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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 just wrote this in my thirties about my experience with anal date rape as a teenager. i hope that if anyone sees themselves reflected here they feel less alone. i didn’t understand i was assaulted until later — as women we’re conditioned from birth to tolerate harm without even knowing that it is harmful. — blood-filled bowl, red bowl, every time ulcer-lined lips, sealed lips, shut tight bruise-laced neck, black & blue, souvenirs i woke up with the springs of my childhood mattress pressing my back and none of my clothes i’d delighted in picking out for the party. i was 19 and i kept the uncapped bottle of liquor he left behind because it was free i threw his sweatshirt in the trash and walked to work in my black suede h&m ballet flats i got home where i could finally lower my hands from my neck and i told no one the cracked screen of my iphone 4 glowed blue in the dark of my room with one new voice message: when can i see you again when i moved, i found the neon pink poly blend skirt i wore under our ikea couch you could sometimes hear mice in. dust bunnies clung to the nylon as i lifted it from the hardwood floor. it was blood-stained and $15 i was so mad i couldn’t wear it anymore. i loved how tan it made me look

it happened in the fall. it was cold outside (so was he), i remember worrying about not looking pretty enough for him. i invited him in and we started talking we instantly clicked, he was funny, charismatic, good looking, everything i wanted in a man and as the night progressed he offered me edibles and i took it (not ever having taken them before) and i feel that's where i went wrong, i accepted something that was going to leave me feeling like i was in a nightmare for months. i don't necessarily remember every detail, at times i even wonder what was real and what wasn't but i know my body tells me what is real. i blacked out through most of it and the parts i do recall have begun to fade but my body hasn't forgotten. part of me blames me for letting him in, for allowing myself to be put in that situation, aftercall he was a tinder hookup. when i wanted to take legal action it already was too late and i didn't want to have to face him again. he scares me now, i often find myself looking at his pictures thinking how can someone so normal looking live such a normal life after what they did? how can monsters walk upon us and no one notice, it often reminds me of when no one noticed the day after it happened. i remember feeling so dirty and different, i felt like an alien that everyone would look at but no one would say anything. i never said anything because one of the first people i told didn't believe me at first, it was only after they saw how damaged i was that they realized they should have helped me instead of telling me i was a "liar". it just baffles me how he was able to move on and i have to live with this for the rest of my life. i often find myself wondering if he even is sorry or if he realized what he did wrong not only once but twice. i have tried convincing myself it is my mind trying to protect me from it but then there's days where all i see is him, all i feel is him, and then it hits me. i was raped.

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

Having YOUR voice is the most important thing that you can have as an abuse victim. After going through abuse for multiple years at Location, I felt like everything was stripped away from me. My dignity, self respect, confidence, happiness, and strength felt like were taken by the age of 9. Summer after summer i went to this dark place that was supposed to be a positive experience. My parents thought they were dropping me off at a place to help grow my walk with the Lord. What they didnt know is that Name 2 told me that if I did the sexual acts he wanted me to do, he promised that I would become closer to God. He was a sick individual that constantly broke Location's guidelines and the law. The worst part is that Location had insight and knew these events were happening but did nothing. Leaving camp and going back home I remember feeling empty and depressed. You are not at a maturity level at this age to be able to grasp what has happened and how to process it. I went to child advocacy centers to get professional help and struggled to even talk about what happened because it did not make sense in my head and could not verbalize the events or the impact it had on me. As i moved into my teen years I became more depressed. Every night I would have a dream of Name 2 abusing me and I felt like every night I went to sleep, I was going to be abused again. The fear, anger and depression I went through weighed so heavy on me that I was close to not wanting to make it to the next day. After years of this cycle, I decided I needed change to be able to live a full life. I started to to work on my physical, spiritual and mental health. The biggest part of this is having your voice. You have to be able to share your experience so that you can get the help you need and to express the pain you have been through. That is why I am thankful for Trey's Law. This removes the ability for organizations like Location to silence victims after they put them through horrendous experiences. It gives the power back to the Survivor. Treys Law will save lives. It will allow for someone to stick up for themselves. It will allow for less criminals/organizations to get away with what is the worst crime someone can commit. If anyone is reading this and needs help, I am always happy to listen to your voice! Name

