Community

Sort by

  • Curated

  • Newest

Format

  • Narrative

  • Artwork

I was...

The person who harmed me was a...

I identify as...

My sexual orientation is...

I identify as...

I was...

When this occurred I also experienced...

Welcome to Our Wave.

This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

What feels like the right place to start today?

We believe in you. You are strong.

Story
From a survivor
🇨🇱

part of my story

I don't know in which moment started. It was my father. I was a child. I was the favorite one between all of our brother and sisters. It was always subtle. The contact when I lay down on his bed, the slaps on the butt, or the comments that "you are so pretty that if I were your age and you weren't my daughter I would be with you.", added to the touch when I climbed onto his legs. It took me many years to understand that this, added to the fact that he did not see me as a normal father sees a daughter, hurt me tremendously. I felt like a trophy, like an extension of his body. I discovered that all this was abuse more than a year and a half ago. When I realized it in therapy I cried a lot. I felt very guilty about what happened, and even to this day I question whether I am not inventing everything, since everything is plausible and existed in reality, I just didn't want to see it as abuse. My older brother also abused my sisters and me, however, I have never been able to tell my family about my father. Seeing the pain they have felt with the news about my brother (relieved by one of my sisters), I see that it would only generate inconvenience and pain in my family. And being pragmatic, I couldn't achieve anything by revealing the news to my family other than complications. I know that if my sisters knew, they would want to talk to my father, and my father knowing would be able to stop paying my and my younger sister's alimony. And considering we're in college, it's something I can't afford. But I'm not going to lie, I feel disgusted every time I talk to him, I wish i would never have to talk to him.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    A cold winter night

    It was a cold snowy winter night just before the COVID shutdown spread across the country. I was attending the second-year graduate school class reception with a group of friends from the second-year graduate class. My "date" as my invitation to attend that class's event was really someone everyone knew was in a committed long-distance relationship and just using the extra ticket as a fun excuse to invite me as friend. It was a fun time to explore a historic mansion while having food and wine. An hour later, as it was about to conclude, one of the second-year's partners turns to me and tells me she would really like to meet me at a bar, and a group of people from that class are planning to go there. I turn to my "date" and we both agree to go. We drove to the vintage bar, one I never had been to before. I walk in through the snow and ice in my black high heels in a cocktail dress covered by my winter jacket, trying my best not to trip. A cocktail and a few conversations among classmates of my "date" later, I find myself in the corner chatting with the person who invited me to the bar from the reception. Something seemed off from the start of the conversation -- and it only got worse. The 30-something-appearing cis woman was a faculty member, yet seemed to serial date younger, new students at the same professional school -- a fact a classmate mentioned in passing with an eye-roll earlier. The one-to-one conversation with me appeared to go in circles, with her repeating the same stories over and over again without realizing that she was doing so. Awkward conversation, but it would just be a temporarily annoyance, my thought was. Yet it took an even more bizarre turn. She kept getting closer to closer to me as she was talking. At one point, she touched my shoulder, ostensibly to make a comment about how she liked my dress. She was mentioning her professional expertise and connections in the field I was, and still am, most interested in entering. She then started asking me awkward questions about how I was visibly trans, and then mentioned as a complete non-sequitur how she was the dominant "masculine" partner in her relationship. And then, to my horror, I noticed her abruptly lifting the bottom of my dress up and reaching underneath my dress to attempt to grope either my inner thigh...or worse. This wasn't just a slight motion; her hand was fully underneath my dress and moving fast upwards, from what I could clearly see from the brief glimpse I took. I immediately stepped backwards with a wide-eyed look on my face, in total disbelief of what just happened...and what did not happen that was mere seconds away from fully happening. She turned away in a hurry and walked back to her partner at the bar -- who was oblivious to what just happened -- grabbed him by the arm, and made an excuse to request to leave. This was not the first time I had experience attempted or completed sexual assault. Just like when I experienced rape the year of my college graduation, during a different cold winter night years earlier, I remember feeling puzzled, confused, and very much *not* wanting to put a label on what just happened to me. The events of each night leading up to the sexual assault always seem so random and not predictable as they are happening, but in retrospect, it is so easy to attempt to scrutinize every detail as a possible warning sign of what was to come. Yet I do not even want to think about the likely reality that the attempted sexual assault I experienced that night seemed to happen due to being visibly trans. When people think of post-traumatic stress disorder from an evolutionary perspective, it is typically thought of as an adaptive way to avoid situations of future danger. But when you're scared of social events and comments about personal identity, just think of how unpredictable the healing journey is.

  • Report

  • “I have learned to abound in the joy of the small things...and God, the kindness of people. Strangers, teachers, friends. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, but there is good in the world, and this gives me hope too.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    #1857

    #1857
  • Report

  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    I know not feeling believed can be rough. Sometimes I don’t even believe myself but I’ll believe you because I know that if I had just one person who believed me, that would make me feel seen and would help me heal.

    Dear reader, this message contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    Why am I the one left with the fallout?

    We started seeing each other and things didn’t feel bad at first. We spent time together regularly, and I developed feelings quickly. Over time, things began to change in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Moments that once felt normal started to turn sour. “What else are you into?” he asked while we were having sex. “I don’t know. What about you?” I replied. “Slapping.” I was taken aback, but since I had feelings for him I wanted to impress him. Big mistake. “You want to slap me?” I asked hesitantly. “Kinda.” “Okay. We can try it.” So he slapped me across the face. It stung but I didn’t show it. “You like that?” he grinned. “Yeah.” I didn’t but I was too caught up in my feelings to say that. “You can slap me too if you want.” I never consented to slapping again; he never asked. Some time after, I refused to give him a kiss so he grabbed my hair and pulled me towards him. I pulled away and he slapped me. I kissed him so he wouldn’t do it again. Similarly, another time he was asking for a kiss when I was on top of him. I laughed and pulled away. “Please.” He begged. “Nuh uh.” I giggled. He looked at my necklace and grabbed it, ripping it from around my throat. We stared at each other for seconds before I laughed so I wouldn’t cry. He offered to buy me a new one but I said I’d fix it at home. I learned later that it was too damaged to be fixed. Another day we were curled up in front of the TV when I blurted out: “What’s your weirdest kink?” He thought for a moment before answering. “Blood,” he said. “Huh. Want to add more?” I asked, indicating the scars of self-harm on my arm. He chuckled. “Don’t have a sharp enough knife, I’m afraid. But when I get one, would you like to add some to me?” “Only if you want me to.” A moment of silence broken only by the TV. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “How about you?” “Huh?” “What’s your weirdest kink?” “Similar to yours; I like knives.” Again, I was trying to impress him. “I have a knife.” “I know. Want to give it a try?” “Do you want to?” “Sure.” He got up, retrieved his pocketknife and returned to the bed. We made out, got undressed and soon enough, he slipped inside me and brought the blade to my throat. He had his eyes closed and was focused on our lips and he accidentally poked the side of my neck. I didn’t mention it until the next time we hung out. The next time, he begged to cut off my underwear. I said okay, as long as he didn’t bring the knife near my throat again. He started hacking away and once there was a giant hole, he gave up and pulled them off before positioning himself between my legs and thrusting. He brought the knife to my throat. Thinking he had misheard me, I asked him to put it down. Through kisses, he asked why and I explained that he had poked my neck last time and I wasn’t interested in that happening again. He promised it wouldn’t and we kept going. I think I asked him to put it down again after that. Perhaps not, I really don’t remember. He asked if I wanted to top and I said sure so we switched positions and when I was settled, he handed me the knife. As I went to put it down beside us, he took my hand and assisted me in holding it against his throat. I don’t understand why he didn’t respect my initial no, I figured it was because of that old saying that everyone thinks at one point or another. ‘Boys will be boys’. Now I know that it’s boundary violations and coercive behaviour. When I asked him to stop, he should’ve stopped. Instead, he put me in an impossible situation where I had a knife at my throat and a man on top of me who refused to remove it. At that moment, I froze. I went to his house again after that and his hand tried to go up my shirt but I stopped him. I said, “No sex; just kisses.” “Just kisses?” He asked. I nod. “Okay.” He said. We kiss every few minutes while taking breaks to watch TV. His hand kept running up and down my hip and thigh. I took his hand and placed it on my thigh, telling him to ‘stay’. We kept kissing and his hand slowly trailed along my thigh and down to my butt, squeezing and stroking gently. I moved it back to my thigh and told him to leave it there. He tried to put his leg between my thighs like he’d do when we were naked before sex and doing a bit of foreplay. “Move your leg.” “Sorry.” He grumbled. His hand kept moving so I rolled over and put his hand on his thigh. “Stop touching me.” My turn to grumble. He asked, “Why?” “Because you’re making me horny.” “Good; be horny with me.” He said as he started kissing my neck and pressed his erection against my butt. “Not today. Don’t feel like it.” I moved my legs up and wiggled forward so my butt and his erection were inches apart. He stretched and moved his thighs so they were pressed against the back of my thighs and his erection was back against my butt. I rolled back around to face him and we kissed again. “Please, I need you.” He begged against my lips. I’m sure his boner wasn’t comfortable. So, I gave in. “I need you too, pretty.” “Can we fuck?” He asked. “Okay.” His hand went under my shirt and bra and he pulled both up. I removed them for him and he removed his own before settling back down with his thigh between mine. “Grind for me.” He commanded. “But I want you to fuck me.” “I will. Grind first.” I tried to protest but he started kissing and sucking on my nipples and instead, I moaned. He started grinding so I did as instructed and grinded against his thigh as we made out. As I got closer to orgasming, I said, “Please stop.” He paused and asked, “Why, baby?” “‘cause I’m gonna cum.” He continued to grind even though I had stopped. “Good girl,” he moaned. “Cum for me.” “But I’m wearing pants—“ “Shhh, that’s okay.” He took hold of my hips and guided me along his thigh, causing me to orgasm. My face was hot with embarrassment and I hid in his neck. When he stopped, he asked, “Did you cum?” “Mhm.” I nod against his neck. “Good girl.” No break, no warning; his hand wormed its way into my pants and underwear and he began to finger me. This is another example of how he refused to respect my boundaries and coerced me, wearing me down until I said yes. He would play games when we were done, logging onto Discord to voice chat with his friends. When he was in the middle of a game, I overheard him say, “how to give a bitch Stockholm Syndrome”. Again, I brushed it off as him being edgy. I realise now how disturbing his mindset had to be to say something like that. I told him I don’t beg for anyone. The next minute, we were undressed and he was rubbing himself against me, instructing me to beg or he wouldn’t put it in. I tried to resist, but he pinned my hands until I gave in. He would say, “you’re such a desperate slut.” Once he even told me that he was researching psychological warfare, and when I asked what that was, he said, “manipulation tactics.” Which truly highlights his mindset. I thought I might be pregnant and I sent him a text about it, expecting comfort and emotional maturity. What I was met with was a photo of a gun and cleaning supplies. Before I went to university, I joked about him getting together with an old lady to keep him company since our town is basically a retirement village. He said nah, he’s going to scout the high school for a 17 year old. With all the bad times stacked together like this, it’s easy to see the toxicity. However, it wasn’t all just bad times. He drip-fed me affection to keep me hooked on him, so that every time I tried to leave, he knew I’d come back hoping for the good version of him. We were watching a show when a scene depicting criminals getting shot at when I had a thought of what if one day it’s late at night and I’m at home with our future kids and he’s out somewhere and something bad happens to him but I can’t help him? A tear fell down my cheek and landed on his bare chest. I froze. I knew he felt it but I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He gently kissed the top of my head, changed the channel to ‘Cold Ones’—a YouTube channel we always laughed at while we watched. We were at his house in his new room and he kept trying to engage in intercourse with me. I told him no, that I just wanted to cuddle and watch TV. He got grumpy at that and told me “if you’re not going to have sex with me, you can leave.” I got up, started grabbing my stuff and he asked where I was going. I said I was leaving and all he said was okay. That response was so dry that I decided to stay. I climbed back onto the bed and he kept asking, “can I touch you?” I kept repeating, “it’s probably dry.” Without warning, he shoved his hand down my pants and started rubbing me, moaning about how wet I was. We started having sex because he wanted to and I didn’t want to get kicked out. His bed was too squeaky so we moved to the floor. I asked him to pass me a pillow and he dropped it on my face. Then he came over, stood above me and started waving his dick around over my face and squatting lower. I asked him what he was doing multiple times and he was just grinning without responding. Finally, I crawled out from under him and asked if he was about to take a shit on me. He replied that he was just going to get me to suck him off. I didn’t agree to any of that. Again, it wasn’t all bad. We were eating Domino’s BBQ chicken in bed when a drop of sauce fell onto my breast and he pointed it out. “Lick it up.” I grinned. “Ew, that’s gross.” He grimaced. “You weren’t complaining ten minutes ago.” He nodded. “True.” He licked it off. Some time later, he made a joke about getting me BBQ sauce for my birthday. Another time I was tickling his feet and he grabbed me and put me in a headlock with his legs and tried to fart on my face. This happened more than once. Christmas came rolling around and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Excited, I told him to surprise me and I went shopping for him, buying a bunch of items I thought he’d like including a music note necklace, a dragon-skin bauble, dice, fidget toys, incense and an incense stand. Of course, his favourite expensive chocolates too. When I gave him his presents, he had nothing for me. I saw a cat statue on his desk and he said it was for his ex-girlfriend. He never got me anything. He finally left me after I tried to commit suicide, told him I went to the hospital when really I was scared and hid in my room. I told him I lied and he freaked out, sending me a message that said, “my point is whilst you were idealising your own death I was stressed like a mf and everytime you declined my help it didn't make me feel really all that good, then you lied to me about getting help you made me feel like shit.” I wouldn’t stop messaging him, trying to get him back and understand why he treated me the way he did. He got an AVO and is actively using it against me.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇨🇦

    Everything

  • Report

  • We all have the ability to be allies and support the survivors in our lives.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇨🇦

    Assault

    Date Dear Inner Self, I could see a dim lamp in the distance, I wanted to get closer so I floated closer and closer. The freezing air cutting into my cheeks this time, my ears screamed in pain. I needed to be there but the pain became too much, I had to stop and retreat a little, floating back away from the dim light in the distance that I so badly wanted, no needed. But i just couldn’t handle getting to close this time. This time everything felt different. Since Name was gone, the pain felt more intense, I can’t block anything out anymore. But I knew I needed to see what this light was so I embraced the searing pain in my ears and cheeks, even my toes and feet ached with agony from the cold and snow. The pain got so intense as the house came into sight, I was screaming in agony but I ignored myself just so I could see what this was, it was different and that scared me. BOOOF Suddenly, I crashed my body flailing as my right knee collided with the same roof as before. As my knee hit my body clasped onto the Inner self’s roof. I just laid there for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. You see I thought this light looked different and safe so I decided to float down, not knowing what I just released, not knowing what waited for me on the other side. I slowly raised my hands up to my face to see why they were eating away at me with a dull ache. Blood, crimson blood dripped from my hands. My eyes grew big. My palms were sliced up pretty savagely , intersecting little cuts joining into one big web of slices as blood oozed like a new ketchup bottle that was just opened and you added too much pressure causing it to spill over. As Outer Self was observing my deranged web of cuts on my hands a voice broke through my intense focus but as it spoke the other nipping pains of the cold came back to my cheeks, ears and toes. Like a sharp stinging dull ache. “Hey!” It was Inner self he was jogging over to the satellite that acted as a ladder down. He seemed terrified but seemed like he wanted to be helpful. “Climb down, I need to speak to you, right now!” He calmly stated the first part yet screamed aggressively “right now!” Outer self grunted in agony. “I can’t, my hands ruined” he said through gritted teeth “Just come down, fall if you have to, I need you right now, I know I was outraged yesterday but today…Oh just come down I don’t care how it happens!” “I want Name back but I understand what she was doing but this, this just feels is too different” “Judge and Monster are suffocating inside, there’s a different Monster now and I don’t know who he is yet, I don’t want to go alone or get too close, I don’t know what’s happening anymore” Inner self added his voice slowly painting with uneasiness. Outer Self’s eyes went wide with apprehension. He tried to speak but nothing came out, only choking on several one word questions at one all fighting to get out all at the same time. But suddenly, Outer Self lost his grip on the jagged icy roof and crashed into the ground with a violent deep yet dull thud. His body flailing in mid air just before he hit the cold snowy ground of reality. THUD “Outer self! No, I need you alive!” Outer self realized yes the crash into reality hurt but it was necessary to now see who this monster is, Bloody intricately sliced hands or not. 2 blotches of crimson blood were left into the snow as he slowly yet unsuccessfully tried to get up. “Get up” Inner self spoke in a gruff inpatient matter Now there was no time to process anything as the world now demanded me to move even if I really shouldn’t. Suddenly, I felt 2 hands reaching under my arm pits pulling me up in a slow awkward motion as Inner Self wasn’t strong enough to fully pick me up. He just haltingly dragged me toward the impending door. Only so i could deal with this new monster for him without any of my choice in the matter. “No-o P-please, P-please do-n’t” outer self slowly choked out as he was haltingly dragged across the snow. Then he was dragged up one step onto the deck just before the door inside his feet dragging like a fork pressing into mash potatoes. Outer self could see the dim light in the living room just off the kitchen getting brighter, his dread intensified but there was nothing he could do, he was now broken by his Inner Self. As he got closer and closer inching toward outside the door his stomach dropped out of his body along with his intestines. They stayed as his body moved on. That Monster wasn’t himself, it was another Man. Someone he recognized. His intestines and stomach didn’t move as they were dragged further from his body. Yet everything snapped back into his body as he somehow got to his feet in a quick calculated manner. His eyes immediately went wild darting rapidly as his breath sped up so fast it threatened to choke him out and kill him on the spot. He recognized this man, it was, Outer self hated this term, Rapist. Suddenly, Outer Self screamed in torment as he looked down, his hands gushed with new blood. Then, there was a sharp twinge in his groin and inside himself “down there”. He felt that deep-seated panic that he’s felt only twice before in his entire life. A primal fear he couldn’t explain ever if he tried. Outer Self wanted to grab the knob but he literally couldn't. Not with his hand the way they were. “Go ahead, what are you waiting for?” Inner self callously yet mildly stated As Outer Self began to come up to the door half tripping up the long wooden 2 steps to the door, The new monster slowly turned his attention and head towards outer self with a cold vacant, empty look, steel. This monster had no Name, no he wasn’t even human he just looked that way, it was deeply disturbing to Outer self. THOOK Suddenly, from Outer Self’s left side something tackled him taking both himself and this mysterious being down with him. His body stiffly descended, he turned his head last second as they both hit the deck below them. Wait It was Monster who just tackled him as the new monster looked on from inside. How did monster even get outside Outer self thought?

