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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.

My mom was Lily Bloom and I’m her Emerson but sadly it did not end there . I wish I could have not fallen for the charm or been blinded by the red flags but like my mom nobody saw the signs . My mom wasn’t able to leave and she wasn’t able to tell her story. But after sharing with her the trauma I endured from these past two insanely manipulating, toxic , abusive relationships . She was finally able to tell me I wasn’t alone , and my father was her Ryle , and like all Ryles they say they can change . But they won’t . Thankfully my mom and I both left our Ryles and found comfort in being each others safe place .

Tears fall from my face when I have flashbacks. The amount of times I’ve ran to the washroom and cried remembering those nights. Frozen in fear, unable to move. Feeling his hands on my skin. And hearing his voice as he tries to make sure I’m not awake. The excuses I’ve heard and the disbelief I’ve been through, that I still go through. Most dont believe my story, they believe his because “how could he do that?” They act like he never added the second part of his side; he admitted to touching me without consent. People don’t realize that I check that the doors are locked before I go to bed. They dont realize that I always have an eye on him making sure he’s not about to pull another stunt. The excuses they use. They believe his excuses and act like nothing happened. Sexual assault has been normalized but they forgot about me who’s still drowning in grief. The little girl inside of me was forced to grow up that night. That part of me that I will never get back. The fear that I will never lose. And the memories that can’t be erased. Most blame it on the clothes I was wearing. Those nights I was wearing pajamas. Shorts and a tank top. Considering it was 40° outside I believe I had the right to be wearing those clothes. When I think about that night my heart gets heavy. It’s like my heart gets bigger and it’s pushing against my chest. Every time I have a flashback I relive the experience. I feel his hands on me and remember the pain I felt. Most survivors say that they were almost broken, but I dont think I qualify for almost broken. I am broken. And I surprise myself everyday that I don’t cry in front of him. People think I need words of encouragement but in reality I need a hug. That's all I want, a hug from the right person. A hug.

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

I was 12. He was 31. He was my step father. I was supposed to be his daughter. I've known him since I was born. He became a father figure for me when my real father wasn't present. I started calling him "dad" at age 8. In all ways except biological he was my father. Even though he beat me and then bullied me into staying quiet. I never ever thought he'd be capable of this. It happened 2 weeks before I turned 13. On the morning of my younger siblings 4th birthday. We had decided to watch a movie downstairs in my room because it was so early, no one else was awake. At first it was fine. Then after a bit, he started getting a little touchy. Always wanting to hold and cuddle me. I found it weird, but didn't want to say anything for fear of him getting mad and hurting me. So I allowed it to continue even after I was uncomfortable. I kept trying to move and get away but I couldn't. He just kept telling me "that this was my special spot". Eventually he allowed me to move away a bit and lay on my back, as long as I was still close to him. A few minutes later he put his hand on my stomach.. and started working his way down to the waist of my sweatpants. Then eventually he trailed down further and stuck his fingers inside of me. It wasn't for very long, I'm assuming because he didn't want to get caught because of the other people in the room (children). I don't know much about what happened after that, I just remember being scared and hurt. I didn't know what to do or if it had even happened at all. It was so quick that I almost assumed I imagined it. Which is why it made it so easy for me to be manipulated into saying nothing happened. That night I went to a trusted friends house and told her that earlier that day I had been molested by my step father. She and her parents were horrified at what I had just said, they called the police and they were there in minutes. I stayed inside of the house, I didn't want to see them arrest him. I couldn't stand to look at him. Eventually the police officers brought me into the car to take my statement. I told them everything that had happened. After sometime I started thinking about what had happened and still after days, weeks I just couldn't wrap my head around it. Then one night my mother comes into my room and tells me that I have to recant my statement because he's in a lot of trouble and she was scared that he'd be killed when they found out what he had done. I was being pressured by everyone to recant. His family were saying and calling me horrible things. I was 12-13 years old and I was getting blamed and called a "slut", "whore" and my favourite that I had "seduced him, and that it was my fault". Everyday I had people who I thought had loved and would protect me, telling me how awful I was and "how dare I do that and ruin an innocent man's life". It was one of the most horrific things i've ever experienced. I thought that being taken advantage of was the worst, but that didn't even scratch the surface compared to having "my family" either not believe me or tell me that its my fault. It was like I was being assaulted all over again.