PART ONE: I started to date someone, we i met on a dating app. We video called every day for a month before we met. During that time, i fall for his charms and believed everything he said about himself, although looking back now there was already red flags... for example a couple of lies and not telling me certain details many people wouldn't hesitate to answer in normal situations. When we arranged meeting up, he didn't give me a choice, asking me to go to him. At the time i understood as someone close to him had a personal situation and he needed to be near by. There is a little language barrier because he is from another country, but apart from that the date went really well. He paid for everything and made me feel special. However, things just got weirder... He had told me he was looking for a job, so he was short on money- so i told him i would support when needed, even though i am on apprentice wage myself. At first it started off okay, just little bits of money here and there for little bits he couldn't quite afford. But he started to ask for bigger amounts. i would ask him why he needs that much or if i challenge it because it doesn't seem right, he would manipulate me and use coercion to get to me. Once it worked once, it became and often event, leaving me with no money. It got to the point when it was my time to go to him, i wasn't able to pay for my train. When I told him I was struggling to pay for my trains, he turned on me, gas-lighting and guilt tripping me. This led to me feeling bad and I having to dig into my savings to be able to go and visit him. This became a regular occurrence. (To be continued if possible, the most painful bits I am not ready to share just yet 💔)

I was 14. We were at sleep away church summer camp. Me and one of my friends had been giving people tattoos. He asked for one, of course. Wanted some lyrics on his hand that were far too inappropriate for a church camp. He put his hand on my thigh to give me 'better access to his hand'. Conversation between the three of us got dirty, quick. I hate to say that i participated in it, but I did. I have a tendency to get greedy about male attention, stemming from little to no attention from my deadbeat father. Fast forward a little bit, about an hour later. Me, a few of my friends, and him. We made our way from the chapel to the lodge for dinner. He waits till we're in the far corner of the line to grope me roughly, whispering horrible, degrading things into my ear. Young, starstruck, naïve me thought he loved me so much that he would tell me those things. It was only after he tried to force himself down my throat that I realized how terrible it was. I didn't want my innocence to be taken by an older teen who i had just met, much less in a chapel. When i told the counselors, they seemed like they believed me. But his father was a major donator. My friends didn't believe me because he was 'attractive'. When i told my mother, she didn't believe me. "You probably led him on, so he thought it was fine." No. If 'Yes' was never explicitly said, then it's not consent. Since then, I've struggled. I've questioned my religion. But then I thought, why am i giving this horrible boy any extra thought? And why does everyone I love believe his word over mine? Maybe because they never really loved me. Maybe because it was easier to pretend it never happened. But a real supporter would take the scared child's word before considering the almost adult male who had a history of sexual disturbances.

