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Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

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.

The dark parts don’t trigger me anymore. I know I’m safe now—in myself, my mind, body, soul, home, relationships, and life. It wasn’t always that way. I can talk about it if I choose to. Not everyone gets to hear my sacred story, and that’s how it should be. I’m no less worthy, and neither are you. Naturally, it took time to recover. The past could be unsettling during the healing process, often in unexpected ways. One day, I opened a social media account, and an acquaintance from my soccer community posted a team picture of his latest league victory. There, kneeling in the front row, was the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I once lived through. Seeing him smiling while standing dangerously close to others I knew was unnerving and reminded me how effortless it was for Hyde to convince people he was something he wasn’t. I left that relationship. More accurately, I secured my safety and Hyde’s departure, changed the locks, and blocked any way of contacting me. I thought I had to do it that way, on my own, but that wasn’t true. I painted the walls, but it would always be a trauma environment. Despite my efforts to see past the wreckage, open up, and have conversations, I often felt criticized and painfully alone. If you are unaware of the long list of reasons why it’s difficult for women to speak up, inform yourself. It wasn’t until much later that I experienced solidarity's power in such matters. We scrutinize and scowl at these stories from afar, my former self included, with an air of separateness and superiority until we experience them ourselves. For, of course, this could never be our story. But then it is, and now it is. Other women sharing their sacred stories were the most significant to me in the healing years - confidants who embraced me with the most profound empathy and stood and breathed in front of me with their scars that were once wounds. And my mentor of many years who held hope when I couldn’t and taught me how to give that to myself. Over the years, I have often asked myself if I would ever be free - truly free - from the psychological, emotional, physical, and spiritual damage that had occurred. Would my wounds heal? Would I always have some adaptation in my body from holding my emotions in a protective posture? Or could I get it out and be released? Would my stress response and anxiety always be easily heightened? Would my PTSD symptoms ever go away? Would I ever trust myself again? Trust another again? Would I always be startled by loud noises and glass shattering? Would “normal” ever be normal again after being exposed to such severe abnormalities? Would I ever forgive myself for how small I became during that time? Would the anger, confusion, disorientation, sadness, and grief abate? Would the dark nights ever end? Would I ever be held again, be myself again, or was I changed forever? The thing about liberation is that it can seek justice that doesn’t arrive. I was in a relationship with Dr. Jekyll, who hid the evil Edward Hyde, his intimidation tactics, wildly premeditated orchestration of lies, manipulation, and gaslighting. A part of me wanted clarity until the truth was true, and my mind could unfuck the mindfuck and rest again. Don’t wait for clarity that is never coming. Some of us must live big lessons to break patterns and cycles of this magnitude, even to believe again that it’s possible. But let me be clear—no woman, no person, wants to live these types of lessons. If you understand nothing else from this essay, understand that. If you are one of the lucky, privileged ones to sit on your throne of judgment when hearing these stories, you don’t understand. You don’t understand that what you’re misunderstanding is not the woman or victim in the story, but it is yourself. That’s the harshest, blindest truth. Another truth about this all-too-common story is that the parts of the victim stuck in that situation do not belong to the public to dissect. That’s her burden to bear. And it will be. In actuality, each individual walking through abuse is trying to stand up and say, “This happened. It is real. I am alive. Please breathe with me. Please stand there near enough so I can see what it looks like to stand in a reality I am rebuilding, in a self I am reconstructing, in a world I am reimagining. Because if I hear you breathing, I might breathe too. And if I see you standing, I might pull myself up, too. And, eventually, I’ll be in my body again—I’ll be able to feel again. Not surviving, but piercing through my life again.” For the victims, I’m going to be honest with you: the meandering process of recovery is ultimately up to you. It’s your responsibility. Therapists, books, podcasts, and support groups can help but can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself. You have to accept the victim's role to let it go. You have to feel—to struggle through the feelings. It’s daunting and scary. You’ll want to give up. If you have people in your life who are stuck in their shallowness while you’re trying to go to your depths, let them go and let them be. Pivot and seek the sources and people to show you how to stand and breathe. You have to start thinking for yourself now, caring for yourself now, and loving yourself now. But trust me, you’ll need people, and you’ll need to find them. You don’t have to be strong; you can be gentle with yourself. Often, the intelligent, empathetic, and enlightened part of a person gives Henry Jekyll a second chance to work on himself and make things right. I must acknowledge a narrow and perilous line between the resolvable, troubled soul and the soul that spills over into malice, rigidity, maladaptiveness, and steadfast personality. Most people never encounter evil and retain their naivety, while victims lose this innocent vantage point of the world. It’s not the victim’s job to rehabilitate or reintegrate anyone but herself. Our stories are pervasive, and we come from all walks of life. On March 9th, 2021, The World Health Organization published data collected from 158 countries reporting almost one in three women globally have suffered intimate partner violence or sexual violence. That’s nearly 736 million women around the world. We need more voices of survivors—more voices of the human conditions we let hide in the shadows for fear of discovering it in ourselves. I lost parts of myself during that time with Hyde. The destructive consequences of this style of person are astounding, and the impact on my connection to myself and others was among the most challenging aspects to overcome. The rage that boiled in Hyde resulted in outrageous displays of public humiliation, screaming, and, on one drunken occasion, physical violence. If Hyde had called me a stupid bitch before grabbing my neck, throwing my head against a stone wall, and my body across a room to smash into a bedpost and break my ribs while we were in the United States, I would have been able to call the authorities. And I would have. But because we were in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country, vindication occurred through the fog of shocking circumstances I didn’t deserve. After years, Hyde popped up in a picture on social media. He plays soccer on the same fields I used to play on with joy in the absence of hypervigilance. It’s that disparity in fairness that can grip us in bewilderment. I’m on another path now—one where my trust and love are respected. I remain open and available for peaceful, constructive ways of being, relating, participating, and having a voice. I hope you’ll embrace my sacred story with sensitivity and compassion as I offer it to those in need so we may come together and let her stand up and live.

