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In the beginning, I was told it was normal. Normal to be touched in a way no father should to his daughter. I told my mother very recently, when I was around 16 years old. When I told her, I wasn’t even able to get the full story out. Her heart sank and her eyes widened at my words. She couldn’t even manage to describe her disgust in the man she used to love. This all started when I was 6 years old. First it was just casual, extra touching that was unneeded. My parents were divorced so it was me and him alone at home every other week. It progressed into much more than just the casual touching. I wish that it had stopped there. But it didn’t. It turned into him forcing me onto his lap, where he would bounce me up and down. I always felt something hard that was poking me but I was too young to know what it was. I started to express my discomfort to him but that only grew his anger towards me even more. He started to climb into my bed early in the morning when I was asleep. One morning he climbed into my bed, I was awake this time but I was far too scared to say anything at all since I knew he would hurt me. I lied there with my eyes closed, and body tenser then ever. He would wrap his arms around my waist and would touch me in ways you’d never imagine. He would move up against me, and again I felt that hard thing that would poke up against my back every time. One morning he did the same thing, but this time I made it known that I was awake. He didn’t stop though. All he said was “oh sorry I thought you were asleep” but continued to move. He would rub his hands all over my body until I felt tears start to drop from my eyes. “It’s okay i’m your dad it’s normal for family to do this.” He would say calmly. When this story replays in my head I always start to feel this sick anxious feeling in my stomach. My heart starts racing, I start to sweat and my hands start to shake. It’s almost like I keep reliving this everyday. I wish I would have told someone sooner, but when I was younger I didn’t know any better and I was just afraid he would hurt me or do worse things to me out of his frustration. As I grew older I realized how wrong it was that he was doing this. I started to show signs of depression and very bad anxiety and PTSD. He caused me to be scared and paranoid whenever I saw a man. Even if it was a family member I would still feel that sick feeling in my stomach. I went to a mental health program that helped with my anxiety and was the reason why I got put on my depression meds. He followed me there everyday just to yell at me because I wouldn’t communicate with him anymore.

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.

