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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.

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Story
From a survivor
🇺🇸

WE ARE SURVIVORS and we are not alone

The first time I was raped, I did not know it. Blaring music and spilled drinks, you were there Persistent, like a dog. Nagging, Nagging, Nagging. Hands running down my thighs, the phrase “babe it’ll make me feel better.” Your words clanging in my head, pounding like hammers against my ears One phrase slips out of my mouth, “fine just stop asking.” Waking up on the bathroom floor, aching from head to toe Before you take me home, you buy plan b. You had taken the condom off. I cry. My virginity stolen from me, that was my definition of love. The second, oh god the second time. My life plummets. Alcohol burning down my throat, stumbling, falling to the floor, You offer me your bed. Drifting off in a drunken haze, the hands are back But they belong to a friend. Suddenly his hands are choking, digging into my skin, bruising The word “STOP” falls on deaf ears. The tears start spilling down my face when I realize I cannot fight anymore and I go limp. Blood between my legs, oh god it hurt. Oh God, Oh God, why me? Why him? The third time, yes there was a third time. Another friend. Another familiar face. More lights, more pain, too drunk to move, I leave quietly the next morning. I always leave quietly. A thought that will not leave, “I am the common denominator” “I am the problem” Rumors spread like wildfire, each one a knife to the heart, a burning in my stomach. My name in everyone's mouths, I am drowning, my voice gone, stolen. No, ripped from my throat, brutally. My story is not my own. My body is not my own. It is filled with the bile and rot and filth of these men, these men who violated my body like I was not a being with a soul, with emotion and a heart beating like their own, but an object. Women are not made to be abused, to be a scratching post for horny, lonely men who cannot control their hands or their dicks. Survivors have to carry the burden. I carry the burden of my rape. The trauma, the shame, the grief, the horror, the anger, the guilt. But to the men who raped me, I give it to you. It is not my shame, it is yours, it is not my guilt, it is yours, it is not my fault, it is yours. And I am free.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇪🇸

    That night my brother touched me

    I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

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  • “It can be really difficult to ask for help when you are struggling. Healing is a huge weight to bear, but you do not need to bear it on your own.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    Raped by someone I once trusted and loved only to feel rapped again by our family courts system .

    I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

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

    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.

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  • You are wonderful, strong, and worthy. From one survivor to another.

    Story
    From a survivor
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    Friends for over 20+ years...my friend's husband

    I'm not sure where to start. I feel like it was my fault. I should have tried harder, ignored more, never gone when he called.. but I didn't and then this happened. I am still coming to terms with it. It happened two days ago. He is my friend's husband. He knows I have an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive husband. He knows and he and his wife, one of my best friends, the godmother of my second, have tried to help. They both came over to the country where I live. Their oldest, whom I adore like my own, is at university here. My friends went back. He texted, asking if I wanted to meet up because my friend had been ill and we couldn't meet this time. I said sure. We had done this a thousand times before. We were very very close friends. We had gone on trips together since the children were 2 and a bit..we were practically family. We hung out, went to each other's houses, spent time together with our families, went to meals alone or with each other's families it was all normal. He had always some across as someone who teased a little, said the odd inappropriate thing, even in front of my friend, his wife and over the 20+ years I had known him, this was just dismissed as part of who he is, we rolled our eyes, raised our eyebrows, laughed a little and carried on. It was never anything else. Until two days ago. His wife had gone back home last week. He was still here. He asked me to come over, we could go to lunch before he went back, I said sure. He then said he was "excited" to see me. I ignored it and in my head just dismissed it as him being silly. He said he would meet me at the train station. When I got there he had some bags, he asked if I minded leaving them at home before lunch. I shrugged, it was at that point totally normal. He lived 5 minutes away by cab, I had been to to the house a zillion times, I was stupid. I got in to the cab and when we went over, he said, let me leave this and come down, he went up stairs. He was dressed up...very well. I was in a hoodie and jeans. I laughed and asked what on earth he was dressed up for. He looked at me and suddenly said, you look good, have you been working out. I laughed..I looked far from good. I am now 48 and years of emotional and physical trauma have taken their toll. I had not coloured my hair, I had lost some weight but I still felt that after two children, I was fat, flabby and ugly. I was cold. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I had some water. It was mid morning. He turned up the heating and asked if we should order in. I said yes because it was so cold outside and I couldn't be bothered going out again...this again, was normal. I kicked my shoes off and crossed my legs under me on the sofa warming my hands on the radiator behind. He laughed and took one hand in his, saying gosh you are freezing.. I didn't think anything of it. I put both hands back on the radiator and said, I'll warm up in a bit. We started talking. He asked me how things were. With my husband, the kids, I asked him. We talked about not being able to meet properly, go on a trip..all normal. His dad was friends with my dad. I asked after his parents, he asked after mine. Again, totally casual. Totally normal. There was a fox in the garden. I remember that. I thought it was cute. He laughed at me saying there are always foxes around here. He asked if I wanted to listen to some music while we waited for the food. I said sure. He put music on and then asked if I wanted to dance. I was taken aback but again, stupidly, stupidly, laughed it off, saying no. I hadn't danced in years. I felt slightly uncomfortable but didn't want to see weird to him so I pulled a couple of cushions around me and snuggled into my little corner of the sofa. He sat at the other end. He pulled his phone out. Asked if I wanted to see what the menus were like, I leaned over and then he tried to nuzzle my neck, he put his arm around me. I got a shock and pushed him off, saying what are you doing, are you mad...what is wrong with you. He said, "don't be so silly, I'm just trying to give you a hug...you've been through so much....you've got so much on your plate. I feel sorry for you. Seriously, don't be so stressed and uptight. relax". I felt foolish so I didn't say anything and he moved away so I thought it was ok. I stretched my back scrolling through the menus because my shoulders hurt. He picked up on it and said, "do you want me to give your shoulders a quick rub". I said, "no, I'm fine.". He came closer. Said, "I'm pretty good at giving massages." I was beginning to think I should leave. I said, "please don't. I'm fine." He said "ok fine" and moved back to just chatting about life, about the country he came and I originally came from which was in political turmoil, we talked about our kids. I relaxed. That's when it happened. The music went off. The blue tooth thingy was behind me. He stood up, went over to put it back on and then leaned over and grabbed my shoulders from behind. I gasped. He is 6'1 or 2" and I am 5"1. He pushed me down on the sofa, came from the side..I still can't really remember how he got there and started kissing me hard. I tried to move, I kept repeating, "stop, stop, stop, stop, why are you doing this. Please stop. You can't do this." He only replied saying, "please, stop struggling..it's only a little kiss. Just one kiss.." but it wasnt. I tried to turn my face. By this point, he was on top of me, holding me down, holding my arms above my head. His legs on either side of mine and his entire weight on me. I couldn't breathe. I tried to speak again and screamed, "stop". He said "stop screaming and kiss me." I turned away and with his free hand, he pressed my cheeks hard so I would open my mouth. He put his tongue in, and wouldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. All I remember was panicking..thinking about my friend, thinking what this would do to her. I couldn't stop him. He turned my face away and then put his tongue in my year. He lifted my top, snapped my bra open and pushed it up and started sucking and licking my breasts, I was sobbing now and saying, "no no no don't do this...please stop..please, please don't do this.." He said, "ok ok..I'm stopping and stuck his hand between my legs. He pulled my head back so it was almost hanging off the sofa and leaned on top of me saying, "lick me" ..I turned my head away and he pulled on my hair and put even more weight on my arms leaning forward and pushing his chest on to me. He brought his hand up again squeezing my cheeks in till I opened my mouth...and then pushed his nipple into my mouth. He put his hand back down between my legs. I was wriggling and moving and I managed to cross my legs. He then pushed hard with one and then the other of his legs, opening mine. I couldn't even think. I think I was in shock. I don't know what happened. I was trying to lift myself off, my arms was aching so much. He pressed his other arm onto my stomach and said, "stop moving so much". He took the button on my jeans off. I screamed again, saying, "please don't. I beg you, please don't. All he said was, "ok. If you beg me I won't" but he carried on. He moved his hand from between my legs, and carried on pressing him mouth on mine, grabbing and twisting my breasts with his other hand. I don't know what happened. I feel like I might have blacked out but I don't think I did because every time I replay it in my head, I knew what he was doing. I remember him murmuring, saying, "he doesn't deserve you, I'll take care of you...he doesn't love you, he hits you, he threatens you, he doesn't deserve you. Let me show you.." I remember thinking, that he must have done this because he thought I was easy. Because I had told him and his wife about what was going on in my marriage. I remember thinking how stupid I was. Then suddenly, he pushed between my legs with his hand. He still had not let go my arms, I said "please stop, I can't breathe." He didn't say anything, but he let go my arms, and really quickly pulled my jeans down with both hand, ripping my panties in the process. I screamed again and tried to get up. He pushed me back down and put his whole weight on me, saying "don't worry, I won't have sex with you because you begged me not to but I bet no one has done this for you in a long time right? Not years maybe right? " I couldn't answer, I was crying and crying. He started putting his fingers inside me and pulling in and out and I couldn't move. I think I went completely limp in shock. He slowly let go my arms again and slid down, pushing my legs apart even further with his head and he put his tongue inside. holding me down from my stomach with his forearm. He kept saying, "let me show you how you should be loved" I don't know why I couldn't fight back harder at this point. I tried so hard before, I just couldn't move. I tried to push him away, push his head away, but I couldn't. All I could do was cry...like I was pathetic and weak. I was so angry with myself for not leaving when I could, I was trying so hard to normalise the signs and then this is where it ended. He kept going, back up to my face and back down for almost an hour and a half I think and then it got worse. He pushed me to the ground, holding me by my hair and asked me to take him in my mouth. He said, "I want you to kneel, I want to watch you..." and I kept saying, "no no please no...and he pulled my head back, saying, don't bite...and stuck himself so far in, I gagged, over and over....he had his legs round my body now and I couldn't stand because my jeans were still near my ankles, he was holding my wrists with one hand and my hair in a tight pony tail at the back. I remember thinking he's going to pull my hair out. I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't get up, I couldn't do anything but keep doing what he was forcing me to do..and then he said, almost like it made it alright.. "don't worry I won't come in your mouth and pulled me back up just before. I just slid off him to the floor and he finally let go but I couldn't get up. I just curled up on the floor sobbing. I hand't even pulled my jeans back up. He finished and then carried me back on to his chest like he cared... started stroking me and saying, "why are you crying, you were amazing..stop crying, it's ok. Your friend will never know unless you tell her and you aren't going to tell her are you... this is our secret...what she doesn't know, won't hurt her.. she'll be fine...don't cry...you were great..I'll be back in July...Are you crying because it's me? It's better like this because we know each other..." he was stroking me and stroking my hair and holding me tightly like somehow, I had been complicit or as if I had said yes...I wanted to scream again, and hit out, now I could...but I couldn't do anything but cry. I let him hold me..I didn't push away..I couldn't. I felt so ashamed, so broken, so dirty and cheap. Then he said, I'm going to order an Uber for you, you can't go back in the train in this state. Go and clean yourself up.. and he pulled my jeans back up with my torn pants inside. He was laughing, saying, "gosh imagine if anyone saw you like this"...I coudn't do anything but just follow. it was like my mind was screaming but my body was just doing what it was told so I just followed him to the bathroom.. he left me there and all I could do was cry sitting on the toilet. I rubbed and rubbed myself with reams of toilet paper...and washed my face..and went back out. I look after two elderly relatives who think the world of him. I couldn't go back home and say anything to them. They are sick and elderly and they wouldn't really be able to comprehend what happened. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I came out and he hugged me again tightly, saying calm down...you're fine. You're fine. I'll be back in July. Let's do this again. All I could do was shake my head. He kept laughing and then the Uber came. He even put me in and carried my bag in for me. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to calm myself enough to go home and then drive to pick my kids up and then I just washed and washed and washed in the bathroom, told my mum I had a headache and could she manage the kids and binned my clothes which still smelled of him and curled up in bed. The next morning, I got a text from him saying, "all ok?" and I just replied saying, "no..what were you thinking..." he called and told me not to make a big deal of things, that my life and his were more complicated than they needed to be already and to not make it worse, to not make a "thing" of what happened, that he had a lovely time...I hung up. I could not speak. He texted me saying, please don't tell anyone....this is our secret. I'll be back in July. I'll see you then.. I asked him why again, and he said I always liked you. I said but why would you do this. I said no...and he said it is only a little fun..I asked him if he had a bet with someone that he would do this and he said no..I said I feel cheap and horrible. You did this to me and he said, you don't need to, I forced you to.....I feel so horrible. I feel so dirty and used and cheap. I am so angry with myself for not leaving when I had the chance... I told another friend what happened. She wants me to go to police. I can't. It'll ruin his family, mine, his kids...and I love those kids like my own...my friend...I can't do that to anyone....but I can't function...I keep replaying it in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. My hands are shaking all the time...I can't focus. My other friend thought that perhaps writing my story might help. That is why I put so much detail. I am so sorry if it is too much. I wanted to write everything down...to get it all out...I've not told anyone all the details. I'm so sorry if it is too much.. She said it was ok to be angry but that is the other confusing thing...I am not angry...I feel nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. I am angry with myself but not anything else. I am so confused as to why he would do this after 20+ years of friendship. Why did he think it was ok? Do I look easy? By meeting him did I give him the impression it was ok? Why would he do this to me? We were friends..good friends..our families adore each other..why would he risk all that? What does he think of me now? I keep looking at myself and it is mad but I keep thinking, his wife is gorgeous and in great shape and I am flabby and haven't looked after myself at all...why would he do this with me when he has an amazing wife? I don't understand...I don't understand at all....I find myself repulsive...I used to look alright but my marriage has taken a toll...I no longer look anywhere close to what i did before...so why would he do this? And now when I feel like I've hit rock bottom in all aspects of my life...this happens.. If not for my kids..there would not be any point in my life...I'm so humiliated..

