argument with my partner at the time and that the cops were on their way. I was fine with that, afterall, I didn’t do anything wrong. What I was unaware of, is what was said during that call to the cops. While I was on the phone, I was caught off guard, spun around, phone thrown and had my body thrown to the ground, with at least one cop kneeling on me. It was scary, I didn’t know at the time what was going on, I was caught off guard, I was scared, I was confused, of course I wiggled a bit trying to catch up to what was going on. [During my trial the cop testified they almost took out the baton to hit me. At this time, I was 5’5”, maybe 110 lbs? There was no need for any of this, they made it sound like I was much stronger and bigger than I was.] I remember laying there, looking at my partner begging him to tell them what really happened. But he didn’t say a word. Ended up sitting in a cop car for hours, a female cop mocking me as I cried. I tried to tell them I had proof on my phone that he had been violent in the past, but they didn’t care. I was the bad guy here. [Turns out they ended up reaching out to my parents to come and pick up my son, at that time he was about 6 years old and was in the office during most of the commotion.] The holding cell was not fun, a couple benches, a toilet and clear plastic wall along the back. A ton of people screaming and banging around. It was terrifying, and it didn’t matter what I told the cops when they interviewed me, they didn’t care. I ended up leaving after maybe 12 hours with 5 charges, and no way home. I recall trying to phone a friend, and it being about 3am-5am, and he would not answer. I was in the middle of downtown, with my shirt ripped and looking like something went terribly wrong, which it did. I didn’t have any money, and hoped for the best as I went and took the train to the bus station. I told the bus driver I was trying to get home and didn’t have any money. They could see I was in rough shape and thankfully let me ride the bus for free. I eventually got back to my parents house, it was a relief for sure. My partner at the time depended on me a lot as he was paralyzed from a previous car accident, and we texted back and forth a bit about trying to get me back home. I was ordered to stay away at that point, and after some convincing, I ended up going back to help him out. Little did I know, a friend of his called the cops on me again for breaching my order… and off I went to jail, AGAIN, and charged with the breach. At least this time I knew what to expect, and was able to calm a girl down in the holding cell. But what the fuck was going on!?! How did I end up here? You might think that introduction was full of “excitement”, but it does get “better”. When you hit that rock bottom, you lose everything, my son (who stayed with my parents), my house, everything, it makes you wonder. Trust me, at the moment I was so pissed off! I didn’t want to go to court mandated women's groups, I WAS NOT THE ABUSER. But in times like this, you gotta do what the court says, when the court says. Spoiler alert, this trial took forever to go on, and we were about to ask for it to be dismissed. However, the last day my ex-partner shows up and the trial goes ahead. I went to my trial and all court dates alone, no one offered to come with me, well one person did for my trial but bailed on me that morning. While waiting for the outcome, I sat in the court parking lot for 3 hours, waiting to see if I would go home that night. What would my parents say to my son if I didn’t return home that day? What would happen next? The judge found me guilty, I had to “play nice” and say good things about cops and all of it, and in the end I had 1 year of probation. I missed the “best” part, only a few years prior I had been working as a legal assistant, in the past volunteered for the cops, and also did security work. So again, how did I get to this place?! If we start back to when I was out of high school we can see a dangerous pattern emerge. Out of high school I worked for a security company that did concerts and events. I ended up going out of town to work with my co-workers, along with people from the same company but from another city. It was a huge event and we were there for the weekend. Everything was going well until the last night. I can’t recall what happened exactly that night, but I knew I had been sexually assaulted. I ended up waking up in a tent trailer, naked, alone, and had no idea what happened. When I exited this tent trailer, a larger male who had worked in my city started talking to me, which was odd, because I never talked to him before, he was a bit too friendly. I then put the limited pieces together that I had and realized I had been sexually assaulted. On the way back to town, I had messaged a friend telling them what happened, and they said they would meet me at my house. I was exhausted from the trip home, and all I really wanted was to take a shower and I did… this turned out to be a BIG mistake. I ended up going to the hospital that night and reporting the assault. The tests were taken, my clothes were taken by the cops, and what followed was police protocol, but no charges being laid, because he was close with everyone in the company, and had them on his side. I was interviewed multiple times by the police. I wasn’t driving at this time and only told my mom the bare minimum to get a ride to the police station. After the first interview at the station I was called in to be re-interviewed