In my original shared story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I talked about my abuse from a bird’s eye view. It was my abuse life as I was able to share it at the time. I have been working up to sharing 3 instances of rapes that I only avoided by allowing the men to take what they wanted instead of fighting. The most traumatic of the three incidents I mentioned involved a police officer. This is that account. I was pulled over on my way home from a study group as junior at the university on a week night. We had shared two drinks toward the end. I DO NOT condone driving and drinking but I was not drunk, as the breathalyzer later confirmed. I was pulled over and already had the nerves associated with that, amplified by the fact that I was under the legal drinking age for another three weeks. That is when I first met the cop I will just call SIK. He gave me a creepy vibe when I first saw him and that never stopped. Still, I flirted with him to an extent desperate to not get it huge trouble. He had me get out of the car, take of my hoodie, under which I only had a basic sports bra. It was only sixty degrees or so that night. I was cold and shivering from fear and the temperature. I saw him look at my body with no filter. Another cop car pulled up with two officers while I was doing the field sobriety tests. He had already searched me in an uncomfortable way. One of the officers who arrived was female and also searched me after he had said I had some problems with the sobriety tests. Walking backwards on an imaginary line heel to toe was the only thing I had trouble with. It is hard! The female cop brought out the breath test I had asked for. I blew 0.035. That is less than half the legal limit. At that point SIK said he was just going to follow me home, rather than arrest me, and the other car left. The whole stop took maybe an hour. Cars drove by on the side street I had pulled onto. Headlights and tail lights in the dark. After the other car left SIK talked to me more harshly and threatening than ever. He said a girl like me is probably used to getting away with everything. He asserted that he could still take me to jail anytime he decides as as he takes me home and makes sure I am safe everything I do is still a test. He could bust me for possession of alcohol and I would lose my license. I was scared. I told him my roommate was home. She was a student too and was supposed to be there. After following me inside my apartment I called out for my roommate. Then I checked her room. She was not there! SIK then accused me of lying to a police officer and locked the deadbolt from the inside. He made me stand with my hands on my own dining room wall with my legs spread. I wanted to call her so he could talk to her and confirm she was usually there, but he stopped me and made me just text her to see when she would be home. He gave instruction not to ask or say anything more and checked before I sent it. She was at her sisters and would not be back until late. At that point he took off his utility belt and put it on my kitchen counter. He told me after all he had done for me was no longer free, since I lied to him. His gun was right there next to us. He made sure I saw it and he even twisted it so it was pointed toward me. I was scared and pleading with him. I really was willing to do anything. I am not sure but I think I told him that. He radioed from his shoulder thing that he was taking a “lunch” break. What I definitely remember was when he said he was going to do a proper strip search this time, down to full nudity and asked if I agreed to that. At that point I no longer had a doubt what was happening. I made the mental adjustment but what he did was more than I had prepared for. He gave me vulgar compliments about my body as he blatantly molested me. He kneaded my breasts like dough. He fingered me as asked if you could use a special appendage he had that went farther in. I knew what he meant. I was repulsed but I agreed. After the initial eager sex with me still having my hands on the wall leaning forward he slowed down. I had been hoping it was almost over but he decided to prolong it. He commanded me to my bedroom. He took off all his clothes besides his socks. He complemented his own anatomy and made me agree. His member was well above average in size but I doubt, if he had not had a wedding band on, that he would ever get to use it. He was half bald, had a prominent eyebrow like a neanderthal, and a pale beer belly with lots of moles all over his body. He had a mustache and goatee that did not completely hide his poor complexion that looked like he had scars from severe acne. Almost all men all taller than me but he was short and only towered over me by a few inches. Never had I lied bigger than when I told him what he wanted to hear about being sexy and wanting him. The only truth was about his large penis. SIK spoke a lot, mostly degrading me and confirming that I agree with him. Cliche stuff, like me being a whore, slut, dirty, and liking what he made me do to him, but also asked about my sex life and abuse history. He wanted me to say that my dad and coaches abused me, but I would not lie about that. Instead I told him some of the truth about my brother abusing me. That was probably the worst part. Saying out loud to SIK what I never used to admit to anyone, for his great pleasure, harmed me. That was worse that the physical stuff. Worse than making me kiss him during parts of it. He was also cruel. He tried to gag me and push all the way down my throat while he made him do oral. He pushed my ankles behind my head while he pounded me with his abusing thrusts. I could see the cruel lust in his eyes. I could see his wicked smile. He slapped my face many times, just not very hard. He did spank me hard. He realized he had me captive and vulnerable to his whim and he was finally living his darkest fantasies. I was doing anything he wanted and encouraging it because I wanted it to stop. So many times he stopped himself right before he was going to climax! He did not want it to end. SIK tried to have anal sex with me and I was accommodating him but he was just too big to fit. I was crying during most of this out of pain but trying to act like an eager partner to make it end. I later thought that might have prolonged it. SIK was probably the time that would prefer I suffer more, like I was being raped instead of hiding my pain. It was not much longer than twenty minutes but it was so bad and I relived it so many times in my mind before I got smashed drunk and high the next night after work. So the memory lived much more prominently in my head than a simple 25 minute encounter. I do reach climax easily, but I never had one orgasm from him because of his preference for causing sexual pain. When he suddenly released inside me he got quiet and barely said another word as he dressed, gun belt and all, and left quietly. I have no idea what that meant. It scared me. I was afraid while driving for a while, and avoided sleeping at home as much as I could, which sometimes meant sleeping with men and even male friends just to not go home. It was the main reason I did not renew my lease and moved it to a smaller apartment by myself. This was the same roommate whose father had already slept with me without my initial blessing. I did tell my roommate a short version of it and she reacted like it was cool story. I did kind of tell it that way, as a way of dealing with it. The easy path of least resistance. To not admit it may have been the worse sexual thing to happen to me. The true worst things that happened to me in my college years were broken hearts from losing men I loved. But those are stories for a different forum. I don’t put my heart out there to be trampled anymore. This incident was one of the wake up calls that stood out as an omen for me to change my whole lifestyle and try to salvage myself. It was also one of the things that took me the longest to mention to my therapist even though I thought about it during sessions.