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    You are powerful.

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    Groomed in the Workplace

    The first corporate job I've ever had after college was like something out of a movie. I was young, excited, and wanted to make a big impact in this high energy, exciting industry. I got to travel the world and collect mileage points. A VP I respected recognized my work ethic and befriended me. I asked him to be my mentor because I was having issues with anxiety, depression, and speaking up in meetings. He was quite persuasive and very influential amongst his peers. I was so excited to learn from him. We would travel together for work and got to know each other on a personal level. We'd all get dinner and drinks as a traveling team. When alone, he told me about his struggles with his marriage and how his wife had a similar upbringing to mine. Her parents fought a lot. I told him about my upbringing and how my mom and I never really got along. After a breakup with my boyfriend, he got even closer. He wanted to spend more time with me and I confided in him. Slowly, our conversations would get more personal. He'd ask me who I'm dating and if I'm having sex with them. At this point, our friendship seemed comfortable. He always told me we were friends and that I can trust him. He told me about his sex life and how him and his wife are in an open relationship. He'd get me out to drinks and dinner by myself and ask more personal questions. To be honest, I really liked the attention. He was persuasive and successful. I also really liked fancy drinks and the dinners I got to go to. Little by little, the boundaries blurred more and more and I was drowning in alcoholism, my anxiety increased, and I started getting panic attacks. Then one night, we all went out to karaoke as a team. I blacked out and somehow ended up in a hotel room next to some man from another office. My underwear was still on so I didn't think we had sex. I hurried to get ready and go back to the office. As soon as I got back to the office he asked, "So did you have sex with him?" I was shocked. I froze and didn't say anything. I felt so much shame and I didn't fully comprehend why. I think he took this as a "yes." He started to type away on his phone and walked away laughing. In February 2022, after a couple of years after leaving this company, he called me to check on how I was doing. I took the call because I thought, maybe it was just in my head. One of the first things he asked was, "Are you still sleeping around?" I responded, "You mean 'rape'?" He replied, "You evolved." I then began to tell him off. It was only until this point I realized I had been groomed by a very deceitful man that I thought I could trust. He hasn't contacted me since.

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    13 and The Colour Green

    Dedication: To all of the women and children that are fighting domestic abuse. I witnessed domestic violence between my mother and her boyfriend every day from the age of 6 up until the age of 11. I witnessed brutal attacks, one time my mother actually stopped breathing. He was a very jealous man. He wanted me out the way as much as possible. He even resorted to breaking my dogs leg in a fit of rage. My mother became a victim of ‘cuckooing’ by a local gang and was introduced to drugs. Her boyfriend stole from them and my mother was kidnapped. We both had to go into protective living. I stayed with my nan for 2 months not knowing where my mother was or even if she was alive. The gang found my mothers boyfriend and beat him to an inch of his life. My mother was later given an ultimatum; Him or me. She chose me. After us he moved on to another family. Unfortunately those children weren’t so lucky. They all got split up by the care system. It has not been until these past couple of months that I have learned to accept what happened. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Confusion, anger and tears. I had to say goodbye to the innocent little girl that was once me. At a crucial time when my child brain was meant to be developing and understanding the world, I had to skip that part completely. I was quickly brought into an adults world. After it all ended I had to build a whole new foundation and create a whole new person. It was almost like Norma Jean transforming into Marilyn Monroe or Beyonce becoming her alter ego Sasha Fierce. Before this, I had no identity. At the age of 6 I was just starting to find my place in the world which was then quickly taken from me. It wouldn’t be until I was 17 that I would have to come face to face with my mothers abuser again. She came home one night in a complete drunken state with him in tow. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that I was 17 not 7 anymore and I was not afraid of him and he couldn’t hurt us anymore. The police ended up escorting him away. My mother was always encouraging of me and always told me she believed in me and to believe in myself. That I am so grateful for. I am so grateful for life. Every day I would wake up and wonder if that day would be the day I died. I think the way I got through it was fight or flight. My body chose fight. I had a best friend at the time who I am still best friends with to this day. Her mother was also tackling her own demons at home, so our friendship grew closer. My mother ended up having a hard time coming to terms with dealing with what happened. She is unfortunately a shell of person he once was. The song by Jessie J – I Miss Her sums it up perfectly. She is still breathing but she is not really living.

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  • 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.

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    My Exposition...

    Growing up with a best friend is every little girls dream. Although this dream would later be deemed a nightmare...the kind that leaves you numb, insecure, and disgusted with yourself. Being adopted into a family that always tells you, "We are not your real parents.", but says to call them "mom" and "dad" is not the most welcoming situation for a 4 year old. Your mind is constantly clouded with unrecognizable emotions and a longing to finding a sense of security. With these unknown emotions flourishing in your mind, you realize that you can not place your trust within this house of strangers. So you find it somewhere else, this being a little girl who is only a year older than you. You and your new best friend participate in all of the same activities and after school care, you both become inseparable in no time. Your parents became friends too and planned ways to make the similarities in our schedules convenient for them. By splitting transportation routes, you began living out of each others houses which inevitably made your friendship pivot to a more "sisterly" bond. From doing school projects together to having a special handshake before taking the competition stage, you two soon became an iconic duo to the outside world. During this time of bliss, no one would know how sour this sweet story would turn. Your friendship slowly went from the purest form of love, to the most gut wrenching experiences of your life. Nap time went from sleeping alone to not being able to sleep without each other. Inside jokes turned to secrets that you kept from your parents and other friends. It went from playing house with Barbies, to demonstrating sexual acts with them. The movie nights went from watching Disney, to binge watching videos on adult sites. The pool parties went from twenty kids, to just you two in a bubble bath that allowed learning more about each other in new ways. The bedroom went from a place of laughter to a place of stripped clothes and locked doors. You wouldn't realize that the heartbreak and tears of sadness shed when your best friend of 8 years moved to a new school would return years later. Only this time the heartbreak and sadness is for yourself and the little girl you were that didn't quite understand why something so "right" was so wrong. Realizing what had happened to yourself, you close the chapter of naivety to begin the chapter of depression and identity insecurity. ____________ __________ For many years I was angry. Angry at my childhood friend who did this to me. Especially angry at my parents who failed to see the signs of Sexual Abuse. From extensive bed wetting into my teen years, to casually touching myself in inappropriate ways, and even having new "terms" for my private areas. I hated that all of my "first's" were taken from me. I envied the idea of having a childhood full of innocence and enjoying the little things. I hated that I would be labeled as "weird" as a teen for enjoying movies and shows meant for little kids. I hated that I would never have the normal middle school or high school experience. That I would struggle with intimate relationships and the most basic forms of physical touch for the foreseen future. However, what I hated the most is that no one would understand how being sexually abused for 8 years and living in a reactive household would mentally delay me and how I regulate my emotions. Until one day I thought about someone other than myself. I realized that she too had been exposed to these experiences. That she is a survivor herself, showing me "love" in the only way she was taught. I beg that you learn the signs of COCSA and know who your kids are spending their time with. For anyone who denies that COCSA is a real issue, and that kids are "just curious", the human body does not take note of the difference in a child, mom, dad, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, teacher, or neighbor in that moment. What the body understand is that sexual assault, is sexual assault. The trauma stored in the mind and body from this experience will remain, no matter the age, gender, or relation of the "abuser". I wish you all a life changing recovery, even if you tell everyone or no one at all. Everyone heals in their own way. Do not compare your story to someone else's to discredit your own experiences. Your story is valid. - E. <3

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    Healing to me is therapy and sharing my story

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    is this trauma?