because the sound and/or video was not recording the first time. The second time I went in they said that my facts were not adding up, like how many people attended this big event. This second interview was some time after the actual incident, how was this small detail going to stay in my mind? This ended again like I said, with no charges to the suspect. This was a major distrust for me in the legal system, how could nothing be done? Plus, my company wasn’t going to fire him either, so I had to go. I lost my job after I was sexually assaulted. You may be wondering what this incident has to do with me ending up in jail approximately 10 years later? I think this was the catalyst that sent me down a dark path. After this incident, I figured, it would just be easier and better to just have a family of my own. I believed that I wouldn’t have to go through this again, I would be safe, and boy I was wrong. I met a guy on the good old site Site Name., and he ended up proposing to me online. This was not too long after the sexual assault. Of course I said yes at that time, I would be safe, and this became the beginning of the end for me. We ended up living together between my parents place and his parents place in another city. He wasn’t good at keeping a job, and everything he previously told me about was a lie. At that time, I didn’t see that as a red flag, it was just more annoying than anything else. We decided to have a baby. I ended up becoming pregnant, and we ended up back at his parents place because our current city just wasn’t working for us. Turns out things in the other city were much worse, he didn’t have luck with a job there, and his parents were going to kick us out. I tried to get work, but was unsuccessful at that time. We had no choice but to go back to my city. I had to call my parents to see if we could come back, they said yes, but I then told them I was pregnant, I mean they had to know somehow, and that’s how they found out. We moved back to town. We bounced around from place to place so many times because he would not be able to hold down a job. I was working at this time as a receptionist and my pay cheque would only go so far. We decided to get married and not be traditional, in fact after talking to people I worked with, we decided to have our wedding in my bosses basement about a month or two before my son was born. It was a cheap wedding, had co-workers who helped plan everything, we found a regular summer dress because I was pregnant and they were able to add little decorations to it, it turned out pretty nice. But of course I didn’t tell my family about the wedding, and we ended up getting married in the basement with my co-workers, a friend of his and a friend of mine as witnesses. Afterwards we went back to my parents like nothing happened, although my sister was suspicious because I had some intense makeup on, and a dress. But I never said anything. My family found out that I was legally married when my registration renewal papers came and the renewal month was not the same as everyone else’s. Oops, that confusion on how I would have a different renewal month was how everyone found out I now had a different last name, and we had gotten married. You may wonder, why didn’t I want my family to know? I just didn’t care to tell them at that time. I had a pretty bad history with my family from what I could remember. My childhood was not great at all, growing up I dealt with one of my parents being an alcoholic and the other one being physically violent to myself. I wanted to change my last name, because of my childhood I did not want to keep their last name, I wanted to not be part of that anymore. Today I still hold my ex-husband's last name, same as my sons, and only because I will NEVER go back to my maiden name. One would think that this sounds like my happily ever after. And that's far from what took place. I recall a time I went on my laptop and had found out that he had been on Site Namewith another girl and seeing her naked on camera. I was furious! I don’t recall much except an argument that happened. My son was born July, 2008. Things seemed fine, I didn’t know how to take care of a baby, this was new to me and my new husband. Of course, he was still not working. Since he never worked, we always jumped from house to house, getting evicted everytime the landlord found out we couldn’t pay rent. It is now easier to see the red flags pile up. I recall another incident, I can’t remember the context, but it was after my son was born, my husband ended up ramming one of those brick cell phones down on my skull. Another time at that same location he got mad at me and kicked me in the stomach and I fell backwards through a door onto the bed. This time I grabbed my son, without his shoes or anything and took him to my parents house. I remember texting a good friend of mine at the time, ‘if anything happens to me, Name did it.’ The details after this are a bit fuzzy because it did happen back in 2008, but we stayed together a bit longer. It would have been 2009 when the other incidents occurred. I had another job as a security guard, and my husband was to take care of our son while I was at work, and work when I was at home. Of course he didn’t work, but I did. One night I got home late, apparently awoke him from his sleep and he threatened to slit my throat and ensure my son didn’t have a mother anymore. But for some reason I stayed. Sometime around this situation, he was kicked out of my parents house and living in the backyard in a tent. One day I go to work, can’t find my husband, keep trying to text him, and nothing. It was very strange, and even my electronics were gone. Turns out the pawnshop had them and because we were married there was nothing I could do to get them back. I eventually “found” my husband, and he claimed that he ended up in ANOTHER city, buying me jewelry. I couldn’t believe that for a minute, nothing about this story made sense, especially since he didn’t drive. I then took that opportunity to go to the police and report what had happened. I was able to easily obtain an EPO, emergency protection order, and get the parenting and everything started. Of course someone like my ex-husband would not take my choice lightly and he decided to ignore the orders and constantly call me ALL the time, as it was a breach of the order, I was able to call the cops and report him. Even when the officer was at my house talking to me, he STILL kept calling. Let me get one thing straight, even with all these charges against him, nothing was ever done. In the end he was arrested once, but released on his own with a promise to appear, did he show up? Of course not. I remember getting a call from victim services (I believe), and they let me know that my ex-husband did not show up for his court date. They were unable to give me any specifics as to where he was arrested or anything. I went to the police office near my house and desperately tried to find out where he was arrested. I was terrified of him coming back. Luckily I found out there was no record of him being arrested in Location. I believe I was only told this because we had the same last name, and he was using my parents address. What took place next was a lot of court dates, and trying to figure out how my ex-husband could be served these documents. I knew where his parents lived, and luckily was able to get a substitutional service order where I was allowed to serve him via registered mail. He never attended a single court date. We had court dates for the parenting order, the divorce, child support order, and he never showed up, time after time. Still to this date he has never paid a cent in child support. Our son is 15 now, and has never talked to his biological father, or his grandparents on his fathers side. His sisters reached out a few years ago, they thought they would be mad at me if they reached out sooner. When this all happened they were around 10 years old maybe? I didn’t blame them for anything their brother did. We don’t really talk much, but do have each other on Facebook. One of his sisters is still trying to help me get information so the government can enforce my child support order. After my ex-husband was gone, eventually I decided to date again. I dated a guy named A.P. I always thought this was my one relationship that didn’t go sideways. But looking back, there were a ton of red flags. I would always buy him cigarettes, I even ended up going around to different pharmacies trying to get T1’s (Tylenol Ones), because he was addicted to taking them, there was a handful of times he tried to convince me to start smoking, wanted me to start taking T1’s for NO REASON, and other times he wanted me to start smoking weed. Aside from these behaviors I listed, everything else was good, which was why I think I misled myself into believing this was a healthy relationship which it was not. After this relationship was a guy named Initials. Now I thought with this relationship I had figured out what went wrong in the last ones, and tried to fix those issues before they could arise. I had laid down some boundaries and figured that was all I had to do. Now it turns out that what I witnessed in the relationship and what he witnessed in the relationship were two different things. Years later I found out that he was addicted to harder drugs and was using them at the time we were seeing each other. Perhaps this explains some of the behaviors, but it doesn’t excuse them. Somehow throughout this relationship, I ended up splitting open my head off of my nightstand, he destroyed my TV by punching it, I had a fractured rib, and a fractured foot. I can not recall the exact details of this relationship and how the events took place as it was really short lived. Eventually he took off and never responded to me again. I ended up going to court alone, because the landlord was trying to evict us. It was all so much for me to deal with… alone. Of course though, I didn’t want this to be the end, and when I did end up hearing from him by text, I said I could try and put our stuff in storage. Luckily for me, that idea didn’t go through, and I had to just give away the majority of our items. The following guy I ended up seeing, his name was Initials, for the life of me I cannot remember his last name, though this relationship was quite a memorable one, but for all the wrong reasons. Luckily for my son and I, we had not moved in with this ex by the time we separated. We were having plans on moving out of the city to move into an apartment with him, but for some reason it just didn’t work as planned. Aside from our usual arguments and deciding we were separating or staying together, we did have one large incident which ended everything as it were. We had been out of town for the weekend and were having a decent time, but something still seemed off. He wasn’t too open to explaining what was going on with him, and I really didn’t just want to leave it at that. It was our last day being out of town and we