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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’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.

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 have recently decided to write a book on surviving abuse I spent four years in a various sexual physical and mental abusive relationship i've already wrote in that memoir on my experience itself and I'm willing to let anyone read it I would like to write a book that should help everybody I would be putting in my own experience and would appreciate if there's anybody here that would like to help me share their experience with me to add to my book to reach those people that don't understand what they're going through yet I promise your name will never be used Just your experience