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    You are NOT alone

    You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

  • Report

  • “You are not broken; you are not disgusting or unworthy; you are not unlovable; you are wonderful, strong, and worthy.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    It Started with my Brother

    I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    DECADES

    DECADES When I was 22 years old, I was on a college campus with my finance and decided to go out to the car at 11 pm to get the left over cake we had brought from dinner. I man walked near me and I said hi, and proceeded to get the cake. The man came up behind me and flipped me to the ground trying to rape me. I screamed, time slowed down and I remember hearing my Mom say that my car keys are a weapon so I started jabbing him with them. I struggled free, ran to a building, falling on my way. A driver arrived who heard my screams from blocks away and the police were called. The police even thought they got him and showed me several photos of similar looking men, but I couldn’t make a positive id, so he was set free. After this sexual assault, I bought a gun, moved in with my fiancé, took self-defense classes, read books, saw a psychologist who diagnosed me with PTSD due to overwhelming anxiety that paralyzed me. The world was no longer safe. It resulted in triggers, and brought back my first sexual assault as a teenager in a crowded bus in another country of an older man pressing his erection against me as I keep moving away from him toward the front of the bus, until I finally found another teenage who I could sit on her lap to get this stranger to stop. It has been 64 years since I was attacked in that parking lot. I have been happily married for 64 years and have a positive self image. BUT, I still can’t wear skirts. I still can’t go in parking lots alone at night and am uneasy going anywhere at night. I can’t watch a movie or play that has sexual assault or the anxiety becomes overwhelming. I still own the same gun.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    I will get there, I’m just not there yet

    There are pieces of different stories that fit my situation. I’m a successful executive and I am so embarrassed that I ignored all the red flags and got myself into this mess. I feel so unworthy, a combination of childhood emotional neglect, sexual assault as a teenager, and a 25 year marriage full of emotional neglect and infidelity. I even feel unworthy of putting myself in the same category as the survivors on this page, like my story isn’t as valid. He is a sexual assault survivor himself; he was molested by an older female cousin when he was little. That was part of the attraction at first. I thought we understood each other’s pain and would help each other heal what still remained. At first the attention felt like caring, like someone finally gave a damn. The requests to text where I was at all times, wanting to track my location and share his, wanting to talk or FaceTime all night on the phone, even sleeping with the call still going, next to me, when we weren’t together. Now I know it was about control and a deep lack of trust. I have learned over time to never look around at a restaurant or I will be accused of staring at another man. I have unfriended most of my male friends on social media and I am afraid to post anything in case one of the remaining ones comments. He demands that I show him any communication from any man on social media. He wants to know my work meeting schedule and gets upset if I don’t text him back right away. One time, he was out of town and my phone wasn’t plugged in correctly so the battery died during the overnight FaceTime call. I panicked when I woke up and realized what had happened, and he was furious with me. He wanted to know if I had cheated between 4 am and 8 am when the phone was dead. And I haven’t asked him to leave yet. I don’t know why. We have almost broken up several times, and every time I believe him that it will be different. It won’t be different. I am exhausted and I don’t recognize myself anymore. I am too ashamed to tell my friends or family the extent of it, although they know things are off.

  • Report

  • Healing is not linear. It is different for everyone. It is important that we stay patient with ourselves when setbacks occur in our process. Forgive yourself for everything that may go wrong along the way.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    Autistic voice

    I used to think rape was what you'd see in movies. Jumped on by a stranger and violently assaulted. Turns out I was wrong. I have been raped on multiple occasions and didn't fully understand it until I got older and wiser and also found out that I'm autistic. This is what helped me to understand what had really happened. I learned and studied autism in girls and women and figured it out from there. I was vulnerable and impressionable and masked so much that I was a completely different person on the outside than who I really was on the inside. When I was younger and had no clue that I was being preyed upon due to my vulnerability and started to pretend as though I just liked sex and was willingly promiscuous. It was a lie I told myself and my friends so that I didn't have to face the fact I couldn't and didn't know how to say no and mean it. There is flight, fight and also freeze. So many times I was telling them no and when they didn't stop I just froze and realised that my voice was pointless and they weren't listening to me. It was easier to allow them to finish without fighting and having it be violent too. I didn't realise how badly the mental impact would be. One particular night I was out in a bar and a few of us went back to a house party. One guy was showing interest in me and I actually liked it. We kissed and had fun and then he led me to a bedeoom and I hesitated but ended up going in. When he started to undress me I held my dress and said no. I said it so many times and he started to get really rough and forceful and started saying things to me about leading him on and what did I think was going to happen and I just wanted it rough. I realised that no matter what I said, sex was going to happen so I had two options, fight and be both violently and sexually assaulted or just have the sex without any further resistance which would mean that I'd be only sexually assaulted without the extra violence. I chose the latter and for a long time I believed that I just had sex that night. I now realise that was absolutely rape. It's played with my mental health for over ten years and I'm ready to acknowledge what happened to me instead of being in denial.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    My story

    I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Taking ‘time for yourself’ does not always mean spending the day at the spa. Mental health may also mean it is ok to set boundaries, to recognize your emotions, to prioritize sleep, to find peace in being still. I hope you take time for yourself today, in the way you need it most.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    When a yes turns to a no

    I was 18. In college I was part of a ladies team on in college sports team. There were also male teams. There was a inter college tournament that our college was hosting for other male college teams within Ireland. We all had nights out planned and a 'play hard, play hard' attitude. It was great to be part of something - I genuinely loved playing and being part of the club. On one of the nights I was drinking and got to talking with a guy from another college mens team. It was fun and we ended up back at his hotel room, where we had consensual sex. After, I remember feeling groggy and then being suddenly awoken to all these lads barging in. They ripped the bed cover off us and I remember phone flashes going off. It was year so, not exactly amazing phones back them. Slagging of various types ensued but then I remember being held down. At least 2 different men. I remember saying no, please stop. Flashes in and out while I just stared at the corner of the bedside table, thinking how similar it was to the one in my parents room. Weird. I must have slept at some point because I woke up. I got dressed. I remembered nothing. Nothing but the sex with the lad I kissed. Naturally, the next morning is always awkward so I wanted to get out of there. Just as the hotel room door clicked shut I realised I had left my shoes. I knocked back and had to do so loudly as everyone was deep asleep. As I was doing that one of the other team members opened a door across the hall, he stared at me. I said sorry for waking him but I needed my shoes. He just said he was so sorry. I was confused, having no memory of what he was actually talking about, so I said I'm sorry I left my shoes. Eventually someone opened the door and I got my shoes. Leaving the hotel and walking to the nearest bus stop, I felt appropriately hung over but sore. Down there. I'd never been sore before. Guess we must have really gone for it, I thought. Fast forward to lockdown 3 during Covid, I began experiencing severe nightmares that weren't nightmares. The missing memories came back over 2/3 months and I realised that I had been rated multiple times. That my brain had protected me until now. My SA, unknowingly, had a huge impact on my formative years - I came out as bisexual just 2 years ago. I feel I would have had a very different 20's but I met a decent guy, stuck with him like glue and am now married with a child. Due to the memory block, I have no recourse. No sense of justice so I just hope those boys, now grown men, are better than they were.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    Summer before college it all changed

    Over 2 years on and I’m only realising the impact of what I’ve been through. I was 19, just had my heart broken by a cheater after being together for number long years. So of course when this guy said he’d buy me a drink I took it, danced with my friends at a local festival with my home only being a 5 minute walk away. He found me in the nightclub later on and asked me to go for a walk, and I agreed. I left the nightclub and first thing made it clear, all I want is to talk and most I’ll do is kiss you and he said that was perfectly okay, he offered me some of his drink and I had a few sips. We talked and talked, we sat down on a flat rock and had some laughs and shared some kisses when things started to change. A lot happened, a lot that I asked him to stop doing, my mind felt fuzzy and I felt numb. At one point I couldn’t move and could barely breathe, there were a few moments where I wasn’t sure what he was doing to me, or if he was recording it. I’m not religious but I prayed that I wouldn’t be found dead the following day, I didn’t want my parents to lose their baby at only 19. I don’t know how I got out of the situation, but I did. And I rang my friends straight away, was hysterical and guards found me. I ended up going to the hospital to the sexual assault treatment unit and the women were lovely but that has traumatised me. It was the only time I was ever in hospital and there I was alone. Every day for over 2 years it comes into my mind at least a few times. It happened in the month and in month I started college, I sought college therapy but I’m not sure how much it helped. I disassociate a lot and my emotions are easier to switch off now, but every few hours that night plays into my head. I felt as if I had the worst beginning to college, but I also felt that it was a new chapter and a new experience. I struggled with alcohol abuse for a while and I wasn’t scared to say no to drugs. Thankfully that only lasted a few months. I hit some really bad lows, but I’ve also turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly in a sense. That Christmas I cried, I cried because I was glad to be alive. That I survived what he did to me, and I also survived my mind. But him in my mind still affects me to this day at 21 and a half. I haven’t gone to RCC as I’ve always felt this shame and guilt, I feel very alone as none of my friends were supportive and the news broke out the day after it happened across my small town, and having that victim blaming comments or remarks “like oh wasn’t he apparently younger” going around made it even harder to talk about or the “it wasn’t that bad and it could’ve been worse”, yes it could’ve been worse but it is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I have reached out to therapists and I am considering visiting the rape crisis centre as I have been struggling these 2 years really, I’m happy and have a brave face but that night intrudes and invades my thoughts an awful lot. I’ve also been struggling with my sexual life, after the incident I slept with a lot of people most of it which I can’t remember. And I regret it and feel so much guilt and shame, especially when people ask “oh what’s your body count” well I never tell and I never will as it’s my business. But even after I calmed down, I either get attached easily or I run away, and then feel the shame and guilt around sex, believing that I rushed in. I’m slightly better, but reading these stories reminds me I’m not alone and that I won’t be judged by others and people willing to help. I hope one day, I can feel “normal” again and live the rest of my life as any young woman should.

  • Report

  • “It’s always okay to reach out for help”

    Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇯🇵

    Supporting others who are facing similar challenges

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    putting my body back together

    I am 22 years old. I have always liked sex, and not necessarily the physical feeling, but the empowerment around it. I know that sex does not always have to be political, but growing up Mexican/American and Roman Catholic, it always felt charged. I lost my virginity in a dark space. I was thirteen, and a boy from my class who had been harassing me, made me go into our school's auditorium, went backstage, pushed my head down, and made me...well yeah. I felt like I was going through the motions. Like, if I wanted to prove how unaffected I could be by this forcefulness I would win my abuser(s). He asked again and again if he could put it in, and I finally said yes. Knowing what I know now, I know this was not true consent. I remember after it was done, I said "Well, that sucked." And he said, "What are you talking about? That was awesome." I felt so numb after, and I mistook that numbness for power. I felt nothing, felt no different. I convinced myself virginity/sex meant nothing. Catholicism had lied to me. They said that when we have sex, we (women) lose something essential about ourselves. We become attached to the man, and we will never return to that former state. I remember feeling like I debunked the church. It was a scam to make religious girls hate themselves and depend on men. I don't think I was necessarily wrong, more like misguided. I was on the right track, but I made sex unimportant, I made my body unimportant. I had to, I think, because recognizing the weight of sex would have made my situation unbearable. Now, at 22, I know better. I wish I could hug and hold my younger self. She'd probably think I was corny and overemotional, but I don't care. To my younger self, I am so sorry. I think you're very smart, but remember that hurting yourself to prove things to others is never worth it. You don't have to make an example of yourself to be empowered. You were coerced, you were abused and harassed, and you're not less powerful, less yourself, for recognizing that. I love you very much. I got raped in August. I had just come back home from my college town. I was heartbroken to have finished my time there. To have said goodbye to the best friends I've ever had. My bestie who went to college and high school with me had already been in our city for a month and asked me to go out. I didn't feel like it, but she convinced me. We're only so young and whatever. I had left on a pretty low vibration since on the last day of my time there this guy I had been friends with and hooking up with regularly for almost two years, told me he had been having sex with other girls unprotected regularly, and every time we checked in about using condoms he had been lying. Leave it to abusers to unburden themselves when they know they'll face minimum consequences. I could not wrap my head around the utter disrespect and betrayal of my body. Why didn't men care? Why couldn't they see us as more than just a fucking hole? Couldn't he have just been honest? Was using a condom with me so horrible that he had to lie about it for months? I was mad as hell. I was disappointed, and still am. I felt stupid. Why take someone's word? How could I live in a world where I had no control over how people I love/love hurt me so badly? Whatever, the point is, that the next day when I went out with my friend we had a little too much to drink. She had asked if we could meet up with this guy she had been seeing and his friend. I said sure, I was drunk and didn't want to be a killjoy. When we got to his place, he told us he invited a friend. His friend got there and poured us shitty box wine. I was a blackout and for some reason, we thought it'd be a good idea to let his friend drive me back home at 3 AM while I was trashed. The friend stopped the car, and convinced me to have sex, when I wanted to stop, he didn't let me and did not stop. I remember crying and asking him to stop, but he didn't stop. I don't remember a lot of the actual rape. I remember after. I cried hard, and I think I accused him of raping me, and I think he probably denied it. I just remember that he was so angry and I was so upset. I told him he had better give me plan b money, and that he better take me home, or back to his friend's house so I could tell my best friend. I remember him saying that I "disrespected" him. That plays in my head a lot when I don't want it to. "You disrespected me," he said. "I can kick you out of this car," he said. I remember holding onto the door. I remember thinking I would die. I only have flashes of after. I think I was sobbing on my friend, and I remember her face. She didn't know what to do, and how could she? She told me after, when I started to doubt my memory, that I had said he raped me. See, I didn't know, like the first time I had been abused, that afterward, you try to trick yourself into the easier option which is that you're just slutty. You're remembering wrong, or you exaggerated. But unfortunately no. You got raped. You know it, your body knows it. The rapist knows it too. Deep in his rotten core, he knows that he did something evil. But he'll probably just think, "bitches, man" or "She deserved that shit anyway" or "That's what women were made for". And I'm here, with my fear of death, my fear of sex/intimacy, my broken-ass self/sense of self, still wondering why the fuck people can't just respect me and my body? I used to never look over my shoulder. I was one of those girls who never felt the need to call someone or pretend to call someone when they were walking home. Shit, after that happened to me, pepper spray didn't feel like enough. I wanted to buy a gun. My liberal ass, anti-capital punishment, pro-gun control, wanted to buy one just so nobody could ever hurt me again. Sometimes I think of my body actually broken, on the side of the freeway somewhere. I think of my sister's dress that I had borrowed without asking, and how it had stains on it. And how she would have been so mad if I had died in it. I had to go to a quinceanera the day after, and I don't think I've ever been in more distress than the day after. Do you ever want to rip your vagina out of your body? Like it's some sort of focal point of pain. I wanted to be smooth like a doll or something. No entryways. My body still freezes up now. I learned that's PTSD. This is healthy. I never told my family because I knew they would blame me, so only a few friends knew. It's embarrassing almost, and I know it isn't, but it's hard not to think "If I would've just...If I hadn't," and so on. I didn't report anything even though I knew I could have, but there would be cops and I live with my family. I've seen what an investigation can do. I've read enough and existed around women enough to know it's almost if not exactly like a re-violation. I was so tired. That sucked too. My younger self thought that if someone ever did that to me, they would pay for it. I was sure I would be up and walking into a police station immediately after, asking for a rape kit with grace somehow? I would shock everyone with my dignity and my composure. That didn't happen, but it's okay. I'm okay. I'm better. I am still tired, but things have gotten better. I'm here, right? I love living so much, and I remind myself that when my body freezes up. I think of my younger sister too and how I want to shield her so bad. I fight the urge to tell her to stay inside, where it's safe. I know living, really being alive, is dangerous. I want her to be safe, but I want her to live well and fully, so I make sure she has pepper spray, that we share our locations, that she can text me/call me, and that there will never be judgment for whatever situation she finds herself in. Thank you for this platform, and I'm so sorry to the people who have had to use it. I love you all. I hope you are all doing ok and living well.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    SLIDING SCALE K THERAPY TRAP