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 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

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.

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.

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.

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.

I hate the word "victim"; "I was a victim of sexual abuse." I always found it hard to put myself in such a category. I felt like if I were to say, "I'm a victim", people would pity me; I pitted myself. The sexual abuse started when I was 7-years-old and stopped when I was 13-years-old. It took place in two homes where I thought it was safe, and it was done by two people who were supposed to love and protect me but instead caused me pain. Those two people whose only job was to love and protect me were my grandfather and my dad, and those two homes that were supposed to keep me safe were my home and a home I visited every weekend. My parents were separated, and I went to see my dad on certain days of the week, and most weekends, I went to stay with my grandparents; and that's when the abuse occurred. Still to this day, I clearly remember the abuse as if it happened yesterday... "Count to one hundred, 1... 2... 3... 4...", "and again...", "you will get through this," "he's almost done" those were the phrases I repeated in my head while I was getting abused. Sometimes I closed my eyes super tight and hoped that when I opened them, I would be back at home with my mom and my loving stepfather, but it wasn't the case; when I opened them, he was there, on top of me. The sound of his breathing that left me permanently haunted, the left side of the bed that still to this day will refuse to sleep on, and his voice, his words "shhh... you don't want to wake up anybody," and "you can't tell anybody about this, because if you do, there will be consequences." And when the following day came, he would act clueless as if he didn't put his hands down my pants and told me to shut up because you knew you shouldn't be doing that to me. But the thing is, at the age of 7, you believe that the people who are supposed to love you would do nothing to hurt you; at least that's what I thought; thus, I assumed the abuse was "normal," so I smiled and said, "good morning dad." That's what the abuse with my dad was like, but as for my grandfather, it was completely different. It wasn't during the night when everyone was sleeping; it was daylight when my grandmother was just in the other room. I would be on the couch with him, and he would start to massage my feet and progressively go higher and higher up while my grandmother was in the kitchen. I would often go to my grandparents almost every weekend, and so when it came to the court processing, I was accused of "wanting it." Yes, because a 7 to 13-year-old would want to get touched by her grandfather, but never thought that I don't know, maybe I wanted to see my grandmother, someone I could call my mom, someone who was like a second mom to me. The abuse got worst over the years, so bad that I would always ask my cousin to stay over with me because I thought that maybe he wouldn't touch me if she were there. But I was wrong because he still managed. He knew how close I was with my grandmother, and he used that to his advantage. Every time, he would say, "if you ever tell anyone about this, I will make sure that you will never see grandma ever again," so seven-year-old me, who was scared and confused, kept her mouth shut. To this day, his voice and words are imprinted in my brain, and the nasty comments that will forever scar me "oh, someone needs to start shaving down there" and "you like that uh?" I think it was when I was 10-years-old when I started thinking that it wasn't normal for my dad and grandfather o to touch me. When I was in elementary school, my friends would talk about how much they love their dads and the fun things they did with their grandparents, like colouring, playing board games, etc.; I was kinda there and thought to myself, "so you don't get your private parts touched by your dad or grandfather?" Because for me, yes, I played board games with my grandfather, scrabble to be precisely the instead of funny words or words that would make sense to me, he would put down "sex," "porn," and "sexy." What made the abuse with my grandfather different from my dad's abuse was that I had such an amazing relationship with my dad. He would train with me before my soccer games; he never missed a game; hockey was our sport we liked watching together; on Fridays were game night, and when he worked in the shed, he would show me what tool does what, and let me help him organize his tools. But when it came to bedtime and when he had downed a few beers, that relationship had suddenly disappeared. When I was around 12, I stopped seeing my dad and grandpa. I was 13 when my mom took me out of school in the middle of the day and brought me home. The car ride was silent, and she wasn't telling me what was going on. When we got home, she asks "did your dad touch you