    Hello, I am not sure if this is the right place to discuss such things. But I have a story, that i am unable to process. I *think* I have sexual trauma from 5 years ago - it's been resurfacing now. I am not even sure what this was. when I was 21, I was hanging out with a friend. We had been friends for a very long time. Due to some reasons I am unaware of, he started coercing me into sex. He would often grope me, sleep next to me etc. This guy I knew had a girlfriend. Soon enough he broke up with his girlfriend. The groping started happening more often. The coercion increased. We would often make out, but I never would consent to sex because i was not comfortable. I knew i would not be able to trust this person and I didn't feel safe with him. Fast forward to a few months, he starts telling me he likes, he chases and pursues me. The coercion becomes stronger. He says things like we *need* to have sex because he needs to get it out of his system. Then one night, we're hanging out - just smoking and drinking. He convinces me to go his place. Once we reach there, he starts coming on too strong. I try to get out of it, I tell him I am not sure. Then he yells me by saying what was i thinking we will do when i come to his house at night, implying i owe him sex because i am at his house at this hour. There was no way for me to get out. At this point, where I lived, ubers/lyfts didn't exist. It was 2 am. He comes on too strongly again. I resist less this time but i freak out as soon as he's about to penetrate me. My body froze, I clearly wasn't ready. This boy gets angry, and he throws me out of his room. I am barely dressed and there are some of his roommates that have passed out in the living room. I feel humiliated and I want to leave but my clothes are in his room. He comes into the living room and grabs my hands and gets me into his bedroom. He keeps on asking me why cant we have sex. My answer is always "i don't know". He tells me how's bad it's for his health that i tease his like this. He says his body needs it. So i let it happen. Promising myself i am never coming back here. During penetration i ask him if he has a condom. He gets up to get a condom. Makes some wrapper noise but as soon as the act is over, i realize he never wore a condom. And i ask him he replies, 'i never wanted to wear a condom with you'. I didn't feel broken but numb. I think I had blocked out a lot of what happened for many years. after 5 years, the night described above felt wrong but i am not able to call it assault/ harassment because everyone's else pain seems bigger than mine. Is this sexual trauma?

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  • “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.”

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    #126

    It has always been hard for me to fully open up about my story. The feelings of guilt eat me alive almost every day. I never told anyone about what happened when I was five, I was touched by someone very close to me, my mind repressed those memories for a very long time. I was sixteen when it started. It started off great, I loved him. I always valued saving it till marriage, but he had convinced me otherwise because thats what love is right? It didnt get super bad till nine months in. He made me believe that I needed to have a child with him so that I was his forever. I did so, but decided to have an abortion. After this, he tried to impregnate me multiple times without my consent so I could not leave him, when this plan of his was not working the abuse really started. The first time it happened I remember waking up with his friend on top of me, it was right after we had smoked and I dont remember anything until waking up with his friend on top of me. I dont know why I didnt leave then. I dont know why i defended him. Sadly it happened a countless number of other times throughout a six month period. The scariest part of it all is I am still searching for answers, still trying to feel whole. During this time I had to cover bruises and scars all over my body. He made me feel worthless, like an object. It sucks because i thought that once i left it would be over, but these memories haunt me forever. A little over a year ago I was on a flight when I was again sexually assaulted, it made me relive all the memories I had put past me. When it was happening my body went into shock, I couldnt move for 5 hours, it was hell on earth. Until recently I have been so angry, so upset, why me? What did I do to deserve this life?

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  • Message of Hope
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    As my doctor said to me, "You did nothing wrong."

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

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    This Happened To Me

    When I was 20 I was in college and I agreed to live with someone I knew name name for the summer while I worked a summer job. name had a number of disquieting habits that always kind of bothered me. He would tend to get into my personal bubble not my personal space too often. He also had a habit of seeming to get lost in the middle of the night going back to his bedroom from the bathroom. One night name opened my door and was standing in my room when I woke up and I said what's going on name? He said oh I must've gotten lost or confused getting back to my room from the bathroom, sorry. After that I started locking my door at night and there were a number of times when I woke up and noticed that name was trying my door knob in the middle of the night. And I thought what's up with that? But I didn't worry about it too much. One Friday I came home from my summer job and name was sitting out by the pool in front of the apartment with a pitcher of what he described as piña coladas. He invited me to sit down and have a drink. He poured a glass of piña colada's for me and said this is my special piña colada mix. I want you to try it. So we sat there and I was sipping on his piña colada and I got about halfway through and he asked me how I was feeling. I thought it for a little bit strong and I told him so. But name just said drink it up, drink it up, I want you to have another. I said I don't know name. This feels awfully strong and I'm feeling kind of funny. name said come on, this is my special piña colada mix. I made it just for you. You have finish it. You have to have another. I'll feel insulted if you don't. I don't know name, I said. I'm feeling kind of funny. But name got up in my face pouring me another glass and said you have to have another one. These are my special piña coladas. I made them just for you. You have to have another. So name poured me another glass of piña coladas, and took my empty glass away, and said drink it up drink it up. So I tried to drink some more. I got about halfway through the second glass of piña coladas and told name I just don't feel right. I need to get up to my room. I tried to stand up but was having trouble. name offered to help me get up and put an arm around me and helped get me up the stairs to the apartment. When we got inside, I told name I thought I needed to get to bed, I just didn't feel right at all. name got me into my room and set me on my bed and said here I'll help you get your clothes off. So he started taking off my clothes and then he pulled my underwear off. Then he pulled his pants down and had a big erection. I said name what's going on? He just started masturbating. My head was swimming, I was completely out of it, and I started masturbating too. Then he shoved me over on the bed. I said name, what's going on? I tried to push myself off the bed and turn around and he was trying to anally penetrate me with his penis. I shouted name stop, stop. I'm not a girl, I shouted. Stop! But I couldn't keep my eyes open and I just collapsed on the bed. The next thing that I knew I was struggling to breathe and it was pitch dark. I was on my back and something was in my mouth. I didn't know whether it was rubber, a piece of meat, or skin. But it was thrusting up and down in my mouth and hitting the back of my throat and I was gagging. And hair was brushing up against my lips. I was starting to come to rapidly. Suddenly I realized that name was on top of me and his penis was in my mouth. I started screaming. I may have bit him. I started thrashing and pushed him off me. I jumped up and realized I was in his bedroom and I didn't know how I got there. I was screaming and I ran to my room. I locked my door and started fumbling around looking for my clothes and my car keys. name was trying my door knob again. I screamed at him to stop, to get away from my door, to leave me alone. He's sad he was trying to check on me to make sure I was OK. I screamed what do you mean OK? What do you think just happened? What do you think just happened? This is not OK, I yelled. And then I yelled get away from my door I'm coming through! You stand back! I threw the door open and name was standing there. I shouted get back and brushed past him and headed to the front door. I ran down the steps past the pool and out to my car. I jumped in my car and started it as quickly as I could. I gunned the engine and raced out of the parking lot and onto the street. I was going too fast and I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know what to do. But I was heading in the direction of the campus. So I just kept driving. And then I turned on the street that my old dorm was on. There was an athletic field at the end of the street and I thought maybe I would park there and try to think. But as I was driving down the street I noticed the light on at this townhouse apartment where a woman I knew was staying. So I parked in front of her place and went up to her door and started ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door. She came to the door in a bathrobe and asked name 2 what's going on? I told her name just attacked me. She told me to come in and tell her what happened. I was standing in her living room just shaking and crying and probably not making a lot of sense. So she told me to come into her bedroom and she had me lay down on her bed where I just laid and cried and sobbed. She tried to ask me what happened. Between sobs I tried to tell her name attacked me. name sexually attacked me. She said she didn't think name was gay. name had a girlfriend. She asked me if I thought I might be gay. I said I didn't think so and I didn't understand what had happened. I told her I thought he drugged me. I just sobbed and cried and cried, and I wasn't making a lot of sense. So at one point she just pulled a blanket over me and laid down herself and turned off the light. I cried myself to sleep. I started stirring when it was getting light outside. I didn't know where I was. I was trying to understand what was going on. Had I had a terrible dream? Was it a nightmare? But when I opened my eyes I saw that I wasn't in my room and I was on this woman's bed. She was asleep, but it was clear this had been no nightmare, this was real. I tried nudging her and told her I have to get up and go get my things. I have to find someplace new to stay. Then she stirred groggily and said I'm sorry I have to go back to sleep, I can't help right now. So I got up and went out to my car. I sat out in my car trying to think of what to do. I didn't feel safe going back to the apartment by myself. I thought maybe I needed some kind of weapon to protect myself. The first thought in my mind was I've got to figure out how to buy a gun. I don't know how to do that. I've got to figure this out. But then I thought if I get a gun, I'll probably end up shooting him and end up in a jail cell and my life will be over, or I'll shoot myself and my life will be over. Then I thought maybe a knife, maybe I should get a knife. But then I thought I might turn it on him, kill him, and end up in a jail cell. So I settled on the idea of getting a baseball bat. I had to go find a sporting goods store or a store that would sell a baseball bat. I drove to the local mall and waited outside of a department store that I knew had a sporting goods department. I had to wait until they opened up at 9 o'clock. Then when they opened I went inside and bought a heavy wooden baseball bat. This is what I would use to go back to the apartment to pick up my things and protect myself. So I drove to the apartment parked my car and walked up to the apartment door holding onto my baseball bat in my right hand the whole time and I turned my key in the lock and name was standing there in the living room. I held up the baseball back and said name you stand back! You stand back! I need to get my things! name motioned with his hands that it's all right, and said everything's OK. I yelled it's not OK! You stand back and let me get my things. I'm not staying here anymore. So I went to my room and I locked the door and put the bat down so I could pack my things. I had a simple college trunk and a knapsack and I just filled them with all of my things. At some point name was fumbling with my door knob again. I yelled for him to get away. He said he just wanted to make sure that I was OK. I yelled I'm not OK what you did last night was not OK! I'm not living here anymore! name said it's OK, you don't have to live here anymore. I guess I'll find somebody else. I yelled what do you mean you guess you'll find somebody else? What do you think happened last night? Then I yelled you get back, you get away from my door! I'm coming through! I tried to pick up my things and my baseball bat and opened my door. I held up the baseball bat again and said name you get back! He was motioning with his hands like everything's OK, everything's OK. But I just yelled at him to get back and let me past. So I pulled my things to the door holding that bat the whole time and keeping an eye over my shoulder to make sure that he didn't come near me. Then I pulled the door open and pulled my things out and closed the door behind me. I picked up my things and headed down the steps looking back over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed. I headed past the pool, and out to my car. I loaded up the car got inside and started driving. I wasn't sure where to go or what to do. I needed to find someplace to stay. So I drove to the campus to go find a copy of the student newspaper, which often had listings for apartments for rent. I think there was an ad for one of the fraternities which was renting out rooms for the summer. I wasn't excited about that prospect, but I needed some place to stay. I needed to keep working my summer job and making money so I could come back and finish school the next year. So I drove over to the fraternity and spoke to the student manager and he said they could rent me a room. It wasn't clear if I would have the room to myself the entire summer, but they could rent me a room. So I got my things and I moved in. I wasn't comfortable that night. I couldn't lock the door and I kept thinking about name and worrying about somebody coming through my door in the middle of the night. Also there were people in the fraternity that were goofing off half the night going up and down the stairs, making noise, and it was hard to sleep. And I also laid in bed every single night thinking about what happened to me and wondering what does it mean? How did this happen? Am I gay? Does this mean I'm gay? I didn't feel like I could tell anybody anything. I spent the next few months socially shutting down. I didn't really see any friends. And I didn't talk to people. I couldn't tell anybody what happened to me. I tried to pretend that nothing happened to me. I kept repeating to myself over and over again. This didn't happen. This didn't happen. I felt like if I kept repeating this didn't happen over and over again then maybe I wouldn't feel like it happened. Maybe I could pretend it didn't happen. Maybe I could erase it from my mind. And I kept thinking that was the only way I could get through this, just pretend it didn't happen. If I kept telling myself over and over and over again that it didn't happen, then maybe I wouldn't feel like it happened and maybe everything would be OK. And that's how I got through. I eventually started socially opening up again. A couple of months later one of my friends told me that he was gay. He also told me that he was interested in me. I was still asking questions about my own sexuality. I didn't know what the sexual attack had meant about me. I didn't know what it meant about my sexuality. I ended up fooling around one time with the gay friend. But it didn't feel right for me. Slowly, I got on with things. I eventually got my own apartment. I met my college girlfriend my senior year. I finished up school and I went on with living. A couple of years later, when I had moved across the country, my phone rang one morning. It was name. And he just kept repeating I want to do that thing with you again. I want to do that thing with you again, he sad. I was in shock. I hung up the phone. How did he get my phone number? How did he track me down? I spent a couple of days reliving in my head what happened to me, but then I started to snap out of it. I still hadn't told anybody anything about what happened to me and I wasn't going to. I was going to ignore this. A year later, I was seeing a dermatologist about venereal warts. He asked me if I engaged in homosexual practices. He said he'd only seen venereal warts in people who engaged in homosexual practices. This is so triggering and brought back uncomfortable memories. But I just told him no, I'm not gay. Well I had to endure a series of painful chemical skin peeling treatments that went on for months. Every time I saw this doctor he asked me if I was gay. He said the question was nonjudgmental, he wasn't judging me. But I just told him no I'm not gay. I could not tell this man what happened to me. And I put it out of my mind, I tried to put it out of my mind. I tried to go on with my life. But I've endured plenty of triggering events, and suffered flashbacks ever since, During periodic physicals, things like prostate exams--the doctor poking around through the anus sets me off and leaves me depressed and miserable. I have avoided things that I like, like swimming, because I can't stand to use locker rooms where other males are in a state of undress. When I see naked men, my anxiety goes through the roof. I'm now working with a therapist trying to process what happened to me. I was sexually assaulted 45 years ago. Try as I might to forget, I've never gotten over it.