Hey, this is a quick overview of my story. TW: mentions of ||SA, coercion, boundary crossing, dishonesty, raising voices|| This occured with my boyfriend. We started dating in April 2024. April 2024: I set boundaries regarding no touching of my ||chest|| and no ||s*xual activity||. He agrees that he will respect my choices and treat my decisions as if they are his own. He begins to start pushing that boundary by end of April and into May. May 2024: We were on a date and eventually we were ||making out||. One minute he was ||kissing me||, the next second he did ||SA by dry h*mping||. I froze up and couldn't speak, was just crying silently. ||He kept going, I don't know how long. He finally stopped when he realized I didn't respond.|| I was so dissociated by this point that I couldn't register properly when he asked if I was okay. He then shortly after ||violated the chest boundary by kissing near there.|| I then broke down and had a dissociative episode/panic attack. I blocked everything out after that night and couldn't remember it. I did not remember what happened until July, when I had a flashback; I began to piece things together from there. I remember most of it now. He knew about the ||SA|| but did not tell me and did not plan to tell me. June 2024: ||He reintroduced me to the same s*xual activity as what happened in the SA.|| I recently recognized that this is also ||SA since I couldn't give informed consent (didn't know about the May SA)||. July 2024: I find out about May. That sucks. He also struggles with some honesty pieces. September 2024: I find out about him not telling me about the ||SA|| and him not planning to ever.October-November: I ask for space after he tries to ||pressure me into taking a class with him|| and ||ignored me/made fun of me when I was vulnerable with him||. Then the next day he tells me that the ||space was good|| and maybe we should consider reducing time spent together. Basically 2 weeks of terribleness. December 2024: He ||raises his voice|| at me and admits he has had some ||anger and resentment towards me||. It has dissipated per him now though, but he doesn't know how long it has been there. He had been defensive before and often not in a "good headspace" to talk about things. October 2025: ||I was cuddling with my boyfriend, facing away from him and then I felt him moving aganist me (with his crotch aganist my butt). Once I realized what was happening I asked what he was doing and moved away from him. The thing is we talked about this before a long time ago and I had said that I always wanted cuddling to be emotional intimacy instead of s*xual. But then he said he didn't remember that and that he thought I wanted it too. || Now: I'm in therapy twice a week (have been in therapy for years) but also started night intensive outpatient (IOP) online. That made a big difference for me and now I'm doing "more" better. I'm even moving out of a toxic home environment and am part of a SA survivor community. It does get better, and we can move forward from these things to love ourselves again. 💜

For me, my story entailed a male friend getting into my bed when i told him not to and forcing me to ‘cuddle’ with him, while he grabbed at me. He had been telling me all night how he missed his girlfriend, particularly her body & “that” part of their relationship. I felt horrible, i was uncomfortable and scared that he might do more. He didnt. But still even years later i feel uneasy when i think about it & how creepy he really was. He ignored me when i said no. He took away my autonomy that night. So dont feel like your story isnt worthy just because it “could have been worse”. Every experience is valid ❤️

