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You filled me with your emptiness Leaving a chill Where you found your thrill And I found myself Speechless In a state of undress I was never trying to impress Not you Not anyone. I just wanted to be happy Spend time with friends That's what you are Were? My friend A person in whom I confide A person to laugh and cry with A person from whom I don't have to hide A person I no longer recognise Fuelled by fury and hate Seeing only flesh Not me Not your mate. You diminished my light And left me with only heavy My body shaking My heart pounding This reality is confounding I didn't want you when I fell to the ground I didn't want you when you pinned me down I didn't want you when you left me there Drowning in guilt and shame In my self hatred, full of self blame. I didn't want you then I don't want to know you now You're just a faceless man Using whiskey as your reason As if that makes it open season I know that you remember That cold night in November The night in order to survive I had to surrender

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

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

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

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

I was in an abusive relationship for 12 years. I met him when I was fourteen and we came together when I was fifteen. He was nice and lovely and I fell in love with him. I never thought that he could have a dark side. After a few month I began to realize, that there is something inside him. When we had our first fight, he screamed with me and I had so much fear. He apologized and I forgived him. But: It didn‘t stopped. He was verbal abusive. He said that I am a whore. He made me feeling small and like I am the worst person in the world. He said, that I am a psycho. He said I am a joke. He said I am nothing. He said, that he has to talk and scream with me like this, because I don‘t understand his points otherwise. He began to destroy things like my watch or a necklace. The walls had holes and he often grabbed me at my shoulders very hard when he got angry. When I cried, he became angrier at all. I locked myself in the toilet because I had so much fear of him. He also pushed me at the asphalt when he was drunk sometimes. I had bruises. One time he choked me. I never told anybody what happend, because I always forgived him and felt so fucking guilty. I tried to left him, but he always said, that he will kill himself, when I go. I went to therapy but even there I was so ashamed, that I didn‘t talk about the abuse. After two years of therapy I got stronger and stronger. I was ready to talk to somebody about the things that happend to me and that I want to leave him. Suddenly I felt free and was ready to go. He always said, that he loves me and that I am the love of his life. It never was love. I realized that I was in an abusive relationship. There were verbal, emotional and physical abuse. I didn't imagine any of it. I wasn't crazy. Whoever is reading this and is in a similar situation: You are strong! You are intelligent! You are beautiful! You are a good person! You can trust yourself! You can talk to someone! You can do this! You can leave him! You are a wonderful human being! I love you all out there and send you hugs. We have to share our stories and we are allowed to share them. Together we can change something.

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

I'm 37 year old male survivor in my country. I don't know what to share yet. I am a survivor of multiple assaults in childhood and early adulthood, mostly with female assailants. I think I'm ready to talk with some female survivors (though not in most details). To be honest this scares me though. My experience with advocacy and support groups (apart from a website specifically for male survivors) in the past has been very negative. I have always wondered what a *true* coalition of survivors of all genders would look like.

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

I always thought I'd never be married to an abuser, then I was. I didnt understand how i fell for it. But I did. That's when I realised I wasnt tricked. I wasnt fooled. It was calculated, planned and organised. It wasnt clumsy, it was methodical. Healing has been like letting a fresh wound bleed, messy. Chaotic. But needed. To realise I am still whole, still loveable, still wonderful... while carrying so much.

I don't think I can ever tell my story right. I think I'm still living it. Still recovering and healing and learning and seeing what truly happened. Im on here bc I can't sleep. I have all these thoughts in my head. I feel all abused again. I want a hug. I want to be loved right now. Sorry this is short, but I'm tired and this is all I can say for now. I'm sure I'll come back and really write about my experience someday. This website seems like a safe place. To all those out there who took the time to read this: your not alone and you are loved. I'm sending you all my love, and wishing you all the best. You are all wonderful people, and I hope we can all rebuild and recover and live.