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

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  • “Healing is different for everyone, but for me it is listening to myself...I make sure to take some time out of each week to put me first and practice self-care.”

    Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇯🇵

    It is possible to leave an abusive situation. I am sad, but I am free.

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    From a survivor
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    I will remain annonymous.

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

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  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
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    Growing and embracing the past as something that changed you and made you

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    From a survivor
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    5 Years that Changed Me Forever

    I was 21 years old when I was swept off my feet by a boy at my college. I was young and so impressionable. I had gotten out of a safe long term high school relationship and had been single for about a year. When I met college boy he gave me everything that my previous relationship had not. He was exciting and popular. He had a lot of party friends and he made me feel like I was his soulmate and that we were meant to be together in such a short amount of time. He played off of all my insecurities and knew exactly what to say to me. I fell in love fast. I was enamored by him. He definitely came with his red flags. He did not have a job, a license (DUI), and he loved drinking and partaking in party drugs. I was newly 21 and in the sorority/ fraternity scene at my college. Life seemed to be full of partying. It all seemed so normal and "cool". I did my first drugs with him and I was hooked off all of these highs he was giving me. I was so hooked that I didn't even notice the first time he was verbally abusive. I told him I needed to run to the store (I had to poop and was scared because he lived with a house full of boys). He said he would go with me. When we got into the car and he realized that was the only reason I needed to "run to the store" he started to get irrationally angry and screamed at me. I was scared but also angry... I yelled back and was put in my place immediately. I knew it was wrong but life with him was so great and we were so in love and that was the first time my boundary was pushed and I chose to ignore it. The next time was when he found out I was taking medication for my anxiety. He shamed me and told me that those pills will make me crazy. That he didn't know I was taking SSRI's or he would have not been okay with it. He punched a hole in the wall by my head and flipped a table trying to hit me. I had my friend pick me up and the next day I was back at his house. He had said he was drinking too much, he apologized, but he also made me believe that I should get off the medication... So I did... Cold turkey. This was the second time my boundary was pushed even further than the last incident and I ignored it. There were many little events that continued to occur in the next few months. I let him know of a serious family trauma that had happened to my family and he told me "my dad was a pussy for the way he handled it". He continued talking shit about my dad and making me feel like this trauma that had happened to us was our fault. I ended up packing up my stuff and walking outside. He came out and apologized (again it was the drinking) and I apologized for "escalating" things as well. I always thought our fights were a two way street and that I was also at fault for what had occurred. Another time he was out extremely late and I kept asking when he would be home. He came home extremely angry, packed up all of my things and told me to get the fuck out and that we were done. I had cried to everyone that he had broken up with me. I told everyone it was my fault for being too needy and pushing him too far. He called me later that night and told me he would forgive me and told me to come home. He started to talk badly about my friends and people in my life and so I slowly started to drift away from them and who I was. I started to lose sight of my moral compass as each boundary was pushed further during every incident that occurred. Then at around 6 months of dating the big event occurred. We were out drinking with friends. We took an Uber home and he brought up his dog that had been wrongfully taken from him (AKA he gave it to someone else and was mad they moved away). I told him to shut up about the dog and he lost it. He got extremely physical with me. I was pushed, choked multiple times and thrown to the ground multiple times. I threw a pot of water boiling that was on the stove to create space between us after he put his hands on me. The look in his eyes after this occurred was one of the scariest moments of my life. He chased me with a knife outside into the street, threw me on the ground, and then ran back inside grabbed a wine bottle and chucked it out into the street at my head. I started to scream yelling "HELP ME HELP ME I AM GOING TO DIE" he went back inside and grabbed all of my things and started cutting them with the knife and throwing them at me. He shattered my phone as well and then he locked me out of the house while I was in the street screaming for help. The police finally came... they took my statement and immediately arrested him. The thoughts I had this entire time were that I regretted escalating anything. I just wanted to go back inside and be with him and go to bed. I screamed for them not to arrest him and the police officer sat me down and explained to me that I was in a domestic violence relationship. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. I did not have a phone so I told him my childhood best friend's phone number and she came and picked me up. The events that followed were horrific. I was not given resources or taken care of. All charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. This was because the police had to come the next day to take pictures of my marks and it was not added into the police report. I went to the doctors and found out I had severe whiplash from the event. It only took 3 weeks for me to get back together with him. After that was one of the best honeymoon phases I had ever experienced. I was convinced he just had an alcohol problem and that I was just as much to blame as he was for the fight. Even though he did not get into any legal trouble the college had found out about what happened because before we got back together I had tried to switch out of the class we shared. They alerted the Title 9 office and there was an investigation. He and his lawyer manipulated me into lying about what happened and telling them that I didn't think he should have any punishment. I did this... he ended up getting suspended for a semester and having to attend a few AA classes. I ended up staying with this man for 4.5 more years. We moved into together, I completely distanced myself from family and friends. No physical abuse was as horrid as that night but the emotional and verbal abuse continued. It also turned into withholding sex because of the way I looked, distancing me from friends and family, breaking my personal items in front of me, punching holes in our walls, lying to me constantly, yelling at me that I am worthless while I am crying on the floor, and just so much more. We even got a dog together and I now realize how abusive he was to our poor pet as well. There were many other bigger traumatic events that also occurred from his drinking during this time too. It was the prolonged exposure to all of this abuse that really had the biggest effect on me. Here I am 3 and half years out of this relationship now. I just accepted that I was truly in an abusive relationship because the gaslighting started to become something my brain naturally did to myself. I did not trust myself nor my feelings. I have had to rely on other people to validate everything for me because I do not know what feelings are deserved and what aren't. I have learned that all feelings are deserved to be felt. I am married now and in an extremely healthy relationship after having to move back to my hometown after the break up. I have found myself again and connected to my inner child. I have been in therapy for the entire time post-breakup and this has helped a lot. I was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and this diagnosis has helped me with my healing as well. It has also helped me with truly validating myself and what I repeatedly went through. I am realizing that some of these things will now be engrained in me forever and that I have to accept myself for who I am and what I have been through. I have to know I am a stronger and more empathetic human that is able to deeply appreciate life and healthy relationships that I have now. Everything is more colorful and beautiful because of all the dark things I have been through. I continue to work on myself and I have now reached a point where I feel I am ready to help others. I hope this story is a start. It does not include everything but it does include a basis of that 5 year relationship that changed me forever. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

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  • “Healing means forgiving myself for all the things I may have gotten wrong in the moment.”

    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
    🇪🇸

    That night my brother touched me

    I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

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  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇿🇦

    You are powerful.

