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This year I managed to talk out loud for the first time about what happened to me as a "something", I always knew it but I kept it in the back of my head without giving it much thought because I knew if I did it was going to hurt, something in me knew it was wrong. When I was about 5/6 years old I had a friend a year or two older than me, I don't know how or when it started or why I "agreed", no matter how hard I try to remember I can't. This girl touched me and I touched her etc, I don't remember resisting or refusing and that makes it worse, I even think I liked it. Since then and as I grew older (similar situations happened to me at the hands of other girls) I began to feel shame and regret, in some ways it makes me feel dirty, as if I had never had innocence. Now I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, it hurts and makes me uncomfortable, I also can't feel good about myself, I feel like I'm guilty of this.

My story is a bit long. When I was 15 or 16, I was reminded of things that had happened when I was between 4 and 5. Two uncles abused me. My memories of this have never been clear, and now, many years later, everything has become more distant and confusing, and I've doubted myself and my story several times. There are other things that happened in my childhood that I do remember more clearly: when I was between 7 and 8, I saw my parents having sex next to me (that night I had slept with them in their bed). Some time later, the same thing happened again, but with my stepfather and my mother. Also, when I was between 7 and 8, I was looking through some CDs in the DVD library at home, trying to label them by genre or movie. One of the CDs was a pornographic film. As usual, I was alone at home, so I watched the whole thing. I don't remember if I masturbated. I know that from a very young age I rubbed myself with stuffed animals, dolls, and other objects, although without much awareness of what I was doing, but the fear of being seen was present. There's something that haunts me right now: when I was 6 or 7 years old, my cousin (a year older) and I played around imitating some positions from a Kama Sutra book she had at home. I also have faint memories of once, while we were bathing, rubbing our private parts together. I don't know if this happened out of mutual curiosity and because of the content of the book we'd been exposed to, or if I was the one who created the situation and persuaded her to do it, or if I manipulated her. I don't remember it happening, but I'm afraid it did. What if I imitated what my uncles did to me or what I saw in the content I was exposed to? I feel fear, guilt, and shame. Also, half a year ago, I remembered that when I was 10 years old and I carried my little sister (who was about a month old) on my lap, I felt a pleasurable stimulus in my intimate area from the contact. When this image came back to me (it wasn't clear either, like my other memories), I felt guilty, but it didn't escalate because I understood it was a physical reaction and nothing more. But then I couldn't stop thinking about it and I wondered if I had prolonged or intensified the contact, and I felt so much guilt, disgust, and shame. It was so strong that I had an episode of OCD, and I feel like I still haven't been able to get out of it, because now I'm flooded with doubts about what happened with my cousin.

When I was between 4 and 5 years old, I was sexually abused by two uncles (10 to 12 years older than me). These memories remained hidden for about 10 years. Now, many years have passed since I first remembered what had happened, and everything feels distant and confusing (I've never really had clear memories of what happened, and this has made me doubt myself and my story a lot). I think they taught me how to touch myself. I also had a childhood heavily exposed to sexual content: I have memories of my parents having sex in the same bed (I had started sleeping with them), and also later, around 8 years old, the same thing happened with my mom and stepfather (they had sex next to me). Once, when I was 8, I put on a CD and it was a porn movie; there was also a TV channel that showed porn. When I was 5 or 6, I would rub my cousin (a year older than me) and my private parts together. I don't have clear memories of this either. Now I'm afraid that I was the one who persuaded my cousin to do it. I also remember that there was a Kama Sutra book at her house, and I think we sometimes played at imitating what we saw in it. I'm afraid that I was the one who provoked everything, that I imitated what my uncles did to me. I'm afraid of being like them.