    I am a survivor of what I believe to be therapist abuse, emotional manipulation, and grooming behaviors from LCSW, which I experienced while undergoing K Assisted Psychotherapy. I came to the center in my city, full of hope that I would get to access this kind of therapy as a lifelong, low-income person who has experienced immense trauma starting at the age of two. I had heard of the benefits and life-changing experiences that others had experienced with this type of therapy and was hoping for the same. Without access to the sliding scale cost model that the center was offering LGBT+ and BIPOC, I would have never been able to afford a therapy like this. I was hopeful to be able to access this therapy and would check in regularly about my place on the waitlist. FOR THE READER'S INFORMATION: COMMON REACTIONS TO SEXUAL MISCONDUCT BY A THERAPIST If a therapist has engaged in any sexual behavior or contact with you, you may experience some or all of the following feelings or reactions: Intimidated or threatened. Guilt and responsibility—even though it is the therapist’s responsibility to keep sexual behavior out of therapy. Mixed feelings about the therapist—e.g., protectiveness, anger, love, betrayal. Isolation and emptiness. Distrust of others’ feelings or intentions or your feelings. Fearful that no one will believe you. Feeling victimized or violated. Experiencing traumatic symptoms, e.g., anxiety, nightmares, obsessive thoughts, depression, or suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Before Intake, Admin told me I would have a psychological evaluation with a psychiatrist. INTAKE I arrived for my psychological intake, where LCSW accessed me. I was surprised to learn he was not a psychiatrist. I had seen LCSW in the main lobby as he hurried towards the elevator as I was reading the board to find the suite Location was in. I joined LCSW in the elevator, and he asked what floor I was going to. I said,” 4, the same as you, were probably going to the same place”. I made that assumption on how LCSW looked, as I assumed the guy with long died hair probably had something to do with psychedelics. We both ended up at the the center, where he instructed me on how to use the call button and told me to expect the admin to grab me from the waiting room soon. This appointment seemed pretty standard, so he asked me some basic questions and reviewed some basics of KAP therapy. I remember discussing my yoga practice and studies in herbalism, and he asked me what inspired that path. I told him my honest answer was a bit embarrassing as I was 15 and was first introduced to yoga in a small town in State when reading about it in Seventeen magazine and had read an interview with a yogi. I also said that I thought the yogi was attractive, which probably caught my attention. LCSW responded to this by saying. “Likely.” I found his response to be a bit demeaning. He didn’t understand the complexity of being raised in isolation in a place that lacked a diversity of culture and could only connect to the outside world through old magazines that my friends would hand down to me at school. At the end of this appointment. He told me that I would get a list of therapists and that I would get to pick from that list. I later received an email from LCSW: “Great news, I will be your therapist.” This felt uncomfortable to me for a few reasons: the inconsistency in the information I was told about choosing my therapist made me nervous, and I usually avoid working with male/male-bodied therapists due to significant traumas I have experienced from being raped, objectified, and brutally attacked by men. I chose to trust the process and hoped that this might be an opportunity to experience healing and safety with a male-bodied person who would hopefully be safe with me. LCSW told me we had to reschedule the first preparation appointment due to an emergency. As I tried to walk away unbothered by the random emergency, he stopped me and apologized multiple times, and I thought it strange that he would spend so much time apologizing to me if there was an emergency. PREP 1 My preparation appointments with LCSW were bizarre. My first couple of appointments discussed the possibility of therapeutic touch, what therapeutic touch is, and informed consent. I found it odd how much time was spent on these subjects; this was discussed at length during all three preparation appointments. I had done a lot of somatic healing bodywork with a physical therapist, and these conversations were not new to me. Still, I was uncomfortable with the amount of time and number of times this was brought up during preparation. PREP 2 LCSW discussed therapeutic touch again at great length. He claimed to be trained in somatics. LCSW said to me, “ I am your therapist for only a short amount of time, so we can do ANYTHING you want.” LCSW said to me, “ I know I am your therapist, but I want you to have as much power as you want.” LCSW asked me how I felt about therapeutic touch. I let LCSW know I was uncomfortable with touch in any capacity and would prefer to be given physical distance as much as possible. I told LCSW that I, historically, would avoid touch in any capacity throughout my life and gave examples of how I place pillows between myself and my friends when I sit on couches next to them. LCSW asked me if I was comfortable with him suggesting to me that I could touch myself. I felt uncomfortable with how he worded this but didn’t react. For example, he said some patients have tremors uncontrollably and can be instructed to place their hands on their arms. I told him I did not want him to make these suggestions. LCSW asked me what the thought of being touched felt in my body. He asked if this felt squirmy, and I said yes. During my preparation appointments, LCSW acted like he was some kind of drug dealer and made it seem like he would be involved in how many mg of K would be prescribed to me from the pharmacy. He asked me during each session how many milligrams I would want. He said I got to choose up to 600mg per session. I asked if I was prescribed 600mg each session and if I would have to take all of it during the session if I decided not to. He said I could do this. I asked for the max prescription, and he told me I could be prescribed 250mg. This was another example of him offering me a choice (like choosing my therapist) and then taking that choice away. He then asked me again how much I wanted to be prescribed in the following session. I remember this session was in person. I told him I wanted to be prescribed the high end of what is normal, and he said he would go with that. I was made aware that the dosage is prescribed by the prescribing doctor, Prescribing Doctor, and there is a standard dosage that most patients are prescribed with a max dosage of 400mg. LCSW disclosed his gender identity to me and asked me if I had a preference in how he would present himself during our sessions because sometimes he wears dresses and glitter. I asked if he was asking about my comfort with my gender expression. He assured me that was not what he was asking about and, instead, wanted to know if I would be more comfortable with one of his gender expressions over another, and I let him know that I didn’t think it mattered. I found this conversation beyond strange and uncomfortable. I’ve been in therapy since I was 18, and I have never had a therapist behave in the ways I convey with LCSW and found him to be strange, unpredictable, over-sharing, and unsafe. Before my final in-person preparation appointment, LCSW informed me that he had moved his office to a different location in the center because it was larger. PREP 3 LCSW quickly allowed me access from the waiting room on this day. Almost immediately after I pressed the button on the wall, I could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, and this made me uncomfortable as most therapists or doctors that I have worked with allow for 1-5 minutes to pass before greeting me in the waiting room. I felt LCSW was unusually excited or rushed about my arrival. LCSW had warned me in the previous preparation appointment that he had moved offices because the new office was larger. I was highly uncomfortable with the move when I saw his office. I froze in the doorway. He moved his office to the center's most private and secluded area. The new office seemed smaller. A reclined chair in his old office was available for the KAP therapy, which felt safe. The chair was not in his new office, and my options for where to lay down during my KAP therapy were a couch that I was much too tall for or a mattress on the ground. I felt unsafe laying on a mattress with LCSW in the room, but I thought I had no choice. I had experienced so much seductive and inappropriate behavior with him that discovering I would not have a reclined chair and would be isolated in the building was devastating news to me. The fact that his new office did not have room for the antigravity chair in his old office was an example of how this move was not due to the office being larger than he claimed. I had brought gifts for LCSW for the Winter Solstice. I had gifted him a piece of mushroom art made with layers of paper and a mushroom hairpin that my coworker made. These items were kept on a shelf in his office for all of my following sessions. I wasn’t aware that therapists are not supposed to accept gifts from their clients. LCSW was overly excited about the gifts. During our in-person preparation session, LCSW would ask me questions unrelated to my therapy. Do you like guacamole? Do you enjoy Role-Play Board Games? When I asked why he asked me these questions, he answered, “I’m trying to understand your resources.” After initially reporting him to my doctor, I discovered his dating profile while listing his display name, “Guacamole,” and his interests, “Role-play Board Games.” Now, I wonder if he was spending my sessions with me trying to gauge our compatibility for dating. LCSW would be extremely flirtatious with me. He would have his long hair up in a bun, pull it out slowly, groom it with his fingers, and display it in front of his shoulders, all while batting his eyes at me. Both times he did this, I went into shutdown. I would avoid eye contact, look at the floor, hunch, and move my body in the opposite direction, showing my physical discomfort. I would be talking about something both times he did this, and each time, I lost my words and stopped talking as a part of the shutdown state of my nervous system. This flirting with his hair happened on PREP 3 and KAP 1. One session was a preparation appointment, and the second time was before I was administered K for my KAP session. I asked LCSW if people clench their jaw while on K as I often have a lot of jaw tension and use a nightguard at night. He shared with me that his other clients who are “guarded” usually feel more relaxed on K and that often the jaw relaxes, but he let me know I could bring my guard if I wanted. I remember not liking that LCSW had indirectly called me guarded, but he was not wrong about that assessment. I had learned to be guarded to protect myself from people, especially harmful people like LCSW, who were unpredictable and unregulated. As I think back to this interaction, I wish I had been able to remain guarded around LCSW, which was not possible for me while on a psychedelic. LCSW asked me during an in-person preparation appointment if I had been hypnotized and if it worked. LCSW would use Neurological Language Processing on me to try and seduce me and make me think about sex during two of my sessions, PREP 3 & KAP 1. When he gave directions for taking the K medication, he would speak at a regular pace until he got to the part of the directions that directed me that I could spit or swallow the K. Specifically, the words “spit and swallow” were slowed down to an unusually slow pace, and he would stare into my eyes with intensity when he said those words slowly. He would slow that part of the directions down to a slow pace, all while making intense eye contact that made me highly uncomfortable. He did this during my last preparation appointment and also during my first appointment with the K. During these experiences, with the sexual and seductive nature of the emphasis of these words, while giving me directions, I would go into shutdown. I would look away and disengage with LCSW during these interactions. I was feeling highly unsafe, overwhelmed, confused, and afraid. KAP 1 During my first KAP appointment, LCSW welcomed me from the waiting room, pressed the switch on the wall, and looked around the room as usual. He would typically follow me down the hallway to his office, which made me uncomfortable as I have been stalked coming home at night off the bus countless times. In any capacity, I will avoid having any persons behind me as I feel safer when I can see people and when I have enough physical distance to run or defend myself if I can see signs of aggression in a person. I was surprised that LCSW would walk closely behind a person with PTSD, and I felt he had minimal experience working with people with PTSD and didn’t understand trauma-informed care. Most trauma-informed professionals I work with would check in with me regularly about what I was comfortable with. Before working with LCSW, I’d never had a doctor or staff walk so closely behind me. For example, I have had Doctors ask me if I am more comfortable sitting in a chair that faces the door instead of having the door behind me, and LCSW never checked in with me about any of these things. I was violently attacked for asking a 300lb man to try and be quiet so that I could sleep. I struggled to ask for what I needed to feel safe and comfortable from men after this experience, and I did not feel safe asking LCSW not to walk behind me or continue invading my personal space. While being let into the center, I stood behind him with as much physical distance as possible and waited for him to finish so I could follow him down the hall. He instructed me to walk down the hallway to his office and followed me closely. I entered LCSW’s dark office with the blinds closed. I felt uncomfortable immediately but was trying to manage my fear and stress the best I could as I was so dedicated to healing with K Assisted Psychotherapy and was looking to this therapy as my last hope after having tried everything with a slow, painful progress that had many setbacks as I struggled to avoid people like LCSW in my life who prioritize their desires over my well-being. We were in the center alone during all my appointments except the intake. There were no other therapists or admin. My KAP appointments were scheduled at the end of the day in the winter, so it was often already dark outside. I have since learned that being so isolated and having appointments late in the day are red flags. I was moving and brought in a book from my personal library to give to LCSW. On Book Name. LCSW responded to this by saying, “That’s really sweet.” This book lived on his bookshelf in following appointments. LCSW let me know I could set up my altar items at the end of his table and that he was going to the restroom and would be right back. I would like to mention that LCSW often seemed very different after visiting the bathroom. I suspected he was struggling with drug abuse and addiction, as when he went more than a few hours without a restroom break, he would look awful with sunken eyes with dark circles under them. He would get sweaty and look generally ill, and the only time I have seen anything like this was when I was around a family member who was experiencing opioid addiction. I was recovering from my KAP session when he looked ill to me, so it might have something to do with the medication or lighting. When LCSW returned from the bathroom, he walked right behind me while I was on my knees setting up my altar. I began physically shaking when he walked behind me because I feared him. I was visibly shaking, and LCSW started blowing air forcibly out of his nose multiple times, loudly. He was standing right behind me as I was visibly shaking and without tissue or covering his face. He blew out of his nostrils very forcefully multiple times until I froze. Then, I slowly turned my head in his direction and asked him, “Do you have allergies?” He said, “No, I have_____.” I can’t remember the condition he stated he had, but I remember it included something nasal-related to his nose. After asking this question to him, he immediately stopped with the weird, aggressive nose forceful exhalation. I never saw him do any weird breathing at any other time. I believe he did this to distract me from my body shaking and to gain sympathy from me as a form of emotional manipulation. My body was showing me how unsafe I felt, and I believe that LCSW wanted to distract me or was threatened by this. He then asked me to share the items for my altar with him. LCSW, told me he had to read my blood pressure. I was wearing a thick sweater and tried to pull the sleeve up high enough to be able to wrap the band around my arm. I could not pull the arm up high enough and asked LCSW if he could just put the band over my sweater. He said no and asked if that was okay. I sighed with disappointment and removed my sweater. Underneath my sweater, I wore a crop top/tank top shirt with no bra because I was instructed to dress comfortably. I was not comfortable with being so exposed around LCSW after experiencing so much harmful sexual behavior from him. Still, I was so desperate to receive this K Assisted Psychotherapy treatment that I was trying my best to cope with the harm I was experiencing. LCSW helped to wrap the band for the blood pressure reader around my arm. He did this very slowly. When he went to press the velcro together on the band, he used the tips of his two fingers, pointer & middle finger, and slowly pushed the velcro together with his two fingertips like this. This was taking forever and was very inappropriate and sexually charged. At this point, I got angry with LCSW. I audibly sighed with anger and frustration, and LCSW recognized this. He stopped petting my arm and took a step back. He told me to uncross my legs. He stood on the other side of the room and stared at the wall as the automatic blood pressure reader read my blood pressure. The machine went off with three beeps, and LCSW was still staring at the wall, completely disassociated. LCSW administered the K to me and did the creepy “spit or swallow” thing after this. He then helped me get onto the mattress and tucked me in, touching my body while tucking me in around my arms and legs. I remember having a difficult time relaxing or feeling comfortable during this appointment. I did not want to wear my eyemask or the noise-canceling headphones because I didn’t feel safe with LCSW and wanted to be aware of my surroundings as much as possible. I remember looking down at my body multiple times to make sure he wasn’t touching me. After about an hour into the session, I let LCSW know I had to use the restroom. LCSW helped me and told me we would have to walk slowly to the bathroom as I lacked balance. Someone from one of the other offices was walking behind us. I got into the bathroom and used one of the stalls. I sat there after finishing, not wanting to come out because I was so afraid of being around LCSW. The person who walked behind us to the bathrooms was also in the restroom in one of the other stalls. As she went to leave, she probably noticed that I was sitting in a stall and not doing anything. She asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. As we walked back, I exited the bathroom and noticed that LCSW was holding my hand, which I found very confusing. LCSW helped me back onto the mattress, tucked me into my blankets again, and touched my body on my arms and legs again. LCSW violated my informed consent by holding my hand and touching me while tucking me into my blanket while I was on K. I had clearly stated to LCSW that I did not want him to touch me in any way. I had a little loss of coordination but generally was fine walking on my own, and I did not need LCSW to hold my hand to “help” me. I was in an open and loving state of mind while on the medication, and this experience is when things got confusing for me. I knew I felt Uncomfortable with the unusual attention he was giving me and with the seductive and flirtatious behaviors he exhibited before taking K with him. This was the first time those feelings confused me, and a part of me liked how it felt to have this attention while under a psychedelic. These feelings caused me internal distress. After returning to the room, I tried to relax into my experience. I experienced a body sensation that reminded me of my body sensation when I had an out-of-body experience where you tense up right before leaving your body. I heard LCSW say, “There you go.” This freaked me out and took me out of my experience. I remember fidgeting my body after this. His comment felt like it was sexual to me. LCSW checked his laptop during my first KAP appointment and often texted someone through iMessage. As soon as the music ended, LCSW said my name “Name.” This jolted me out of my relaxed state. He told me he needed to use the restroom, and I asked him to bring me some water. When he returned, I had moved to the couch, and he responded to this move by saying, Woah. We chatted about my experience, as I didn’t feel like talking while on the medication. He then checked in with me and told me it was 515pm. Fifteen minutes later than when our appointment was supposed to end. I had arranged transportation and was shocked by how late our appointment had gone. I scrambled to get my things together to get to my ride in time. LCSW told me that I should plan to have my transportation picked up 15 minutes after our sessions, but this should have been communicated to me beforehand. I have since learned that therapists extending your appointment time past when it is supposed to end is a red flag. INTEGRATION 1 This was my first integration appointment. LCSW asked me how I was doing, and I said, “Fine.” He asked me to use a different adjective, and I told him I was feeling a lot. During this appointment, I went through my backpack, looked for my journal, and pulled out my headphones in their case in front of LCSW. He responded to seeing these headphones with an angry sigh. I shared some of the things I journaled about, and he seemed impressed by what I had written. I shared with LCSW about an oracle deck I had used the night after the first KAP session. I shared a card I pulled the night after my first KAP appointment while asking, “How can LCSW help me.” I read the description of the card I had pulled: “angel’s trumpet.” He got down on his knees and moved towards me with a coffee table in between us. He told me the reading resonated with him. I asked him how so, and he talked about his cornerstone of death work as the card description discussed how this card was related to hospice workers, which LCSW shared with me he had done before his current job. I resonated more with aspects of the reading that mentioned a seductive nature as I felt he had been sexually inappropriate with me, but I did not share that with him. He asked to see the cards' box and got loud and excited about my deck. “THERE’S A MAGIKAL BOTANICAL ORACLE DECK!” I often found LCSW’s energy to be unpredictable. He would, at times, use his therapist's voice and then have these excited or angry outbursts. He asked me if he could take a photo of the deck, and I said that was fine. After this first integration appointment, I felt a lot of shame and anxiety around having the headphones that I perceived LCSW had gotten angry about. He might be mad at me for seeking sliding scale services while having expensive headphones. I got these noise-canceling headphones as a self-care item for myself when I thought I would be undergoing KAP therapy while living with my ex, who would slam doors and move around the house angrily. I got these headphones to help me eliminate that noise and feel a sense of safety for integration. I felt so much anxiety and shame around my perception of LCSW being angry with me that I impulsively made a $500 donation to the center that I requested my employer match. My company later agreed to match my donation. I could not afford this donation, but I wanted to feel like LCSW was not angry with me for using the sliding scale services. the center later refunded my donation after reporting the harm. I requested this reimbursement, which I was grateful for as this was not a donation I was in any financial situation to make, and it was made on credit. I had made sure this donation was made privately and chose not to share my name as a donor with the center as I didn’t want LCSW to mention this to me because I didn’t want to talk about this uncomfortable situation with him. LCSW's phone was going off with a bell sound at the end of the session, and he apologized multiple times for this and said it shouldn’t be going off while he was messing with his phone. INTEGRATION 2 The second K appointment was canceled because LCSW had gotten sick. He had canceled an earlier preparation appointment because he had COVID, and I remember thinking he gets sick a lot. He wanted to keep our integration appointment and schedule it virtually, so we met via Google Meet. In his email coordinating this with me, he stated he would still “love” to have a virtual appointment. I didn’t like his use of the word love. He started the virtual appointment by overly complimenting my hair and telling me it looked good multiple times, making me uncomfortable. I remember I gave a cold and short “thanks.” He told me I had transformer hair and asked if I had recently changed my hair. I told him no, I was just wearing my hair up. I thought to myself that he was weird to make such a big deal about my hair and that I had worn my hair up around him before. In the background of his call was his bed in his bedroom, which I thought was strange and inappropriate. REACHING OUT FOR HELP On the evening a few days following integration 2, I asked my friend and mentor, a Naturopath Doctor, for advice. We scheduled an on-call, and I shared my concerns about this therapist. I wasn’t sure if I should approach LCSW with my fears about his behavior. She was extremely upset about the information I was sharing about my experience. She shared her knowledge about ethics as a provider and told me that this behavior was highly inappropriate and that she was worried about me. I remember her yelling out, “Don’t mess with my girl, fucker.” She asked me if I thought he was a predator. We came up with a plan that I would write out my concerns about LCSW’s behavior and share them with him during my next appointment. I did write this all out in my journal that evening. With Doctor's wisdom, I began to see that while experiencing this inappropriate behavior from LCSW before and during the altered state I was in using K, I had developed an addiction to the dysfunctional emotional state I would enter into when I experienced this abuse. I had been starving myself after my first KAP appointment, feeling high off the inappropriate attention, and having confusing feelings after experiencing the boundary crossing while on a psychedelic. I felt like the experience with LCSW was confusing my feelings surrounding love and solidifying my prior experiences that love is abuse. I was abusing myself, thinking I was loving myself. I wanted to look good, and since the abuse I experienced during my last preparation appointment at the end of Month, I had dropped four pant sizes. I was rapidly losing weight, which was noticed by my other care providers, who mentioned the change in weight to me. Since writing this in my journal and approaching my second KAP appointment, I have become very nervous about approaching LCSW with my concerns. I did not want to have this confrontation with him. I decided the night before that I was not going to read this to him unless there was another boundary crossing or sexually inappropriate interaction. KAP 2 Toward the beginning of my second KAP appointment, I asked LCSW about a stuffed animal bat he had on his bookshelf. He went into a very long-winded description of this bat. While looking at the bat in my opposite direction, he said that the wings were the PRIDE flag and the ears were the polyamorous flag. After sharing the polyamorous flag ears, he looked his right shoulder in my direction. I was staring at the wall across from me. I was worried about his intentions behind basically telling me that he is polyamorous. KAP 2 and integration 3. During these appointments, LCSW was more professional. He left his hair in a bun. He didn’t emphasize “spit or swallow.” He was normal when reading my blood pressure. I was so grateful that he had finally changed his behavior and respected these boundaries. I felt like he finally recognized how these behaviors affected me. I just had to manage my conflicting feelings around a part of me that felt like I had become addicted to this inappropriate attention. I was compassionate towards myself about that as I knew it made sense why I felt this way, that my experience was confusing, and that the psychedelic experience opened me up to feeling loving and caring to the therapist who I was feeling so unsafe with prior. I knew I could get help with this from my regular therapist and planned to discuss this during our next session. LCSW asked if I wanted the eye shade and headphones this time. I said I wanted to try them because hearing the lady in the room who shared a wall with LCSW, who worked with a different organization, and hearing him talk during my session last time was distracting. He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” LCSW was still sick during this appointment and was wearing a mask. I was annoyed that he was coughing during my experience, and I found that distracting even with the headphones. At the end of this session, I gave LCSW a gift of a mullein tincture that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness, extracted, and offered him a chance to try it. He asked me how to take it, and I shared the standard dosage of three dropper fulls three times a day and let him know to discontinue use if he had any side effects and when he no longer has symptoms of illness. Again, at the end of our appointment, we ended 15 minutes late. INTEGRATION 3 During our last session, I asked LCSW if he had tried the mullein tincture. He told me that he had taken it home, was using the standard tincture dosage, and was enjoying it. LCSW asked how it felt to have him respect my boundaries. He asked me this because he chose to be professional during one of our sessions. I told him I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I was grateful for how he showed up yesterday. I had processed some of the imagery or hallucinations I experienced in KAP 2, including my cat, who had passed OE. I shared with LCSW how I chose OE because she was the only kitten in the litter who seemed to want me to hold her. He responded to this story by saying, “You picked each other.” I found his wording and response odd and worried that he was hoping that I would pick him in response to him picking himself as my therapist and picking me for a patient to be inappropriate with. I shared with LCSW that I was surprised that I did not feel a dissociative effect with K. I shared that I could feel my body more than I ever had before, and I was curious about this because I had spent most of my life dissociated from my body due to trauma. I gave examples of how other drugs would work oppositely for me than the general public. He responded to this by calling me an anomaly. I found this odd as I always thought that these effects were due to me being neurodivergent. For many people with ADHD, coffee can make them sleepy. I was uncomfortable with LCSW making comments like I was unique or one of a kind, and I didn’t think that was a healthy mindset I was seeking for myself. LCSW asked me to share something coming up that I wasn’t sure I felt safe talking about with LCSW. I told LCSW I was uncomfortable talking about this with him because he is a male-bodied person and because we had a weird dynamic. He nodded and said yes, I am a male-bodied person. I worded this like that because LCSW shared with me that he identifies as non-binary, so I did not want to refer to him as a man out of respect. I told LCSW about how I would wake up to my ex-boyfriend on top of me many times and how, eventually, I developed an injury from this repeated trauma that made it so I was unable to have sex without experiencing a lot of pain. LCSW had an angry outburst at this news and told me that I was raped and that it wasn’t consensual, and Name was loud and angry. This made me highly uncomfortable, and I shut down. LCSW asked me for the name of the man who did this to me. I gave him the name, and then I started to defend the person who did this to me because I don’t think LCSW took the time to understand the layers of this trauma, how much I loved the person who did this to me, and what factors were involved (alcohol) that made this person do things they wouldn’t normally do. LCSW started to calm down after this, as his anger triggered me. LCSW said he believed good people do bad things. LCSW asked me what gym I go to during this meeting. After reporting LCSW, I saw one of the therapists that worked for him at my gym, during a queer event, and I felt highly anxious that he was having people watch me. I have been going to this gym for seven years and have never seen this therapist before. At the end of the appointment, I offered LCSW a cottonwood bud oil extract that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness and processed and extracted. I let him know, and it was labeled for external use only. I told him it was nice on this skin but that it should be tested on a small piece of skin first. He was grateful for this gift from me. He did not inform me that accepting patient gifts was inappropriate and did not uphold professional boundaries. I was not aware of these boundaries and ethics around gift-giving until after initially reporting sexual misconduct. I have text evidence about my ride from KAP 2. These texts were oddly missing from my text history, so my friend sent me screenshots of the messages she had on her phone. REACHING OUT FOR HELP & SUPPORT My friend who I first told about that harm I was experiencing followed up with the morning after KAP 2. After my integration appointment, I spoke with a friend at the sauna at my gym who went to school to become an LCSW and shared my experience with her. She told me that he had violated the code of ethics and that I was highly vulnerable. She then shared with me that her psilocybin guide had slept with her during their work together and that she had stopped her treatment with him. She asked me if I thought this was the first time he had done something like this. I had a panic attack in the locker room of my gym after talking to my friend. A week after KAP 2, I then shared my experience with my regular therapist, who also asked if I thought I was the first person he behaved this way with. She also informed that he had clear ethical codes. I had a panic attack during this session. The questions about LCSW being a predator remained in my mind. I knew his behavior as a therapist was inappropriate, and I wondered if the sometimes subtle nature of the experience and strange experience with his directions of “spit and swallow” could be accidental, especially when he repeated these behaviors even after I went into a shutdown state during my first experience with this behavior. I spent most of the night researching this kind of abuse. I am good at hyper-fixating and spending many hours researching a subject, quickly learning everything I can about it. I found many articles about grooming behaviors from therapists and emotional manipulation/therapy abuse that I felt uncomfortable with and how much I relate to them. These articles discuss the alleviation of symptoms of depression for victims due to the addictive nature of this inappropriate attention. I was pissed. I wanted to heal my brain, and I could not allow that to be based on a temporary response to the inappropriate attention I was receiving. I then read about how therapists sometimes adjust their behavior, becoming more professional after the patient shows some attachment or addiction to this behavior. The theory is that the patient will then approach the therapist and make the situation feel like a victim desires to have inappropriate interactions. I could not allow a situation like this when I had been so dedicated to healing for so many years of my life. I was highly agitated after learning more about this kind of abuse. I knew at this point that I was being deeply harmed and abused to an extent I couldn’t be fully aware of without the support of the people I spoke to about it and the knowledge of how this abuse affects victims. I planned to give myself time to process this new information before taking action. A week and one day after KAP 2, I had panic attacks in the waiting room of my doctor's office because I was struggling with the experience I had with LCSW and the knowledge I gained about the abuse I was experiencing. The doctor asked me about my experience with KAP, as I had listed K on my medications. It took me about an hour to tell her about my experience, but eventually, I was able to get it out of me between the tears and panic attacks. I did not want to report this to the doctor. I knew she would have to report him. I knew I would have to stop my therapy, and I did not want to give up this opportunity for KAP therapy. At the time, I also did not want to get LCSW in trouble, and a part of me felt incredibly guilty for telling this doctor about my experience. She was so amazing through this process. She spent about 2 hours with me, supporting me by sharing my experience. I had chosen this doctor for her indication of being trauma-informed; she had been patient, helpful, and understanding. She told me that I didn’t do anything wrong as I expressed my shame about how my feelings were confused once I had used a psychedelic with LCSW. She helped me come up with a safety plan. I knew I was in a very fragile state and thought it would be wise to have someone hold onto my K. She reached out to my doctors with my permission. She was able to get ahold of Prescribing Doctor, the prescribing doctor. On the day of my initial report to my doctor, I spoke to Prescribing Doctor on the phone, who works with Name. Prescribing Doctor is the prescribing doctor and is a part of the leadership team at the center. I was uncomfortable during this phone call with Prescribing Doctor; her tone was delighted and cheery. She told me she was in the middle of the forest in Locationwith joy and excitement. Her cheerful tone seemed highly inappropriate, given the circumstances, as I had just spent the day having panic attacks due to being groomed by her coworker. Later. I met with Prescribing Doctor in person. I asked Prescribing Doctor what was next after I reported the sexual misconduct. I shared with Prescribing Doctor how LCSW would disrespect my boundaries and continue to do so after I shut down in his office. Prescribing Doctor responded to this by saying, “he missed it.” I shrugged my shoulders in response. She reacted to my shrugging my shoulders by getting wide-eyed. Her reaction made me feel crazy and like she did not believe me. Prescribing Doctor then offered me a facilitated dialog with LCSW LCSW and offered that LCSW could bring the items I left in his office to my home, but I did not want that. I confirmed I did not feel comfortable having LCSW come to my house. It was an incredibly inappropriate thing even to suggest. Prescribing Doctor's notes do not include that the offering and idea of a facilitated dialog was her idea as a response to me asking what is next after reporting the sexual misconduct. She ignores my requests for this detail to be added to my record. The notes make it seem like it was my idea, which is not the case. I had no idea what a facilitated dialog even was before her offering it to me. Prescribing Doctor agreed to hold onto my medication and I could have it back whenever I felt ready. She later refused this unless I signed an NDA/release of all claims and when I shared my story more widely I was retaliated against and she claims she did this because I shared my experience of SI. I later was made aware that I wouldn't be able to take my life with K and that it is safe for this reason, and I would likely just take a long nap. I also had not had any thoughts about using K to hurt myself. I was later offered the facilitated dialog again with the Location team as part of a social justice framework. Cofounder and Psychiatrist informed me they could not provide it due to their insurance. That news was devastating, and I drove to a bridge to jump off it the next day but wasn’t brave enough to do so. I felt like the center had no idea how to handle my experience and report and was in a position to respond to it with care, and having something else offered to me by them and then taken away was traumatic. I think I held on to hope that I would get some kind of justice in the way that they had offered it to me, and having it taken away after experiencing something that broke me on a mental, physical, and spiritual level was not something I was in any position to handle. I was told multiple times over the course of reporting sexual misconduct by LCSW that the center and Prescribing Doctor had reported the sexual misconduct I experienced. It was only after some probing that I was made aware that any details regarding my experience had to come from me directly to the board and I felt that them not disclosing this to me without probing was a manipulation tactic to make me believe that the reporting was taken care of. I felt like the center was unwilling to uphold their signing of this document because they did not believe me. They allowed LCSW to continue to work in a leadership position. I have reported LCSW to the LCSW report and am sending this document to the LCSW Social Work Board in State. I have received support from SHINE and joined their peer support group for survivors of psychedelic harm. I am still seeking a regular therapist and am no longer working with my prior regular therapist due to her eating lunch during the last two therapy appointments. I have become hypervigilant for any signs of unprofessionalism from my care team after this sexual misconduct I experienced from LCSW. This experience with LCSW and the leadership team at the center of my city, has devastated my well-being. I came close to jumping off a bridge the day after getting the news about no longer being offered the Facilitated dialog. I have lost my trust in all people and my care team. I stepped away from therapy as I no longer feel safe in these dynamics. I fired all of my doctors and therapists. I started smoking cigarettes to try and help cope with the stress. Most days, I hope to die and don’t wish to continue living. I have angry outbursts where I would act on urges and exhibit behaviors that are abnormal for me. I lost all will to live, and most days, I don’t have the energy to care for myself. I would be amazed if I didn’t end up taking my own life in the next two years. The few people who care for me don’t know how to help me and comment on how hopeless I seem. Some of the people closest to me have stopped answering my calls or texts because they don’t know how to help me, and I have been in crisis for many days since Jan. 26th. I am trying many new psychiatric medications that are not helping me. The center and LCSW entirely abandoned me. I was not allowed to speak to LCSW. I had to wait many weeks between emails from the center. I was denied being matched with another therapist to help me understand the changes I was experiencing after two KAP sessions and experienced such sinister abuse and trauma from LCSW. My regular therapist, tried calling Prescribing Doctor so she could get information on how to support me better, but she has yet to get a callback. I asked the center for LCSW resignation.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Community Message
    🇺🇸