Warning this post could be triggering and very deep and hard to read. I am writing this post with the heaviest heart. I am tired and I don’t mean like getting in bed and sleeping tired. I mean, physically mentally emotionally and spiritually tired and drained. I am 28 years old. I will be 29 next month and my life has at least been full of over 20 years of immense, deep trauma. I grew up with no parents. My dad left my mom when I was one years old when my brother died and never came back, but maybe one time my whole life until he became a cold case when I was about 10. My mom had four other children all different fathers two of them who had the same dad who was sexually abusing me at the age of six and seven and once they split up my mom gave up everybody to their dad’s while dragging me through the worst things, a child should have ever endured. She nonstop, abandoned me, leaving me at houses with random people for weeks and even months at a time either being sexually abused or physically abused once again. Leaving me at her mother’s house to be physically abused to the point where I couldn’t handle it and would leave to my friend’s mom’s houses because if I didn’t, I would go days without being in school because of how badly I was being beaten. Still my mom never showed up and when she did, it was only because I have been gone at my friends for so long but once she found me there and someone’s parent would say she’s OK here all she would do is get back in the car and leave for weeks or months again. My mom has been on drugs since she was a teenager. Methamphetamines. A very bad alcoholic. Shooting up smoking. Inhaling whippet cans since she was young. Anything she can get her hands on that blurred her vision of being a mother or a protector. Luckily my siblings had their fathers and families to step up and take care of them all their lives because we are now all in our late 20s but that still doesn’t make up for the abandonment and pain that they went through not having a mother their whole life, but I’m extremely grateful they didn’t have to endure the trauma and pain that came with being stuck with her. I became pregnant at 15 1/2 almost 16 years old not knowing anything about motherhood, but hoping that means maybe I’ll have a family or somebody who my life will finally matter to but unfortunately, that was not the case. It just added more trauma and more pain on my heart. I had my oldest son. And by that time I had gotten myself into a little bit of juvenile trouble so the system finally stepped in realizing I had no parents or guardians around. One day I was just so tired. I just begged the judge to take me away from my mom and send me and my son to somewhere safe so I can have a roof over our head and have some type of structure or stability for me and him at only 17. That was one of the worst things I could’ve ever done or asked for. In the moment, I thought the system was going to save me, but all it did was fail me and my child. About a year later when I was staying in one of the foster homes I was human trafficked and left fighting for my life for two days trying to get back to my son. In the time being you’re not allowed to leave the property or the county so to the juvenile system, it looked like I violated the rules and they took me back into custody, not knowing that I was just traffic and forced to leave my son. By that time I was over 18 and they made me sit in juvenile hall until my 19th birthday when I was a legal adult so they can release me onto the streets because I was finally legally an adult. I still remember the day that I got released like it was yesterday. I still remember all of this like it was yesterday. They released me with nowhere to go. No one to call having to find where my son was staying at so I can take him back no food no money no resources. I’ve been so lost since I was a child. I didn’t even know how to function in the world I didn’t know how to get a job. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t know how to go back to school. I didn’t know the importance of my life or what I can make of it. All I knew is I was stuck being forced into survival mode once again. Fast forward to now knowing that maybe I can learn how to sell my body since I had been trafficked and maybe that would keep a roof or food over my head and keep me independent since all I had was myself at 19 . Still lost. Still hurting and still no protection or guidance. Still alone. Having another child once again at 21 thinking it would save me. But it didn’t all it did was give me a break out of survival mode for a couple years and then Life still whooped my ass for the following years down the line selling my body being raped over and over trying to just survive and save myself from the drowning deep pool of pain and trauma. It was up until about 3 years ago when I started to fight for my life back from all the hands of my abusers. I didn’t want to be a victim any more. I wanted to be a survivor. I decided to not traumatize and put that trauma onto my children that my parents had once put on myself. I decided to heal them instead of putting the pain that I have onto them. This was when I was around I don’t know maybe 27 when I decided to go back to school and try to fight so hard to figure out what I’m supposed to do with life, even though I was never showed or guided on how to do that. I gave up survival mode and got out of survival mode because it was the most traumatizing mode to be stuck in. I’m not perfect. I’m still healing but with two years of therapy going back to school to get my diploma so I can go to college and have a career and healing my children and showing them what fighting for your life looks like and showing them that you do not have to accept certain people or pain into your life showing them what a mother and protector is and showing them stability finally has been my everything the past 2 to 3 years. Around last year I gave up selling my body because I couldn’t do it anymore because it was just so draining and it just felt like it was keeping me stuck in a survival mode so once I released that and promised myself I would never go back no matter how hard it gets. It has been so much more healing. I wrote a letter to my mother just the other week and met up with her reading it and telling her everything, forgiving her and finally making a decision to keep her out of me and my children’s lives because of all the pain and trauma she has caused and will continue to cause because of her drug addictions and unhealthy choices. I have chose protection over me and my children. But some days while I’m sitting here, drowning in bills, drowning in keeping a place over our head, which I’ve done a good job at renting somewhere to keep over our head the past two years and keeping my car and keeping all the bills taken care of keeping us in school keeping us not bouncing from house to house giving us some stability. Still doesn’t take away from these really really hard mentally draining days that I have because of my severe PTSD and severe trauma replaying in my head over and over again feeling so helpless and empty because I’m all I have. I don’t know how to keep going, but somehow I do. I’m so strong it’s insane. Even on the hardest days that I really don’t think I will survive I still do. I don’t have a support system. I don’t have family. I don’t keep men around me. I don’t have friends because they were not healthy. It is me and my kids. The people we live with who are 100% separated no contact just room mating no family unless it’s my second son’s family helping which would be taking him from time to time like summer or something to help. Both of their fathers are 100% not in the picture and haven’t been for years also battling drug addictions. no calls no text no asking if they’re alive no money no child support no nothing. Grieving my father‘s mother so badly because I reconnected with her about five years ago and got so close to her took care of her helped her with every single thing you can think of just for her to pass a couple months ago when I was getting so close to her I finally felt like I had real blood family. Her and my boys were my motivation my grandma was my world. I finally had somebody just to watch her die right in front of me and now that I can’t even burry or cremate because I’m all the family or any one she had as well it kills me. I just don’t understand why God has punished me over and over again. I’m trying to figure out my purpose for life other than my two children. I am deeply wounded and I’m getting so far and doing so much better than I once was a few years ago but I’m just stuck at a standstill right now. I’m so confused and I don’t know what to do. And honestly, I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I just feel like maybe I’ll be heard. I want to just be HEARD! Or maybe you guys can send some positivity and it will snap me out of this dark place that I’m in when I’m all alone and my kids are at school and things hit me. I know this all seems like a lot, but unfortunately, this is just the surface level of the deepest things I’ve been through. This isn’t even everything. But I know if I keep going when I look back, it will all be worth it. I just wish I knew when that would be.