High Priest, You are not my superior Nor would I say equal The darkness overtook you? Abdication of responsibility - not good enough "Call to my house" You opened the door to naivety and trust Vulnerability at the worst You - only lust. In this now New Earth With the light streaming in I see your cowardice, your sin You took the phone off the hook Now, two decades later, to be disturbed The light won't let the dirt hide any longer Now I am stronger. I forgive you to set myself free You have played your part I am at peace, in my power and to reiterate, free.

This is my story at 72 sitting here all alone because I allowed my self to be abuised physically and verbally for over a 25 period of a 36 marriage. I lost both my daughter's respect and grandchildren because of his action but blamed for my actions I didn't know what was going on. I found out in 2006 my husband was a drug addict and where he was working gave him the best place to obtain it at state housing project. He was a thief from stealing at work, a liar, a user, drugs addict, gave me herpe.s , kept money from me and the house he could have his stash . Cause me to have a breakdown , I didn't know I part of his plan. He was the good stepfather and neighbor everybody like made up stories and made you feel he was a great guy who loved his wife and family. I was busy raising my family and working. Then I was hit with major medical problems, a brain annersyums which I had surgically fixed but recovered alone and with 36 stiches in my head I was knocked into my kitchen cabinets. I had my rotor cuff torn, I was hit by ball lightning in my basement, my foot broken all well raising a 3 yrs and 8 week grand children with months of each other. I was over whleemed. He left for many weeks and days at a time but I had all I could do was to be standing medically and raising my grand babies. I stayed alone did 10 years of therapy, and also went to a clinic for abuise. Nothing made a difference how I was living the abuise continued. Courts cops, etc. Until just recently I saw they only abuise you when no one is around. My god how true. They run away instead of solving a problem as they are guilty for what they are being accused of. The money, missing the drugs, the liars , stealing , the dead animals, physical and verbal abuse abuses. I was raped , sexually abuised strangled,beaten blooded, and broken . Didn't matter if I got pushed or knocked into something even after 13 hours of a back operation. I could had been parlayed. . I once tried to end my life many years ago just sitting outside in the morning in the sunshine on my deck looking up at the sun and feeling the warmth I couldn't stand the lonelines, the abuise of my marriage and man I loved and the loss of my most precious daughters. I just got up off my deck took my bathrobe rope tried to die. The rope broke . That's strange . My life didn't improve it got worst. I was a beautiful strong independent woman, mother,grandmother. who now wants to die and will all alone. I saw something the other day I had packed from my daughter she wrote look up to the sky, I had a federal law passed for child support They were so proud and made this picture book for me. The news paper said one woman fight became a nation law. 992 I fought for them to get this law passed. They were important and needed to be recognized. Now I sit here crying everyday in pain with no one to talk to embarrass no one comes home and no one cares for me. Every holiday I spend alone and birthday. My only question is why my children who are 50 and 45 don't care about a mother who gave everything to them against all the odds years ago. They know what I'm talking about. I kept a house they grew up in with no skills got a good job had insurance . Not much else but we made it by hard work. What is left of my life is 3 journals-protecting my grandkids while watching them dates and places and their questions about the abuise. I recently found out thru a aaa self analysis he stated he hated my grandson who I raised as a baby. Now I know why he tortured him with unkindness. My daughter has no idea how much I protected that baby. He stopped talking to me over 5 years ago who knows why. I did my job then very well. Why question is why doesn't my daughters understand what happened. I've tried to make contact with them don't want any anything to do with me for over 13 yrs. All because I loved the wrong man who abuse me and I allowed him to. I ruined their lives they believe I think it's the other way around. . I lost my best friends . I thought they were. You can't replace a mother . What happens to me now ? LOVE IS NEVER SUPPOSE TO HURT.

I’m a 27 year old female now but when I was about the age of 6-7 my sister would kiss me on the lips. I vividly remember laying down on my bathroom floor (which she told me to do) and would just tell me to relax. She is 4 years older than me. I also remember one time I really wanted to kiss her and she said yes. I think it was a game to me at that point. She had left for a moment and I got naked. I remember she came back and said to put my clothes on because our dad was going to take us out to eat. Those are the only moments I remember but my mind might be pushing down other similar moments I had with her. I’m struggling now to have a relationship with her. She has never talked about it, but I feel like she remembers. It’s so hard to speak to her without getting annoyed or frustrated. She is annoying to me and never communicates well, she tends to always ask a question when asked a question. She’s never wrong and is hard headed. At this point I feel like I need to speak to her about this and distance myself to heal. I don’t even know what I want but I just don’t want to feel this way.