    You are so important. Thank you for being here.

  • Report

  • “I really hope sharing my story will help others in one way or another and I can certainly say that it will help me be more open with my story.”

    Welcome to Our Wave.

    This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

    What feels like the right place to start today?
    Story
    From a survivor
    🇨🇱

    part of my story

    I don't know in which moment started. It was my father. I was a child. I was the favorite one between all of our brother and sisters. It was always subtle. The contact when I lay down on his bed, the slaps on the butt, or the comments that "you are so pretty that if I were your age and you weren't my daughter I would be with you.", added to the touch when I climbed onto his legs. It took me many years to understand that this, added to the fact that he did not see me as a normal father sees a daughter, hurt me tremendously. I felt like a trophy, like an extension of his body. I discovered that all this was abuse more than a year and a half ago. When I realized it in therapy I cried a lot. I felt very guilty about what happened, and even to this day I question whether I am not inventing everything, since everything is plausible and existed in reality, I just didn't want to see it as abuse. My older brother also abused my sisters and me, however, I have never been able to tell my family about my father. Seeing the pain they have felt with the news about my brother (relieved by one of my sisters), I see that it would only generate inconvenience and pain in my family. And being pragmatic, I couldn't achieve anything by revealing the news to my family other than complications. I know that if my sisters knew, they would want to talk to my father, and my father knowing would be able to stop paying my and my younger sister's alimony. And considering we're in college, it's something I can't afford. But I'm not going to lie, I feel disgusted every time I talk to him, I wish i would never have to talk to him.

  • Report

  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    I know not feeling believed can be rough. Sometimes I don’t even believe myself but I’ll believe you because I know that if I had just one person who believed me, that would make me feel seen and would help me heal.