I never knew a happy safe experience of intimate connection until i was 39. Well, I don't know if that is 100% accurate to say but it feels true to say. It was with a woman - a friend. We were pretty drunk and I was getting over my first relationship, one which had turned abusive, and she was maybe exploring her sexuality before committing to a life relationship with her partner. We were not alone - there was another friend also there - on the other side of her - a good guy, a very good friend of hers. Me and this guy friend did not gravitate towards each other though. She kissed my hair. I hadn't felt so loved or cared for in a long time. The grasping/rejecting/fearful dichotomy was gone and for the first time i sensed it didn't need to be that way. She seemed to want me to be close to her and i didn't feel pressure to be anyone or do anything other than what felt right in that moment. From that experience, i learnt that there is such generosity and healing in reciprocal loving touch. I guess i maybe felt that way occasionally with my ex-partner. But it's funny how when bad experiences happen between you and another person, it can rinse even the best memory and sensation with a dulling wash.

Remember that every life form happens without chosing where to be. The problem is not inside you, but around you. Life is the time you have in order to understand what is around you. Don't rest comfortably in places where you feel unsuitable to your best self. If you have no choice, this is not about you. This is about things you couldn't decide before being born. I wish you better luck and exposure to good things you find suitable to your best self.

I once had a friend. I thought he was a friend. I called him my best friend for years. We did everything that best friends would do. Talk. Play. We grew up together. He used to sexually assault me. Regularly. Often daily. I would kick him and punch him. I would get mad at him. He would overpower me and laugh at me. And then just like that- I would forgive him. Because he was my FRIEND. And I thought it was okay because he was my friend. I thought it honestly didn't matter. I thought because I was already being sexually exploited by family that this behavior was normal and okay. This went on for 8 years...It took me 15 years to understand how NOT okay the exploitation from my family and this friend really is. During that time I allowed so many other things that were not, nor will ever be okay. I have spent years recovering. Having panic attacks and not understanding why I was unable to feel. Going to counseling. I've figured out so much. But right now, I'm grieving. So much was lost that didn't have to be. Being so scared all the time. I missed out on so much life. Being angry feels useless to me right now. It's doesn't change it. I'm just so sad for the life I could have had. That others I love could have had. My life is at a place where there is honestly so much good. But right now, I will allow myself to be sad.

I never thought I’d end up in a relationship where love turned into control. It started small checking where I was, who I talked to, and what I spent. Before long, I was isolated from my family, my finances were no longer my own, and I felt trapped in a version of life that revolved around keeping the peace. The control eventually became financial and emotional. I was pressured to leave my job, told what I could or couldn’t buy, and made to feel guilty for needing independence. Every dollar spent was questioned. My self-worth slowly disappeared until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Then came the night everything changed. During an argument, he introduced a firearm not in defense, but as intimidation. In that moment, I realized how easily fear can silence someone. That silence almost became my prison. But deep down, something in me refused to die there. I decided to leave, even if it meant starting from nothing. Leaving was terrifying, but it was also the beginning of freedom. I had to rebuild from the ground up my confidence, my finances, and my sense of safety. There were nights I questioned if I made the right choice, but every morning I woke up without fear, I knew I did. Today, I’m learning that healing isn’t about forgetting—it’s about reclaiming power piece by piece. I still flinch at loud noises and double-check locks, but I also laugh again. I make choices for myself. I’m learning to trust that I’m safe now. To anyone who’s living in silence, afraid to leave: your story matters. Fear doesn’t define you, and control is not love. You deserve safety, freedom, and peace. You are not alone and you can survive this too.