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

The dark parts don’t trigger me anymore. I know I’m safe now—in myself, my mind, body, soul, home, relationships, and life. It wasn’t always that way. I can talk about it if I choose to. Not everyone gets to hear my sacred story, and that’s how it should be. I’m no less worthy, and neither are you. Naturally, it took time to recover. The past could be unsettling during the healing process, often in unexpected ways. One day, I opened a social media account, and an acquaintance from my soccer community posted a team picture of his latest league victory. There, kneeling in the front row, was the strange case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde I once lived through. Seeing him smiling while standing dangerously close to others I knew was unnerving and reminded me how effortless it was for Hyde to convince people he was something he wasn’t. I left that relationship. More accurately, I secured my safety and Hyde’s departure, changed the locks, and blocked any way of contacting me. I thought I had to do it that way, on my own, but that wasn’t true. I painted the walls, but it would always be a trauma environment. Despite my efforts to see past the wreckage, open up, and have conversations, I often felt criticized and painfully alone. If you are unaware of the long list of reasons why it’s difficult for women to speak up, inform yourself. It wasn’t until much later that I experienced solidarity's power in such matters. We scrutinize and scowl at these stories from afar, my former self included, with an air of separateness and superiority until we experience them ourselves. For, of course, this could never be our story. But then it is, and now it is. Other women sharing their sacred stories were the most significant to me in the healing years - confidants who embraced me with the most profound empathy and stood and breathed in front of me with their scars that were once wounds. And my mentor of many years who held hope when I couldn’t and taught me how to give that to myself. Over the years, I have often asked myself if I would ever be free - truly free - from the psychological, emotional, physical, and spiritual damage that had occurred. Would my wounds heal? Would I always have some adaptation in my body from holding my emotions in a protective posture? Or could I get it out and be released? Would my stress response and anxiety always be easily heightened? Would my PTSD symptoms ever go away? Would I ever trust myself again? Trust another again? Would I always be startled by loud noises and glass shattering? Would “normal” ever be normal again after being exposed to such severe abnormalities? Would I ever forgive myself for how small I became during that time? Would the anger, confusion, disorientation, sadness, and grief abate? Would the dark nights ever end? Would I ever be held again, be myself again, or was I changed forever? The thing about liberation is that it can seek justice that doesn’t arrive. I was in a relationship with Dr. Jekyll, who hid the evil Edward Hyde, his intimidation tactics, wildly premeditated orchestration of lies, manipulation, and gaslighting. A part of me wanted clarity until the truth was true, and my mind could unfuck the mindfuck and rest again. Don’t wait for clarity that is never coming. Some of us must live big lessons to break patterns and cycles of this magnitude, even to believe again that it’s possible. But let me be clear—no woman, no person, wants to live these types of lessons. If you understand nothing else from this essay, understand that. If you are one of the lucky, privileged ones to sit on your throne of judgment when hearing these stories, you don’t understand. You don’t understand that what you’re misunderstanding is not the woman or victim in the story, but it is yourself. That’s the harshest, blindest truth. Another truth about this all-too-common story is that the parts of the victim stuck in that situation do not belong to the public to dissect. That’s her burden to bear. And it will be. In actuality, each individual walking through abuse is trying to stand up and say, “This happened. It is real. I am alive. Please breathe with me. Please stand there near enough so I can see what it looks like to stand in a reality I am rebuilding, in a self I am reconstructing, in a world I am reimagining. Because if I hear you breathing, I might breathe too. And if I see you standing, I might pull myself up, too. And, eventually, I’ll be in my body again—I’ll be able to feel again. Not surviving, but piercing through my life again.” For the victims, I’m going to be honest with you: the meandering process of recovery is ultimately up to you. It’s your responsibility. Therapists, books, podcasts, and support groups can help but can’t heal you. You have to heal yourself. You have to accept the victim's role to let it go. You have to feel—to struggle through the feelings. It’s daunting and scary. You’ll want to give up. If you have people in your life who are stuck in their shallowness while you’re trying to go to your depths, let them go and let them be. Pivot and seek the sources and people to show you how to stand and breathe. You have to start thinking for yourself now, caring for yourself now, and loving yourself now. But trust me, you’ll need people, and you’ll need to find them. You don’t have to be strong; you can be gentle with yourself. Often, the intelligent, empathetic, and enlightened part of a person gives Henry Jekyll a second chance to work on himself and make things right. I must acknowledge a narrow and perilous line between the resolvable, troubled soul and the soul that spills over into malice, rigidity, maladaptiveness, and steadfast personality. Most people never encounter evil and retain their naivety, while victims lose this innocent vantage point of the world. It’s not the victim’s job to rehabilitate or reintegrate anyone but herself. Our stories are pervasive, and we come from all walks of life. On March 9th, 2021, The World Health Organization published data collected from 158 countries reporting almost one in three women globally have suffered intimate partner violence or sexual violence. That’s nearly 736 million women around the world. We need more voices of survivors—more voices of the human conditions we let hide in the shadows for fear of discovering it in ourselves. I lost parts of myself during that time with Hyde. The destructive consequences of this style of person are astounding, and the impact on my connection to myself and others was among the most challenging aspects to overcome. The rage that boiled in Hyde resulted in outrageous displays of public humiliation, screaming, and, on one drunken occasion, physical violence. If Hyde had called me a stupid bitch before grabbing my neck, throwing my head against a stone wall, and my body across a room to smash into a bedpost and break my ribs while we were in the United States, I would have been able to call the authorities. And I would have. But because we were in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country, vindication occurred through the fog of shocking circumstances I didn’t deserve. After years, Hyde popped up in a picture on social media. He plays soccer on the same fields I used to play on with joy in the absence of hypervigilance. It’s that disparity in fairness that can grip us in bewilderment. I’m on another path now—one where my trust and love are respected. I remain open and available for peaceful, constructive ways of being, relating, participating, and having a voice. I hope you’ll embrace my sacred story with sensitivity and compassion as I offer it to those in need so we may come together and let her stand up and live.