    Dear reader, this message contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇨🇦

    Assault

    Date Dear Inner Self, I could see a dim lamp in the distance, I wanted to get closer so I floated closer and closer. The freezing air cutting into my cheeks this time, my ears screamed in pain. I needed to be there but the pain became too much, I had to stop and retreat a little, floating back away from the dim light in the distance that I so badly wanted, no needed. But i just couldn’t handle getting to close this time. This time everything felt different. Since Name was gone, the pain felt more intense, I can’t block anything out anymore. But I knew I needed to see what this light was so I embraced the searing pain in my ears and cheeks, even my toes and feet ached with agony from the cold and snow. The pain got so intense as the house came into sight, I was screaming in agony but I ignored myself just so I could see what this was, it was different and that scared me. BOOOF Suddenly, I crashed my body flailing as my right knee collided with the same roof as before. As my knee hit my body clasped onto the Inner self’s roof. I just laid there for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. You see I thought this light looked different and safe so I decided to float down, not knowing what I just released, not knowing what waited for me on the other side. I slowly raised my hands up to my face to see why they were eating away at me with a dull ache. Blood, crimson blood dripped from my hands. My eyes grew big. My palms were sliced up pretty savagely , intersecting little cuts joining into one big web of slices as blood oozed like a new ketchup bottle that was just opened and you added too much pressure causing it to spill over. As Outer Self was observing my deranged web of cuts on my hands a voice broke through my intense focus but as it spoke the other nipping pains of the cold came back to my cheeks, ears and toes. Like a sharp stinging dull ache. “Hey!” It was Inner self he was jogging over to the satellite that acted as a ladder down. He seemed terrified but seemed like he wanted to be helpful. “Climb down, I need to speak to you, right now!” He calmly stated the first part yet screamed aggressively “right now!” Outer self grunted in agony. “I can’t, my hands ruined” he said through gritted teeth “Just come down, fall if you have to, I need you right now, I know I was outraged yesterday but today…Oh just come down I don’t care how it happens!” “I want Name back but I understand what she was doing but this, this just feels is too different” “Judge and Monster are suffocating inside, there’s a different Monster now and I don’t know who he is yet, I don’t want to go alone or get too close, I don’t know what’s happening anymore” Inner self added his voice slowly painting with uneasiness. Outer Self’s eyes went wide with apprehension. He tried to speak but nothing came out, only choking on several one word questions at one all fighting to get out all at the same time. But suddenly, Outer Self lost his grip on the jagged icy roof and crashed into the ground with a violent deep yet dull thud. His body flailing in mid air just before he hit the cold snowy ground of reality. THUD “Outer self! No, I need you alive!” Outer self realized yes the crash into reality hurt but it was necessary to now see who this monster is, Bloody intricately sliced hands or not. 2 blotches of crimson blood were left into the snow as he slowly yet unsuccessfully tried to get up. “Get up” Inner self spoke in a gruff inpatient matter Now there was no time to process anything as the world now demanded me to move even if I really shouldn’t. Suddenly, I felt 2 hands reaching under my arm pits pulling me up in a slow awkward motion as Inner Self wasn’t strong enough to fully pick me up. He just haltingly dragged me toward the impending door. Only so i could deal with this new monster for him without any of my choice in the matter. “No-o P-please, P-please do-n’t” outer self slowly choked out as he was haltingly dragged across the snow. Then he was dragged up one step onto the deck just before the door inside his feet dragging like a fork pressing into mash potatoes. Outer self could see the dim light in the living room just off the kitchen getting brighter, his dread intensified but there was nothing he could do, he was now broken by his Inner Self. As he got closer and closer inching toward outside the door his stomach dropped out of his body along with his intestines. They stayed as his body moved on. That Monster wasn’t himself, it was another Man. Someone he recognized. His intestines and stomach didn’t move as they were dragged further from his body. Yet everything snapped back into his body as he somehow got to his feet in a quick calculated manner. His eyes immediately went wild darting rapidly as his breath sped up so fast it threatened to choke him out and kill him on the spot. He recognized this man, it was, Outer self hated this term, Rapist. Suddenly, Outer Self screamed in torment as he looked down, his hands gushed with new blood. Then, there was a sharp twinge in his groin and inside himself “down there”. He felt that deep-seated panic that he’s felt only twice before in his entire life. A primal fear he couldn’t explain ever if he tried. Outer Self wanted to grab the knob but he literally couldn't. Not with his hand the way they were. “Go ahead, what are you waiting for?” Inner self callously yet mildly stated As Outer Self began to come up to the door half tripping up the long wooden 2 steps to the door, The new monster slowly turned his attention and head towards outer self with a cold vacant, empty look, steel. This monster had no Name, no he wasn’t even human he just looked that way, it was deeply disturbing to Outer self. THOOK Suddenly, from Outer Self’s left side something tackled him taking both himself and this mysterious being down with him. His body stiffly descended, he turned his head last second as they both hit the deck below them. Wait It was Monster who just tackled him as the new monster looked on from inside. How did monster even get outside Outer self thought?

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    I will get there, I’m just not there yet

    There are pieces of different stories that fit my situation. I’m a successful executive and I am so embarrassed that I ignored all the red flags and got myself into this mess. I feel so unworthy, a combination of childhood emotional neglect, sexual assault as a teenager, and a 25 year marriage full of emotional neglect and infidelity. I even feel unworthy of putting myself in the same category as the survivors on this page, like my story isn’t as valid. He is a sexual assault survivor himself; he was molested by an older female cousin when he was little. That was part of the attraction at first. I thought we understood each other’s pain and would help each other heal what still remained. At first the attention felt like caring, like someone finally gave a damn. The requests to text where I was at all times, wanting to track my location and share his, wanting to talk or FaceTime all night on the phone, even sleeping with the call still going, next to me, when we weren’t together. Now I know it was about control and a deep lack of trust. I have learned over time to never look around at a restaurant or I will be accused of staring at another man. I have unfriended most of my male friends on social media and I am afraid to post anything in case one of the remaining ones comments. He demands that I show him any communication from any man on social media. He wants to know my work meeting schedule and gets upset if I don’t text him back right away. One time, he was out of town and my phone wasn’t plugged in correctly so the battery died during the overnight FaceTime call. I panicked when I woke up and realized what had happened, and he was furious with me. He wanted to know if I had cheated between 4 am and 8 am when the phone was dead. And I haven’t asked him to leave yet. I don’t know why. We have almost broken up several times, and every time I believe him that it will be different. It won’t be different. I am exhausted and I don’t recognize myself anymore. I am too ashamed to tell my friends or family the extent of it, although they know things are off.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    Autistic voice

    I used to think rape was what you'd see in movies. Jumped on by a stranger and violently assaulted. Turns out I was wrong. I have been raped on multiple occasions and didn't fully understand it until I got older and wiser and also found out that I'm autistic. This is what helped me to understand what had really happened. I learned and studied autism in girls and women and figured it out from there. I was vulnerable and impressionable and masked so much that I was a completely different person on the outside than who I really was on the inside. When I was younger and had no clue that I was being preyed upon due to my vulnerability and started to pretend as though I just liked sex and was willingly promiscuous. It was a lie I told myself and my friends so that I didn't have to face the fact I couldn't and didn't know how to say no and mean it. There is flight, fight and also freeze. So many times I was telling them no and when they didn't stop I just froze and realised that my voice was pointless and they weren't listening to me. It was easier to allow them to finish without fighting and having it be violent too. I didn't realise how badly the mental impact would be. One particular night I was out in a bar and a few of us went back to a house party. One guy was showing interest in me and I actually liked it. We kissed and had fun and then he led me to a bedeoom and I hesitated but ended up going in. When he started to undress me I held my dress and said no. I said it so many times and he started to get really rough and forceful and started saying things to me about leading him on and what did I think was going to happen and I just wanted it rough. I realised that no matter what I said, sex was going to happen so I had two options, fight and be both violently and sexually assaulted or just have the sex without any further resistance which would mean that I'd be only sexually assaulted without the extra violence. I chose the latter and for a long time I believed that I just had sex that night. I now realise that was absolutely rape. It's played with my mental health for over ten years and I'm ready to acknowledge what happened to me instead of being in denial.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    putting my body back together

    I am 22 years old. I have always liked sex, and not necessarily the physical feeling, but the empowerment around it. I know that sex does not always have to be political, but growing up Mexican/American and Roman Catholic, it always felt charged. I lost my virginity in a dark space. I was thirteen, and a boy from my class who had been harassing me, made me go into our school's auditorium, went backstage, pushed my head down, and made me...well yeah. I felt like I was going through the motions. Like, if I wanted to prove how unaffected I could be by this forcefulness I would win my abuser(s). He asked again and again if he could put it in, and I finally said yes. Knowing what I know now, I know this was not true consent. I remember after it was done, I said "Well, that sucked." And he said, "What are you talking about? That was awesome." I felt so numb after, and I mistook that numbness for power. I felt nothing, felt no different. I convinced myself virginity/sex meant nothing. Catholicism had lied to me. They said that when we have sex, we (women) lose something essential about ourselves. We become attached to the man, and we will never return to that former state. I remember feeling like I debunked the church. It was a scam to make religious girls hate themselves and depend on men. I don't think I was necessarily wrong, more like misguided. I was on the right track, but I made sex unimportant, I made my body unimportant. I had to, I think, because recognizing the weight of sex would have made my situation unbearable. Now, at 22, I know better. I wish I could hug and hold my younger self. She'd probably think I was corny and overemotional, but I don't care. To my younger self, I am so sorry. I think you're very smart, but remember that hurting yourself to prove things to others is never worth it. You don't have to make an example of yourself to be empowered. You were coerced, you were abused and harassed, and you're not less powerful, less yourself, for recognizing that. I love you very much. I got raped in August. I had just come back home from my college town. I was heartbroken to have finished my time there. To have said goodbye to the best friends I've ever had. My bestie who went to college and high school with me had already been in our city for a month and asked me to go out. I didn't feel like it, but she convinced me. We're only so young and whatever. I had left on a pretty low vibration since on the last day of my time there this guy I had been friends with and hooking up with regularly for almost two years, told me he had been having sex with other girls unprotected regularly, and every time we checked in about using condoms he had been lying. Leave it to abusers to unburden themselves when they know they'll face minimum consequences. I could not wrap my head around the utter disrespect and betrayal of my body. Why didn't men care? Why couldn't they see us as more than just a fucking hole? Couldn't he have just been honest? Was using a condom with me so horrible that he had to lie about it for months? I was mad as hell. I was disappointed, and still am. I felt stupid. Why take someone's word? How could I live in a world where I had no control over how people I love/love hurt me so badly? Whatever, the point is, that the next day when I went out with my friend we had a little too much to drink. She had asked if we could meet up with this guy she had been seeing and his friend. I said sure, I was drunk and didn't want to be a killjoy. When we got to his place, he told us he invited a friend. His friend got there and poured us shitty box wine. I was a blackout and for some reason, we thought it'd be a good idea to let his friend drive me back home at 3 AM while I was trashed. The friend stopped the car, and convinced me to have sex, when I wanted to stop, he didn't let me and did not stop. I remember crying and asking him to stop, but he didn't stop. I don't remember a lot of the actual rape. I remember after. I cried hard, and I think I accused him of raping me, and I think he probably denied it. I just remember that he was so angry and I was so upset. I told him he had better give me plan b money, and that he better take me home, or back to his friend's house so I could tell my best friend. I remember him saying that I "disrespected" him. That plays in my head a lot when I don't want it to. "You disrespected me," he said. "I can kick you out of this car," he said. I remember holding onto the door. I remember thinking I would die. I only have flashes of after. I think I was sobbing on my friend, and I remember her face. She didn't know what to do, and how could she? She told me after, when I started to doubt my memory, that I had said he raped me. See, I didn't know, like the first time I had been abused, that afterward, you try to trick yourself into the easier option which is that you're just slutty. You're remembering wrong, or you exaggerated. But unfortunately no. You got raped. You know it, your body knows it. The rapist knows it too. Deep in his rotten core, he knows that he did something evil. But he'll probably just think, "bitches, man" or "She deserved that shit anyway" or "That's what women were made for". And I'm here, with my fear of death, my fear of sex/intimacy, my broken-ass self/sense of self, still wondering why the fuck people can't just respect me and my body? I used to never look over my shoulder. I was one of those girls who never felt the need to call someone or pretend to call someone when they were walking home. Shit, after that happened to me, pepper spray didn't feel like enough. I wanted to buy a gun. My liberal ass, anti-capital punishment, pro-gun control, wanted to buy one just so nobody could ever hurt me again. Sometimes I think of my body actually broken, on the side of the freeway somewhere. I think of my sister's dress that I had borrowed without asking, and how it had stains on it. And how she would have been so mad if I had died in it. I had to go to a quinceanera the day after, and I don't think I've ever been in more distress than the day after. Do you ever want to rip your vagina out of your body? Like it's some sort of focal point of pain. I wanted to be smooth like a doll or something. No entryways. My body still freezes up now. I learned that's PTSD. This is healthy. I never told my family because I knew they would blame me, so only a few friends knew. It's embarrassing almost, and I know it isn't, but it's hard not to think "If I would've just...If I hadn't," and so on. I didn't report anything even though I knew I could have, but there would be cops and I live with my family. I've seen what an investigation can do. I've read enough and existed around women enough to know it's almost if not exactly like a re-violation. I was so tired. That sucked too. My younger self thought that if someone ever did that to me, they would pay for it. I was sure I would be up and walking into a police station immediately after, asking for a rape kit with grace somehow? I would shock everyone with my dignity and my composure. That didn't happen, but it's okay. I'm okay. I'm better. I am still tired, but things have gotten better. I'm here, right? I love living so much, and I remind myself that when my body freezes up. I think of my younger sister too and how I want to shield her so bad. I fight the urge to tell her to stay inside, where it's safe. I know living, really being alive, is dangerous. I want her to be safe, but I want her to live well and fully, so I make sure she has pepper spray, that we share our locations, that she can text me/call me, and that there will never be judgment for whatever situation she finds herself in. Thank you for this platform, and I'm so sorry to the people who have had to use it. I love you all. I hope you are all doing ok and living well.

  • Report

  • Community Message
    🇺🇸

    You are so important. Thank you for being here.

  • Report

  • We believe in you. You are strong.

    “I have learned to abound in the joy of the small things...and God, the kindness of people. Strangers, teachers, friends. Sometimes it doesn’t feel like it, but there is good in the world, and this gives me hope too.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    Why am I the one left with the fallout?