My name is Survivor and when I was around age 3, my father started raping me. My mother helped hold me down. He was raping her, and she offered me up in her place. This continued until age 23, maybe 24, shortly before my wedding. By the time I was 6, he was raping other members of my family too. He’d come into my room at night and would throw my nightgown up into the headboard and then I’d have to wait my turn in fear and naked shame while others were raped. We had a large waterbed and I still remember the bed rolling up and down, up, and down, up, and down like on a boat. Once done, he wiped me down roughly with a red shop rag he used in cleaning the garage. It allowed him to keep the rag around to smell it and hold it close with no one questioning why it was so dirty with red stains. Most of the time, my dad was friendly and polite. But once he turned into the monster no one did anything to stop him. He never did these things when he was nice. Only when he was the monster. But he used the nice times to make it easier to attack. He would lull you into a false sense of safety and peace which really made you question your intuition and gut instincts that this was a bad man. This made it easier for him to sexually assault other children and adults. As I got older, my parents controlled the narrative of our lives, every aspect was carefully controlled. Like my mom knowing how to force miscarriages. The first abortion forced on me was when I was 15. I don’t know how I managed to make it to adulthood. I continue to remember more and more of the abuse by other family and church members. And other things my dad did within the church where he was pastor and then later deacon. But I still can’t talk about those memories. I think my dad felt like anything he did was inevitable, therefore, never his fault because he couldn’t control himself and when it happened God would forgive him, so it was all right. I know this because I overheard him grooming another family member to do the same things when he was 11 years old. Males in our family were groomed to be abusers too. I was groomed too. To always be the abused. Forced to keep silent, I learned quickly what happens to people who stand up to my dad. They die or get assaulted. As you can imagine, I had terrible anxiety growing up about being sexually assaulted and worked hard to fade into the background. I thought that might help. I thought it mattered what I wore, color of my hair, how much I weighed. It’s taken years and it will probably continue to take years to unlearn the lies I was taught. The worry made me constantly ill with one thing after another-- I got cancer when I was 32 and before that incapacitating vertigo and motion sickness. My parents met while working down in Texas for an independent fundamental Baptist preacher. Lester Roloff—an Independent Fundamental Baptist preacher who opened homes across the country for “troubled” children, teens, and adults. He liked to say he was saving dope fiends, whores, and hippies. I believe many of the children in the homes had already experienced abuse growing up and Lester Roloff homes should have been a safe place to heal. Instead, the kids met caretakers like my parents. My mom was in a charge of the 16 and older home and my dad flew around the country raising money and preaching the party line: men were akin to gods and women were lower than dirt—their only worth was in being a virgin and then baby factories once married. Very masochistic and minimizing of abuse of any kind, my parents ate up the evil rhetoric being preached from the pulpit My parents eventually took their brand of abuse from Lester Roloff’s out into the churches and communities where we lived-from Texas to Washington and eventually into Alaska. He disappeared in a plane over the waters near Anchorage in 2006. The events surrounding his disappearance were always very suspect but intense pressure from my family kept me quiet. Every day for almost three years straight, a family member called and reminded me talking about “our family issues” was causing generational sin to 4 generations. The pressure to keep quiet and do what my family told me to do was so significant I would have rather died than disappoint them. It wasn’t until I set out to heal from all the trauma, that I found out my dad faked his death. I had always been told since he was gone, there was nothing to be done for what I experienced growing up. But let me tell you, knowing he’s still out there perpetrating on other children and men and women really compelled me to come forward. I finally felt free to start talking. Getting past the pressure to stay silent was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder, even, than fighting cancer. I have spent many years in intensive CBT, EMDR and Polyvagal therapy learning how to process my wounds in a healthy way. I had pushed for criminal and civil suits against my perpetrators but the Texas statute of limitations don’t allow for justice to be done. So now, I spend my time now speaking on panels, podcasts, and community platforms about the intersections of trauma, faith, and advocacy. One of the biggest honors of my life has been sharing my story and advocating for Trey’s Law on the Texas Senate floor in Spring 2025. Forcing a sexual assault victim to keep quiet is what allowed people like my parents to continue their mistreatment for so many years. I will do what I can to make sure justice isn’t minimized by NDAs and Statute of Limitations. My efforts connect me with survivors, true crime audiences, mental health communities, and faith groups seeking to understand and confront abuse. I invest my time in mentoring survivors, creating resources for healing, and building digital tools to expand access to supportive materials. Because living a life whole and healthy is what I really want for me, all the victims and their families. We make our own opportunities to heal.

Date’ I’m 16 years old. I went to a private school in region. There was a post grad following me around the party. I knew him so I wasn’t alarmed(even though he was 19 6’5” and 200 lbs a basketball player) He was my best friends ex. I needed to use the restroom. My first red flag. The guy tried to come in the bathroom. I said oh here you can go I’ll go somewhere else. Smooth move. I went upstairs and when I came out he was standing there waiting for me. He brought me into plunketts room and asked me to go on the roof and hook up. I said no I have a bf. He tried to kiss me I pushed him away. The fireworks were starting. We went on the roof after he apologized and said let’s just go smoke a cigarette. I agreed and we went out. This is when he forced me down and started kissing me. I was helpless 120, 5’8”. I cried and replied no stop pls stop. I can still feel the the rocky shingles on my back while he defiled me. Not even the worst part. I could hear ppl right under us but I was so embarrassed and scared I didn’t scream. That’s my worst regret I could have just screamed. When he was about to finish he gave me a choice. “I won’t come in you if you let me cum in your mouth”. I’m 40 and have never been the same since that incident