sexually?" I stared at her, and for a second, I thought, "maybe I can finally tell her what happened," but instead, "no, why" came out my mouth. And that was it; no questions were asked. *A couple of weeks later* I'm pulled from school once again by my mom and was brought home. Now I remember this day like it happened yesterday. I was sitting on my bedroom floor, and my mom was sitting on my bed with the door closed. She looked at me for a couple of seconds before saying anything. And then proceeded to ask, "tell me the truth, did your dad do anything to you?" Instant tears streamed down my face, and not a single word came out of my mouth. My mom looked at me, confused and worried, and that's when I said, "and grandpa." After those two words, she left my room and told my stepdad. The next thing I know, I'm standing in a police station. It was like everything happened so fast I didn't have time to process it. Many police interviews were taken and, by the end of each interview, my dad and grandfather were arrested. It's the next day when I found out my dad had also been abusing my step-sister. She told her mom about the abuse, and that's why my mom asked if my dad did anything to me. I was 14-years-old when I was standing in a courtroom. It was the day of my dad's trial. He had told the cops that he didn't do anything, so I had to go through a trial. Being 14 and questioned by a grown adult defending my dad was one of the worst things I had gone through. He was trying to make me look like I was lying, as if my dad had never touched me and that I made the whole story up. It was hard to sit across from my dad, trying not to look at him, wondering if he hates me. Once the "trial part" was done, it was time for my dad's sentencing for the abuse he did to my sister and me. He was found guilty for the abuse done to my sister but not guilty due to a lack of evidence for the abuse done to me, and he was sentenced to 12 months in prison. And that was it; it was over. My dad walked out, and that's the last time I ever saw him. I was still 14 when I was standing in the courtroom for the second time. It was the day that I had to read my impact statement to the court and my grandfather's sentencing. I saw my grandpa, who was with my grandma... I was so happy to see her; I felt like if she were here supporting me, I would be ok. But she walked past me as if I wasn't there. In the courtroom, I sat on the right side with the detective on my case. And on the left side sat my grandfather. Behind me in the audience booth were my family, who was there to support me. But I didn't see my grandma; she was sitting behind my grandpa, with the family who believed he was innocent even when he plead guilty. I read my witness impact statement, and he was sentenced to 12 months in prison. After the court session, he walked out as nothing holding hands with my grandma. Not once did spoke to me; she didn't even look at me once. That's what caused me the most pain through this whole experience. My emotions were everywhere, nothing but sadness. Now, I'm 20-years-old and writing my story. Both of my abusers are out of prison, living their own life. They never contacted me, nor did my grandma; I still her. Over the years, I learned to live with what happened to me. From the day it was over to when I was 18, my story was kept in a box. I was to not speak of it; it was pushed aside. My mom and stepdad were supportive, and I saw a therapist, but the minute I would bring up the past, my mom would shut me down. That's when the guilt settled in. I felt ashamed of what happened and guilty for talking about it. Then I started college. I told myself that I wasn't going to keep my story in a box any longer. No one should control what I decide to do with what happened to me, whether it's to tell people or not. That's when I became open with my past. I've told my story to friends, my boyfriend, even some of my college professors. I don't and will never again hide my story. It happened, I dealt with it, now I'm moving past it. It will never define me, but it sure made me into the person I am today. If I never got abused, I wouldn't be the person I am today, and I sure wouldn't be in the field of study that I am today. I learned to accept that I was a victim of sexual abuse. In my heart, I learnt to forgive my dad and my grandfather. I still miss my dad; the relationship we had because, despite the abuse, he was a good dad to me. I was a victim of sexual abuse, but now I am a survivor and forever will be one. When I tell my story to people, I don't refer to myself as a victim but rather as a survivor because I survived what happened to me. Through the abuse, the court processing, the mental illnesses I developed shortly after, and accepting what happened to me, I can call myself a survivor. I decided not to refer to my past as something nasty and horrible but instead as something that helped me see the world differently. To everyone who read this and who experienced something similar, you are a survivor and never ever let what happened to you get the best of you.