had gotten into a verbal argument, but instead of it just staying verbal, it turned into a life changing event. I ended up having the left side of my body slammed into a door numerous times. After the incident, he took off and decided to walk back to his town. As I was further from my city, I decided to leave right then as the pain was getting bad and I still had a while to travel. I remember stopping at a rest stop because I couldn’t keep driving and my knee was so bad. I got home and then met up with a friend to discuss what had happened. We thought that was about the extent of it and I would be better in no time. Except, that didn’t happen. I ended up going to a hospital to get them to check out my knee, they had said I had fluid in my knee, and would need a needle to drain the liquid if it didn’t get better. It was when I went to physio that I was told that the muscle was ripped off my knee cap, and that is why I couldn’t walk on that leg. I would say this was almost 10 years ago? Still to this day I can’t drive long distances without my knee swelling up, my knee is in pain during the winter and colder months, and overall bothers me a lot more often than I would like. I have done the CT scans, another one where I needed to take some kind of radiation drink, x-rays, ultrasounds, you name it, and there is nothing they can do to provide me any relief. I can exercise all I want and try to strengthen my knee, but my last physiotherapist said my knee cap is more like a train that fell off the tracks. I did end up reporting this to the RCMP, and well I have never heard back. The last time I heard, they were still trying to locate my ex as he might have fled the province. There was only a police report, no formal charges. Since it took so long, and an incident with my next partner took place around this time, I forgot to keep following up and they never let me know what happened. One would think I may have clued into what was going on and the pattern that I was in the middle of. But I wasn’t. There was one last lesson to learn before everything would change in my world. My last ex was Initials, and this is the one I mentioned in the beginning. It was this relationship that took everything away from me. I already mentioned about the arrest in 2015, but there was more to the relationship than just that. I remember one night when we were in our first place we had together, he tried to suffocate me while we were in bed. I ended up calling the police on this, and they talked to him, they talked to me, and nothing was ever done. We did end up getting kicked out of the condo because they didn’t like the fact that the cops were called to the building. I recall a time when we were driving, I believe we were coming back into town, and for some reason he got really angry and started hitting me and scratching me while I drove. I stopped the car immediately in a safe area and was wondering where the nearest RCMP station was, because I was not going to accept this behavior. We were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but I remember going to the nearest town gas station I could find and see if they knew where the nearest RCMP office was. I looked like a disaster, had been crying, in rough shape on my arms, and they never asked me if I was okay or needed anything. Which can be slightly strange as I was buying first aid items and asking for the nearest RCMP station. Anyways, I never ended up finding an RCMP station that day, I did however take photos. Photos that never meant anything to the police when they would later come back to my door. There was one last minor incident before my arrest, but it had to do with him. He seemed to be suicidal and claimed he took all these pills, so I was scared, called 911 to get the police and paramedics to come over, again nothing happend except them showing up and assessing the situation. It was on me to call back if the situation got worse. It was shortly after this when I was arrested. I lost everything, and that’s when I had no choice but to start over. I was angry and hated the fact I was wrongfully arrested and charged, I hated the fact I was now court mandated to take courses. I lost my son due to me being upset when family services came over to talk. I had what seemed to be the worst case worker there. She would tell me I was lying to her, and then find out I was right all along. I had numerous tasks I had to complete before I could stay with my son again. At this time I was homeless, living out of hotels, when the money ran out I could stay at my parents lake place, but had to leave and go to their home when my son and them wanted to go visit the lake. Eventually I had a basement suite that my parents rented for me, and finally ended up back with my parents and my son, with family services closing the file. But in the end, I really enjoyed the court mandated women's group, and I stayed an additional month. I learnt more about boundaries, gaslighting, and met with other women who had been in similar situations. For once, I didn’t feel alone, there were others out there, there were others like me. It took awhile, but I had realized that one of the biggest problems I had was I was moving in too soon with guys. The main cause of this at the time was I was trying to get out of my parents house because I did not like staying where one parent was always drinking. I have now decided that I would not move in with someone unless it was my own place, so I would not be stranded again with my son. It sounds