I didn't know what I was being asked to do. I was 6 years old. I didn't realize what had happened to me until recently. I tried to walk out of the room but I was manipulated into staying. He was my cousin. I didn't think he would use me. I didn't know what he did was wrong until about 1 year ago. It disgusts me to be around him. I have always felt for SA survivors, without knowing that I was one myself. I have taken the path of healing silently. Knowing my experience I know that there are children that are affected by this every day. I hope that by sharing my story, I can help young children know what is happening to them.

I was a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 7 years old and my cousin's stepbrother was 9 or 10. He abused me for two years. I told my mother what happened, and his parents punished him. Most of my family didn't believe me. In a conversation with my mother, she told me I had probably made up the whole abuse and that I was a liar, and I cried a lot that day. My grandmother is proud of him because he's a doctor in Germany and has a good life, while I'm trapped. I can't stand being touched and I can't get over it, even though I've been to therapy. Yesterday I saw his Instagram and felt bad because he moved on and I didn't. He told me it was a secret and I trusted him (the three of us were alone because my uncle and his wife -who is the mother of my abuser- are doctors so they were always in the hospital). They would leave the food ready for us and he (A) would put it in the microwave. A pulled my pants down a little or lift my skirt (if i was wearing one). When A was on top of me he was kissing me- it was overwhelming and i couldn't focus on anything else but his breath and voice, he was grabbing his crotch, but I didn't understand what he was doing. We were playing normal with his little sister and then A exclude her from the game to be alone with me so A put her in front of the television so she wouldn't focus on us and was distracted. Then A guided me to the room, he close the door to the room he shared with his sister (my cousin's bed was near the door and his wasn't), so he would make me lie down on the floor next to his bed so no one could see us. At first, I would get on top of him, but then he said I was too heavy to be in that position (I guess it wasn't comfortable for him to abuse me). That led to an eating disorder that I still have; I even developed anemia last year. I remember once I ran to the bathroom because something didn't feel right, but he started banging on the door but then I realized there was nothing I could do, I mean where would I go? My uncles locked us out. I remember once, A didn't close the door properly because his sister came in, and he straightened his clothes and pushed me under his bed, but his sister saw me and asked me what I was doing there, and I stayed there for a long time. And her sister got under the bed to keep me company; she was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her, or maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think I'm broken, because his kisses and his voice in my ear were too much, and I never noticed if he ejaculated or if something else happened that I overlooked or never noticed because I never went to a doctor, my mom never reported him. And we couldn't count on my dad because he abandoned us and went off with the neighbor and treated her daughter as his own while the abuse was happening. That's why I lived in their house during that time; that's why the abuse continued because I was in the provinces and my mother traveled to the capital because of a false accusation my father made against her. A year later, my mother's half-brother baptized me with my abuser's mother, and I never said anything. I just smiled in the photos as if nothing was wrong while I hugged A. Now I´m 22 and I still feel sick and dirty.