Being a girl is not fair I am a 32 year old woman abused more that once when I was younger. It was the first abuse that had the butterfly affect of leading me to the rest. When I was twelve I wanted to earn money. My parents did not believe in allowance for doing chores. I could not work legally until I was fourteen unless it was a newspaper route waking up before dawn. My Uncle--my Dad’s brother--hired me to work at his appliance repair shop. He was the only one we knew who had a business. Soon after I started, part of the job was letting him give me massages. He molested me a little more each time until he was using his mouth on my privates. He would masturbate while he did. I let him do this for weeks while he changed me and distorted me. Then he made me use my mouth on him. I did it ONE time. I vomited after. I reported him to my parents. The were caring and supportive, and angry at him. But not angry enough to do anything but let me stop working there. He apologized to me in the kitchen with my parents there. Me floating adrift in lava while the Gods decided my fate. I barely remember it. He stayed in our lives with almost no change. I went back to normal. On the surface. But I was not the same, and become more afraid of things. The dark, being alone, silence. In the coming years I fooled around with boys in ways I might not have. I may not have been that type of girl but felt compelled. I was fifteen when I had a boyfriend my age that I secretly had sex with almost daily. I loved him. He dumped me. More issues. Age seventeen. High school senior. Dyed blue-streaked hair down to my butt. Emo. Skinny. Flat chest. Was drinking and smoking put by then. But not THAT NIGHT. I Walked out of a Pink concert I had gone to with my cousin and her friends. Something upset me and I left. Night time. Part of the city I don’t know. No plans. Maybe go back to the concert after getting my head together. Walking past a strip mall a group of four guys came out of place, not sure what it was. I had seen that two of them were black. That scared me. I’m sorry. I hurried and turned right. So did they. It was something like an alley behind the strip mall and a big wall on the one side. Back doors of business, dumpsters, a few cars. Not well lit. Maybe I could have just kept walking and been fine but it was dark on the far side and seemed so far away. The guys were talking and laughing and behind me. I grew terrified of being raped or hurt or killed. I think I heard one of them say the words, “nice ass” in their chatter. Panic attack. I think I was trying to save my own life. Preemptive strike? I stopped, turned and said. “You guys can F--- me if want.” I remember the pause while some of them stopped but one kept coming. They laughed, maybe nervous. The one that kept coming put his arms around me and pressed his body to me. I forgot what he said but he pulled me in close, grinding on me. They took me to a dark area off to the side between two buildings. I did oral for the first one and the other black one, but not all the way. A show for them. Laughing. Shooshing each other when they got too loud. I tried but they got rough and I gagged a lot. Take you clothes off. Jacket, tank, jeans, panties. Onto my back. Asphalt. Legs spread. Trying to stay on top of my clothes to not get cut and scraped. All four of them took turns. With the first one it was a show they watched. With the rest they were turned around, talking to each other, trying to block me from view. I think someone walked by but not sure. Alcohol and cigarette breath. Guys probably in their thirties. Friends having fun. Boys being boys. Just pumping into me. Telling me I’m tight. My body a vessel. Legs spread. No resistance. My arms around them. Eye contact I don’t remember. I always looked at my boyfriend in the eyes. I always look in eyes during it, searching for a connection. I saw their eyes but not their faces. They just used me for friction. Quick and get it down. Except for the second to last. He wanted to talk. I told him my name. I told him about the concert. I told him I liked to be on top because he asked. I remember his face. The only one who was white. Crooked nose. Cauliflower ears. Blue eyes. A sense of hurry from the others. He blurs into the last one in my mind. The Arab/Persian? “Thanks a lot.” I know one of them said. They thanked me while I got dressed quickly and kept walking the direction they had been going before. By the time I walked back out they were gone. I went back the direction I had come from. I got back in the concert and spent the whole time finding my cousin. Sore and dripping. Back scratched up. I felt gross. I started crying but stopped when I drew too much attention. I found them. The final song was “Get the Party Started” We left together. The ones who were not driving drank wine but I was not allowed any because I was too young. I told nobody. Told my mom it was cool. Right away I became the girlfriend of a guy who had a locker near mine who had been persistent but I had always rejected. He was tall and no more than “okay”. I did not want to be alone. He fell in love. I did not. Prom and stuff. I broke up with him the last week of school. He was leaving for college anyway. I did not want to go with him. I cheated on him because I needed more sex that he could give. Then came the days of being passed around. I went to community college and dated my chem lab partner, got kind of raped by his brother in the shower and became the brother’s girlfriend. He got me into heavy drinking, party drugs, the club scene and I dropped school. I was an EDM/Metal/Trance princess and had so many “friends” in the scene that knew me as Sapphire. Sapphire was a nymphomaniac. People loved that about me. Some good, some bad. Quickies in dark spots in the clubs. Backstage. Back office. Cars. Secrets. Woke up in different beds. My boyfriend kind of “gave” me to his drug dealer and I lived with him until an older guy talked me into running away with him to Location. He was 39 (40 for a month) when I was 20 and we lived together for more than a year. It was a very sexual relationship but he cared about me. His house was a quick walk to the beach and I loved it. It was healthier. I started CC classes again and got my AA. He helped me through my panic attacks and I hid my depression from him. My parents met him, and accepted him eventually. We talked about marriage. But he was gone all day weekdays, I did not have a job, and I had a second life to feed my big hollow emptiness that had started after my uncle used me. Also, he liked to role play that he was my father. Just one of his kinks. The sickest part is that just like the eye contact thing, saying “F me daddy” became something I just do automatically. I cheated on him many times when he was with guys from the beach crowd he only knew slightly from our weekend beach trips. Girls too. I fell for a surfer and wanted to have his baby and even quit birth control. It all ended badly and I moved back with my parents. I was finally diagnosed with manic depression and talked to my mom about all the sexual encounters and abuse and started going to group. Five years after THAT NIGHT my mom was the first person I told about the four guys after the concert. That one still rips a hole in my sense of life and love and loving myself. I wonder if good guys don’t want to be with me because my breasts are small I take medication and I am functional. Like I said; BEING A GIRL IS NOT FAIR