i was 6 years old when my bsf held me down in the bathroom at school and 3 people raped me and it kept happening till i was 10 yet it was still happening by one of girls till i was 13. i’ve never spoken up about it before but it happened everywhere i went they would find me and rape me i see them every once and a while in my neighbourhood but they haven’t raped me since then and i am now 18

I’m 56 years old and have spent most of my life trying to understand what happened to me growing up — not just what was done, but what was allowed. My mother didn’t hit me. Her weapons were colder: control, shame, silent punishments, and subtle emotional games that left no visible marks. She taught me love was conditional. If I pleased her, I got slivers of approval. If I spoke out, I was punished or exiled. Even joy was rationed — too much of it and she’d find a way to ruin it. Her moods ruled the house. Everyone learned to tiptoe. She told others she was doing her best. She played the victim so well — struggling mom, too burdened to care. But at home, it was all about control. She’d withhold affection, twist your words, cry on command, and convince you that you were the problem. I internalized all of it. I grew up believing I was unworthy, difficult, broken. Worse, she brought a man into our lives who raped me. I now know she saw things. I remember moments — things she would have had to notice, hear, sense. But she chose silence. Whether out of denial or protection for herself, she turned away. That betrayal has been harder to heal than the abuse itself. Because the person who was supposed to protect me not only failed to — she facilitated the harm. When I became a mother myself, I tried to do better — to break the cycle — but the damage was already seeded. It affected how I parented, how I loved, how I trusted. It fractured parts of me that I’m still putting back together. Even now, my mother continues to manipulate and control. She paints herself as a caretaker, but she makes dangerous decisions. She isolates her dying partner from his loved ones and undermines his medical needs. She is still trying to rewrite the story. Still trying to erase mine. But I won’t let her. I’m writing this because I need it spoken somewhere outside of me. I need to reclaim the truth: I was there. I didn’t imagine it. And it wasn’t my fault. To anyone reading who is still doubting their memory or blaming themselves — I see you. You’re not crazy. You’re not alone. And what happened to you mattered. I survived her. I am still here. And I am no longer silent.

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.

HOW I STARTED MY HEALING JOURNEY by Name My healing journey began after I spent five years in a narcissistically abusive relationship. It was a constant cycle of hot and cold, back and forth, until I finally got sick of the bullshit and chose to walk away for good. In the beginning, I simply sat with my feelings. I reflected on everything I’d endured and allowed my emotions to flow naturally. It’s easily one of the hardest parts of the process, but you have to let those feelings out for the healing to begin. I then moved on to one of the scariest tasks: breaking down my past. When we look at our trauma as one giant mountain, it just feels like a jumbled mess of chaos. By identifying each experience as its own separate event, it becomes much easier to process. To get these thoughts out of my head, I put them on paper. If you’re starting this journey, get a notebook and write down everything as it comes up. Use it as your primary tool. I began with my most recent experience of narcissistic abuse. I dove into podcasts and articles, desperate to understand what had happened to me and how it was affecting my mental health. Once I understood the 'what,' I started researching the 'how'—as in, how do I heal from this? That’s when I discovered the connection to childhood trauma. It’s a major key to the puzzle because we carry those early experiences into our adult lives. There is so much information available; you just have to find the pieces that fit your life. Healing is deeply individual, and you get to choose the path that works best for you."