I was about 8 years old when I was getting molested by my older brother. He's about 4-5 years older than me. I'm an adult now and finished college. My brain had repressed the memories of it for years and I didn't really remember it well until I was in therapy while at university for stress and depression. I think talking about my upbringing in therapy and my relationship with my parents finally made the memories surface. I always knew something bad was going on, I just didn't understand it. I remember multiple instances. He'd have me lay face down on my bed and pull my pants down to "massage" me. I think he only ever groped on my ass cheeks, but I can't remember. He did that multiple times. He came into my room once and made me get naked and he got behind me and laid on the floor behind my bed, out of view if the door opened, and he told me to not look and just sit back. I felt his penis and began to freak out, so he stopped. I think he was trying to penetrate me. I don't think he ever actually did. The last major time I can remember, I went into his room because I liked watching him play video games. He made me get naked again and lay in bed next to him naked. I felt him rubbing his penis on me. My mom opened the door and saw we were naked and began yelling. I was so scared anytime my mom yelled at me. I got out of bed quickly and got dressed. I was shaking so bad it was difficult. I ran out of his room to my room down the hall as she continued to yell at him. I thought I was in trouble too, even though I never understood what was going on. I just felt weird and gross after. She never came to check on me. Not that I remember at least. We didn't talk about it, she didn't take me to get help, there was nothing. All these years later, my mom called one night and I confronted her about it. I have no contact with my brother now and she'd always ask if I talked to him or talked to dad (they're divorced). I finally told her what I remembered. She said everything I expected her to say. She said she was sorry, that she thought it was only once and didn't want to imagine it happened multiple times. She said she failed as a mother and she thought at the time that she had handled it after threatening my brother to never do it again. No report, no doctor visit, no therapy, no help for me. I don't think she ever even told my dad. Just that she's sorry and should have done more. She said everything I already assumed she would and had played out in my head a hundred times before I ever asked her about it. None of it made me feel better to hear. I know the type of person she is already. Emotionally stunted, self-centered, victim complex. She hadn't changed much at all since then. She got upset and cried and eventually we both hung up. For my brother, I just finally stopped talking to him. I blocked him and I don't go to my dad's in case he's there again. I think the last time I saw him was almost a year ago. We didn't talk anymore anyway. I'd try before I remembered what happened. I think he remembers too and can't face it either, so we were never close after we grew up. I'm still processing how it all affected me. I honestly hate my mother more than him sometimes since she was the adult and did nothing. I'm not sure what else to say.

I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

I was 16 I just started college when I met my ex he was 17 We talked for a week and then started dating he would manipulate me in to doing things and tell he things and gaslighted me And he would SA me every time I saw him Multiple times I dated him for almost 4 months when I broke up with him On the Date I when to is house and he SA I took my phone from me and when I went to get it he would pull me , drag me and push me away from it buy my arms and legs I broke up with him 2 day later This was almost 2 years old I reported it to the police He also SA 2 other people in the same class Who also reported him

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

My sexual assaults story is uncommon for most and hard to most people to grasp. Who would believe that children are capable of knowing and doing such gruesome things to person? Most children are not like this and their experiences are different. It first happened when I was 8 years old while, my abuser was 7 years old at the time. I remember the abuse happening gradually as we build our friendship. It first started with us doing typical kid stuff like us playing together and joking around. And one day, he asked me to play this new game with him. I said sure. I thought it would be one of those silly jokes stunts of his. Instead he pulled my pants down and rubbed his private part against my bottom. It was really uncomfortable moment for me since, I grew-up in a strict Christian-based family. I have never witness anyone on television or heard of the things he was doing to me. Afterwards, I remember me being shy to tell anyone and feeling like I would get into trouble. So I remained quiet. How would any parent react if you see children engaging in sexual behavior? Wouldn't you automatically assume it was the oldest child to teach someone this behavior? This went on for almost 2 years. His behavior became more advance and his request got more weirder. One time, he begged me to drink his pee directly from his part. I told him no. And he stomped across the room mad. He kept persisting and demanding that I try it. Eventually, I gave in but, I told him only from a cup. It was the most dehumanizing experiences of my life. It was not long afterwards, that my father caught us. I remember me trying shove the boy off of me. And telling him that my dad was coming and he kept going harder and harder. I guess he thought I was lying to convince him to get off of me. He wouldn't stop until my father walked into the room.

He was my best friend of 12 years. I suppose I let all of this happen because I believed in the romantic trope of best friends being in love. One movie in particular is love rosie. I really thought he loved me but I know now that he loved using me. Last year was one of the toughest I had in my life. I was depressed, I weighted well over 200lbs and balding. I waddled and I was huge and nothing fit me. I gained this weight actually to keep him in my life. This man constantly cheated on me. I did catch him cheating on me as if the gods wanted to expose himself to me for who he really is. He loves big girls. I mean big like 200 to 300 lbs (he stated they are easier to control) He loves thin hair and white passing Spanish girls. Most of his ex girlfriends looked like that. So I was surprised that he even chose me and I chose him for a while. I fought so hard for this relationship. I loved hi so much. Now I cannot say one nice thing he ever has done for me. I am ashamed of myself of actually believing that this is love. He was my best friend and he wont hurt me. He hurted me the most of all. The problems began after 2018. After he took my money @20,000 worth is where everything got fucked. He promised he would buy a house for the both of us and we would live off the land. He actually owns that house now. Did I happen to mention I am an immigrant by the way? I think early 2019 was one of the most difficult things I ever had to face. I have proof I gave him money. He lied to me afterwards stating that we lost the house and the money is stuck in escrow. He started to act very cold after he obtained the money. I was the root of all of our problems. Everything was my fault always. I lost my job due to having difficulties with the manager. I was scared and I literally gave away my emergency money for ‘’our house’’. I was starving. I went to bed hungry and starving. He did not help with anything. He did not pay for groceries. He fucked me while I was starving and he knew it and smirked. My relationship with my family was bad. I had no one. I went to food banks and I stole from dollar tree because I had no other way to survive. I had nothing. The audacity of this man to cum inside me and kiss other girls and treat them better. He gaslight me so much that I had a hard time with reality. I don’t know how many times he cheated on me. He has an std now afterwards called herpes. I do know That he put me through hell. I was hospitalized 9 times thanks to him. I think I was overworked and the amount of stress caused to rapidly lose a lot of weight. He never cared to visit if ever. He would only text me through his phone and I would use the wireless wifi t text him. He never lifted one finger and he never came for that. He came to torture me that’s for sure. I have more to write but this is what I can write for now.