like a good plan, right? But not when I was left with C-PTSD (Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), the trauma, being terrified of males, being terrified of cops, everything eventually crashed down on me. I had to go through a lot of therapy, and I mean years of therapy and trying to find the right person to work with. It was much harder since the last time I had worked was 2012, so it was a much longer process than if I was paying myself. After the therapy, counseling, ART (Accelerated Resolution Therapy) and learning about spirituality, I started to feel much better. I wasn’t confident yet to have a relationship with anyone, but I felt like myself again. For a long time I didn’t know who I was without being in a relationship. What did I enjoy doing? What did I want to do? Who was I? How old was I? Slowly I began to find things I enjoyed doing, and things were looking up for me. Another major player in this recovery of mine was joining a CoDA (Codependents Anonymous) group, this was because looking back, a lot of my behaviors in the past were codependent. My behaviors went from pleasing people, to being afraid to get people angry, to focusing more on others than what I enjoyed, not wanting to cause problems and more. I have been part of this group for almost two years, and I think if anything, this is what might save my life. I now have gone through a step study, admitted what I had done in my past, made amends where necessary and now feel confident in being able to be in a relationship without falling back into these old patterns. It was a friend of mine who said, "If you don’t love yourself, how could anyone else?” The statement was a shock, but only once I started healing this part of myself did I understand what she meant. People tend to treat you, how you treat yourself. Now people will know I don’t take any shit from anyone, I am not afraid to lose anyone who does not support my highest good, and I am blunt and mean what I say. Now I feel like I come from a place of authenticity. I will not lose everything for anyone ever again. Recently I was diagnosed with ADHD, and getting this diagnosis has been eye opening for me. I can see how things in my past may have been influenced by my disorder and me not knowing about it. As much as I wish I had been diagnosed sooner, I am grateful to know now. I can now work with my brain and not against it. For me, it’s been a relief knowing that some things I have struggled with all my life were not because I was lazy, but because I literally had an “illness” I didn’t know about. The more I learn about ADHD and the more I recognize those patterns in me, the stronger I become. I have taken back my power, I feel stronger than I ever have before. I am not dating right now, and that is because dating has changed dramatically since all this took place. I don’t even know where to turn these days. That can wait for now. I have taken courses, earned certificates, and I now am working as an independent contractor and now have a business of my own. It took a long time, but in the end it was worth it. I really hate it when people say, ‘things always happen for a reason’, perhaps they are right here. I went through that to find out how strong I am, and for me to now be able to support others in similar situations. I have recently become a Certified PAIL Coach, and want my main focus to be on supporting domestic violence survivors and those going through divorce. As an intuitive empath, this is the perfect place for me to be. As I stated in the beginning, I want my story to be one that inspires others. If I could do all this alone, anyone can. Never did I ever think I would get to where I am now. I share my story to show that there is ‘hope in hell’. It is hard to see when you are in the middle of a situation that is destroying you, but you can overcome it. You can become more than you thought you can when you put your mind to it and make that decision to change for the better. “Growth comes from chaos, not order.” When things remain the same, you get the same outcome. If there is one thing you get from my story, please know that you are not alone. Do not be afraid to reach out. There are people that want to help you, even if they don’t know you personally. I wish I knew all this when I went through my trauma… or let’s call it my journey. “No I won’t stay silent so you can stay comfortable.” Name

I was in second year of my undergrad and at that time I was partying and getting drunk almost every night. I recently came out to my friends as bisexual and was really shy and nervous about that whole thing. I wasn’t confident in my sexuality and they made jokes about what kind of girls I was into. I felt alone and uncomfortable with my self and who I was interested in. I went to a local bar one night and got so so drunk I managed to leave the bar and start walking home to my university house really late at night. My roommates weren’t with me and didn’t know where I went. To this day, 4 years later I cannot remember why or how I left. I have the start of my memories on my bedroom with some girl on top of me. I did not remember how we got there, I didn’t know who she was, I didn’t know what was happening. She was kissing me and touching me all over. I kept saying stop, what’s going on. She kept saying it’s okay, your so hot. But I was so drunk I could barley walk or speak. I managed to tell her to get off and leave. She did and as soon as she closed the door to my room I locked it. I was so scared, drunk