I wrote this letter to my uncle who has always played the victim. Dear Uncle X, It has been 28 years of this haunting everyone involved and after all this time I have never spoken up directly about this because I did not want to stir the pot, but now I feel it must be said because I cannot have this haunting my family anymore and you keeping attacking us. Up until the first incident you were my favourite uncle, the one I would gravitate to, I bet you never knew that. Yet you were also my first sexual encounter, the first time I ever felt an erection, the first person I was terrified of. I remember walking up the stairs slowly trying to get to the bathroom and you would call me into your bedroom and pull me under the covers, I remember feeling your erection against my backside, while you patted me, this happened on many occasions. I remember sleeping on the couch and feeling your breath on my face as you stuck your tongue in my ear, I remember the shock and fear of this. I remember the feel of your hands on my buttocks and my breasts, I remember you putting my own small hands in your lap. I remember hiding in the bathroom with the chain lock in place and you pushing yourself against the other side of the door asking what I was doing in there, while I watched your eyes try to see past the lock. I remember pushing the dresser against the door in the front bedroom and hoping you didn’t come in, hiding with my cousins and little sister. I also remember how it felt to be told by my own grandmother not to say anything if I wanted our family to stay together. I remember the call my parents got in the middle of the night and being told over the phone that this was happening to us, months after telling our grandmother, aunt and uncle about the incidences. I remember hearing my mom scream and my dad yell, I remember my brothers’ eyes as he stood at the bottom of the stairs wanting to leave to find you, but stopping because my dad, your older brother was crying at the top of the stairs. I remember the fear, excitement and relief that they finally knew, but I also remember listening to my own mother crying and trying to hid it from us, while she blamed herself for not protecting us from you. I remember that many who new choose to blame us for your actions. I remember sitting in front of a stranger in a closed room while I told them what you did to us. I remember hugging my little sister, who tried to stay strong and protect me while I felt guilty that I could not protect her. Does this sound like a girl who seduced their uncle (as grandma would say), who had the devil in their eye? who is being vindictive and ruining your life? You were supposed to protect us yet you didn’t and worse yet you blamed us for it. You played the victim, you played the one who is hurt by all this and claims it had destroyed your life. You who got married and had kids and owns a house, you who has gotten to have most of your siblings stand by your side back then. You have managed to convince your wife that we seduced you. I was the oldest and only 12, a very young naive 12-year-old, my sister was the youngest at 10, four children, four people who got their lives forever altered because of your sexual urges. Imagine for a moment that this was your child or your step children who were being molested and people who new blamed them for it, saying they seduced a full-grown man, then try to imagine that person coming back over and over again saying that your child is lying, that it is their fault and that they ruined that grown man’s life, that is what it has been like for us over and over again. Your actions have taken its toll on us. Do you have any idea what it’s like to hear your own grandmother say you had the devil in you? Do you know what’s it’s like to have letters written saying they believed we acted inappropriate and that we won’t be coming around their husbands because we would seduce them? We were just children. One week after my own wedding my mother had to kick my grandmother off the front lawn while she screamed at my parents that “if we had of been raised right this would have never happened” in front of our neighbours. My own honeymoon was darkened because you both thought we should help relieve your lives. Everything in my life changed in an instant, it changed the first time you choose to act out your sexual urges on children. I cannot speak on the other victims behaves, but I will say this, look at the other victims, look at their current lives and where they have ended up and know that their lives could have been different if you had of keep it your pants. Each one of us has been fighting their own demons over this part of our lives, you let others attack us verbally because you were a coward and choose to let children take the blame for your urges, you let the family be destroyed because you would not do the right thing. I spent many hours trying to come to terms with it all and the damage it caused me. I struggled with it every day, it is not just the inappropriate touching but the way it was handled. It’s the way you and grandma and the ones who knew made me feel about myself. Not once have you stood up and said you did wrong, you choose to blame children instead of admitting it was you. I am 40 years old now, I have two wonderful children and I have a great career as a Registered Nurse in an acute care setting. I managed to get my degree in Bachelor of Science in Nursing, a diploma in Pre-Health Science as well as a diploma in Medical Office Administration, all with honours, and I did all of this as a divorced, single, full-time mom. I have had many ups and downs but I am strong, I am a fighter, I am smart, compassionate, and most of all one heck of a mother to my children. Your actions will no longer have weight on my life, it will no longer define me, it will no longer be something I survived, I choose to triumph and rise above it, I choose to forgive my extended family for their parts because I choose to love me. It is funny though, the one line that sticks out throughout the entire CAS file, which is 32 pages in length is the you stated, “I’m touching you because I need a girlfriend,” this one reason is why our lives were forever changed. signing me.

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.

