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

I was 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.

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

I grew up with an alcoholic, violent father and a mother who, to this day, can’t even remember most of the things he did. Eventually, my brother turned into an even worse version and was also abusive towards me, he even beat my ex boyfriend and was extremely jealous and overprotective of me when it came to guys who would try to approach me, I started feeling that having a boyfriend and falling in love was a “bad thing”. Eventually I started a relationship with a guy who lived in a different country, he seemed perfect but my mom was for some reason concerned. I ended up moving to his country and we got married, after we got married his behavior changed completely. I felt like I was basically living under his roof and like he was living like a single guy. He was doing drugs behind my back, he was cheating a verbally abusive. I would try to confront him about the things he was doing and he made me feel like I was the crazy person, he would also call my parents and sister to tell them I was very immature. He knew I would never tell them everything he was doing to me, and I felt like I didnt have anybody to talk to about what was really happening. One day he forced me on the floor, I can literally still fell the texture of the carpet against my chin. He would travel a lot, so one day I just packed my bags and left him. He eventually filed for divorce and I was served on valentine’s day at work in front of my team. It took me a week to read the papers, for some reason I just couldn’t. The papers stated I made him marry me because I wanted the residency and he was also trying to take my dog from me, my dog is my biggest support and he obviously knew that. It took years for the divorce to finalize. Everything started back in 2018, I still struggle. I haven’t been able to start a new relationship and I am sabotaging myself with everything, including my professional life and that was the one thing I was really great at. For the first time I realize that I need to find my support system, that there is hope. I don’t when I’m going to stop blaming myself and punishing myself for my decisions, but I am eager to do the work to get there. To start putting myself first. I have Justin Baldoni to thank for. Thank you for spreading awareness. Thank you for being brave enough to share your stories. We are all worthy of a healthy love.

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

I'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.

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.

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.

I was 9 the first time I was assaulted. 16 when I was raped. This is what I remember. I am now 54 and just starting to acknowledge my assaults. The first person that assaulted me was the son of my parent’s best friends. When my parents would go away on trips, I would stay with this family. I’m not sure how it started but I vividly remember two incidents. One in his parent’s bedroom. There must have been a party happening because their were a lot of coats on the bed. I remember him trying to convince me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with. I remember it being very confusing and I kept saying no. I’m not 100% sure what exactly happened but I know it was wrong. The second incident I recall with this individual was on his bed (I think). He was on top of me. I believe we both had our clothes on but he was on top of me, kissing me and trying to convince me to let him put his hands down my pants. I don’t remember the rest. I am certain this happened more than twice. Fast forward 4 or 5 years later. I was at this families camp. This individual’s sister was dressing me up, putting makeup on me, etc. It was supposed to be fun. When I was all “made up” they wanted to take pictures. The person who assaulted me was there and they wanted me to pose next to him….I started to cry. After some time, I disclosed what happened to my mother. It was swept under the rug and it was never really talked about again. Shortly after I disclosed, I was watching tv with my father (completely innocent, my father and I were and still are very close), my mother was out and came home. She had some trouble opening the door to get into our camp. She thought we locked the door. She accused me and my father of doing something nasty. This was devastating to me. Continue on a couple of years to when I was around 16. I started dating a man who was 33. I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago that when he had sex with me, it was rape because of my age. He took pictures of me in lingerie and naked. When I wanted to break up with him, he told me he would send the pictures to everyone I knew including my parents, teachers, church and where I worked. My parents found out. They gave me the choice to leave and be with him or stay at home and break up. I was happy to break up with this individual, but it blows my mind now that my parents gave me the option to go with him. Until just recently, I thought that since I don’t remember any penetration when I was 9 that I wasn’t actually assaulted. I thought it was normal even though I still feel sick thinking of the incidents. I never really talked or dealt with it openly. I became incredibly sexually driven. I define myself based on how sexually attractive I am which has made aging incredibly difficult for me. I drink too much and consume weed to fog my brain. I am now seeking help and it’s so difficult to face the memories. I keep thinking that these individuals got away with what they did to me and I feel shame that I didn’t do enough to help future victims of these individuals. My heart breaks for those who had to go through what I did because I wasn’t brave enough to push the issue and stop them. I think that out of all the things that were done to me, the worst is that these individuals likely went on to ruin the life of others. For that, I am so ashamed and sorry.