Yesterday, I was faced with something I had no idea it had the effect it did on me. I was face to face, in the same room with a man who I believe attempted to rape me 30 years ago. The work I do allowed for this meeting. No one intentionally set me up, it just happened. The universe was speaking to me and saying you are ready to move forward. As this man shows a picture of him and his wife at their wedding day nearly 30 years ago I recognize who he is immediately. I diverted my eyes, hoping he has recognized me. I held my breath. I repeated to myself, just breathe. I can feel his hand on my wrist pulling me as if it were yesterday. I was home alone, 16, he was married to my neighbor. They were on the brink of divorce. My parents left to go somewhere I don't quite recall. I hear a knock at the door. It's him. I'm not immediately on guard because he's never been a threat before. In fact, he's been quite friendly, but not the kind of friendly I would find weird or alarming as an adult. He asked if my parents were home. I step outside of the house and close the door and said, no, they aren't. I wondered why he couldn't determine that by looking at the drive way so I try and position myself in a safer spot because I cornered myself when I closed the door. He then opened the door and said, come here I want to show you something. I resist and said, no, what are you doing. He continued to pull on my right arm and wrist. I continue to resist. Then, aware my neighbors could probably hear if I yelled, "get the fuck off me", so I say it. Until this day and never since I haven't used my voice in times of trauma. I freeze. Every. Single. Time. But not this day, I forcibly said, "GET THE FUCK OFF ME". Our eyes met, his eyes got bigger and he let go and left. I never told anyone and never thought anything about it until yesterday when I recognized him. It was surprising to me how my body responded and felt every single feeling I felt that day. As I'm telling you this story, I can't help but feel proud of that 16 year old girl. Very proud of her. Our body keeps score and boy is that a very strange concept for me. What else have I forgotten that I have survived?!