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'm hesitant to call it what it was because I'm not ready to admit that someone who I love and trust so much did that to me. I don't know why I didn't stop him. I never said yes to my best friend touching me while we were sharing a bed, but I never said no either. If someone else told me my story, I'd tell them it's not their fault and that they're so strong. Yet, I just feel weak and I've lost trust in myself more than anything.

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 was 14, this was 6 years ago, and it completely altered my life route, who i am, and where i’m going. i was dating a guy. within the first month he had assaulted me several times, hit me, etc. he used to tell me we fought because that’s what people do when they love each other. he used to come up behind me and grab me sexually without me knowing he was there. this all happened at school, it was incredibly dehumanizing and embarrassing. it got even worse from there. i tried to leave him, he would then send me videos of him burning himself, messaging me going into detail how he would kill someone and get away with it, sending me pictures of dead wild bunnies (my favourite animal that he killed), then he raped me. i ended up pregnant at 14 and was finally ready to officially leave. this baby was going to be my way out even if i didn’t keep it. he didn’t like that. next thing i know is he tries to kill me so violently that i had a miscarriage soon after. i couldn’t leave, i couldn’t live in that relationship. at one point months after he tried to kill me i told him he’s abusive. that’s when he left me. not sure how that made sense, especially that he cried over me saying that. but if it worked it works. i tried everything, he said if i started smoking he’d leave me, he just burned me with a lighter instead, he said if i cheated hed leave me, i just got beat, i tried to leave him and he tried to kill me, but me saying he’s abusive was too far i guess. i survived for a year. there are so many times i wonder if i made it all up, that’s what he said i did at least. sometimes i don’t believe i’m a victim. i have been diagnosed with CPTSD and have struggled with my self image, addiction, and relationships sense. i quit smoking this year, i’m very proud of myself. i graduated, have a good job, i’m in university and am so far away from him now. i’m happier. i’m in a happy relationship with a man who would never hurt, threaten, or even yell at me. i no longer receive anonymous death threats. i find myself very paranoid a lot, like someone’s watching me or going to hurt me, sometimes i have to remind myself it’s just him forcing his way into my head again. it still hurts, i lost a big part of my innocence during such a crucial time for my development. i was isolated, he had control over my social medias and even my phone, he cut off my friends and almost my family. but, i’m not her anymore. and i never will be again. i pity 14 year old me. i’ve always looked at her with such hatred and shame. but she was in pain. she was scared. i was scared. every day of my life, for a year and then up until the harassment stopped, which was another while after. but i lived, not only did i live but i thrived and came out on top. i hope this helps any other victims of extreme abuse. once you find a way out it’s so much better, even if you question yourself, want to go back, think you deserve it, etc. the way out will save your life. it’s so hard, and the work to even get better after can be even harder. but it’s worth it. i’m still fighting CPTSD, i will for the rest of my life, but it got better.

I met my abuser Month, Year at a indinginous pipe ceremony. The community met often. I would speak to him and his wife on occasion. I realized later that he was there to recruit people for his medicine retreats, his tantra events and he would search out his victims. What a better place where there are impressionable people wanting to heal, looking for something to help. He would tell me I needed to try mushrooms, to help with my depression and anxiety. I did stop taking my antidepressants on Date cause another person of “good standing” in our community was offering iboga and also was promising that would help me. I never did an iboga ceremony with that group but in Month, Year, I could not go to a retreat that my abuser and his wife were offering. the retreat was out in City, State and they thought they would include me by offering me my own private journey. my abuser offered to come to my house and he would hold a mushroom ceremony for me.. 4 people including my abuser showed up at my house one Friday night. I remember I was so excited cause these people who seemed so knowledgeable and respected were singling me out and I felt special. Except when they showed up it felt weird. I took a small amount of chocolate and a couple of hours in I still did not feel much. He offered me more. The night was uncomfortable but I kept thinking, these people know what they are doing, they have my best interest in their hearts. I’m not sure they really did. They left me around midnight that night. The medicine hit me just as they were all leaving. I was completely alone, tripping out. It was a long night. The next day, no one texted or phoned to check in with me. I just went through the next few days feeling pretty lost. My abuser, his wife and I continued to do indigenous ceremonies together, Hapey, pipe ceremonies, sweat lodges. By 2018, we had been hanging out socially a lot. My abuser started to offer psychedelic meetups at his house. I could not go to the first few because of work but my work schedule changed in the spring. I could go to the meet ups. I started to learn about the psychedelic movement and all these medicines had to offer. Name of Organization was steamed into one of our meetings, he had this vision and I wanted to be part of it. I found out my abuser was teaching Tantra. What’s that? I was curious. Another way for me to explore who I was. I started to go to his tantra events. It was fun, I was hanging out with the abuser and his wife and they knew how to have fun. It became my life. My abuser started coming out to my town. Asked if I wanted to meet for beers. He was paying lots of attention to me. I heard about the struggles he was going through with his marriage and how psychedelics and the lifestyle, being polyamourus