I was 21 on my university exchange me and my best friend were out one night and near the end of the night this guy pulled me to the side and we started making out. I was so drunk I’m sure I was falling over I told my friend I was going home with this guy. I had just had my heat broken by another guy I had met recently and was looking for any male validation I could get I guess. I was so drunk I don’t remember anything that happened after we left the bar I don’t remember getting into the Uber or his house. I told him at the bar that I didn’t want to have sex with him and he said it was fine we could do other things. I don’t remember getting into the bed or how it started all I remember is him putting himself inside me. I don’t remember saying yes or no and I don’t remember why I let him do that or if I even did. I remember it hurting and I remember wanting to stop but not knowing how. I remember letting him do me again in the morning I don’t know why maybe to make it feel like I wanted it. I was a virgin and would have never let him do that to me sober. Maybe it wasn’t rape but all I know is that it keeps me up at night.

It started with First Name. My first date, my first kiss, my first disapointment. As a shy teen i spent many hours on chat sites and messenger. First Name spent the night with me in my university dorm but thankfully we didnt get past some heavy petting and a kiss or 2. I think after thst he just wanted to get rid of me so the next day he added his friend, Name 2, into our messenger chat. Name 2 didn't hide the fact he was 42, he sent me a picture of himself and at first our chats were friendly and lighthearted. He showed interest in me which i wasnt used to but i enjoyed it, despite only being 17. He liked to dare me to walk to my dorm fridge in my underwear, go to the bar alone and order a drink, then it turned into him wanting to 'perform' on camera for people of his choosing. I did it a few times but knew it wasnt going to yeild the money inititally promised. Soon our chats got steamier and he started talking about visiting me from a few provinces over once i turned 18. He came on the greyhound and we escaped to a hotel room for the night. I was denied the sparkly first time every girl remembers.. i wish i could forget being punched in the stomach afterwards. it didnt take him long to convince me to lieto my parents and move from Location 1 to Location 2 to live with him in city. I arrived on the greyhound with my RESP money, enough to afford a room at a sleazy hotel where we spent the next few weeks having sex, smoking pot and walking around city. It wouldve been fun, had it not been so taboo; sometimes we felt like a real couple, going to the bar and feeding ducks at Location 3. He loved showing me around the city and parks and then trying to get me to pose for topless pictures when nobody was around. Name 2 would spend countless hours on the internet, looking for porn films that 'i might like' then made me watch them for hours before finally having sex and going to sleep. He would have mood swings where he would start yelling at me, he would throw whatever liquid was in his cup on me and say terribley lewd things about me, including threatening to send my parents the nude pictures of me he had taken. We bummed around the city for a while until our new landlord took a liking to us and Name 2 became the handy man for the apartment we found and i cleaned out apartments for extra cash after tenants left. I felt like i was always walking on eggshells, never knowing what might trigger Name 2 into a rage. I still consider myself lucky though. I weighed 100 lbs soaking wet and the fact i lived with this bi polar man weighing about 300 lbs and standing 6' 5 and made it out alive still amazes me. I recieved a bloody nose or 2 in that time but all things considered, he couldve done me worse. Though i did some things i am not proud of under his control i feel like he cared enough to respect my wishes. My parents found us. They hired a detective then showed up at our appartment. Me and Name 2 tried to show them a good time but afterwards Name 2 tried to make me think they didnt want me back. He told me my Dad had called me a dummy but i did not believe him. Despite trying to turn me against them, he didnt argue about me going home for christmas and i returned a few weeks later. It didnt last long after that though. A fight led to me calling my mom, crying at midnight and my dad was on the next flight to fetch me and my cat. Ill never know what his intentions with me were, did he someday intend to prostitute me out to his friends? Was he just taking advantage of the opportunity First Name had placed in his hands? Are there more girls out there with a similar story involving this man? I'll never know for sure but i can always consider this mistake to have a miraculous outcome as many others in my situation do not get to go home, they dont have their parents support, and they dont leave a relationship like that with only a sore nose and a wounded pride.