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    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    13 and The Colour Green

    Dedication: To all of the women and children that are fighting domestic abuse. I witnessed domestic violence between my mother and her boyfriend every day from the age of 6 up until the age of 11. I witnessed brutal attacks, one time my mother actually stopped breathing. He was a very jealous man. He wanted me out the way as much as possible. He even resorted to breaking my dogs leg in a fit of rage. My mother became a victim of ‘cuckooing’ by a local gang and was introduced to drugs. Her boyfriend stole from them and my mother was kidnapped. We both had to go into protective living. I stayed with my nan for 2 months not knowing where my mother was or even if she was alive. The gang found my mothers boyfriend and beat him to an inch of his life. My mother was later given an ultimatum; Him or me. She chose me. After us he moved on to another family. Unfortunately those children weren’t so lucky. They all got split up by the care system. It has not been until these past couple of months that I have learned to accept what happened. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Confusion, anger and tears. I had to say goodbye to the innocent little girl that was once me. At a crucial time when my child brain was meant to be developing and understanding the world, I had to skip that part completely. I was quickly brought into an adults world. After it all ended I had to build a whole new foundation and create a whole new person. It was almost like Norma Jean transforming into Marilyn Monroe or Beyonce becoming her alter ego Sasha Fierce. Before this, I had no identity. At the age of 6 I was just starting to find my place in the world which was then quickly taken from me. It wouldn’t be until I was 17 that I would have to come face to face with my mothers abuser again. She came home one night in a complete drunken state with him in tow. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that I was 17 not 7 anymore and I was not afraid of him and he couldn’t hurt us anymore. The police ended up escorting him away. My mother was always encouraging of me and always told me she believed in me and to believe in myself. That I am so grateful for. I am so grateful for life. Every day I would wake up and wonder if that day would be the day I died. I think the way I got through it was fight or flight. My body chose fight. I had a best friend at the time who I am still best friends with to this day. Her mother was also tackling her own demons at home, so our friendship grew closer. My mother ended up having a hard time coming to terms with dealing with what happened. She is unfortunately a shell of person he once was. The song by Jessie J – I Miss Her sums it up perfectly. She is still breathing but she is not really living.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    My Exposition...

    Growing up with a best friend is every little girls dream. Although this dream would later be deemed a nightmare...the kind that leaves you numb, insecure, and disgusted with yourself. Being adopted into a family that always tells you, "We are not your real parents.", but says to call them "mom" and "dad" is not the most welcoming situation for a 4 year old. Your mind is constantly clouded with unrecognizable emotions and a longing to finding a sense of security. With these unknown emotions flourishing in your mind, you realize that you can not place your trust within this house of strangers. So you find it somewhere else, this being a little girl who is only a year older than you. You and your new best friend participate in all of the same activities and after school care, you both become inseparable in no time. Your parents became friends too and planned ways to make the similarities in our schedules convenient for them. By splitting transportation routes, you began living out of each others houses which inevitably made your friendship pivot to a more "sisterly" bond. From doing school projects together to having a special handshake before taking the competition stage, you two soon became an iconic duo to the outside world. During this time of bliss, no one would know how sour this sweet story would turn. Your friendship slowly went from the purest form of love, to the most gut wrenching experiences of your life. Nap time went from sleeping alone to not being able to sleep without each other. Inside jokes turned to secrets that you kept from your parents and other friends. It went from playing house with Barbies, to demonstrating sexual acts with them. The movie nights went from watching Disney, to binge watching videos on adult sites. The pool parties went from twenty kids, to just you two in a bubble bath that allowed learning more about each other in new ways. The bedroom went from a place of laughter to a place of stripped clothes and locked doors. You wouldn't realize that the heartbreak and tears of sadness shed when your best friend of 8 years moved to a new school would return years later. Only this time the heartbreak and sadness is for yourself and the little girl you were that didn't quite understand why something so "right" was so wrong. Realizing what had happened to yourself, you close the chapter of naivety to begin the chapter of depression and identity insecurity. ____________ __________ For many years I was angry. Angry at my childhood friend who did this to me. Especially angry at my parents who failed to see the signs of Sexual Abuse. From extensive bed wetting into my teen years, to casually touching myself in inappropriate ways, and even having new "terms" for my private areas. I hated that all of my "first's" were taken from me. I envied the idea of having a childhood full of innocence and enjoying the little things. I hated that I would be labeled as "weird" as a teen for enjoying movies and shows meant for little kids. I hated that I would never have the normal middle school or high school experience. That I would struggle with intimate relationships and the most basic forms of physical touch for the foreseen future. However, what I hated the most is that no one would understand how being sexually abused for 8 years and living in a reactive household would mentally delay me and how I regulate my emotions. Until one day I thought about someone other than myself. I realized that she too had been exposed to these experiences. That she is a survivor herself, showing me "love" in the only way she was taught. I beg that you learn the signs of COCSA and know who your kids are spending their time with. For anyone who denies that COCSA is a real issue, and that kids are "just curious", the human body does not take note of the difference in a child, mom, dad, brother, sister, aunt, uncle, teacher, or neighbor in that moment. What the body understand is that sexual assault, is sexual assault. The trauma stored in the mind and body from this experience will remain, no matter the age, gender, or relation of the "abuser". I wish you all a life changing recovery, even if you tell everyone or no one at all. Everyone heals in their own way. Do not compare your story to someone else's to discredit your own experiences. Your story is valid. - E. <3