was helping my abuser and his wife. I’m not sure where the offer came from but My abuser was telling me how he help break me open sexually and we could do private sessions. The first meeting, We met for super and a beer. He came to my house. We undressed and I sat, facing him. We hugged and did circular breathing exercise together to calm down. We talked about our desires, boundaries and fears. I remember him telling me he didnt want to get an erection because in the teaching he should not have one but he did already. I laid down and he did a youni massage on me. All the attention on me. I could not believe someone wanted to give me all this attention. I must be pretty special. We had been meeting every other week for a few months for sessions. He came for a session one night. He asked me if I wanted to be involved in his business of selling microdose online. Hell yes I did. Out of the all the people in the community, he picked me to help him. I felt special. That night when we did our session it was different. Up till that time he only massaged me, no penis vagina contact. That night I felt him insert himself. We did not discuss this. I froze for a bit but I continued to let him do what he wanted. If I said no I lost what he was offering. I remember thinking I’m selling my soul to the devil! I remember feeling confused. I was excited cause I was going to be part of something big but I felt violated. We continued our sessions but they just turned into sex. He wanted to have a relationship with me but not be a couple. I was so entwined in his life. I did everything with my abuser and his wife. Month, Year, My abuser and his wife were going on vacation and they needed me to do the mailing and keep the microdose business going, he was letting me into his very secret life. I killed that job will they were gone. I showed my abuser that I could handle his business. That was his baby and he was proud of it. It was one of the 3 most successful microdose businesses online at that time in Country. Abuser Name, my abuser was one of the companies selling the stamets stack that Abuser Name would eventually send a legal letter to to stop selling the stamets stack And you continued to support him through speaking at his conferences and I see you are coming to his conference in may in City along with Name. The site was Website. It’s been taken down in the last year. We continued to hangout, sell drugs together. I realized that I was helping to support him and his wife’s life. She was a tantric(sex worker) And between her And I, I'm sure we paid the bills. I helped over years with the psychedelics meetups, retreats, helped start and run his conference and did lots of work to make that happen, did medicine with him in group settings and in private and helped start his business plus many other things. I helped at the community events that he created. He was from a very religious background and had since left the church and claimed he needed community. He started these communities to find his victims. He picks people who are vulnerable and uses their skills or their connections. He then drops them especially if they do not agree with him. Over the years he would sometimes treat me very special as long as I conformed to his rules, he needed me. He would one minute be very attentive to me and then next he would punish me for talking to someone about us or speaking out of line. He would take away sex, medicine, eventually he took the microdose business. He was starting to gain moumentum in the legal psychedelic world. He started a businesss in Year that trains therapist to hold psychedelic space here in City . Then he stared to get exemptions from the Country government to give people psilocybin for their end of life distress. Now he is being given clinical trails to give front line care givers medicine. His dream was coming true. He wants to run retreat Centers. He found an investor to buy a resort in Country. That was short lived as business went bankrupt and he had a incident down there with a shibo hitting on clients. During the time of his start up he started to really distance himself from me. He only contacted me when he needed help and tried to keep me just involved enough. I ran Facebook pages for him and still had the microdose business. In Year, he asked me to take a bigger part in the microdose business because he had to distance himself from the ilagel business. That changed. He came out to my place one day and said he sold it and I was done. I called bullshit. That was his pride and joy. He sold it to his son. I was a threat. He still talked to me and we met for beers once in awhile. I was even invited to some social events at his house. Date Year, I went to a party at his house. It was a bit of a weird feeling going on. He dropped his wife while dancing. She hit her head pretty hard. An hour later I was looking for him as it was almost midnight. I walked in on him and his newest victim finishing having sex. He ran out the room. I looked at her and told her she should run from him. He’s dangerous. She is part of the community he started. She has money, is indigenous and has connections in that community, he needs her to get with the indigenous community. Midnight hit that night, he was still friendly, even tried to kiss me. We were suppose to go out in the new year. One day he sent a message that he could not meet and blocked me on all social media. He never did give me an answer why. Probably cause I found out about him and the other women. This is when the universe started to show me who I was involved in. Actually the universe was talking to me all along but I was not listening. I would have mushroom journeys facilitated bu my abuser and his wife. In those journeys, I would get messages from the medicine. The medicine was yelling at me to get away from him. I even I had a journey where I had snake coming out of me and then later actually seeing him as a rapist. That journey I sat up on my mat and he was sitting in front of me and I was freaking out but could confide in no one. No one was safe. I started to open my eyes after that. What has unfolded over the last 11 months. I was going to integrations circles with a lady. She would travel with me. We talked. I found out one day, she wanted to end her life because of a relationship she had with My abuser in the summer of Year. She had heard stories of a lady who caused him