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.

It was 2017, I was in an unhealthy relationship with someone who located insecurities and used them to wear down the people around him, including myself. I had urged him to go to a party in city 1 when he was there for business, he went begrudgingly but ended up meeting a celebrity 10 years his junior, who was the exact same specific ethnicity as me, the same body type, the same hair and eye colour just richer, younger and famous. Naturally he cheated on me then left me to go and be with her in city 1. I still can't stand watching her show, even though they've separated now. My life then became a domino effects of all things that lead you to the bottom of the barrel. I lost my apartment and was sleeping on friends couches including my ex's house with his housemates who I believed were my friends also, I lost one of my jobs, I was constantly looking for rentals but the housing crisis made it impossible. Then I was unexpectedly nominated for a prestigious award in my field and work I had done was being screened in another country and I was asked to attend the event. Things looked like they were looking up and both events were a wonderful time but when I got back, I was still homeless for another 10 days before I could move into the room my friends had that would become available at the end of the month. Enter - an odd man 15yrs older than myself, whom I met in a social setting before my ex left me, knew about my break up from his friends and reached out to me through social media and when we chatted he learned I was staying on couches and offered me his apartment while he was away in city 2 for two weeks. I took the opportunity to finally shower without taking a whole suitcase into a bathroom and having four walls to myself. He gave me the key then departed. It was bliss. Until he claimed he was lonely on his trip, messaged me several times each hour around the clock (including through out the night as he rarely slept) and would get upset with me if I ended answer. I felt strange, like I owed him that attention because he was doing me a huge favour and was helping me through a terrible emotional time where I was also deep in an eating disorder that left me very physically weak. I cried every day for months and was deeply depressed. He began calling and face-timing with me while he was away and could be very sweet or very cold which scared me a great deal because he's a scary looking, very tall and unpredictable individual. He seemed like he cared and I ignored the hackles that went up my back when I got the sense I was in danger. He then suddenly arrived home early without warning and I still had a week until I could move into my own place. He told me I could stay and he wouldn't get in my way etc. I said I'd make him meals to thank him for letting me stay. What followed still confuses me to this day, even with years of working with my therapist to face the trauma inflicted by his hand. The things I know for sure. - He had sex with me and I did not give consent. - When I did eventually give consent, it was out of fear for my life when he had shown physical aggression and intimidation. - He isolated me from every single one of my friends and family by subtly suggestions flaws in their character that "proved" they did not have my best interests at heart. - He drugged drinks that he would make me, I'm still unsure with what type of drug but whatever it was made me very easy going and agreeable as well as want to dance. - He eventually began to try to control what I wore, ate and when I slept. - He would love bomb me then berate me to both extremes. - He would flex his control over me in front his friends. - He made me undress until I was naked in front of his friends. - When I left the apartment he would call and demand to know where I was and who I was with as well as when I would be returning. - He yelled at me, shoved me against a wall to threaten me and verbally abuse me and slammed several doors in my face. - He eventually retrieved his apartment key from me so that he had both and my coming and going was dependent on him allowing me to leave or not. - He waited for me to fall asleep and then he would come into the bedroom to have sex with me while I was "asleep" where I would go to somewhere else inside my mind and wait for it to be over. I then discovered through a friend that there were more women he had done similar things to and abused and our official reports are being compiled. I am still very scared of him, running into him at an event or on the street and I still feel such rage that it shocks me and worries me that such rage could be present inside me. My therapist was incredible and I have learned much from that year of hell. I have moved past shame, guilt and embarrassment and I have a loving, compassionate partner now and I couldn't be happier. I saw Evan Rachel Wood's documentary and everything she had been through with her abuser and with both her stories of the detailed abuse as well as the level of public/celebrity attention on her while she endured the years of it, I so painfully related to both aspects and my silence, like hers, came from fear of what that man could do to my career, my reputation and the power he had in the professional/social circle we both are a part of. I am stronger now. I know who I am. And I know I will name him.

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

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'm 20 years old and i'm expecting my first child. I wrote a story here a year ago maybe more.. it was about the time my stepfather molested me at just 12 years old. That was unfortunately not the first time where a man made me feel unsafe. When I was 8, me and my family were staying with a friend and her husband. He was an angry drunk most of the time who liked to hit her when he thought we weren't looking. One night he came into my room and crawled into bed with me and for a while he just held me, I thought I must have been having a bad dream, but after a bit his hands started moving and I just pretended to be asleep when he moved to lie on top of me. I don't remember much except for the pain, weird burning sensation and the sounds he made during and after it was done; I think he knew I was awake the whole time because afterwards he whispered to "sleep tight dear". I felt disgusting and gross and so confused, I just laid there shaking not sure what to do; I guess I must have passed out because I woke up and there was a lot of blood and I didn't know what to do. I tried asking him in the morning and he said that if I ever told anyone he would kick my pregnant mother and my siblings out and we would all be homeless. I felt so ashamed and I tried telling his wife/my godmother but she didn't want to hear it.

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