Hearing other people's stories make em feel not alone

When I was five years old, I was repeatedly molested by another student at my school. I am in my twenties now, and these memories have slowly been returning over time. Although many aspects of the time are hazy, I can still remember vividly the sensation of his hands on me. He would corner me and get me alone so he could force his hands under my clothing and underwear, groping me for several minutes at a time. If I resisted, he would hurt me by pinching, kicking, etc. There was at least one other boy involved who would help in cornering me. I was five and didn't understand the extent of what was going on but felt so shameful about it. At one point I mustered the courage to tell my mom who screamed and then never mentioned it again. Since I was five, I have suffered anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, an eating disorder, psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, night terrors, and an autoimmune disorder with symptoms like alopecia, rashes, and weight loss. I do not know to what extent these health issues have been a consequence of my assault as I have only just come to terms with what happened. I have long considered myself asexual, but starting a serious relationship has had me re-grappling my sexuality and fears of intimacy. I am so ready to heal but also feel so afraid. I can't imagine life without this fear and shame.

When I was 6 years old my cousin molested me I was living in the village and one time I was sitting at my underwear was visible to her and she showed me hers it was the same one it had babies doll face on the front, then she asked me to go to the bush with her and she was on to I don't really remember the details of this but I think my other cousin was doing the same thing to me, When I was seven my Dad took me to the city to live with my mom and brother together as family, I was happy to leave the village life . When we got to the city, our neighbor same age as me was having sex with the boys and when her mother was giving her a bath she was crying, when her mother checked her vagina blood was visible and scrapped and cuts, her mother beat her up, and she was yelling " you are letting boys to do dirty things to you that's what you get stupid child " The crying and beating continues while her mom would be scrubbing her really hard to "cleanse" her private parts for the shameless and dirty act that just happened to her, for the sake of the story I'm gonna nick name her Name My mother asked Name's mother, "what's wrong " she said This stupid goat is letting boys go inside her lady parts, the pain is what she gets, for being a whore" I was listening to this loud conversation going on outside and since it's in Africa women give baths to their 8 year olds outside when it's about to get dark We would be taking baths outside all the time to the time we were like 11 years old as I can remember I'm 28 years now I live in the United States in California So I automatically stayed away from Name, and boys plus she didn't speake my native tongue though we could understand each other that incident made me scared of her, I don't know why till now So my other neighbor we gonna nickname her Neighbor, I started hanging out with her a lot when I was 8 years and one day she took me to the corn fields and she told me we should take off our clothes and then she was on top of me and moving up and down She told me that her cousin who was 18 we will use his name, Name 2 did this to their all the time and she was a year younger than me, I can't even imagine, I remember sometimes Name 2 would be winking at me wanting me to go in the boys quarter with him but I would run going where I see public interaction that way he doesn't come to me. I did stay away from boys until I was 19 years old I did not let a man touch any part of my body, and I was lucky no man ever molested me I never used to urinate on the bed but for her it was on a daily basis thinking about it I think the abuse she suffered did cause her trauma that manifesting in bed wetting. While in the corn fields my brother, may he rest in peace. caught me and Neighbor in the act and he was angry he told me to get dressed I threw on the dress I was wearing and he took me to my mother reported what he saw, he had slapped me so I reported him too for slapping me, my mom only said no "fighting you hear me? " My brother was 4 years older than me so he was twelve years at this time he nodded to my mom's words and Mom dismissed us . The house where, the girl I said she was being slapped by her mom, for having sex with boys these boys were my brother's age and older, we named her Name So I naturally stayed away from Name and boys