lots of stress.She did not know it was me until I shared my story one night with her. That was the first lightbulb moment. I heard another story about more emotional abuse from another lady, who pointed out he’s a predator. He likes to find women in vulnerable positions in communities he develops and then he takes them sexually and mentally. vStories kept showing up to me. I wasn’t looking for the stories. He contacted me in Month to have a mediation meeting. The mediator was a lady who is a therapist and knew both of us. I did not feel comfortable so I asked my support person to come. I’m glad I did as I will tell you some info about the therapist in a minute. We had the meeting. I did well speaking for myself. He eventually admitted the meeting was not to apologize but make sure that I stay silent. Nothing was solved. I find out he recorded the meeting. Next came a letter of cease and disest. It was a threat. He had his conference coming up in City, Province, and he was going to the government to talk about clinical trials. he did not want me speaking, cause I know to much. That proved to me my story is worth sharing. I have recently found out that the therapist that mediated the talk we had in Month has had sexual relations with him in the same way as me, through tantra sessions.. I used her as a therapist 2 years ago. I could not go deep enough with her for some reason, I did not understand at the time. She also writes for his therapist training program. That one hurt deep. Over the years of being involved with my abuser. I have suffered. I lost about 70lbs in a short time, my anxiety was so high as I never knew from one minute to the next if he was going be hot or cold to me. I did not know who to trust as people in the community would go back and tell him what I said. He always seemed to know what I was doing, what I was saying. He would talk to me and then ignore me for periods of time. This is a common thing with the other women I have talked to. They felt like he was following them, watching them. He always knew what we were doing I was vulnerable with trauma. He made promises to heal. He used that promise as a position of power and exploited it to get me into a sexual relationship. He broke me down and got into my psyche, he used substances to heal me to break me open and worm inside every aspect of me: body, mind, heart, soul, even financial survival. He is sneaky and manipulative and good at it. Name's desire to develop acronym stems from personal experiences with psychedelics that “brought him to his knees” and forced him to face his ego. He aligns himself with people such as Name,who wrote some material for his company. microdose, and a few others. I never understood why he picked me. Maybe cause I was well liked and respected in the community. I showed up. I lost my self. Hard to trust anyone when everyone’s connected in the community. 10 minutes is not long enough to share this story but it is a start. It took a lot to get here. I’m grateful that I found somewhere to share my story and I feel like I’m just beginning to share. I struggle with relationships. As soon as one little red flag comes up, I sabotage, it’s hard. Update. I told my story publicly, Month, Year at the Conference Name conference. Since then I recorded a podcast, took part in a documentary, to be released next year, and had two articles written about my abuser and his company. My story got some attention and in Month, Year he was arrested for sexual assault. The trial will be in Month, Year. He stepped down from his company as CEO and Company Name does not exist anymore.

raped and sexually exploited in a cult, by a bishop. After 10 years, while he had also occasionally sexually agressed other women, the organization received an official complaint by the daughter of a high ranking member, (so she was believed and acknolwdged - not like others before her) and the organization held a meeting to talk about it for 1 hour, many women came forth. and at the end of the meeting we were told not to talk about it to anyone, to protect the cult's public image! 8 years went on and I had no symptoms, although I was on anti-depressants. Then I began a romantic relationship and gradually went of the medication. I then also lost my mother to cancer. I started to have anxiety reactions and insomnia but my partner didnt see a need to talk about it. I was not sure what I was experiencing, and it made no sense that it was related to the previous long term abuse. My partner knew I had endured a lot but didnt want details - repeating that it was in the past. I pushed through, didint want to be handicapped by my past, didnt want to be damaged or limited. But after 5 years, my partner started another relationship with someone in another country, without fully disclosing their relationship. The culmination of his behaviour, my gut feeling that something was off, the fact that I wasnt sleeeping well for years, the increasing sexual intensity and high chemistry with my partner, and the fact that He also abused me (tying me up ordering me to silence, and sodomising me, and other abusing acts the last 19 months of our relationship) ... I lost my mind! I concluded I was deserving of abuse, that I was an horrible person, etc. Since then, 8 years have passed. I denounced the bishop rapist 5 years ago, nambe witnesses and 20 other victims and a trial is coming up where I will have to testify. Terrified. Alone, no family or friends. I have contacted over 100 therapists to seek support. 60% do not reply, those who do are often not qualified in trauma, or do not offer services covered by the indemnisation for victims. And the rest have waiting lists that I never get any news from. I have contacted all the women centres for victims of sexual assault in my city, without success. I have read, watched, healed best I could by myself. Rebuild from shame and the conclusion that I was deserving of abuse since my chosen romantic partner abused me while knowing I had been abused and not abusing his new partner. I am surviving, still chest pain, still isolated and only going to grocery stores. not confortable with cashier. I dream visualise, hope, write, that I will experience a healthy, supportive relationship before I die (I am 53) but time is passing by without much improvement. Alone. Watched documentaries like NXIUM, Playboy secrets, Scientology, etc and so much similitudes.