    We started seeing each other and things didn’t feel bad at first. We spent time together regularly, and I developed feelings quickly. Over time, things began to change in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. Moments that once felt normal started to turn sour. “What else are you into?” he asked while we were having sex. “I don’t know. What about you?” I replied. “Slapping.” I was taken aback, but since I had feelings for him I wanted to impress him. Big mistake. “You want to slap me?” I asked hesitantly. “Kinda.” “Okay. We can try it.” So he slapped me across the face. It stung but I didn’t show it. “You like that?” he grinned. “Yeah.” I didn’t but I was too caught up in my feelings to say that. “You can slap me too if you want.” I never consented to slapping again; he never asked. Some time after, I refused to give him a kiss so he grabbed my hair and pulled me towards him. I pulled away and he slapped me. I kissed him so he wouldn’t do it again. Similarly, another time he was asking for a kiss when I was on top of him. I laughed and pulled away. “Please.” He begged. “Nuh uh.” I giggled. He looked at my necklace and grabbed it, ripping it from around my throat. We stared at each other for seconds before I laughed so I wouldn’t cry. He offered to buy me a new one but I said I’d fix it at home. I learned later that it was too damaged to be fixed. Another day we were curled up in front of the TV when I blurted out: “What’s your weirdest kink?” He thought for a moment before answering. “Blood,” he said. “Huh. Want to add more?” I asked, indicating the scars of self-harm on my arm. He chuckled. “Don’t have a sharp enough knife, I’m afraid. But when I get one, would you like to add some to me?” “Only if you want me to.” A moment of silence broken only by the TV. I didn’t know how to respond to that. “How about you?” “Huh?” “What’s your weirdest kink?” “Similar to yours; I like knives.” Again, I was trying to impress him. “I have a knife.” “I know. Want to give it a try?” “Do you want to?” “Sure.” He got up, retrieved his pocketknife and returned to the bed. We made out, got undressed and soon enough, he slipped inside me and brought the blade to my throat. He had his eyes closed and was focused on our lips and he accidentally poked the side of my neck. I didn’t mention it until the next time we hung out. The next time, he begged to cut off my underwear. I said okay, as long as he didn’t bring the knife near my throat again. He started hacking away and once there was a giant hole, he gave up and pulled them off before positioning himself between my legs and thrusting. He brought the knife to my throat. Thinking he had misheard me, I asked him to put it down. Through kisses, he asked why and I explained that he had poked my neck last time and I wasn’t interested in that happening again. He promised it wouldn’t and we kept going. I think I asked him to put it down again after that. Perhaps not, I really don’t remember. He asked if I wanted to top and I said sure so we switched positions and when I was settled, he handed me the knife. As I went to put it down beside us, he took my hand and assisted me in holding it against his throat. I don’t understand why he didn’t respect my initial no, I figured it was because of that old saying that everyone thinks at one point or another. ‘Boys will be boys’. Now I know that it’s boundary violations and coercive behaviour. When I asked him to stop, he should’ve stopped. Instead, he put me in an impossible situation where I had a knife at my throat and a man on top of me who refused to remove it. At that moment, I froze. I went to his house again after that and his hand tried to go up my shirt but I stopped him. I said, “No sex; just kisses.” “Just kisses?” He asked. I nod. “Okay.” He said. We kiss every few minutes while taking breaks to watch TV. His hand kept running up and down my hip and thigh. I took his hand and placed it on my thigh, telling him to ‘stay’. We kept kissing and his hand slowly trailed along my thigh and down to my butt, squeezing and stroking gently. I moved it back to my thigh and told him to leave it there. He tried to put his leg between my thighs like he’d do when we were naked before sex and doing a bit of foreplay. “Move your leg.” “Sorry.” He grumbled. His hand kept moving so I rolled over and put his hand on his thigh. “Stop touching me.” My turn to grumble. He asked, “Why?” “Because you’re making me horny.” “Good; be horny with me.” He said as he started kissing my neck and pressed his erection against my butt. “Not today. Don’t feel like it.” I moved my legs up and wiggled forward so my butt and his erection were inches apart. He stretched and moved his thighs so they were pressed against the back of my thighs and his erection was back against my butt. I rolled back around to face him and we kissed again. “Please, I need you.” He begged against my lips. I’m sure his boner wasn’t comfortable. So, I gave in. “I need you too, pretty.” “Can we fuck?” He asked. “Okay.” His hand went under my shirt and bra and he pulled both up. I removed them for him and he removed his own before settling back down with his thigh between mine. “Grind for me.” He commanded. “But I want you to fuck me.” “I will. Grind first.” I tried to protest but he started kissing and sucking on my nipples and instead, I moaned. He started grinding so I did as instructed and grinded against his thigh as we made out. As I got closer to orgasming, I said, “Please stop.” He paused and asked, “Why, baby?” “‘cause I’m gonna cum.” He continued to grind even though I had stopped. “Good girl,” he moaned. “Cum for me.” “But I’m wearing pants—“ “Shhh, that’s okay.” He took hold of my hips and guided me along his thigh, causing me to orgasm. My face was hot with embarrassment and I hid in his neck. When he stopped, he asked, “Did you cum?” “Mhm.” I nod against his neck. “Good girl.” No break, no warning; his hand wormed its way into my pants and underwear and he began to finger me. This is another example of how he refused to respect my boundaries and coerced me, wearing me down until I said yes. He would play games when we were done, logging onto Discord to voice chat with his friends. When he was in the middle of a game, I overheard him say, “how to give a bitch Stockholm Syndrome”. Again, I brushed it off as him being edgy. I realise now how disturbing his mindset had to be to say something like that. I told him I don’t beg for anyone. The next minute, we were undressed and he was rubbing himself against me, instructing me to beg or he wouldn’t put it in. I tried to resist, but he pinned my hands until I gave in. He would say, “you’re such a desperate slut.” Once he even told me that he was researching psychological warfare, and when I asked what that was, he said, “manipulation tactics.” Which truly highlights his mindset. I thought I might be pregnant and I sent him a text about it, expecting comfort and emotional maturity. What I was met with was a photo of a gun and cleaning supplies. Before I went to university, I joked about him getting together with an old lady to keep him company since our town is basically a retirement village. He said nah, he’s going to scout the high school for a 17 year old. With all the bad times stacked together like this, it’s easy to see the toxicity. However, it wasn’t all just bad times. He drip-fed me affection to keep me hooked on him, so that every time I tried to leave, he knew I’d come back hoping for the good version of him. We were watching a show when a scene depicting criminals getting shot at when I had a thought of what if one day it’s late at night and I’m at home with our future kids and he’s out somewhere and something bad happens to him but I can’t help him? A tear fell down my cheek and landed on his bare chest. I froze. I knew he felt it but I wasn’t sure how he’d react. He gently kissed the top of my head, changed the channel to ‘Cold Ones’—a YouTube channel we always laughed at while we watched. We were at his house in his new room and he kept trying to engage in intercourse with me. I told him no, that I just wanted to cuddle and watch TV. He got grumpy at that and told me “if you’re not going to have sex with me, you can leave.” I got up, started grabbing my stuff and he asked where I was going. I said I was leaving and all he said was okay. That response was so dry that I decided to stay. I climbed back onto the bed and he kept asking, “can I touch you?” I kept repeating, “it’s probably dry.” Without warning, he shoved his hand down my pants and started rubbing me, moaning about how wet I was. We started having sex because he wanted to and I didn’t want to get kicked out. His bed was too squeaky so we moved to the floor. I asked him to pass me a pillow and he dropped it on my face. Then he came over, stood above me and started waving his dick around over my face and squatting lower. I asked him what he was doing multiple times and he was just grinning without responding. Finally, I crawled out from under him and asked if he was about to take a shit on me. He replied that he was just going to get me to suck him off. I didn’t agree to any of that. Again, it wasn’t all bad. We were eating Domino’s BBQ chicken in bed when a drop of sauce fell onto my breast and he pointed it out. “Lick it up.” I grinned. “Ew, that’s gross.” He grimaced. “You weren’t complaining ten minutes ago.” He nodded. “True.” He licked it off. Some time later, he made a joke about getting me BBQ sauce for my birthday. Another time I was tickling his feet and he grabbed me and put me in a headlock with his legs and tried to fart on my face. This happened more than once. Christmas came rolling around and he asked me what I wanted for Christmas. Excited, I told him to surprise me and I went shopping for him, buying a bunch of items I thought he’d like including a music note necklace, a dragon-skin bauble, dice, fidget toys, incense and an incense stand. Of course, his favourite expensive chocolates too. When I gave him his presents, he had nothing for me. I saw a cat statue on his desk and he said it was for his ex-girlfriend. He never got me anything. He finally left me after I tried to commit suicide, told him I went to the hospital when really I was scared and hid in my room. I told him I lied and he freaked out, sending me a message that said, “my point is whilst you were idealising your own death I was stressed like a mf and everytime you declined my help it didn't make me feel really all that good, then you lied to me about getting help you made me feel like shit.” I wouldn’t stop messaging him, trying to get him back and understand why he treated me the way he did. He got an AVO and is actively using it against me.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • We all have the ability to be allies and support the survivors in our lives.

    “You are not broken; you are not disgusting or unworthy; you are not unlovable; you are wonderful, strong, and worthy.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    DECADES

    DECADES When I was 22 years old, I was on a college campus with my finance and decided to go out to the car at 11 pm to get the left over cake we had brought from dinner. I man walked near me and I said hi, and proceeded to get the cake. The man came up behind me and flipped me to the ground trying to rape me. I screamed, time slowed down and I remember hearing my Mom say that my car keys are a weapon so I started jabbing him with them. I struggled free, ran to a building, falling on my way. A driver arrived who heard my screams from blocks away and the police were called. The police even thought they got him and showed me several photos of similar looking men, but I couldn’t make a positive id, so he was set free. After this sexual assault, I bought a gun, moved in with my fiancé, took self-defense classes, read books, saw a psychologist who diagnosed me with PTSD due to overwhelming anxiety that paralyzed me. The world was no longer safe. It resulted in triggers, and brought back my first sexual assault as a teenager in a crowded bus in another country of an older man pressing his erection against me as I keep moving away from him toward the front of the bus, until I finally found another teenage who I could sit on her lap to get this stranger to stop. It has been 64 years since I was attacked in that parking lot. I have been happily married for 64 years and have a positive self image. BUT, I still can’t wear skirts. I still can’t go in parking lots alone at night and am uneasy going anywhere at night. I can’t watch a movie or play that has sexual assault or the anxiety becomes overwhelming. I still own the same gun.

  • Report

  • Healing is not linear. It is different for everyone. It is important that we stay patient with ourselves when setbacks occur in our process. Forgive yourself for everything that may go wrong along the way.

    Taking ‘time for yourself’ does not always mean spending the day at the spa. Mental health may also mean it is ok to set boundaries, to recognize your emotions, to prioritize sleep, to find peace in being still. I hope you take time for yourself today, in the way you need it most.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    Summer before college it all changed

    Over 2 years on and I’m only realising the impact of what I’ve been through. I was 19, just had my heart broken by a cheater after being together for number long years. So of course when this guy said he’d buy me a drink I took it, danced with my friends at a local festival with my home only being a 5 minute walk away. He found me in the nightclub later on and asked me to go for a walk, and I agreed. I left the nightclub and first thing made it clear, all I want is to talk and most I’ll do is kiss you and he said that was perfectly okay, he offered me some of his drink and I had a few sips. We talked and talked, we sat down on a flat rock and had some laughs and shared some kisses when things started to change. A lot happened, a lot that I asked him to stop doing, my mind felt fuzzy and I felt numb. At one point I couldn’t move and could barely breathe, there were a few moments where I wasn’t sure what he was doing to me, or if he was recording it. I’m not religious but I prayed that I wouldn’t be found dead the following day, I didn’t want my parents to lose their baby at only 19. I don’t know how I got out of the situation, but I did. And I rang my friends straight away, was hysterical and guards found me. I ended up going to the hospital to the sexual assault treatment unit and the women were lovely but that has traumatised me. It was the only time I was ever in hospital and there I was alone. Every day for over 2 years it comes into my mind at least a few times. It happened in the month and in month I started college, I sought college therapy but I’m not sure how much it helped. I disassociate a lot and my emotions are easier to switch off now, but every few hours that night plays into my head. I felt as if I had the worst beginning to college, but I also felt that it was a new chapter and a new experience. I struggled with alcohol abuse for a while and I wasn’t scared to say no to drugs. Thankfully that only lasted a few months. I hit some really bad lows, but I’ve also turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly in a sense. That Christmas I cried, I cried because I was glad to be alive. That I survived what he did to me, and I also survived my mind. But him in my mind still affects me to this day at 21 and a half. I haven’t gone to RCC as I’ve always felt this shame and guilt, I feel very alone as none of my friends were supportive and the news broke out the day after it happened across my small town, and having that victim blaming comments or remarks “like oh wasn’t he apparently younger” going around made it even harder to talk about or the “it wasn’t that bad and it could’ve been worse”, yes it could’ve been worse but it is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I have reached out to therapists and I am considering visiting the rape crisis centre as I have been struggling these 2 years really, I’m happy and have a brave face but that night intrudes and invades my thoughts an awful lot. I’ve also been struggling with my sexual life, after the incident I slept with a lot of people most of it which I can’t remember. And I regret it and feel so much guilt and shame, especially when people ask “oh what’s your body count” well I never tell and I never will as it’s my business. But even after I calmed down, I either get attached easily or I run away, and then feel the shame and guilt around sex, believing that I rushed in. I’m slightly better, but reading these stories reminds me I’m not alone and that I won’t be judged by others and people willing to help. I hope one day, I can feel “normal” again and live the rest of my life as any young woman should.

  • Report

  • “It’s always okay to reach out for help”

    “I really hope sharing my story will help others in one way or another and I can certainly say that it will help me be more open with my story.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    A cold winter night

    It was a cold snowy winter night just before the COVID shutdown spread across the country. I was attending the second-year graduate school class reception with a group of friends from the second-year graduate class. My "date" as my invitation to attend that class's event was really someone everyone knew was in a committed long-distance relationship and just using the extra ticket as a fun excuse to invite me as friend. It was a fun time to explore a historic mansion while having food and wine. An hour later, as it was about to conclude, one of the second-year's partners turns to me and tells me she would really like to meet me at a bar, and a group of people from that class are planning to go there. I turn to my "date" and we both agree to go. We drove to the vintage bar, one I never had been to before. I walk in through the snow and ice in my black high heels in a cocktail dress covered by my winter jacket, trying my best not to trip. A cocktail and a few conversations among classmates of my "date" later, I find myself in the corner chatting with the person who invited me to the bar from the reception. Something seemed off from the start of the conversation -- and it only got worse. The 30-something-appearing cis woman was a faculty member, yet seemed to serial date younger, new students at the same professional school -- a fact a classmate mentioned in passing with an eye-roll earlier. The one-to-one conversation with me appeared to go in circles, with her repeating the same stories over and over again without realizing that she was doing so. Awkward conversation, but it would just be a temporarily annoyance, my thought was. Yet it took an even more bizarre turn. She kept getting closer to closer to me as she was talking. At one point, she touched my shoulder, ostensibly to make a comment about how she liked my dress. She was mentioning her professional expertise and connections in the field I was, and still am, most interested in entering. She then started asking me awkward questions about how I was visibly trans, and then mentioned as a complete non-sequitur how she was the dominant "masculine" partner in her relationship. And then, to my horror, I noticed her abruptly lifting the bottom of my dress up and reaching underneath my dress to attempt to grope either my inner thigh...or worse. This wasn't just a slight motion; her hand was fully underneath my dress and moving fast upwards, from what I could clearly see from the brief glimpse I took. I immediately stepped backwards with a wide-eyed look on my face, in total disbelief of what just happened...and what did not happen that was mere seconds away from fully happening. She turned away in a hurry and walked back to her partner at the bar -- who was oblivious to what just happened -- grabbed him by the arm, and made an excuse to request to leave. This was not the first time I had experience attempted or completed sexual assault. Just like when I experienced rape the year of my college graduation, during a different cold winter night years earlier, I remember feeling puzzled, confused, and very much *not* wanting to put a label on what just happened to me. The events of each night leading up to the sexual assault always seem so random and not predictable as they are happening, but in retrospect, it is so easy to attempt to scrutinize every detail as a possible warning sign of what was to come. Yet I do not even want to think about the likely reality that the attempted sexual assault I experienced that night seemed to happen due to being visibly trans. When people think of post-traumatic stress disorder from an evolutionary perspective, it is typically thought of as an adaptive way to avoid situations of future danger. But when you're scared of social events and comments about personal identity, just think of how unpredictable the healing journey is.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    #1857

    #1857
  • Report

  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇨🇦

    Everything

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    You are NOT alone

    You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    It Started with my Brother

    I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    My story

    I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇮🇪

    When a yes turns to a no

    I was 18. In college I was part of a ladies team on in college sports team. There were also male teams. There was a inter college tournament that our college was hosting for other male college teams within Ireland. We all had nights out planned and a 'play hard, play hard' attitude. It was great to be part of something - I genuinely loved playing and being part of the club. On one of the nights I was drinking and got to talking with a guy from another college mens team. It was fun and we ended up back at his hotel room, where we had consensual sex. After, I remember feeling groggy and then being suddenly awoken to all these lads barging in. They ripped the bed cover off us and I remember phone flashes going off. It was year so, not exactly amazing phones back them. Slagging of various types ensued but then I remember being held down. At least 2 different men. I remember saying no, please stop. Flashes in and out while I just stared at the corner of the bedside table, thinking how similar it was to the one in my parents room. Weird. I must have slept at some point because I woke up. I got dressed. I remembered nothing. Nothing but the sex with the lad I kissed. Naturally, the next morning is always awkward so I wanted to get out of there. Just as the hotel room door clicked shut I realised I had left my shoes. I knocked back and had to do so loudly as everyone was deep asleep. As I was doing that one of the other team members opened a door across the hall, he stared at me. I said sorry for waking him but I needed my shoes. He just said he was so sorry. I was confused, having no memory of what he was actually talking about, so I said I'm sorry I left my shoes. Eventually someone opened the door and I got my shoes. Leaving the hotel and walking to the nearest bus stop, I felt appropriately hung over but sore. Down there. I'd never been sore before. Guess we must have really gone for it, I thought. Fast forward to lockdown 3 during Covid, I began experiencing severe nightmares that weren't nightmares. The missing memories came back over 2/3 months and I realised that I had been rated multiple times. That my brain had protected me until now. My SA, unknowingly, had a huge impact on my formative years - I came out as bisexual just 2 years ago. I feel I would have had a very different 20's but I met a decent guy, stuck with him like glue and am now married with a child. Due to the memory block, I have no recourse. No sense of justice so I just hope those boys, now grown men, are better than they were.