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    This Happened To Me

    When I was 20 I was in college and I agreed to live with someone I knew name name for the summer while I worked a summer job. name had a number of disquieting habits that always kind of bothered me. He would tend to get into my personal bubble not my personal space too often. He also had a habit of seeming to get lost in the middle of the night going back to his bedroom from the bathroom. One night name opened my door and was standing in my room when I woke up and I said what's going on name? He said oh I must've gotten lost or confused getting back to my room from the bathroom, sorry. After that I started locking my door at night and there were a number of times when I woke up and noticed that name was trying my door knob in the middle of the night. And I thought what's up with that? But I didn't worry about it too much. One Friday I came home from my summer job and name was sitting out by the pool in front of the apartment with a pitcher of what he described as piña coladas. He invited me to sit down and have a drink. He poured a glass of piña colada's for me and said this is my special piña colada mix. I want you to try it. So we sat there and I was sipping on his piña colada and I got about halfway through and he asked me how I was feeling. I thought it for a little bit strong and I told him so. But name just said drink it up, drink it up, I want you to have another. I said I don't know name. This feels awfully strong and I'm feeling kind of funny. name said come on, this is my special piña colada mix. I made it just for you. You have finish it. You have to have another. I'll feel insulted if you don't. I don't know name, I said. I'm feeling kind of funny. But name got up in my face pouring me another glass and said you have to have another one. These are my special piña coladas. I made them just for you. You have to have another. So name poured me another glass of piña coladas, and took my empty glass away, and said drink it up drink it up. So I tried to drink some more. I got about halfway through the second glass of piña coladas and told name I just don't feel right. I need to get up to my room. I tried to stand up but was having trouble. name offered to help me get up and put an arm around me and helped get me up the stairs to the apartment. When we got inside, I told name I thought I needed to get to bed, I just didn't feel right at all. name got me into my room and set me on my bed and said here I'll help you get your clothes off. So he started taking off my clothes and then he pulled my underwear off. Then he pulled his pants down and had a big erection. I said name what's going on? He just started masturbating. My head was swimming, I was completely out of it, and I started masturbating too. Then he shoved me over on the bed. I said name, what's going on? I tried to push myself off the bed and turn around and he was trying to anally penetrate me with his penis. I shouted name stop, stop. I'm not a girl, I shouted. Stop! But I couldn't keep my eyes open and I just collapsed on the bed. The next thing that I knew I was struggling to breathe and it was pitch dark. I was on my back and something was in my mouth. I didn't know whether it was rubber, a piece of meat, or skin. But it was thrusting up and down in my mouth and hitting the back of my throat and I was gagging. And hair was brushing up against my lips. I was starting to come to rapidly. Suddenly I realized that name was on top of me and his penis was in my mouth. I started screaming. I may have bit him. I started thrashing and pushed him off me. I jumped up and realized I was in his bedroom and I didn't know how I got there. I was screaming and I ran to my room. I locked my door and started fumbling around looking for my clothes and my car keys. name was trying my door knob again. I screamed at him to stop, to get away from my door, to leave me alone. He's sad he was trying to check on me to make sure I was OK. I screamed what do you mean OK? What do you think just happened? What do you think just happened? This is not OK, I yelled. And then I yelled get away from my door I'm coming through! You stand back! I threw the door open and name was standing there. I shouted get back and brushed past him and headed to the front door. I ran down the steps past the pool and out to my car. I jumped in my car and started it as quickly as I could. I gunned the engine and raced out of the parking lot and onto the street. I was going too fast and I didn't know where I was going. I didn't know what to do. But I was heading in the direction of the campus. So I just kept driving. And then I turned on the street that my old dorm was on. There was an athletic field at the end of the street and I thought maybe I would park there and try to think. But as I was driving down the street I noticed the light on at this townhouse apartment where a woman I knew was staying. So I parked in front of her place and went up to her door and started ringing the doorbell and knocking on the door. She came to the door in a bathrobe and asked name 2 what's going on? I told her name just attacked me. She told me to come in and tell her what happened. I was standing in her living room just shaking and crying and probably not making a lot of sense. So she told me to come into her bedroom and she had me lay down on her bed where I just laid and cried and sobbed. She tried to ask me what happened. Between sobs I tried to tell her name attacked me. name sexually attacked me. She said she didn't think name was gay. name had a girlfriend. She asked me if I thought I might be gay. I said I didn't think so and I didn't understand what had happened. I told her I thought he drugged me. I just sobbed and cried and cried, and I wasn't making a lot of sense. So at one point she just pulled a blanket over me and laid down herself and turned off the light. I cried myself to sleep. I started stirring when it was getting light outside. I didn't know where I was. I was trying to understand what was going on. Had I had a terrible dream? Was it a nightmare? But when I opened my eyes I saw that I wasn't in my room and I was on this woman's bed. She was asleep, but it was clear this had been no nightmare, this was real. I tried nudging her and told her I have to get up and go get my things. I have to find someplace new to stay. Then she stirred groggily and said I'm sorry I have to go back to sleep, I can't help right now. So I got up and went out to my car. I sat out in my car trying to think of what to do. I didn't feel safe going back to the apartment by myself. I thought maybe I needed some kind of weapon to protect myself. The first thought in my mind was I've got to figure out how to buy a gun. I don't know how to do that. I've got to figure this out. But then I thought if I get a gun, I'll probably end up shooting him and end up in a jail cell and my life will be over, or I'll shoot myself and my life will be over. Then I thought maybe a knife, maybe I should get a knife. But then I thought I might turn it on him, kill him, and end up in a jail cell. So I settled on the idea of getting a baseball bat. I had to go find a sporting goods store or a store that would sell a baseball bat. I drove to the local mall and waited outside of a department store that I knew had a sporting goods department. I had to wait until they opened up at 9 o'clock. Then when they opened I went inside and bought a heavy wooden baseball bat. This is what I would use to go back to the apartment to pick up my things and protect myself. So I drove to the apartment parked my car and walked up to the apartment door holding onto my baseball bat in my right hand the whole time and I turned my key in the lock and name was standing there in the living room. I held up the baseball back and said name you stand back! You stand back! I need to get my things! name motioned with his hands that it's all right, and said everything's OK. I yelled it's not OK! You stand back and let me get my things. I'm not staying here anymore. So I went to my room and I locked the door and put the bat down so I could pack my things. I had a simple college trunk and a knapsack and I just filled them with all of my things. At some point name was fumbling with my door knob again. I yelled for him to get away. He said he just wanted to make sure that I was OK. I yelled I'm not OK what you did last night was not OK! I'm not living here anymore! name said it's OK, you don't have to live here anymore. I guess I'll find somebody else. I yelled what do you mean you guess you'll find somebody else? What do you think happened last night? Then I yelled you get back, you get away from my door! I'm coming through! I tried to pick up my things and my baseball bat and opened my door. I held up the baseball bat again and said name you get back! He was motioning with his hands like everything's OK, everything's OK. But I just yelled at him to get back and let me past. So I pulled my things to the door holding that bat the whole time and keeping an eye over my shoulder to make sure that he didn't come near me. Then I pulled the door open and pulled my things out and closed the door behind me. I picked up my things and headed down the steps looking back over my shoulder to make sure I wasn't being followed. I headed past the pool, and out to my car. I loaded up the car got inside and started driving. I wasn't sure where to go or what to do. I needed to find someplace to stay. So I drove to the campus to go find a copy of the student newspaper, which often had listings for apartments for rent. I think there was an ad for one of the fraternities which was renting out rooms for the summer. I wasn't excited about that prospect, but I needed some place to stay. I needed to keep working my summer job and making money so I could come back and finish school the next year. So I drove over to the fraternity and spoke to the student manager and he said they could rent me a room. It wasn't clear if I would have the room to myself the entire summer, but they could rent me a room. So I got my things and I moved in. I wasn't comfortable that night. I couldn't lock the door and I kept thinking about name and worrying about somebody coming through my door in the middle of the night. Also there were people in the fraternity that were goofing off half the night going up and down the stairs, making noise, and it was hard to sleep. And I also laid in bed every single night thinking about what happened to me and wondering what does it mean? How did this happen? Am I gay? Does this mean I'm gay? I didn't feel like I could tell anybody anything. I spent the next few months socially shutting down. I didn't really see any friends. And I didn't talk to people. I couldn't tell anybody what happened to me. I tried to pretend that nothing happened to me. I kept repeating to myself over and over again. This didn't happen. This didn't happen. I felt like if I kept repeating this didn't happen over and over again then maybe I wouldn't feel like it happened. Maybe I could pretend it didn't happen. Maybe I could erase it from my mind. And I kept thinking that was the only way I could get through this, just pretend it didn't happen. If I kept telling myself over and over and over again that it didn't happen, then maybe I wouldn't feel like it happened and maybe everything would be OK. And that's how I got through. I eventually started socially opening up again. A couple of months later one of my friends told me that he was gay. He also told me that he was interested in me. I was still asking questions about my own sexuality. I didn't know what the sexual attack had meant about me. I didn't know what it meant about my sexuality. I ended up fooling around one time with the gay friend. But it didn't feel right for me. Slowly, I got on with things. I eventually got my own apartment. I met my college girlfriend my senior year. I finished up school and I went on with living. A couple of years later, when I had moved across the country, my phone rang one morning. It was name. And he just kept repeating I want to do that thing with you again. I want to do that thing with you again, he sad. I was in shock. I hung up the phone. How did he get my phone number? How did he track me down? I spent a couple of days reliving in my head what happened to me, but then I started to snap out of it. I still hadn't told anybody anything about what happened to me and I wasn't going to. I was going to ignore this. A year later, I was seeing a dermatologist about venereal warts. He asked me if I engaged in homosexual practices. He said he'd only seen venereal warts in people who engaged in homosexual practices. This is so triggering and brought back uncomfortable memories. But I just told him no, I'm not gay. Well I had to endure a series of painful chemical skin peeling treatments that went on for months. Every time I saw this doctor he asked me if I was gay. He said the question was nonjudgmental, he wasn't judging me. But I just told him no I'm not gay. I could not tell this man what happened to me. And I put it out of my mind, I tried to put it out of my mind. I tried to go on with my life. But I've endured plenty of triggering events, and suffered flashbacks ever since, During periodic physicals, things like prostate exams--the doctor poking around through the anus sets me off and leaves me depressed and miserable. I have avoided things that I like, like swimming, because I can't stand to use locker rooms where other males are in a state of undress. When I see naked men, my anxiety goes through the roof. I'm now working with a therapist trying to process what happened to me. I was sexually assaulted 45 years ago. Try as I might to forget, I've never gotten over it.

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

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇨🇦

    I will remain annonymous.

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

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    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    WE ARE SURVIVORS and we are not alone

    The first time I was raped, I did not know it. Blaring music and spilled drinks, you were there Persistent, like a dog. Nagging, Nagging, Nagging. Hands running down my thighs, the phrase “babe it’ll make me feel better.” Your words clanging in my head, pounding like hammers against my ears One phrase slips out of my mouth, “fine just stop asking.” Waking up on the bathroom floor, aching from head to toe Before you take me home, you buy plan b. You had taken the condom off. I cry. My virginity stolen from me, that was my definition of love. The second, oh god the second time. My life plummets. Alcohol burning down my throat, stumbling, falling to the floor, You offer me your bed. Drifting off in a drunken haze, the hands are back But they belong to a friend. Suddenly his hands are choking, digging into my skin, bruising The word “STOP” falls on deaf ears. The tears start spilling down my face when I realize I cannot fight anymore and I go limp. Blood between my legs, oh god it hurt. Oh God, Oh God, why me? Why him? The third time, yes there was a third time. Another friend. Another familiar face. More lights, more pain, too drunk to move, I leave quietly the next morning. I always leave quietly. A thought that will not leave, “I am the common denominator” “I am the problem” Rumors spread like wildfire, each one a knife to the heart, a burning in my stomach. My name in everyone's mouths, I am drowning, my voice gone, stolen. No, ripped from my throat, brutally. My story is not my own. My body is not my own. It is filled with the bile and rot and filth of these men, these men who violated my body like I was not a being with a soul, with emotion and a heart beating like their own, but an object. Women are not made to be abused, to be a scratching post for horny, lonely men who cannot control their hands or their dicks. Survivors have to carry the burden. I carry the burden of my rape. The trauma, the shame, the grief, the horror, the anger, the guilt. But to the men who raped me, I give it to you. It is not my shame, it is yours, it is not my guilt, it is yours, it is not my fault, it is yours. And I am free.

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  • “It can be really difficult to ask for help when you are struggling. Healing is a huge weight to bear, but you do not need to bear it on your own.”

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

    You are wonderful, strong, and worthy. From one survivor to another.

    We believe in you. You are strong.

    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.

    Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Healing to me is therapy and sharing my story

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  • “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.”

    “Healing is different for everyone, but for me it is listening to myself...I make sure to take some time out of each week to put me first and practice self-care.”

    Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    Growing and embracing the past as something that changed you and made you

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  • “Healing means forgiving myself for all the things I may have gotten wrong in the moment.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    Raped by someone I once trusted and loved only to feel rapped again by our family courts system .

    I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

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    From a survivor
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    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.

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    Friends for over 20+ years...my friend's husband