Name: Triumph Over Tragedy City, GA AIDS survivor and motivational speaker Name has a profound story that heals hearts. As a screenwriter, playwright, poet, Gospel songwriter, and author, she crafts riveting truths about love, life, and relationships, mirroring her trials. Name has faced abuse, addiction, domestic violence, suicide, and sexual assault. At the age of 21, Name was sexually assaulted by a stranger, and ten years later, she was date assaulted by two men she was dating, one of them being one of the assaulters. Despite these hardships, she committed her life to God, becoming celibate in 2000. Diagnosed with HIV in 2010 and progressing to AIDS in 2013, she defied the odds, with her AIDS status having been healed since 2014. Her films, available on Amazon Prime, and her stage play, performed in City, showcase her resilience. Name continues to inspire through her faith, therapy, and the support of her daughters. Follow Name on Instagram and Facebook for more of her inspiring journey. Name is a multitalented speaker, writer, and inventor featured in movies, plays, books, and online articles. Her films feature Hollywood talents such as Robin Givens and Paula Jai Parker. Learn more at [Name's website] (Link).

HE picked me up the first day in the shiniest white Toyota I’d ever seen. Hallucinating halos of light around him, I knew in my heart: this was the man I would marry. Almost 15 years older, but so handsome, so experienced. We seemed to have everything in common—intellectual passions (both personal and professional), unbreakable bonds with our widowed mothers, and a shared dream of building an all-American family home. Cruising through the crisp mid-October air, we swapped thoughts and expectations before arriving at Orlando’s downtown library. I’d never even dated before. He, meanwhile, had recently lost out on a girl named Name. After attending a free 3D modeling class, we drove home through the area. Admiring the street art and neighborhood history, Name 2grinned widely. He talked endlessly about books, so our biweekly “dates” shifted to Barnes & Noble. Marriage dreams swirled through my mind; I thought I was in heaven, Ignorance is bliss. Or in this case—a kiss. Her name was Name 3 Emphasis on the DIE. At first, she didn’t look harmful. A government employee and the grandmother of my future children, Provider Name seemed overjoyed when Name 2 told her I’d proposed. She served me huge slices of homemade pistachio cake during what should have been one of our cozy courtship nights at home. On weekends, we both did laundry and cleaning. Even after I returned from an emergency psychiatric stay, she hugged me. Told me she loved me. Promised I was safe. “What’s mine is yours,” she said. Food, water, shelter, family, a bed—even help looking for work. She was like… a mother-in-law to me. Somewhere in that 4 month bloody scuffle - my hymen snapped, and someone forced me to fellate them repeatedly. I thought it was my fiancé on top of me when it happened. But he wasn’t my fiancé. Which means she wasn’t my mother in law either…

Hello beautiful souls. I appreciate being able to release the past even more with some of my story. I now see the unhealthy pattern I was living but didn’t understand it at the time. I had been married & divorced at 26, then married & widowed at 29. My first husband was my high school sweetheart who came from a lot of dysfunction & had anger issues. My second husband had been in the Marines for 6 years & came back with PTSD & had a drinking problem. He had gotten married & divorced before we got together. During our marriage I saw his problems with alcohol in a big way. He got physically abusive one evening & I left shortly after. He attempted suicide with over 100 pills & was in a coma for three months before dying. A year later I accepted a job offer & moved from California to Miami. I was 30 & found a wonderful new life & great friends. Five years later I met a professional guy who seemed so wonderful. We married 6 months later & had two daughters within 3 years. I wanted to go back to California where all my family was. He didn’t support that & things went down hill for the next year. He had started drinking a lot. I told him I wanted to separate. One night he came to our bedroom drunk & said he wanted one last “good one” if it was over. He held his fist over my face. The girls were across the hall asleep. I never argued in front of them & didn’t want them to wake up scared if he got crazy so I just gave in. He tried again later that night but finally left when I threatened to contact his father about what he’d done. I had angels all along though. I divorced him & had a wonderful intuitive judge who gave me full custody after a difficult divorce including court ordered counseling. So it’s no wonder I suppose that I haven’t been big on relationships but I do see that I had lots of lessons to learn in this life. Now I’m a Reiki practitioner & have found my purpose & so much healing. I love healing others now & I’m grateful for all the lessons I needed to find my power & my authentic self. I think I’d call it clarity💗