because of what she went through, anyways Name moved out then the owner of the house rented it to this couple, and the man had 2 kids that were both older than me the youngest was my brother's age boy and girl The boy was Name 3 and girl is Name 4 Name 3 is 14 years old Name 4 is 16 I am 8 years old and then Name 4 took me to her house and aggressively molested me the pain of the act I couldn't pee without pain it was a painful thing to endure I don't know why I let these people do this to me After that day I said I'll never let any man or woman play with my body in any way Now I'm 28 years old and I let a lot of men play with me even at my age I have that mentality like it I say no then I'm not being nice or maybe I have to because I feel like sex is the only way someone is going to like me I've been with men and women I don't even like sex for Christ sex I don't know why I do it. I've been in a relationship with this guy for 4 years and he always cheats on me treats me like trash and pays for prostitute and I had left him and came back I've been having problems with my vagina for 4 years now and I go to the doctor it's always one infection and another the time I had left him I had not had sex with anybody at all I was just doing me and my vagina was very peace full I just got back with him this year as of now my vagina went back to the miserable state I went to a doctor and explained what's being going on and I've just found out as of yesterday that I have a UTI and most choking I also do have Genital Herpes. I am weak in my body and I just gave out the most shocking reaction to this I could cry, I even laughed I could complain I even tried to kill my boyfriend or I could face this I asked him because I have no insurance to help me pay for the prescription and since I haven't had sex with him since the symptoms were very excruciating and I couldn't even pee without giving out a cry or tears just coming out and the itchiness nothing was comfortable , I took my bike going to the hospital and thanks it's only 5 minutes in the bike and this was not an easy task I had to be seen by a doctor, he refused to go with me to the hospital and since then refused to pay my prescription because I'm not having sex with him He always fucks me in my sleep all the time every time he gets a chance, I used to be an alcoholic but I don't drink anymore and when I used to drink I would wake up to him on top of me to it I don't know how he manages to take off my clothes, sometimes I would wake up to him doing it and I just let him finish coz I know he will not leave me alone until he has cum, I am in this situation because of my poor choice I know and I just want to tell girls and boys out there or young women even older women, you don't need to have sex with someone until you actually really feel like it is for the right reasons otherwise sex is a useless thing driving people to madness I don't know why they call sex making love there is no connection or what so ever between love and sex. Actually these two are total opposites, Making love in the old days was misinterpreted as fucking but it is the conception process. Conceiving which is when the egg is fertilized with the spell that is in the Bible what they were trying to tell us is making love, For God is love and God is life and we are created in his image, so this was to be referred to as making love, "making love happens where away from mans sight " meaning you can't see the egg and spell fertilizing, let's be realistic and not be fools . Only a fool is hang on sex, like a teenager, I already have a son he is 5 I got him before I met this man and my son is away from this I haven't been in his life because I need to be financially, mentally, and emotionally stable before I pop out into his life and introduce him to stupid men I tend to pick from the street . I know God's love is with him the way he is with me , everything is a lesson or it's there just to push us to become who we really are supposed to become, And everyone will get tested and the end evil never wins it does seem like it at times, but we are stronger that anything outside of us , your higher power is within you and no one can take that.

I've been psychologically abused by my mother since I was little. Because of this, I have a habit of always thinking about what she thinks, and I feel like I have no self because I'm so devoted to her. I work at a restaurant, but I'm exhausted from trying to avoid creating a bad atmosphere at work and making sure she doesn't dislike me, and even working is painful. I signed up for a dating app hoping to get away from my mother, but I've been taken advantage of and rejected constantly, and I can't see any hope for my life.