    I'm not sure where to start. I feel like it was my fault. I should have tried harder, ignored more, never gone when he called.. but I didn't and then this happened. I am still coming to terms with it. It happened two days ago. He is my friend's husband. He knows I have an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive husband. He knows and he and his wife, one of my best friends, the godmother of my second, have tried to help. They both came over to the country where I live. Their oldest, whom I adore like my own, is at university here. My friends went back. He texted, asking if I wanted to meet up because my friend had been ill and we couldn't meet this time. I said sure. We had done this a thousand times before. We were very very close friends. We had gone on trips together since the children were 2 and a bit..we were practically family. We hung out, went to each other's houses, spent time together with our families, went to meals alone or with each other's families it was all normal. He had always some across as someone who teased a little, said the odd inappropriate thing, even in front of my friend, his wife and over the 20+ years I had known him, this was just dismissed as part of who he is, we rolled our eyes, raised our eyebrows, laughed a little and carried on. It was never anything else. Until two days ago. His wife had gone back home last week. He was still here. He asked me to come over, we could go to lunch before he went back, I said sure. He then said he was "excited" to see me. I ignored it and in my head just dismissed it as him being silly. He said he would meet me at the train station. When I got there he had some bags, he asked if I minded leaving them at home before lunch. I shrugged, it was at that point totally normal. He lived 5 minutes away by cab, I had been to to the house a zillion times, I was stupid. I got in to the cab and when we went over, he said, let me leave this and come down, he went up stairs. He was dressed up...very well. I was in a hoodie and jeans. I laughed and asked what on earth he was dressed up for. He looked at me and suddenly said, you look good, have you been working out. I laughed..I looked far from good. I am now 48 and years of emotional and physical trauma have taken their toll. I had not coloured my hair, I had lost some weight but I still felt that after two children, I was fat, flabby and ugly. I was cold. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I had some water. It was mid morning. He turned up the heating and asked if we should order in. I said yes because it was so cold outside and I couldn't be bothered going out again...this again, was normal. I kicked my shoes off and crossed my legs under me on the sofa warming my hands on the radiator behind. He laughed and took one hand in his, saying gosh you are freezing.. I didn't think anything of it. I put both hands back on the radiator and said, I'll warm up in a bit. We started talking. He asked me how things were. With my husband, the kids, I asked him. We talked about not being able to meet properly, go on a trip..all normal. His dad was friends with my dad. I asked after his parents, he asked after mine. Again, totally casual. Totally normal. There was a fox in the garden. I remember that. I thought it was cute. He laughed at me saying there are always foxes around here. He asked if I wanted to listen to some music while we waited for the food. I said sure. He put music on and then asked if I wanted to dance. I was taken aback but again, stupidly, stupidly, laughed it off, saying no. I hadn't danced in years. I felt slightly uncomfortable but didn't want to see weird to him so I pulled a couple of cushions around me and snuggled into my little corner of the sofa. He sat at the other end. He pulled his phone out. Asked if I wanted to see what the menus were like, I leaned over and then he tried to nuzzle my neck, he put his arm around me. I got a shock and pushed him off, saying what are you doing, are you mad...what is wrong with you. He said, "don't be so silly, I'm just trying to give you a hug...you've been through so much....you've got so much on your plate. I feel sorry for you. Seriously, don't be so stressed and uptight. relax". I felt foolish so I didn't say anything and he moved away so I thought it was ok. I stretched my back scrolling through the menus because my shoulders hurt. He picked up on it and said, "do you want me to give your shoulders a quick rub". I said, "no, I'm fine.". He came closer. Said, "I'm pretty good at giving massages." I was beginning to think I should leave. I said, "please don't. I'm fine." He said "ok fine" and moved back to just chatting about life, about the country he came and I originally came from which was in political turmoil, we talked about our kids. I relaxed. That's when it happened. The music went off. The blue tooth thingy was behind me. He stood up, went over to put it back on and then leaned over and grabbed my shoulders from behind. I gasped. He is 6'1 or 2" and I am 5"1. He pushed me down on the sofa, came from the side..I still can't really remember how he got there and started kissing me hard. I tried to move, I kept repeating, "stop, stop, stop, stop, why are you doing this. Please stop. You can't do this." He only replied saying, "please, stop struggling..it's only a little kiss. Just one kiss.." but it wasnt. I tried to turn my face. By this point, he was on top of me, holding me down, holding my arms above my head. His legs on either side of mine and his entire weight on me. I couldn't breathe. I tried to speak again and screamed, "stop". He said "stop screaming and kiss me." I turned away and with his free hand, he pressed my cheeks hard so I would open my mouth. He put his tongue in, and wouldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. All I remember was panicking..thinking about my friend, thinking what this would do to her. I couldn't stop him. He turned my face away and then put his tongue in my year. He lifted my top, snapped my bra open and pushed it up and started sucking and licking my breasts, I was sobbing now and saying, "no no no don't do this...please stop..please, please don't do this.." He said, "ok ok..I'm stopping and stuck his hand between my legs. He pulled my head back so it was almost hanging off the sofa and leaned on top of me saying, "lick me" ..I turned my head away and he pulled on my hair and put even more weight on my arms leaning forward and pushing his chest on to me. He brought his hand up again squeezing my cheeks in till I opened my mouth...and then pushed his nipple into my mouth. He put his hand back down between my legs. I was wriggling and moving and I managed to cross my legs. He then pushed hard with one and then the other of his legs, opening mine. I couldn't even think. I think I was in shock. I don't know what happened. I was trying to lift myself off, my arms was aching so much. He pressed his other arm onto my stomach and said, "stop moving so much". He took the button on my jeans off. I screamed again, saying, "please don't. I beg you, please don't. All he said was, "ok. If you beg me I won't" but he carried on. He moved his hand from between my legs, and carried on pressing him mouth on mine, grabbing and twisting my breasts with his other hand. I don't know what happened. I feel like I might have blacked out but I don't think I did because every time I replay it in my head, I knew what he was doing. I remember him murmuring, saying, "he doesn't deserve you, I'll take care of you...he doesn't love you, he hits you, he threatens you, he doesn't deserve you. Let me show you.." I remember thinking, that he must have done this because he thought I was easy. Because I had told him and his wife about what was going on in my marriage. I remember thinking how stupid I was. Then suddenly, he pushed between my legs with his hand. He still had not let go my arms, I said "please stop, I can't breathe." He didn't say anything, but he let go my arms, and really quickly pulled my jeans down with both hand, ripping my panties in the process. I screamed again and tried to get up. He pushed me back down and put his whole weight on me, saying "don't worry, I won't have sex with you because you begged me not to but I bet no one has done this for you in a long time right? Not years maybe right? " I couldn't answer, I was crying and crying. He started putting his fingers inside me and pulling in and out and I couldn't move. I think I went completely limp in shock. He slowly let go my arms again and slid down, pushing my legs apart even further with his head and he put his tongue inside. holding me down from my stomach with his forearm. He kept saying, "let me show you how you should be loved" I don't know why I couldn't fight back harder at this point. I tried so hard before, I just couldn't move. I tried to push him away, push his head away, but I couldn't. All I could do was cry...like I was pathetic and weak. I was so angry with myself for not leaving when I could, I was trying so hard to normalise the signs and then this is where it ended. He kept going, back up to my face and back down for almost an hour and a half I think and then it got worse. He pushed me to the ground, holding me by my hair and asked me to take him in my mouth. He said, "I want you to kneel, I want to watch you..." and I kept saying, "no no please no...and he pulled my head back, saying, don't bite...and stuck himself so far in, I gagged, over and over....he had his legs round my body now and I couldn't stand because my jeans were still near my ankles, he was holding my wrists with one hand and my hair in a tight pony tail at the back. I remember thinking he's going to pull my hair out. I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't get up, I couldn't do anything but keep doing what he was forcing me to do..and then he said, almost like it made it alright.. "don't worry I won't come in your mouth and pulled me back up just before. I just slid off him to the floor and he finally let go but I couldn't get up. I just curled up on the floor sobbing. I hand't even pulled my jeans back up. He finished and then carried me back on to his chest like he cared... started stroking me and saying, "why are you crying, you were amazing..stop crying, it's ok. Your friend will never know unless you tell her and you aren't going to tell her are you... this is our secret...what she doesn't know, won't hurt her.. she'll be fine...don't cry...you were great..I'll be back in July...Are you crying because it's me? It's better like this because we know each other..." he was stroking me and stroking my hair and holding me tightly like somehow, I had been complicit or as if I had said yes...I wanted to scream again, and hit out, now I could...but I couldn't do anything but cry. I let him hold me..I didn't push away..I couldn't. I felt so ashamed, so broken, so dirty and cheap. Then he said, I'm going to order an Uber for you, you can't go back in the train in this state. Go and clean yourself up.. and he pulled my jeans back up with my torn pants inside. He was laughing, saying, "gosh imagine if anyone saw you like this"...I coudn't do anything but just follow. it was like my mind was screaming but my body was just doing what it was told so I just followed him to the bathroom.. he left me there and all I could do was cry sitting on the toilet. I rubbed and rubbed myself with reams of toilet paper...and washed my face..and went back out. I look after two elderly relatives who think the world of him. I couldn't go back home and say anything to them. They are sick and elderly and they wouldn't really be able to comprehend what happened. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I came out and he hugged me again tightly, saying calm down...you're fine. You're fine. I'll be back in July. Let's do this again. All I could do was shake my head. He kept laughing and then the Uber came. He even put me in and carried my bag in for me. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to calm myself enough to go home and then drive to pick my kids up and then I just washed and washed and washed in the bathroom, told my mum I had a headache and could she manage the kids and binned my clothes which still smelled of him and curled up in bed. The next morning, I got a text from him saying, "all ok?" and I just replied saying, "no..what were you thinking..." he called and told me not to make a big deal of things, that my life and his were more complicated than they needed to be already and to not make it worse, to not make a "thing" of what happened, that he had a lovely time...I hung up. I could not speak. He texted me saying, please don't tell anyone....this is our secret. I'll be back in July. I'll see you then.. I asked him why again, and he said I always liked you. I said but why would you do this. I said no...and he said it is only a little fun..I asked him if he had a bet with someone that he would do this and he said no..I said I feel cheap and horrible. You did this to me and he said, you don't need to, I forced you to.....I feel so horrible. I feel so dirty and used and cheap. I am so angry with myself for not leaving when I had the chance... I told another friend what happened. She wants me to go to police. I can't. It'll ruin his family, mine, his kids...and I love those kids like my own...my friend...I can't do that to anyone....but I can't function...I keep replaying it in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. My hands are shaking all the time...I can't focus. My other friend thought that perhaps writing my story might help. That is why I put so much detail. I am so sorry if it is too much. I wanted to write everything down...to get it all out...I've not told anyone all the details. I'm so sorry if it is too much.. She said it was ok to be angry but that is the other confusing thing...I am not angry...I feel nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. I am angry with myself but not anything else. I am so confused as to why he would do this after 20+ years of friendship. Why did he think it was ok? Do I look easy? By meeting him did I give him the impression it was ok? Why would he do this to me? We were friends..good friends..our families adore each other..why would he risk all that? What does he think of me now? I keep looking at myself and it is mad but I keep thinking, his wife is gorgeous and in great shape and I am flabby and haven't looked after myself at all...why would he do this with me when he has an amazing wife? I don't understand...I don't understand at all....I find myself repulsive...I used to look alright but my marriage has taken a toll...I no longer look anywhere close to what i did before...so why would he do this? And now when I feel like I've hit rock bottom in all aspects of my life...this happens.. If not for my kids..there would not be any point in my life...I'm so humiliated..

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    Groomed in the Workplace

    The first corporate job I've ever had after college was like something out of a movie. I was young, excited, and wanted to make a big impact in this high energy, exciting industry. I got to travel the world and collect mileage points. A VP I respected recognized my work ethic and befriended me. I asked him to be my mentor because I was having issues with anxiety, depression, and speaking up in meetings. He was quite persuasive and very influential amongst his peers. I was so excited to learn from him. We would travel together for work and got to know each other on a personal level. We'd all get dinner and drinks as a traveling team. When alone, he told me about his struggles with his marriage and how his wife had a similar upbringing to mine. Her parents fought a lot. I told him about my upbringing and how my mom and I never really got along. After a breakup with my boyfriend, he got even closer. He wanted to spend more time with me and I confided in him. Slowly, our conversations would get more personal. He'd ask me who I'm dating and if I'm having sex with them. At this point, our friendship seemed comfortable. He always told me we were friends and that I can trust him. He told me about his sex life and how him and his wife are in an open relationship. He'd get me out to drinks and dinner by myself and ask more personal questions. To be honest, I really liked the attention. He was persuasive and successful. I also really liked fancy drinks and the dinners I got to go to. Little by little, the boundaries blurred more and more and I was drowning in alcoholism, my anxiety increased, and I started getting panic attacks. Then one night, we all went out to karaoke as a team. I blacked out and somehow ended up in a hotel room next to some man from another office. My underwear was still on so I didn't think we had sex. I hurried to get ready and go back to the office. As soon as I got back to the office he asked, "So did you have sex with him?" I was shocked. I froze and didn't say anything. I felt so much shame and I didn't fully comprehend why. I think he took this as a "yes." He started to type away on his phone and walked away laughing. In February 2022, after a couple of years after leaving this company, he called me to check on how I was doing. I took the call because I thought, maybe it was just in my head. One of the first things he asked was, "Are you still sleeping around?" I responded, "You mean 'rape'?" He replied, "You evolved." I then began to tell him off. It was only until this point I realized I had been groomed by a very deceitful man that I thought I could trust. He hasn't contacted me since.