and in shock of what just happened. My roommates came home while she was in my room and as soon as she left, they asked who that was. I didn’t know the answer. I said I legit don’t know and that was the end of it as everyone assumed I wanted this person there. I tried to tell one roommate the next day that I didn’t know the person and to let her know I needed help. She didn’t realize what I was saying to her. I walked around the next year and half at my university thinking I was going to see this girl. I thought I did one time and I started balling my eyes out and hid my face until they walked past. Years later I broke down and told my new boyfriend and months later, I told my friends from home. To this day the flashback of being in my room with stranger on top of me makes me want to throw up. I don’t know how to heal or how long it will take but all I know was that was not okay. I was not okay and I am safe now but wasn’t then. I was scared to speak but I need to. I did not want that, I was not conscious.

I was around 6 years old, I close my eyes and it's as if I were reliving the memory in my own flesh, I remember the noise of the television, the smell of the breakfast I was eating, I was only watching cartoons. He, a man around 50 years old, picked me up and placed me on his legs, and slid his hand under my panties, I WAS 6 YEARS OLD and that's where my story of sexual abuse began, a story that I wish I had not had to experience. I spoke up because my mom had always taught me that no one could touch my personal parts but at that time my mom didn't have the resources, we lived at a cousin's house (the daughter of my abuser) and no one believed me, they said it was my imagination. Other events happened committed by the same person, he took away my innocence and broke me into pieces... despite the fact that I spoke the first time, the other times I remained silent because no one believed me, no one protected me and no one listened to me more than my mother but at that time she was struggling with an alcoholism problem and the whole family turned their backs on us. After a while I stopped seeing my abuser but at 8 years old it happened to me again but this time because of my aunt's husband (my mother's sister) they have been married since my aunt was 16 until now. We went to visit my aunt's house, it was December so my mom went out with my aunt to buy things for Christmas, me, my brother and my cousin (my aunt's son) stayed in the care of my aunt's husband, he at that time was a police officer. I was playing with my cousin and my brother when he called me, he was sitting in the rocking chair watching the news when he sat me on his lap and I immediately froze since the last time someone sat me on their lap they groped me, this time was different, he only caressed my legs and I only felt something hard brush against my buttocks, I froze and didn't know what to do, until I found the strength and got off. I never spoke about my second abuser and I never have, I no longer live in Colombia but when I go I have to act as if nothing happened even though inside I feel so many things. For a long time I repressed everything that happened to me, I always said that it didn't affect me and now at 22 years old it is tormenting me. I'm engaged to the love of my life. I feel like it's been a gift that God and life gave me after so much torment, but there are times when we're going to be intimate and he touches me, I feel rage inside me, that kind of rage that makes you want to punch that person in the face, and I don't understand. Hasn't he done anything to me? He has only helped me and treated me with love and has shown me how much he respects me and loves me, I always wanted to avoid the subject and repress it, not talk about it and pretend like it didn't affect me but I've reached a point where I get fits of rage that I don't even recognize, where I end up hurting myself or taking that anger out on my fiancé, a few nights ago finally in the middle of a fit of rage where I ended up banging my head against the wall I just kept repeating "he won't leave me alone, he stalks me, get him out of my head" I was in a state of crisis and my fiancé could only hold me in his arms while he asked me who was stalking me and it was the first time I said his name out loud, "Name, the man who raped me and stole my innocence won't leave my head" I couldn't speak, the tears and screams of desperation were more than words, at that moment I realized that no matter how much I have grown, that 6 year old girl is still inside me, She is angry, sad, and broken. My partner is a lawyer, so he was the one who told me about the Me Too movement. He told me to get justice and report him, but if I didn't feel ready out of fear, I should explore the options that Me Too offers and that maybe I should start by telling my story. For a few days I would open the page and just feel paralyzed, but today I took the plunge. I no longer deserve to be a prisoner of pain that wasn't my fault, even though for a long time I've felt that it is. I feel lost and I don't want my past to define my present. Life is giving me beautiful opportunities, but my sexual abuse isn't letting me move forward. How do I get rid of this anger that I feel inside? Why did I become such a bitter and sour person? Why do I get angry about everything? Why can't I enjoy intimacy with my partner if he is delicate with me? It seems that the more delicate he is, the more anger I feel inside. I feel very alone and lost.