In year I divorced my husband of 11 years and escaped a marriage of coercive control and domestic violence. I had never been hit, I was a psychologist specializing and trauma and I didn't know I was being abused until the trauma built to the point of a mental breakdown. My life was in shambles, I had signed a divorce decree that gave myself and my children no protection, I had been shunned by the church that I had been an elder at due to a smear campaign intended to shame, isolate and harm. I found myself engaging in behaviors that were brand new to me as a women that had been raised in and continued to live in conservative evangelical christian spaces. In the wake of the divorce I began to explore my sexuality, tried drinking and began experimenting with THC. I had a lot of fear around these behaviors but couldn't seem to stop myself. Was I a liberated modern woman or did I have PTSD with all its myriad socially stigmatized behavioral symptoms. Living in the bible belt and being shunned as a scarlet letter wearing Hester Prynne caused significant emotional pain, however it was the time that my children were with my abuser that caused the most severe mental and physical symptoms. Within weeks of the divorce being signed the first agency investigation happened. I was terrified, powerless and had no social or family support, working full time and trying to keep my young children cared for a fed was more than my traumatized nervous system could manage and yet I pushed through. The weeks without my children were chaotic and filled with dating and trying to create a new life with relationships, yet I found I had very little ability to ascertain who was safe and who was not. I was raped the summer of the divorce by a tattoo artist who I had been working with for years and believed was my friend. This created more PTSD symptoms which heightened my overall state of fear and panic. I had matched with a man on a dating app named Name and had been talking to him for a few weeks prior to the rape. He had spent two years at a buddhist monastery studying the Tao. I relished the ability to have deep existential conversations as I had been deconstructing my religious faith which in and of itself was traumatic. I no longer knew what to believe in, who to trust, what was real. I had dedicated my life to Christianity and the church had hurt me so deeply. I began a frantic attempt to learn about world religions, ancient wisdom traditions, spirituality, esoteric philosophy and a handful of conspiracy theories along the way. Name and I talked about life, its meaning, Alan Watts, the contemplative life, mysticism and so many things that gave me life. Having very few people in my life led me to go deep quickly, even with strangers on the internet, and he was unphased when I shared my rape with him. Name often spoke in quips, riddles and parables- something I chalked up to his spiritual maturity. He was a man of the world and of wisdom and I was a little disgraced church girl learning about the big wide world. We discussed meeting for a date that finally happened just a week after my assault. I picked him up from a house he rented with his friends. He worked at a local hospital in medical technology with two bachelors degrees, one in biology and one in chemistry. He said his first love was chemistry and he thought of himself as a chemist. Alas the economy was not great and he found this contracting job working the technological components of surgeries, running and updating the computing systems. He was bright and his face looked older than his age. We went to restaurant and I cried, heart on my sleeve about my divorce and fear for my children, the pain of PTSD and the shame I carried being removed from the Church. In response he vulnerably shared that he was gay and closeted, and having worked with many patients who have lived this double life I felt immense compassion for him. At the end of the meal he asked if I wanted to go back to my place to smoke marijuana and I felt safe with my new friend to say yes. I drove us back to my place where he prepared a bowl, sprinkling something on top that he said would "enhance" the chemical properties of the cannabinoids. As a novice THC user and having never taken other drugs before I felt that the chemist would know what he was talking about and I looked forward to the warm high that took me out of my head while also numbing my panicked body. I had never smoked out of a pipe and so Name instructed me to take three big inhales, hold them as long as I could and then releasing them. On the third inhale the room began to crumble into fractals or bright colorful flowers and terror overcame me. I felt my soul get ripped out of my body, the fear and pain were immense and I had no understanding of what was happening. I felt that I had died. I was plunged into darkness, I saw the creation of the world, I was God creating the planet for humans to enjoy and then watched humanity tear it apart, I wept. I knew that I was dead and yet my children's names and faces called to me, I couldn't leave them. I came to conciousnes on my bed racked with fear, I screamed at him to get out, I never wanted to see him again. Who could I tell of what had happened? I was so fearful of losing my children, I was afraid that if I called the police or asked for help I would be blamed and so I survived and stuffed this trauma down with the rest of them and continued to function. When my children were returned to me complaining of suspicious injuries with inconsistent stories. I had a meeting with an early child interventionist who was working with my youngest as the children had been displaying behavioral problems subsequent to the divorce. During this meeting I expressed my fears and was shocked when she informed me that she had a duty to report. I had been in this role as a professional and to have the tables turned felt like a profound retraumatization. I was referred to the family abuse center and given the moniker "victim of domestic violence." Waking up to the fact that I was a survivor of domestic violence was its own kind of trauma and facing the weekend alone with three small children filled me with fear. I reached out to the people who had been community for me before the smear campaign: "I'm in crisis, I need help! can you be with the children and I this weekend?" No one would come alond side us. In that moment of desperation I reached out to Name and another man I had dated briefly and asked them to come jump at