Thank you for allowing me to have a platform to share my story. It’s not an easy task, I have rewritten this story over and over multiple times. Please note names and locations have been removed and replaced to protect the privacy of all involved. When I was 21, I was sexually assaulted by a man more than twice my age. At the time, my boyfriend of 5 years and I were headed across country. I was both in love and happy. July 3rd 2007, was a beautiful day weather wise which was good because we had planned a three hour drive that day to a small town on the west coast. As we had been travelling for a while, and I had spent a lot of time sitting and sleeping in the car I started having pain in my neck. My boyfriend and I decided to stop somewhere so I could get a massage. We came across a massage clinic and I got out and went into the building to check for availability. The man that was working there said 5 pm was available so I booked the appointment and left. My boyfriend dropped me back off at the clinic at 5 PM as scheduled. He did not come in with me as we decided he would come back and pick me up when I was done. It was a small building, there was a waiting area and only two other rooms; one was an office and the other was the massage room. The man, who I assumed owned the establishment, came out of the massage room. He told me he was just finishing up with a client and asked for me to fill out a form about my health history. I wrote about the neck pain I was experiencing and listed the medication I was prescribed. I included that when I was 12, I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. As I was finishing up the form the client before me had come out into the waiting area. Having been pleased with the treatment they were thanking the massage therapist. It was now my turn for a massage. A half an hour was all I had booked. When I got into the room, I noticed a drape was being used as the door. The man told me to undress and lie face down on the table. As he had instructed me to do I was laying on my stomach, that’s when he started between my legs and proceeded towards my private area. At first, it felt like his hands had slipped, that he simply forgot the anatomy of the figure. Then, when he inserted his finger inside my body, I felt my muscles tense and holding my breath I told myself not to make a sound. This became the beginning of my assault which lasted an hour and a half in total. I still struggle to write or share about this experience. 16 years later it’s still difficult for me to share where he touched, or how it felt. He told me I was damaged and that he was healing me. He touched me consistently, throughout the hour and a half, and as he touched me he told me that I had years of damage in my body because of the antidepressants I had been prescribed. He said he was healing me naturally; he told me he was removing the toxins out of my body but he was really sexually assaulting and emotionally abusing me. I was frozen and I could not speak. No words would come but I also thought in that moment that staying silent; it was the safest thing I could do. I had no one with me. My boyfriend was skateboarding at the local park, he was nowhere in sight. Laying on my stomach, I stared through the head hole at the ground, trying to keep mind on anything but this moment. After awhile he told me to flip over on my back and continued his assault. He massaged my breasts and despite my refusal he continued telling me how damaged I was. When he held my left hand in his own hand, that was when I began to cry. I couldn’t hold in the tears any more. When he held my hand with his and laced our fingers together, he took away that innocent act of love; I was never going to be okay again. I had only booked the massage for 30 minutes, so as time passed my boyfriend began wondering where I was and entered the building. The man was startled when he heard my boyfriend enter the building, he asked if I was expecting anyone but I still had no voice. The man left the room and I took the opportunity to get up off the table and get dressed. I heard the bell go off in the lobby as my boyfriend exited the building. The man came back into the massage room and saw that I was up and dressing myself. He left the drape open and watched me finish putting my clothes on, and then walked with me to the front desk for payment. I am no longer hiding that I am crying. Using my credit card, I pay for my assault, hoping that by paying by credit card I can trace this payment back to this horrible place. Once outside, knowing I was finally free and it was over, I ran to my boyfriend for safety. I told him to get into the vehicle and to drive away as fast as he could. I didn’t want the man to see our license plate and to know where we were from. I had provided an old address on the health form. My boyfriend began questioning me on why I was upset as we drove away. Out of frustration, confusion and anger an altercation soon developed as I frantically explained what happened in that room. Let me explain, the only thing that I learned, and really understand about all of this is there is no handbook to follow when you are sexually assaulted. At 21, my boyfriend and I, had no idea what to do. We were scared and upset. I really do understand that now. My boyfriend wanted to go to the police and he wanted to go back to yell at the man. He then looked at me and in that moment I saw his face begin to change. Once the loving look I received from my Highschool sweetheart was now replaced with something I still struggle to put into words. He no longer looked at me the same way he had since we were 16. He asked a simple question: why had I just laid there? The way he looked at me made me feel as if he was accusing me of letting it happen. I thought