  • Report

  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇯🇵

    Supporting others who are facing similar challenges

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    SLIDING SCALE K THERAPY TRAP

    I am a survivor of what I believe to be therapist abuse, emotional manipulation, and grooming behaviors from LCSW, which I experienced while undergoing K Assisted Psychotherapy. I came to the center in my city, full of hope that I would get to access this kind of therapy as a lifelong, low-income person who has experienced immense trauma starting at the age of two. I had heard of the benefits and life-changing experiences that others had experienced with this type of therapy and was hoping for the same. Without access to the sliding scale cost model that the center was offering LGBT+ and BIPOC, I would have never been able to afford a therapy like this. I was hopeful to be able to access this therapy and would check in regularly about my place on the waitlist. FOR THE READER'S INFORMATION: COMMON REACTIONS TO SEXUAL MISCONDUCT BY A THERAPIST If a therapist has engaged in any sexual behavior or contact with you, you may experience some or all of the following feelings or reactions: Intimidated or threatened. Guilt and responsibility—even though it is the therapist’s responsibility to keep sexual behavior out of therapy. Mixed feelings about the therapist—e.g., protectiveness, anger, love, betrayal. Isolation and emptiness. Distrust of others’ feelings or intentions or your feelings. Fearful that no one will believe you. Feeling victimized or violated. Experiencing traumatic symptoms, e.g., anxiety, nightmares, obsessive thoughts, depression, or suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Before Intake, Admin told me I would have a psychological evaluation with a psychiatrist. INTAKE I arrived for my psychological intake, where LCSW accessed me. I was surprised to learn he was not a psychiatrist. I had seen LCSW in the main lobby as he hurried towards the elevator as I was reading the board to find the suite Location was in. I joined LCSW in the elevator, and he asked what floor I was going to. I said,” 4, the same as you, were probably going to the same place”. I made that assumption on how LCSW looked, as I assumed the guy with long died hair probably had something to do with psychedelics. We both ended up at the the center, where he instructed me on how to use the call button and told me to expect the admin to grab me from the waiting room soon. This appointment seemed pretty standard, so he asked me some basic questions and reviewed some basics of KAP therapy. I remember discussing my yoga practice and studies in herbalism, and he asked me what inspired that path. I told him my honest answer was a bit embarrassing as I was 15 and was first introduced to yoga in a small town in State when reading about it in Seventeen magazine and had read an interview with a yogi. I also said that I thought the yogi was attractive, which probably caught my attention. LCSW responded to this by saying. “Likely.” I found his response to be a bit demeaning. He didn’t understand the complexity of being raised in isolation in a place that lacked a diversity of culture and could only connect to the outside world through old magazines that my friends would hand down to me at school. At the end of this appointment. He told me that I would get a list of therapists and that I would get to pick from that list. I later received an email from LCSW: “Great news, I will be your therapist.” This felt uncomfortable to me for a few reasons: the inconsistency in the information I was told about choosing my therapist made me nervous, and I usually avoid working with male/male-bodied therapists due to significant traumas I have experienced from being raped, objectified, and brutally attacked by men. I chose to trust the process and hoped that this might be an opportunity to experience healing and safety with a male-bodied person who would hopefully be safe with me. LCSW told me we had to reschedule the first preparation appointment due to an emergency. As I tried to walk away unbothered by the random emergency, he stopped me and apologized multiple times, and I thought it strange that he would spend so much time apologizing to me if there was an emergency. PREP 1 My preparation appointments with LCSW were bizarre. My first couple of appointments discussed the possibility of therapeutic touch, what therapeutic touch is, and informed consent. I found it odd how much time was spent on these subjects; this was discussed at length during all three preparation appointments. I had done a lot of somatic healing bodywork with a physical therapist, and these conversations were not new to me. Still, I was uncomfortable with the amount of time and number of times this was brought up during preparation. PREP 2 LCSW discussed therapeutic touch again at great length. He claimed to be trained in somatics. LCSW said to me, “ I am your therapist for only a short amount of time, so we can do ANYTHING you want.” LCSW said to me, “ I know I am your therapist, but I want you to have as much power as you want.” LCSW asked me how I felt about therapeutic touch. I let LCSW know I was uncomfortable with touch in any capacity and would prefer to be given physical distance as much as possible. I told LCSW that I, historically, would avoid touch in any capacity throughout my life and gave examples of how I place pillows between myself and my friends when I sit on couches next to them. LCSW asked me if I was comfortable with him suggesting to me that I could touch myself. I felt uncomfortable with how he worded this but didn’t react. For example, he said some patients have tremors uncontrollably and can be instructed to place their hands on their arms. I told him I did not want him to make these suggestions. LCSW asked me what the thought of being touched felt in my body. He asked if this felt squirmy, and I said yes. During my preparation appointments, LCSW acted like he was some kind of drug dealer and made it seem like he would be involved in how many mg of K would be prescribed to me from the pharmacy. He asked me during each session how many milligrams I would want. He said I got to choose up to 600mg per session. I asked if I was prescribed 600mg each session and if I would have to take all of it during the session if I decided not to. He said I could do this. I asked for the max prescription, and he told me I could be prescribed 250mg. This was another example of him offering me a choice (like choosing my therapist) and then taking that choice away. He then asked me again how much I wanted to be prescribed in the following session. I remember this session was in person. I told him I wanted to be prescribed the high end of what is normal, and he said he would go with that. I was made aware that the dosage is prescribed by the prescribing doctor, Prescribing Doctor, and there is a standard dosage that most patients are prescribed with a max dosage of 400mg. LCSW disclosed his gender identity to me and asked me if I had a preference in how he would present himself during our sessions because sometimes he wears dresses and glitter. I asked if he was asking about my comfort with my gender expression. He assured me that was not what he was asking about and, instead, wanted to know if I would be more comfortable with one of his gender expressions over another, and I let him know that I didn’t think it mattered. I found this conversation beyond strange and uncomfortable. I’ve been in therapy since I was 18, and I have never had a therapist behave in the ways I convey with LCSW and found him to be strange, unpredictable, over-sharing, and unsafe. Before my final in-person preparation appointment, LCSW informed me that he had moved his office to a different location in the center because it was larger. PREP 3 LCSW quickly allowed me access from the waiting room on this day. Almost immediately after I pressed the button on the wall, I could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, and this made me uncomfortable as most therapists or doctors that I have worked with allow for 1-5 minutes to pass before greeting me in the waiting room. I felt LCSW was unusually excited or rushed about my arrival. LCSW had warned me in the previous preparation appointment that he had moved offices because the new office was larger. I was highly uncomfortable with the move when I saw his office. I froze in the doorway. He moved his office to the center's most private and secluded area. The new office seemed smaller. A reclined chair in his old office was available for the KAP therapy, which felt safe. The chair was not in his new office, and my options for where to lay down during my KAP therapy were a couch that I was much too tall for or a mattress on the ground. I felt unsafe laying on a mattress with LCSW in the room, but I thought I had no choice. I had experienced so much seductive and inappropriate behavior with him that discovering I would not have a reclined chair and would be isolated in the building was devastating news to me. The fact that his new office did not have room for the antigravity chair in his old office was an example of how this move was not due to the office being larger than he claimed. I had brought gifts for LCSW for the Winter Solstice. I had gifted him a piece of mushroom art made with layers of paper and a mushroom hairpin that my coworker made. These items were kept on a shelf in his office for all of my following sessions. I wasn’t aware that therapists are not supposed to accept gifts from their clients. LCSW was overly excited about the gifts. During our in-person preparation session, LCSW would ask me questions unrelated to my therapy. Do you like guacamole? Do you enjoy Role-Play Board Games? When I asked why he asked me these questions, he answered, “I’m trying to understand your resources.” After initially reporting him to my doctor, I discovered his dating profile while listing his display name, “Guacamole,” and his interests, “Role-play Board Games.” Now, I wonder if he was spending my sessions with me trying to gauge our compatibility for dating. LCSW would be extremely flirtatious with me. He would have his long hair up in a bun, pull it out slowly, groom it with his fingers, and display it in front of his shoulders, all while batting his eyes at me. Both times he did this, I went into shutdown. I would avoid eye contact, look at the floor, hunch, and move my body in the opposite direction, showing my physical discomfort. I would be talking about something both times he did this, and each time, I lost my words and stopped talking as a part of the shutdown state of my nervous system. This flirting with his hair happened on PREP 3 and KAP 1. One session was a preparation appointment, and the second time was before I was administered K for my KAP session. I asked LCSW if people clench their jaw while on K as I often have a lot of jaw tension and use a nightguard at night. He shared with me that his other clients who are “guarded” usually feel more relaxed on K and that often the jaw relaxes, but he let me know I could bring my guard if I wanted. I remember not liking that LCSW had indirectly called me guarded, but he was not wrong about that assessment. I had learned to be guarded to protect myself from people, especially harmful people like LCSW, who were unpredictable and unregulated. As I think back to this interaction, I wish I had been able to remain guarded around LCSW, which was not possible for me while on a psychedelic. LCSW asked me during an in-person preparation appointment if I had been hypnotized and if it worked. LCSW would use Neurological Language Processing on me to try and seduce me and make me think about sex during two of my sessions, PREP 3 & KAP 1. When he gave directions for taking the K medication, he would speak at a regular pace until he got to the part of the directions that directed me that I could spit or swallow the K. Specifically, the words “spit and swallow” were slowed down to an unusually slow pace, and he would stare into my eyes with intensity when he said those words slowly. He would slow that part of the directions down to a slow pace, all while making intense eye contact that made me highly uncomfortable. He did this during my last preparation appointment and also during my first appointment with the K. During these experiences, with the sexual and seductive nature of the emphasis of these words, while giving me directions, I would go into shutdown. I would look away and disengage with LCSW during these interactions. I was feeling highly unsafe, overwhelmed, confused, and afraid. KAP 1 During my first KAP appointment, LCSW welcomed me from the waiting room, pressed the switch on the wall, and looked around the room as usual. He would typically follow me down the hallway to his office, which made me uncomfortable as I have been stalked coming home at night off the bus countless times. In any capacity, I will avoid having any persons behind me as I feel safer when I can see people and when I have enough physical distance to run or defend myself if I can see signs of aggression in a person. I was surprised that LCSW would walk closely behind a person with PTSD, and I felt he had minimal experience working with people with PTSD and didn’t understand trauma-informed care. Most trauma-informed professionals I work with would check in with me regularly about what I was comfortable with. Before working with LCSW, I’d never had a doctor or staff walk so closely behind me. For example, I have had Doctors ask me if I am more comfortable sitting in a chair that faces the door instead of having the door behind me, and LCSW never checked in with me about any of these things. I was violently attacked for asking a 300lb man to try and be quiet so that I could sleep. I struggled to ask for what I needed to feel safe and comfortable from men after this experience, and I did not feel safe asking LCSW not to walk behind me or continue invading my personal space. While being let into the center, I stood behind him with as much physical distance as possible and waited for him to finish so I could follow him down the hall. He instructed me to walk down the hallway to his office and followed me closely. I entered LCSW’s dark office with the blinds closed. I felt uncomfortable immediately but was trying to manage my fear and stress the best I could as I was so dedicated to healing with K Assisted Psychotherapy and was looking to this therapy as my last hope after having tried everything with a slow, painful progress that had many setbacks as I struggled to avoid people like LCSW in my life who prioritize their desires over my well-being. We were in the center alone during all my appointments except the intake. There were no other therapists or admin. My KAP appointments were scheduled at the end of the day in the winter, so it was often already dark outside. I have since learned that being so isolated and having appointments late in the day are red flags. I was moving and brought in a book from my personal library to give to LCSW. On Book Name. LCSW responded to this by saying, “That’s really sweet.” This book lived on his bookshelf in following appointments. LCSW let me know I could set up my altar items at the end of his table and that he was going to the restroom and would be right back. I would like to mention that LCSW often seemed very different after visiting the bathroom. I suspected he was struggling with drug abuse and addiction, as when he went more than a few hours without a restroom break, he would look awful with sunken eyes with dark circles under them. He would get sweaty and look generally ill, and the only time I have seen anything like this was when I was around a family member who was experiencing opioid addiction. I was recovering from my KAP session when he looked ill to me, so it might have something to do with the medication or lighting. When LCSW returned from the bathroom, he walked right behind me while I was on my knees setting up my altar. I began physically shaking when he walked behind me because I feared him. I was visibly shaking, and LCSW started blowing air forcibly out of his nose multiple times, loudly. He was standing right behind me as I was visibly shaking and without tissue or covering his face. He blew out of his nostrils very forcefully multiple times until I froze. Then, I slowly turned my head in his direction and asked him, “Do you have allergies?” He said, “No, I have_____.” I can’t remember the condition he stated he had, but I remember it included something nasal-related to his nose. After asking this question to him, he immediately stopped with the weird, aggressive nose forceful exhalation. I never saw him do any weird breathing at any other time. I believe he did this to distract me from my body shaking and to gain sympathy from me as a form of emotional manipulation. My body was showing me how unsafe I felt, and I believe that LCSW wanted to distract me or was threatened by this. He then asked me to share the items for my altar with him. LCSW, told me he had to read my blood pressure. I was wearing a thick sweater and tried to pull the sleeve up high enough to be able to wrap the band around my arm. I could not pull the arm up high enough and asked LCSW if he could just put the band over my sweater. He said no and asked if that was okay. I sighed with disappointment and removed my sweater. Underneath my sweater, I wore a crop top/tank top shirt with no bra because I was instructed to dress comfortably. I was not comfortable with being so exposed around LCSW after experiencing so much harmful sexual behavior from him. Still, I was so desperate to receive this K Assisted Psychotherapy treatment that I was trying my best to cope with the harm I was experiencing. LCSW helped to wrap the band for the blood pressure reader around my arm. He did this very slowly. When he went to press the velcro together on the band, he used the tips of his two fingers, pointer & middle finger, and slowly pushed the velcro together with his two fingertips like this. This was taking forever and was very inappropriate and sexually charged. At this point, I got angry with LCSW. I audibly sighed with anger and frustration, and LCSW recognized this. He stopped petting my arm and took a step back. He told me to uncross my legs. He stood on the other side of the room and stared at the wall as the automatic blood pressure reader read my blood pressure. The machine went off with three beeps, and LCSW was still staring at the wall, completely disassociated. LCSW administered the K to me and did the creepy “spit or swallow” thing after this. He then helped me get onto the mattress and tucked me in, touching my body while tucking me in around my arms and legs. I remember having a difficult time relaxing or feeling comfortable during this appointment. I did not want to wear my eyemask or the noise-canceling headphones because I didn’t feel safe with LCSW and wanted to be aware of my surroundings as much as possible. I remember looking down at my body multiple times to make sure he wasn’t touching me. After about an hour into the session, I let LCSW know I had to use the restroom. LCSW helped me and told me we would have to walk slowly to the bathroom as I lacked balance. Someone from one of the other offices was walking behind us. I got into the bathroom and used one of the stalls. I sat there after finishing, not wanting to come out because I was so afraid of being around LCSW. The person who walked behind us to the bathrooms was also in the restroom in one of the other stalls. As she went to leave, she probably noticed that I was sitting in a stall and not doing anything. She asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. As we walked back, I exited the bathroom and noticed that LCSW was holding my hand, which I found very confusing. LCSW helped me back onto the mattress, tucked me into my blankets again, and touched my body on my arms and legs again. LCSW violated my informed consent by holding my hand and touching me while tucking me into my blanket while I was on K. I had clearly stated to LCSW that I did not want him to touch me in any way. I had a little loss of coordination but generally was fine walking on my own, and I did not need LCSW to hold my hand to “help” me. I was in an open and loving state of mind while on the medication, and this experience is when things got confusing for me. I knew I felt Uncomfortable with the unusual attention he was giving me and with the seductive and flirtatious behaviors he exhibited before taking K with him. This was the first time those feelings confused me, and a part of me liked how it felt to have this attention while under a psychedelic. These feelings caused me internal distress. After returning to the room, I tried to relax into my experience. I experienced a body sensation that reminded me of my body sensation when I had an out-of-body experience where you tense up right before leaving your body. I heard LCSW say, “There you go.” This freaked me out and took me out of my experience. I remember fidgeting my body after this. His comment felt like it was sexual to me. LCSW checked his laptop during my first KAP appointment and often texted someone through iMessage. As soon as the music ended, LCSW said my name “Name.” This jolted me out of my relaxed state. He told me he needed to use the restroom, and I asked him to bring me some water. When he returned, I had moved to the couch, and he responded to this move by saying, Woah. We chatted about my experience, as I didn’t feel like talking while on the medication. He then checked in with me and told me it was 515pm. Fifteen minutes later than when our appointment was supposed to end. I had arranged transportation and was shocked by how late our appointment had gone. I scrambled to get my things together to get to my ride in time. LCSW told me that I should plan to have my transportation picked up 15 minutes after our sessions, but this should have been communicated to me beforehand. I have since learned that therapists extending your appointment time past when it is supposed to end is a red flag. INTEGRATION 1 This was my first integration appointment. LCSW asked me how I was doing, and I said, “Fine.” He asked me to use a different adjective, and I told him I was feeling a lot. During this appointment, I went through my backpack, looked for my journal, and pulled out my headphones in their case in front of LCSW. He responded to seeing these headphones with an angry sigh. I shared some of the things I journaled about, and he seemed impressed by what I had written. I shared with LCSW about an oracle deck I had used the night after the first KAP session. I shared a card I pulled the night after my first KAP appointment while asking, “How can LCSW help me.” I read the description of the card I had pulled: “angel’s trumpet.” He got down on his knees and moved towards me with a coffee table in between us. He told me the reading resonated with him. I asked him how so, and he talked about his cornerstone of death work as the card description discussed how this card was related to hospice workers, which LCSW shared with me he had done before his current job. I resonated more with aspects of the reading that mentioned a seductive nature as I felt he had been sexually inappropriate with me, but I did not share that with him. He asked to see the cards' box and got loud and excited about my deck. “THERE’S A MAGIKAL BOTANICAL ORACLE DECK!” I often found LCSW’s energy to be unpredictable. He would, at times, use his therapist's voice and then have these excited or angry outbursts. He asked me if he could take a photo of the deck, and I said that was fine. After this first integration appointment, I felt a lot of shame and anxiety around having the headphones that I perceived LCSW had gotten angry about. He might be mad at me for seeking sliding scale services while having expensive headphones. I got these noise-canceling headphones as a self-care item for myself when I thought I would be undergoing KAP therapy while living with my ex, who would slam doors and move around the house angrily. I got these headphones to help me eliminate that noise and feel a sense of safety for integration. I felt so much anxiety and shame around my perception of LCSW being angry with me that I impulsively made a $500 donation to the center that I requested my employer match. My company later agreed to match my donation. I could not afford this donation, but I wanted to feel like LCSW was not angry with me for using the sliding scale services. the center later refunded my donation after reporting the harm. I requested this reimbursement, which I was grateful for as this was not a donation I was in any financial situation to make, and it was made on credit. I had made sure this donation was made privately and chose not to share my name as a donor with the center as I didn’t want LCSW to mention this to me because I didn’t want to talk about this uncomfortable situation with him. LCSW's phone was going off with a bell sound at the end of the session, and he apologized multiple times for this and said it shouldn’t be going off while he was messing with his phone. INTEGRATION 2 The second K appointment was canceled because LCSW had gotten sick. He had canceled an earlier preparation appointment because he had COVID, and I remember thinking he gets sick a lot. He wanted to keep our integration appointment and schedule it virtually, so we met via Google Meet. In his email coordinating this with me, he stated he would still “love” to have a virtual appointment. I didn’t like his use of the word love. He started the virtual appointment by overly complimenting my hair and telling me it looked good multiple times, making me uncomfortable. I remember I gave a cold and short “thanks.” He told me I had transformer hair and asked if I had recently changed my hair. I told him no, I was just wearing my hair up. I thought to myself that he was weird to make such a big deal about my hair and that I had worn my hair up around him before. In the background of his call was his bed in his bedroom, which I thought was strange and inappropriate. REACHING OUT FOR HELP On the evening a few days following integration 2, I asked my friend and mentor, a Naturopath Doctor, for advice. We scheduled an on-call, and I shared my concerns about this therapist. I wasn’t sure if I should approach LCSW with my fears about his behavior. She was extremely upset about the information I was sharing about my experience. She shared her knowledge about ethics as a provider and told me that this behavior was highly inappropriate and that she was worried about me. I remember her yelling out, “Don’t mess with my girl, fucker.” She asked me if I thought he was a predator. We came up with a plan that I would write out my concerns about LCSW’s behavior and share them with him during my next appointment. I did write this all out in my journal that evening. With Doctor's wisdom, I began to see that while experiencing this inappropriate behavior from LCSW before and during the altered state I was in using K, I had developed an addiction to the dysfunctional emotional state I would enter into when I experienced this abuse. I had been starving myself after my first KAP appointment, feeling high off the inappropriate attention, and having confusing feelings after experiencing the boundary crossing while on a psychedelic. I felt like the experience with LCSW was confusing my feelings surrounding love and solidifying my prior experiences that love is abuse. I was abusing myself, thinking I was loving myself. I wanted to look good, and since the abuse I experienced during my last preparation appointment at the end of Month, I had dropped four pant sizes. I was rapidly losing weight, which was noticed by my other care providers, who mentioned the change in weight to me. Since writing this in my journal and approaching my second KAP appointment, I have become very nervous about approaching LCSW with my concerns. I did not want to have this confrontation with him. I decided the night before that I was not going to read this to him unless there was another boundary crossing or sexually inappropriate interaction. KAP 2 Toward the beginning of my second KAP appointment, I asked LCSW about a stuffed animal bat he had on his bookshelf. He went into a very long-winded description of this bat. While looking at the bat in my opposite direction, he said that the wings were the PRIDE flag and the ears were the polyamorous flag. After sharing the polyamorous flag ears, he looked his right shoulder in my direction. I was staring at the wall across from me. I was worried about his intentions behind basically telling me that he is polyamorous. KAP 2 and integration 3. During these appointments, LCSW was more professional. He left his hair in a bun. He didn’t emphasize “spit or swallow.” He was normal when reading my blood pressure. I was so grateful that he had finally changed his behavior and respected these boundaries. I felt like he finally recognized how these behaviors affected me. I just had to manage my conflicting feelings around a part of me that felt like I had become addicted to this inappropriate attention. I was compassionate towards myself about that as I knew it made sense why I felt this way, that my experience was confusing, and that the psychedelic experience opened me up to feeling loving and caring to the therapist who I was feeling so unsafe with prior. I knew I could get help with this from my regular therapist and planned to discuss this during our next session. LCSW asked if I wanted the eye shade and headphones this time. I said I wanted to try them because hearing the lady in the room who shared a wall with LCSW, who worked with a different organization, and hearing him talk during my session last time was distracting. He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” LCSW was still sick during this appointment and was wearing a mask. I was annoyed that he was coughing during my experience, and I found that distracting even with the headphones. At the end of this session, I gave LCSW a gift of a mullein tincture that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness, extracted, and offered him a chance to try it. He asked me how to take it, and I shared the standard dosage of three dropper fulls three times a day and let him know to discontinue use if he had any side effects and when he no longer has symptoms of illness. Again, at the end of our appointment, we ended 15 minutes late. INTEGRATION 3 During our last session, I asked LCSW if he had tried the mullein tincture. He told me that he had taken it home, was using the standard tincture dosage, and was enjoying it. LCSW asked how it felt to have him respect my boundaries. He asked me this because he chose to be professional during one of our sessions. I told him I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I was grateful for how he showed up yesterday. I had processed some of the imagery or hallucinations I experienced in KAP 2, including my cat, who had passed OE. I shared with LCSW how I chose OE because she was the only kitten in the litter who seemed to want me to hold her. He responded to this story by saying, “You picked each other.” I found his wording and response odd and worried that he was hoping that I would pick him in response to him picking himself as my therapist and picking me for a patient to be inappropriate with. I shared with LCSW that I was surprised that I did not feel a dissociative effect with K. I shared that I could feel my body more than I ever had before, and I was curious about this because I had spent most of my life dissociated from my body due to trauma. I gave examples of how other drugs would work oppositely for me than the general public. He responded to this by calling me an anomaly. I found this odd as I always thought that these effects were due to me being neurodivergent. For many people with ADHD, coffee can make them sleepy. I was uncomfortable with LCSW making comments like I was unique or one of a kind, and I didn’t think that was a healthy mindset I was seeking for myself. LCSW asked me to share something coming up that I wasn’t sure I felt safe talking about with LCSW. I told LCSW I was uncomfortable talking about this with him because he is a male-bodied person and because we had a weird dynamic. He nodded and said yes, I am a male-bodied person. I worded this like that because LCSW shared with me that he identifies as non-binary, so I did not want to refer to him as a man out of respect. I told LCSW about how I would wake up to my ex-boyfriend on top of me many times and how, eventually, I developed an injury from this repeated trauma that made it so I was unable to have sex without experiencing a lot of pain. LCSW had an angry outburst at this news and told me that I was raped and that it wasn’t consensual, and Name was loud and angry. This made me highly uncomfortable, and I shut down. LCSW asked me for the name of the man who did this to me. I gave him the name, and then I started to defend the person who did this to me because I don’t think LCSW took the time to understand the layers of this trauma, how much I loved the person who did this to me, and what factors were involved (alcohol) that made this person do things they wouldn’t normally do. LCSW started to calm down after this, as his anger triggered me. LCSW said he believed good people do bad things. LCSW asked me what gym I go to during this meeting. After reporting LCSW, I saw one of the therapists that worked for him at my gym, during a queer event, and I felt highly anxious that he was having people watch me. I have been going to this gym for seven years and have never seen this therapist before. At the end of the appointment, I offered LCSW a cottonwood bud oil extract that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness and processed and extracted. I let him know, and it was labeled for external use only. I told him it was nice on this skin but that it should be tested on a small piece of skin first. He was grateful for this gift from me. He did not inform me that accepting patient gifts was inappropriate and did not uphold professional boundaries. I was not aware of these boundaries and ethics around gift-giving until after initially reporting sexual misconduct. I have text evidence about my ride from KAP 2. These texts were oddly missing from my text history, so my friend sent me screenshots of the messages she had on her phone. REACHING OUT FOR HELP & SUPPORT My friend who I first told about that harm I was experiencing followed up with the morning after KAP 2. After my integration appointment, I spoke with a friend at the sauna at my gym who went to school to become an LCSW and shared my experience with her. She told me that he had violated the code of ethics and that I was highly vulnerable. She then shared with me that her psilocybin guide had slept with her during their work together and that she had stopped her treatment with him. She asked me if I thought this was the first time he had done something like this. I had a panic attack in the locker room of my gym after talking to my friend. A week after KAP 2, I then shared my experience with my regular therapist, who also asked if I thought I was the first person he behaved this way with. She also informed that he had clear ethical codes. I had a panic attack during this session. The questions about LCSW being a predator remained in my mind. I knew his behavior as a therapist was inappropriate, and I wondered if the sometimes subtle nature of the experience and strange experience with his directions of “spit and swallow” could be accidental, especially when he repeated these behaviors even after I went into a shutdown state during my first experience with this behavior. I spent most of the night researching this kind of abuse. I am good at hyper-fixating and spending many hours researching a subject, quickly learning everything I can about it. I found many articles about grooming behaviors from therapists and emotional manipulation/therapy abuse that I felt uncomfortable with and how much I relate to them. These articles discuss the alleviation of symptoms of depression for victims due to the addictive nature of this inappropriate attention. I was pissed. I wanted to heal my brain, and I could not allow that to be based on a temporary response to the inappropriate attention I was receiving. I then read about how therapists sometimes adjust their behavior, becoming more professional after the patient shows some attachment or addiction to this behavior. The theory is that the patient will then approach the therapist and make the situation feel like a victim desires to have inappropriate interactions. I could not allow a situation like this when I had been so dedicated to healing for so many years of my life. I was highly agitated after learning more about this kind of abuse. I knew at this point that I was being deeply harmed and abused to an extent I couldn’t be fully aware of without the support of the people I spoke to about it and the knowledge of how this abuse affects victims. I planned to give myself time to process this new information before taking action. A week and one day after KAP 2, I had panic attacks in the waiting room of my doctor's office because I was struggling with the experience I had with LCSW and the knowledge I gained about the abuse I was experiencing. The doctor asked me about my experience with KAP, as I had listed K on my medications. It took me about an hour to tell her about my experience, but eventually, I was able to get it out of me between the tears and panic attacks. I did not want to report this to the doctor. I knew she would have to report him. I knew I would have to stop my therapy, and I did not want to give up this opportunity for KAP therapy. At the time, I also did not want to get LCSW in trouble, and a part of me felt incredibly guilty for telling this doctor about my experience. She was so amazing through this process. She spent about 2 hours with me, supporting me by sharing my experience. I had chosen this doctor for her indication of being trauma-informed; she had been patient, helpful, and understanding. She told me that I didn’t do anything wrong as I expressed my shame about how my feelings were confused once I had used a psychedelic with LCSW. She helped me come up with a safety plan. I knew I was in a very fragile state and thought it would be wise to have someone hold onto my K. She reached out to my doctors with my permission. She was able to get ahold of Prescribing Doctor, the prescribing doctor. On the day of my initial report to my doctor, I spoke to Prescribing Doctor on the phone, who works with Name. Prescribing Doctor is the prescribing doctor and is a part of the leadership team at the center. I was uncomfortable during this phone call with Prescribing Doctor; her tone was delighted and cheery. She told me she was in the middle of the forest in Locationwith joy and excitement. Her cheerful tone seemed highly inappropriate, given the circumstances, as I had just spent the day having panic attacks due to being groomed by her coworker. Later. I met with Prescribing Doctor in person. I asked Prescribing Doctor what was next after I reported the sexual misconduct. I shared with Prescribing Doctor how LCSW would disrespect my boundaries and continue to do so after I shut down in his office. Prescribing Doctor responded to this by saying, “he missed it.” I shrugged my shoulders in response. She reacted to my shrugging my shoulders by getting wide-eyed. Her reaction made me feel crazy and like she did not believe me. Prescribing Doctor then offered me a facilitated dialog with LCSW LCSW and offered that LCSW could bring the items I left in his office to my home, but I did not want that. I confirmed I did not feel comfortable having LCSW come to my house. It was an incredibly inappropriate thing even to suggest. Prescribing Doctor's notes do not include that the offering and idea of a facilitated dialog was her idea as a response to me asking what is next after reporting the sexual misconduct. She ignores my requests for this detail to be added to my record. The notes make it seem like it was my idea, which is not the case. I had no idea what a facilitated dialog even was before her offering it to me. Prescribing Doctor agreed to hold onto my medication and I could have it back whenever I felt ready. She later refused this unless I signed an NDA/release of all claims and when I shared my story more widely I was retaliated against and she claims she did this because I shared my experience of SI. I later was made aware that I wouldn't be able to take my life with K and that it is safe for this reason, and I would likely just take a long nap. I also had not had any thoughts about using K to hurt myself. I was later offered the facilitated dialog again with the Location team as part of a social justice framework. Cofounder and Psychiatrist informed me they could not provide it due to their insurance. That news was devastating, and I drove to a bridge to jump off it the next day but wasn’t brave enough to do so. I felt like the center had no idea how to handle my experience and report and was in a position to respond to it with care, and having something else offered to me by them and then taken away was traumatic. I think I held on to hope that I would get some kind of justice in the way that they had offered it to me, and having it taken away after experiencing something that broke me on a mental, physical, and spiritual level was not something I was in any position to handle. I was told multiple times over the course of reporting sexual misconduct by LCSW that the center and Prescribing Doctor had reported the sexual misconduct I experienced. It was only after some probing that I was made aware that any details regarding my experience had to come from me directly to the board and I felt that them not disclosing this to me without probing was a manipulation tactic to make me believe that the reporting was taken care of. I felt like the center was unwilling to uphold their signing of this document because they did not believe me. They allowed LCSW to continue to work in a leadership position. I have reported LCSW to the LCSW report and am sending this document to the LCSW Social Work Board in State. I have received support from SHINE and joined their peer support group for survivors of psychedelic harm. I am still seeking a regular therapist and am no longer working with my prior regular therapist due to her eating lunch during the last two therapy appointments. I have become hypervigilant for any signs of unprofessionalism from my care team after this sexual misconduct I experienced from LCSW. This experience with LCSW and the leadership team at the center of my city, has devastated my well-being. I came close to jumping off a bridge the day after getting the news about no longer being offered the Facilitated dialog. I have lost my trust in all people and my care team. I stepped away from therapy as I no longer feel safe in these dynamics. I fired all of my doctors and therapists. I started smoking cigarettes to try and help cope with the stress. Most days, I hope to die and don’t wish to continue living. I have angry outbursts where I would act on urges and exhibit behaviors that are abnormal for me. I lost all will to live, and most days, I don’t have the energy to care for myself. I would be amazed if I didn’t end up taking my own life in the next two years. The few people who care for me don’t know how to help me and comment on how hopeless I seem. Some of the people closest to me have stopped answering my calls or texts because they don’t know how to help me, and I have been in crisis for many days since Jan. 26th. I am trying many new psychiatric medications that are not helping me. The center and LCSW entirely abandoned me. I was not allowed to speak to LCSW. I had to wait many weeks between emails from the center. I was denied being matched with another therapist to help me understand the changes I was experiencing after two KAP sessions and experienced such sinister abuse and trauma from LCSW. My regular therapist, tried calling Prescribing Doctor so she could get information on how to support me better, but she has yet to get a callback. I asked the center for LCSW resignation.