the trampoline park with me and my children that weekend. That was how he made his way back into my life. Over the months I knew him there was a second agency investigation in which a friend of mine after hearing about the drugging called in to the organization. I complied with drug tests and cooperated with the investigators who told me I had to chose between Name and my children. The obvious answer was my children and Name was never again around them. That is when his behavior took a dark turn. Unbeknownst to me everything Name had told me about himself, including the spelling of his name, was a lie. He drugged me a handful of times during the months before his death, I would be drinking tea he brought me as we swiped on "cute guys" together on our respective dating profiles and suddenly be shot into another world begging him to comfort me. He inserted something into my rectum at night while we slept leaving me seeing rainbows. I'm not sure what I was given however he did disclose that the first night we met he had given me DMT. I had never heard of psychedelics outside of the brief overview of the hippie movement in history class and had no frame of reference to understand what had happened. He began to brainwash me into believing I had, in fact, died that night. We had long talks in which I wept as he explained that my children had been returned to my house and found my dead body. There had been a funeral. My children were angry at me because my ex had told them I killed myself because I didn't love them. Name then comforted me in my brokenness of being such a selfish mother to do that to my children. He taught me that "life" since the night with DMT was "just a dream" a version of purgatory, my consciousness spinning in space and making up a story. He also told me that my soul had been a "dark angel" and that I was a satanic force, this broke me and I remember pleading and begging with him that I so desperately wanted to "be good" and "be of the light." Perhaps what it most shocking is that I continued to work and parent during this time. These two jobs were grounding for me and took me out of my head, it was in the times where my children were gone that I felt I was slipping into insanity and yet I couldn't speak about this to anyone because I might loose my children, and plus I was dead afterall. Name and I eventually developed a sexual relationship, he was at this point my spiritual teacher, giving me journaling prompts and opening me up to new experiences. He said "friends can have sex" and so even though he was gay we slept together on occasion. One night he hit my so hard in the head after I kissed a man at a bar that my ears rang for days. Shortly thereafter he violently raped me. I fought physically, screamed and exhausted all of my energy until my body gave up and he finished the act of brutality. The feeling I had after was not that unlike the DMT experience, it felt like I had died. "You raped me!" I said, the sides of my mouth so downturned it felt as though my face was a Dali painting melting to the floor. He informed me that it was BDSM and I didn't know what I was talking about, I believed him. Name ended up in the hospital a day after I discovered that my liquor cabinet had been emptied, I remember screaming at him "you're an alcoholic?!" I had never worked with or been around an addict before and the lies and manipulation were something I had no frame of reference for. He went to rehab for a week and returned saying he'd just fallen off the wagon. He got sick right after the new year and the days before my children returned I took care of him. His body seemed to be going out and I knew that he had chronic health problems. He told me he thought he was going to die, and then said he had the flu and winked at me. I wrapped him up by the fire and sang to him. The day after my children returned I hadn't heard from Name which was unusual however I received a call from agency asking me to come in. I took my children to the office downtown where they tried to separate me from them, my youngest wouldn't comply. I sat there as they explained the reason that I had been called in- Name was dead. I let out a scream, what had happened? He has been sick, but it was just the flu. When I attended his funeral I was introduced as his fiance. I was in shock as truth after truth came about about the man I had loved and who had also almost killed me. I came to learn that he had been an almost life long addict who had come to my town for inpatient rehab. His mother shared with me that after one rehab he had been in she had found a journal in which he had invented a whole story about being and army veteran which was not true. I discovered that He hadn't worked at the hospital but rather, when he moved to a sober living group home had gotten part time employment at office max... which just so happened to make the name badges for the hospital in town, he had made himself a name badge to perpetuate his deceit. In shock, I gave the eulogy for this man who I had known for 5 months, someone I clearly had not known at all. The combination of sexual, physical and spiritual abuse I have suffered due to this man is something that I have no words to describe. Recovery has been incredibly challenging and lonely. I wish I could say that the traumas stopped with him, however they didn't. What happened to me 6 years ago is being used to further abuse me in the legal system and in custody trial. Finding the Shine support group was life changing for me. I have a greater understanding of what happened, why it happened and how to move forward without the weight of shame and victim blaming that I carried for so many years. I hope that in sharing my story others may heal too.

I was drunk. So drunk. He came over and saw how I could barely walk up the stairs and how I was slurring my words. I threw up in my bathroom and met him in my room, where I asked him to start hooking up. I will always regret that. I had one memory from that entire experience when our bodies were touching naked, and my hand was a buffer between our genitals. I never said no. I never asked to stop. I don't remember anything else. I also threw up afterward, and I only know so from a friend's recording. I didn't realize why I felt so dirty, guilty, and ugly for months until it clicked one day that this was sexual assault. I still hate the way I look to this day. Sexual Assault has been taught to be black and white, which is why I struggle to validate my experience.