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

I was 15. He was 25. And somehow, for years, I remained submerged in blame, drowning in questions that never should have belonged to the 15-year-old girl in the first place. I thought I chose him. I thought I loved him. I thought because I begged to see him, went back to him, defended him, and eventually had his baby, that what happened between us was a relationship. It wasn't. I was 30 years old when I sat in therapy, unraveling pieces of my past, when my therapist looked at me and said: “So, you were groomed.” Excuse me, what? The word felt foreign, and my immediate reaction was defensive. Groomed? No. You don't understand. I loved him. I wanted to be with him. I fought to see him. I had spent 15 years calling it a relationship. Calling it love. Accepting the word grooming meant confronting the possibility that the story I had told myself for half my life wasn't what I thought it was. And I wasn't ready for that. Not yet. It was 2006. I was growing up with an emotionally immature single mother struggling with alcoholism, a father who had been absent my entire life, virtually nonexistent supervision, and this aching, desperate need to feel wanted by somebody. Then a grown man made me feel chosen. He made me feel seen. Beautiful. Wanted. Important. And when you've spent your childhood wondering why you weren't enough for someone to stay, being chosen can feel a whole lot like being loved. The second time I met him was Date. I fought my mother HARD to let me see him that day. I begged her to drop me off while she went to the store. I argued. I pushed. I was stubborn and absolutely determined to get my way. And she gave in. At 15, I thought I had won. At 35, I wish she had let me hate her that day. I wish she had planted her feet and said, “Absolutely fucking not.” I wish she had been willing to endure my teenage anger because she understood something I couldn't possibly understand yet. I wish she had been the adult. Because I was not one. Instead, Date became what he called our “anniversary.” It was the day a 25-year-old man ignored my no. Two months later, I was pregnant. I was still 15. I later learned he had another teenage girl pregnant, too. And somehow, I still believed he loved me. He tried to choose what I wore. He corrected the way I spoke. He decided which friends I could see. Slowly, his opinions became expectations, and his expectations became rules. That's the twisted thing about grooming. Control can feel like care when you've never been properly cared for. Possessiveness can feel like protection when you've never felt protected. And attention can feel intoxicatingly like love when you've spent your whole life starving for it. So when my therapist finally called it grooming, my brain fought back. But I wanted to see him. But I went back. But I loved him. None of those things changed the one painfully simple fact I had spent years trying to reason around: I was 15. He was 25. Eventually, the control became suffocating and his behavior increasingly violent. When my daughter was nine months old, I knew I had to get us out. So I packed up my baby, moved to another state, and we never went back. He died in 2018. There will never be a courtroom. There will never be a verdict. There will never be that definitive moment where someone looks at the terrified, confused 15-year-old version of me and says, “What happened to you was wrong.” For a long time, I thought that meant there would never be justice. Then I realized something devastating. I'd spent years putting the wrong person on trial. Me. Why did you go? Why did you stay? Why did you love him? Why didn't you know better? Because I was FIFTEEN. That's why. I had been interrogating the choices of a child using the wisdom of the grown woman she somehow survived long enough to become. And I'm done doing that to her. She didn't need better judgment. She needed better adults. She needed a mother willing to let her scream, “I hate you,” if that's what it took to keep her safe. She needed a father who was there. She needed adults capable of recognizing the danger she couldn't possibly see yet. And when she said no, she needed her no to fucking matter. Then I look at pictures like this one. And gosh, I was so young. I thought having a baby made me grown. It didn't. I was a child raising a child. At 35, I look at that girl and I don't see someone reckless or stupid who should have known better. I see a painfully young girl desperately searching for love with absolutely no blueprint for what safe, healthy love was supposed to look like. I long to go back and grab her. I wish I could hold her face in my hands and tell her: You are not stupid. You are not difficult. You are not “mature for your age.” You are not responsible for the decisions of a grown man. You are a child. And none of this was ever supposed to be yours to carry. I can't go back and protect her. But I can stop punishing her. I can believe her. I can love her. And I can finally forgive her for every single thing she never needed forgiveness for in the first place. And if you've ever looked back at your younger self and thought: But I wanted them. But I went back. But I loved them. Please remember this: You're judging a child with knowledge they could only gain by surviving long enough to grow up. Stop asking why the child didn't know better. Start asking why the adult did. Sometimes healing isn't changing the past. Sometimes it's finally realizing that the person you've spent years blaming was never the person who needed to be held accountable. She was the one who needed protecting. And sometimes, years later, the person who finally comes back for her... is you. #grooming #teenagepregnancy #iwillnolongerbesilenced

I was silenced for so long, now my voice rings free. I’m still filled with agony and it’s hard to bear, but there is hope and I know each day I am getting better. I was silenced by so many who wanted to keep me and my story down. I was sexually assaulted by a member of a fraternity and then the whole fraternity has worked endlessly to help cover up my assault. I was too scared to even come forward as they threatened me and started rumors and lies to harass me. I will not be silent anymore. I am standing strong and resilient. They did not break me, I will rise from this terrible event. I am leaving behind the shell of me who never would have spoken up and sat in agony longer everyday for someone who now stands tall and proud. I’ve used my voice and my experiences to advocate for others who have been hurt like me. I am ready to use my voice for good and start a revolution.

I was sexually assaulted between the ages of 18 and 19 by my then-boyfriend. I remember when it first started, I didn't even think of it as sexual assault, only that I knew I didn't want to and always felt upset after it happened. There was one specific event that made me realise what I was experiencing was not normal. I remember repeating "no" to the point of almost yelling and trying to push him off me with all my strength. He had a grip of my jumper which ripped when I eventually broke free. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing. I went to dinner with his family that evening and cried in the bathroom. To this day, I still haven't told anyone and I wonder if he even understands the gravity of what he had done.