I am ready to share my story. I am 57, a mom, daughter, sister and friend. I am a survivor. It is 51 yrs ago that it happened to me and it is a memory that is as present and vivid in my mind today as it was that Saturday night. My grandma went to Bingo like she always did and I was at home with my grandpa. The hockey game was on because it was Hockey Night in Canada and every Saturday night that’s what everyone watched. Sitting beside him on the sofa, I was eating potato chips when he reached into the bag and pushed it down between my legs. He didn’t look at me when I looked at him and moved away. Instead he moved the bag and started fondling me. I was terrified, crying and saying no, no, no. He just kept on touching me and I didn’t like it, told him to stop and he kept watching the hockey game then asked me if I wanted to go and lay down with him in grandma’s bed. I said no and sat in the kitchen where I could see him, waiting for my grandma to come home. I always slept with her. I said nothing because I did not know what to say? I never went near him again. He was crippled, walked with crutches and never touched me again. I saw him try to touch and grab my cousin when she was dancing around the house in my grandma’s nightgown. She never said anything and laughed about it. I never understood but it made me feel afraid. I knew it was wrong. I hated him. When my younger sister was 9, he tried to touch her and she told our parents. All hell broke loose! My dad was so angry, asked me if he ever touched me and I confessed out of fear! My aunt and uncle stopped my dad from wanting to beat the living shit out of my grandpa because he was a “cripple”. They didn’t want any shame to come to the family, couldn’t send a cripple to jail and what about my grandma? As I heard all of this, I just cried and was ashamed, embarrassed that me and my sister were causing so much trouble. I was now 11 yrs old. Carried that secret with me for all those years and wanted to just die, disappear. You see, my aunt and my uncle, their families knew about my grandpa’s molesting behaviours because he molested their son and daughter before me and my sister. My dad supposedly didn’t know. Do I believe that? Honestly no, he and all of them knew what a pig their father was and did nothing to protect younger grandchildren that came along. My younger sister broke the silence, the cycle and nothing was done other than protect the grandparents and their families from any shame. It wasn’t until I became a parent at 38 that I was able to appreciate and experience true love as a mom, realizing my baby was my heart beating and living outside of my body. No one would ever hurt her as long as I live and breathe. I suddenly felt very different toward my father (deceased) and family. I questioned my step mom and aunt, asking them how could they choose to protect that person who was a repeat offender, a predator whom they called dad and never once did he or anyone in that family ever hold my hand and apologize to me for what happened? No one ever said anything to me, not a word nor an apology or how it impacted my life. I did tell them how I felt and my step mom was very compassionate, understanding and said she was very sorry she couldn’t do anything to help me. She was married to my dad who called the shots. My aunt? She had a lot to say and it wasn’t nice. Her thoughts were that I had parents who could’ve done something and it wasn’t up to her to do it. That’s where she is wrong and this is what I told her: I have a child and I have 2 nieces and a nephew. If anyone in my immediate or extended family ever did anyone of them harm in their actions, words, I would not hold back to protect them and make sure the perpetrator was called out, reported to authorities and held responsible for their action. I told my aunt she was the biggest hypocrite, coward, liar, worthless piece of shit on the face of this earth and that she was not worth the breath I breathe to waste another word. Being a mother, she should be ashamed of herself just as her mother and father, siblings should be. I said what I had to say and it was cathartic. My grandfather died in his sleep, he was found dead on the floor by my grandmother. My father, uncles and aunt saw that with my grandmother. I went to his funeral because I had to. My sister and I did not shed a tear. He deserved what he got and so did my father, aunt and uncles, grandmother. I have never gotten over this and still ask myself, why me? What goes through the head of a grandfather to look at his 6 yr old granddaughter and decide that he wants to touch her body sexually? Want to lay down with his 6 yr old granddaughter and do what? Who lets this behaviour just go unnoticed, when everyone knew about it because it happened to grandchildren before me? All of these people are deceased now, except my aunt who doesn’t speak to me at all after I confronted her about 15 yrs ago. My final words to her, she couldn’t handle and somehow still blamed everyone else and took zero responsibility because my grandfather molested 2 of 3 of her kids (older than me). I made her uncomfortable, I forced her to acknowledge that she was as guilty as her pedophile father because she knew and did absolutely nothing to stop it or make an effort to protect innocent kids in her family, like me. I hope she suffers til the day she dies with that guilt. Somehow I do t think she loses a wink of sleep. Perpetrators, wrong doers don’t. For me, I’m surviving every single day. I lead by example for my daughter, to keep her safe, understand and create clear boundaries with people whether it’s family, friends, co-workers, doesn’t matter who it is. If something is t right go with your gut and tell ME, tell someone you trust, love and never be silent. My voice my daughters voice is powerful. This has affected me my whole life. For that I will always hate my family.

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

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