I grew up in the region, on a dairy farm. Life was not as it could have been. There was no love just physical abuse from my Dad and emotional abuse from my mom. I had 4 sisters, two are beautiful, the other two manipulative, narcissistic, and cruel. I call them “The Uglies”. They have done so many horrible things to my beautiful sisters and myself over the years it’s disgusting. I have asked The Uglies to leave me alone throughout my life and they have overstepped my boundaries, police officers warnings, a Judges warning and the Attorney General’s. Now on to the current situation they have created. My mom passed away recently and left her 13 great grandchildren a few thousand dollars each. Now it’s important at this point to know that we quietly left our state, because of all the harassment they caused us. I have had no contact with these people for years. So they try to reach us to give my three grandchildren their inheritance. The beautiful’s call me with this wonderful news but the uglies want our address. They try to get the money for us to forward, they won’t have it. So my daughter gives them her work address. The money gets distributed but my grandchildren don’t receive theirs! It was illegally put into accounts for them by one of the uglies husbands, IN HIS NAME as primary. We then received a registered letter saying it wasn’t mandatory that our grandchildren receive it. Well this ones Husband is the former Mayor of the small town this happened in and he knew about it. This is called “Malicious Intent.” Two of my grandchildren are disabled, which takes the crimes they committed doing this from a misdemeanor to a felony. All the other ten grandchildren received their money!!! One of the beautiful’s asked for a copy of-the distribution document, she was refused. One of the uglies couldn’t have children, the other one has 5 grandchildren. The beautiful’s and I believe that their grandchildren received more funds then they should have, or why not disclose the document??? So now one of the beautiful’s have sent my grandchildren the inheritance they were legally to receive and the uglies and their husbands are facing felony charges with what they have done. Why? Why do this to children? Their Grandmother left them a very kind gesture to show she loved and cared. Then these arrogant, ignorant, manipulative, narcissistic psychopaths think it’s funny to do this!!! So like a politician though right, stealing from the poor!!!

• Brief biography (upbringing, etc.): While living at home, I suffered physical and mental abuse from my father, neglect from my mother (a continuation of the abuse from my maternal grandparents), violence from my older sister, and had to care for my younger sisters. On the other hand, from a young age, I enjoyed reading academic books, and I had a strong desire to receive higher education and contribute to society by making the most of the educational environment available to me, so I spent all my free time studying... However, at the age of 17, I reached my limit, and my physical and mental health deteriorated, resulting in eight chronic illnesses (taking 10 different medications), and I spent two years resting. (I also dropped out of high school ) Afterwards, because my funds were limited (I earned them myself), I took the entrance exam for a university that I could take while living in Prefecture Name , and I enrolled in University . Along with enrolling in university, Leaving my hometown , and while receiving treatment for my chronic illnesses, I energetically engaged in volunteer work and activities with NPO organizations (NPO organizations for people with Down syndrome).

After 20 years or more, I believed for so long that if i kept to myself my experience and trauma that with time I'll forget but i was wrong and the only thing i have accomplished keeping this a secret is hurt myself even more. I felt for so long that i was alone that maybe it was best for me to take this pain to the grave and never give it the attention that it deserves but again im only hurting myself if I keep it to myself.

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

When I was 11 I had a friend in the grade below me. We were really close and hung out a lot, often I'd have a sleepover at her house and then when my mom came to pick me up she'd come with us to spend another night. It was great we had a lot of the same interests and then it turned. One day we were laying in my bed playing games with the door closed, she climbed on top of me and kissed me. It made me really uncomfortable and I didn't know what to do. As the weeks went on this continued. She'd guilt trip me and beg me to make out with her and it made me feel really sick. I didn't know what to do because I thought if I stopped being friends with her she'd tell people personal things about me and I thought that if I told an adult they'd get mad at me. I never really knew what to call this because I am physically bigger than her and also a year older so i felt that i couldn't call it rape or sexual assault. We naturally grew apart after she switched schools.