to myself: if my boyfriend someone I loved more than anyone was questioning me on why I lay there then would anyone else believe me? It was my word against this man’s. We drove away and as that small town was left behind us I said to myself: I will never tell anyone what happened because no one will ever believe me. In that moment I believed that if the person I loved could question me and not understand then no one would. My boyfriend and I never spoke of the assault again. The months and years that followed were by far the hardest times of my life. My boyfriend and I ended our relationship almost immediately. I couldn’t be touched without crying, the thought of the man’s hands had left an imprint on me. Just like the man had said, my boyfriend looked at me differently and it wasn’t his fault. It felt like I was hearing the man’s words still in my head that I was damaged and my boyfriend had now believed him. My boyfriend was the only person who knew about the assault and now was gone. I felt so very alone and was in a new city starting college. For the first five years I didn’t tell anyone. I used alcohol and substances to forget and numb the pain. I blocked the man out of my mind for as long as I could. The nightmares and flashbacks became a recurring reality and by the time I had reached 26 years I was very sick. I found myself in the hospital weighing only 84 pounds and needing help. It was at this time I decided to contact the police. I told myself that I would be ok with whatever the outcome was. Even if no one believed me I had done everything I could to try and forget. In order to strengthen my case I needed to contact my old boyfriend and ask him for help. Without hesitation he provided his statement to the police. To me, he apologized for what had happened years ago. Although thankful for his words I was still very upset. I was holding onto a lot of resentment towards him. At the police station I was sworn in and provided a video statement of my assault. Describing and explaining the assault on video was difficult. I had thought I could make it through without crying, but I didn’t, I broke down. The officer asked, what my boyfriend at the time thought about this and why had we never told the police? I found myself afraid thinking once again no one would believe me. I learned through law enforcement that there were 2 other females sexually assaulted by this man. Both provided statements five years prior. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough evidence until I came forward. The small tourist town in which this assault took place was aware of the rumours surrounding this man and what he had been doing. Now the police had similar fact evidence and that was enough for an arrest and a warrant was issued. Months after my first contact with the police, the man who had assaulted me was arrested and plead guilty to the charges. Victims service told me that the judge put on my case was hard on my attacker. His conditions were 6 months in jail, 3 years probation and the man has to register as a sex offender for 20 years. DNA would also be provided and he was no longer allowed to practice massage therapy. It’s been almost 16 years since the attack my life has completely changed from that day. I have had time to heal. I learned that with sexual assault the victim doesn’t always fight back. According to the Police officer most victims freeze because they are scared and don’t fight back because that’s the safest thing to do at the time. It’s not just fight or flight, there’s another option. I have also learned to understand that my boyfriends reaction was him trying to make sense of the moment. That despite saying the wrong thing he meant well and didn’t intentionally say it to hurt me. I know how much I was loved and I also know he believed me. I still can’t seem to forget the look on his face. His thoughts and the way he looked at me still run through my head 15 years later, no matter how much therapy one attends. This journey has definitely impacted my life in many different ways. I lost my best friend the person I cared for most in the world. I couldn’t attend school, I dropped my classes. I lost weight instantly and became sick. Childbirth as a survivor of sexual assault is devastating and makes you feel like your reliving the attack. But I’ve survived and will continue to survive. I have prevented others from being assaulted but doing this and that means so much to me. I also am thankful that my attacker went to prison. Even though I know this is a lifelong process to continue to move forward and to heal; I am stronger than ever. I don’t refer to myself as a victim but a survivor. The flashbacks are not as often and my last nightmare was over 5 years ago but the thought of the man touching me is still fresh in my mind. I’m still healing. Thank you for reading my story <3

A few nights ago I went out clubbing with friends. I got way drunker than I had expected to, and when we arrived at the club I ran to the dancefloor while my friends finished checking their coats. A man started to try to dance with me and grab me, and before I had time to realize what was happening, I was being kissed. I was able to push him away and go find my friends but didn’t really process what had happened. The morning after, I felt really uneasy and unsettled by this experience. I don’t know if I would call it assault, but I think I still feel really violated that it happened. I was clearly way too drunk to have consented to the encounter and I’m upset that I now have this on my mind. I feel like I was taken advantage of by a stranger because I was too drunk to say no or resist. I just want to get over it and stop thinking about the experience but I feel like I’m burdened by the fact that this happened now.