    Dear reader, this story contains language of self-harm that some may find triggering or discomforting.

  • Report

  • 0

    Members

    0

    Views

    0

    Reactions

    0

    Stories read

    Need to take a break?

    Made with in Raleigh, NC

    Read our Community Guidelines, Privacy Policy, and Terms

    Have feedback? Send it to us

    For immediate help, visit {{resource}}

    Made with in Raleigh, NC

    |

    Read our Community Guidelines, Privacy Policy, and Terms

    |

    Post a Message

    Share a message of support with the community.

    We will send you an email as soon as your message is posted, as well as send helpful resources and support.

    Please adhere to our Community Guidelines to help us keep Our Wave a safe space. All messages will be reviewed and identifying information removed before they are posted.

    Ask a Question

    Ask a question about survivorship or supporting survivors.

    We will send you an email as soon as your question is answered, as well as send helpful resources and support.

    How can we help?

    Tell us why you are reporting this content. Our moderation team will review your report shortly.

    Violence, hate, or exploitation

    Threats, hateful language, or sexual coercion

    Bullying or unwanted contact

    Harassment, intimidation, or persistent unwanted messages

    Scam, fraud, or impersonation

    Deceptive requests or claiming to be someone else

    False information

    Misleading claims or deliberate disinformation

    Share Feedback

    Tell us what’s working (and what isn't) so we can keep improving.

    Log in

    Enter the email you used to submit to Our Wave and we'll send you a magic link to access your profile.

    Grounding activity

    Find a comfortable place to sit. Gently close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths - in through your nose (count to 3), out through your mouth (count of 3). Now open your eyes and look around you. Name the following out loud:

    5 – things you can see (you can look within the room and out of the window)

    4 – things you can feel (what is in front of you that you can touch?)

    3 – things you can hear

    2 – things you can smell

    1 – thing you like about yourself.

    Take a deep breath to end.

    From where you are sitting, look around for things that have a texture or are nice or interesting to look at.

    Hold an object in your hand and bring your full focus to it. Look at where shadows fall on parts of it or maybe where there are shapes that form within the object. Feel how heavy or light it is in your hand and what the surface texture feels like under your fingers (This can also be done with a pet if you have one).

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Ask yourself the following questions and answer them out loud:

    1. Where am I?

    2. What day of the week is today?

    3. What is today’s date?

    4. What is the current month?

    5. What is the current year?

    6. How old am I?

    7. What season is it?

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Put your right hand palm down on your left shoulder. Put your left hand palm down on your right shoulder. Choose a sentence that will strengthen you. For example: “I am powerful.” Say the sentence out loud first and pat your right hand on your left shoulder, then your left hand on your right shoulder.

    Alternate the patting. Do ten pats altogether, five on each side, each time repeating your sentences aloud.

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Cross your arms in front of you and draw them towards your chest. With your right hand, hold your left upper arm. With your left hand, hold your right upper arm. Squeeze gently, and pull your arms inwards. Hold the squeeze for a little while, finding the right amount of squeeze for you in this moment. Hold the tension and release. Then squeeze for a little while again and release. Stay like that for a moment.

    Take a deep breath to end.