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    is this trauma?

    Hello, I am not sure if this is the right place to discuss such things. But I have a story, that i am unable to process. I *think* I have sexual trauma from 5 years ago - it's been resurfacing now. I am not even sure what this was. when I was 21, I was hanging out with a friend. We had been friends for a very long time. Due to some reasons I am unaware of, he started coercing me into sex. He would often grope me, sleep next to me etc. This guy I knew had a girlfriend. Soon enough he broke up with his girlfriend. The groping started happening more often. The coercion increased. We would often make out, but I never would consent to sex because i was not comfortable. I knew i would not be able to trust this person and I didn't feel safe with him. Fast forward to a few months, he starts telling me he likes, he chases and pursues me. The coercion becomes stronger. He says things like we *need* to have sex because he needs to get it out of his system. Then one night, we're hanging out - just smoking and drinking. He convinces me to go his place. Once we reach there, he starts coming on too strong. I try to get out of it, I tell him I am not sure. Then he yells me by saying what was i thinking we will do when i come to his house at night, implying i owe him sex because i am at his house at this hour. There was no way for me to get out. At this point, where I lived, ubers/lyfts didn't exist. It was 2 am. He comes on too strongly again. I resist less this time but i freak out as soon as he's about to penetrate me. My body froze, I clearly wasn't ready. This boy gets angry, and he throws me out of his room. I am barely dressed and there are some of his roommates that have passed out in the living room. I feel humiliated and I want to leave but my clothes are in his room. He comes into the living room and grabs my hands and gets me into his bedroom. He keeps on asking me why cant we have sex. My answer is always "i don't know". He tells me how's bad it's for his health that i tease his like this. He says his body needs it. So i let it happen. Promising myself i am never coming back here. During penetration i ask him if he has a condom. He gets up to get a condom. Makes some wrapper noise but as soon as the act is over, i realize he never wore a condom. And i ask him he replies, 'i never wanted to wear a condom with you'. I didn't feel broken but numb. I think I had blocked out a lot of what happened for many years. after 5 years, the night described above felt wrong but i am not able to call it assault/ harassment because everyone's else pain seems bigger than mine. Is this sexual trauma?

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    #126

    It has always been hard for me to fully open up about my story. The feelings of guilt eat me alive almost every day. I never told anyone about what happened when I was five, I was touched by someone very close to me, my mind repressed those memories for a very long time. I was sixteen when it started. It started off great, I loved him. I always valued saving it till marriage, but he had convinced me otherwise because thats what love is right? It didnt get super bad till nine months in. He made me believe that I needed to have a child with him so that I was his forever. I did so, but decided to have an abortion. After this, he tried to impregnate me multiple times without my consent so I could not leave him, when this plan of his was not working the abuse really started. The first time it happened I remember waking up with his friend on top of me, it was right after we had smoked and I dont remember anything until waking up with his friend on top of me. I dont know why I didnt leave then. I dont know why i defended him. Sadly it happened a countless number of other times throughout a six month period. The scariest part of it all is I am still searching for answers, still trying to feel whole. During this time I had to cover bruises and scars all over my body. He made me feel worthless, like an object. It sucks because i thought that once i left it would be over, but these memories haunt me forever. A little over a year ago I was on a flight when I was again sexually assaulted, it made me relive all the memories I had put past me. When it was happening my body went into shock, I couldnt move for 5 hours, it was hell on earth. Until recently I have been so angry, so upset, why me? What did I do to deserve this life?

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  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
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    As my doctor said to me, "You did nothing wrong."

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

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  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
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    It is possible to leave an abusive situation. I am sad, but I am free.

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    5 Years that Changed Me Forever

    I was 21 years old when I was swept off my feet by a boy at my college. I was young and so impressionable. I had gotten out of a safe long term high school relationship and had been single for about a year. When I met college boy he gave me everything that my previous relationship had not. He was exciting and popular. He had a lot of party friends and he made me feel like I was his soulmate and that we were meant to be together in such a short amount of time. He played off of all my insecurities and knew exactly what to say to me. I fell in love fast. I was enamored by him. He definitely came with his red flags. He did not have a job, a license (DUI), and he loved drinking and partaking in party drugs. I was newly 21 and in the sorority/ fraternity scene at my college. Life seemed to be full of partying. It all seemed so normal and "cool". I did my first drugs with him and I was hooked off all of these highs he was giving me. I was so hooked that I didn't even notice the first time he was verbally abusive. I told him I needed to run to the store (I had to poop and was scared because he lived with a house full of boys). He said he would go with me. When we got into the car and he realized that was the only reason I needed to "run to the store" he started to get irrationally angry and screamed at me. I was scared but also angry... I yelled back and was put in my place immediately. I knew it was wrong but life with him was so great and we were so in love and that was the first time my boundary was pushed and I chose to ignore it. The next time was when he found out I was taking medication for my anxiety. He shamed me and told me that those pills will make me crazy. That he didn't know I was taking SSRI's or he would have not been okay with it. He punched a hole in the wall by my head and flipped a table trying to hit me. I had my friend pick me up and the next day I was back at his house. He had said he was drinking too much, he apologized, but he also made me believe that I should get off the medication... So I did... Cold turkey. This was the second time my boundary was pushed even further than the last incident and I ignored it. There were many little events that continued to occur in the next few months. I let him know of a serious family trauma that had happened to my family and he told me "my dad was a pussy for the way he handled it". He continued talking shit about my dad and making me feel like this trauma that had happened to us was our fault. I ended up packing up my stuff and walking outside. He came out and apologized (again it was the drinking) and I apologized for "escalating" things as well. I always thought our fights were a two way street and that I was also at fault for what had occurred. Another time he was out extremely late and I kept asking when he would be home. He came home extremely angry, packed up all of my things and told me to get the fuck out and that we were done. I had cried to everyone that he had broken up with me. I told everyone it was my fault for being too needy and pushing him too far. He called me later that night and told me he would forgive me and told me to come home. He started to talk badly about my friends and people in my life and so I slowly started to drift away from them and who I was. I started to lose sight of my moral compass as each boundary was pushed further during every incident that occurred. Then at around 6 months of dating the big event occurred. We were out drinking with friends. We took an Uber home and he brought up his dog that had been wrongfully taken from him (AKA he gave it to someone else and was mad they moved away). I told him to shut up about the dog and he lost it. He got extremely physical with me. I was pushed, choked multiple times and thrown to the ground multiple times. I threw a pot of water boiling that was on the stove to create space between us after he put his hands on me. The look in his eyes after this occurred was one of the scariest moments of my life. He chased me with a knife outside into the street, threw me on the ground, and then ran back inside grabbed a wine bottle and chucked it out into the street at my head. I started to scream yelling "HELP ME HELP ME I AM GOING TO DIE" he went back inside and grabbed all of my things and started cutting them with the knife and throwing them at me. He shattered my phone as well and then he locked me out of the house while I was in the street screaming for help. The police finally came... they took my statement and immediately arrested him. The thoughts I had this entire time were that I regretted escalating anything. I just wanted to go back inside and be with him and go to bed. I screamed for them not to arrest him and the police officer sat me down and explained to me that I was in a domestic violence relationship. I couldn't believe what he was telling me. I did not have a phone so I told him my childhood best friend's phone number and she came and picked me up. The events that followed were horrific. I was not given resources or taken care of. All charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence. This was because the police had to come the next day to take pictures of my marks and it was not added into the police report. I went to the doctors and found out I had severe whiplash from the event. It only took 3 weeks for me to get back together with him. After that was one of the best honeymoon phases I had ever experienced. I was convinced he just had an alcohol problem and that I was just as much to blame as he was for the fight. Even though he did not get into any legal trouble the college had found out about what happened because before we got back together I had tried to switch out of the class we shared. They alerted the Title 9 office and there was an investigation. He and his lawyer manipulated me into lying about what happened and telling them that I didn't think he should have any punishment. I did this... he ended up getting suspended for a semester and having to attend a few AA classes. I ended up staying with this man for 4.5 more years. We moved into together, I completely distanced myself from family and friends. No physical abuse was as horrid as that night but the emotional and verbal abuse continued. It also turned into withholding sex because of the way I looked, distancing me from friends and family, breaking my personal items in front of me, punching holes in our walls, lying to me constantly, yelling at me that I am worthless while I am crying on the floor, and just so much more. We even got a dog together and I now realize how abusive he was to our poor pet as well. There were many other bigger traumatic events that also occurred from his drinking during this time too. It was the prolonged exposure to all of this abuse that really had the biggest effect on me. Here I am 3 and half years out of this relationship now. I just accepted that I was truly in an abusive relationship because the gaslighting started to become something my brain naturally did to myself. I did not trust myself nor my feelings. I have had to rely on other people to validate everything for me because I do not know what feelings are deserved and what aren't. I have learned that all feelings are deserved to be felt. I am married now and in an extremely healthy relationship after having to move back to my hometown after the break up. I have found myself again and connected to my inner child. I have been in therapy for the entire time post-breakup and this has helped a lot. I was diagnosed with Complex PTSD and this diagnosis has helped me with my healing as well. It has also helped me with truly validating myself and what I repeatedly went through. I am realizing that some of these things will now be engrained in me forever and that I have to accept myself for who I am and what I have been through. I have to know I am a stronger and more empathetic human that is able to deeply appreciate life and healthy relationships that I have now. Everything is more colorful and beautiful because of all the dark things I have been through. I continue to work on myself and I have now reached a point where I feel I am ready to help others. I hope this story is a start. It does not include everything but it does include a basis of that 5 year relationship that changed me forever. YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

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    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.