It was a long time ago, over 20 years ago. This is my first-step towards healing. Over the years I told my mom and my husband about what happened, but given that I was the "fun" one in those days, some will say I brought it upon myself. Did I? I remember the school trip abroad. He looked at my with a twinkle in his eye on the departure flight- my heart sank. We would spend time together, a lot of time, as he just broke-up with his girlfriend. I remember the night so clearly; we were abroad dancing the night away in a club and then the energy changed- it was electric. We held hands running through the city squares to his room. I had never felt so happy before. We were alone, making out. I remember the light in the bathroom was an odd color green and then he was in me. NO! I never said Yes. I never said Yes. I never, ever said Yes. The next day the classmates knew what he did. There were nods of disapproval. Despite my extreme and vocal curiosity, I never said Yes and I couldn't say No. He took it from me. The next day there were signs and later on an infection. Yuck. My mom told me I would die from AIDS and this wore on my mental health for months. He is a laywer now, married with kids. I went through a memory box recently and he said he "Was not "that" guy" in a note exchange, but he was worse. He stripped my heart, my soul and my mental health. I was SO alone. I will never forget it, and I will make sure my daughters are self-aware of their worth and the rights to their body. I will be there for them and not ignore it.

I was 6 when it happened. When I told, nobody believed me. After all who who believe a 7 year old could molest a 6 year old? That's exactly what happened. He would start with a massage or singing to me. When I didn't like it he threatened me with a pocket knife and that he'd kill me if I ever told. I did. I told a babysitter, who told my parent, who told my teacher, who told the principal. The principal met with both of us together, then separate. In retaliation, he cut me on the arm with the knife. The principal didn't believe me. There was no punishment. We were to stay on separate playground equipment or be anywhere near each other. He bullied me for the next 5 years until he left the school. That's when the memories came back. It had quite an impact on me since I was 11 at the time, I looked much older. I easily attracted male attention which lead to sexual harassment and further traumatization. I was in a long term psych facility at the age of 12 because of a suicide attempt. There was a male staff member who seemed to enjoy destroying the teen girls there. When he got to me the first time, he wanted to know every detail of my abuse. When I got upset, he laughed at me and made fun of me. Later, he made comments on the way I looked and my eating habits. Telling me skinniness was unattractive on me. If we wanted out of that place, we had to admit everything he said was right. I did wahat I could to get out of that abusive place, I got out in 2 months. Many years later, I was 18, I met a man 11 years older than me. I liked him alot and he had shown some interest in me. He later convinced me to leave the country with him. My home situation has always been bad and still is. I went with him. We ended up getting married, at his insistence, after only three months of knowing each other, becoming homeless, and eventually returning to the US. We lived with his family, I started to get over his brainwashing, saw how abusive he really was. He had been taking advantage of me sexually, I started refusing him. He then started raping me. At first it was only a few times, then when we lived on our own, it became more frequent, along with other forms of daily abuse. He did it to show "dominance" because he refused to work, spent my money on drugs and alcohol, and slept/watched TV/got high all day while I was at work. He became more violent and paranoid over time. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't cry multiple times a day from the constant abuse. I tried leaving him, he would threaten to kill himself, psychologically torture me or physically threaten me until I changed my mind, or promise me things would be better. The turning point came after I possibly became pregnant, he was going to force me to have an abortion. I miscarried due to the abuse. I couldn't go to the doctor, if my parents found out, they told me they would completely disown me if I got pregnant. A month later, he raped me in my sleep and a few days later tried to strangle me. I did move out but later came back at his and his parent's insistence. I saw no other way out, I didn't want to be divorced at such a young age (be damaged goods) and I couldn't handle living with my abusive parents again so I tried to take my own life. After getting out of the psych hospital, (who had been no help whatsoever in helping me get away from him or my family), I did get the paperwork together to divorce him, of course, he convinced me to tear them up. A month later, I did file the papers and tell him it was over. We finally separated after he held me hostage in my car, for the umpteenth time and tried to take me to another city. The divorce came through a few months later. We had been married a little over a year, I was 20.

When I (f 24) was around 7 years old, my older step cousin (m) who was around 9/10 would often initiate kissing with me as a 'game' at the time I found nothing wrong with it. id often ask when we were going to play the game again, merely to feel included. it used to go further, sometimes with him undressing me, touching my chest, making remarks such as 'I can't wait for these to get bigger" as well as touching my lower areas. I always used to refuse to do more when he would ask, and I can't remember what age it stopped, probably around 9/10. when I turned 11 I became violent toward him, usually when he was around my younger female cousins, causing me to lash out. I ignored this up until my mid teens, only then thinking of what happened, and confronting him, where he stated "that never happened". after that I moved on, and ignored it, up until last year. I went to stay at my aunts house, I had a good enough relationship with him where we would go out for occasional drinks together with our other cousins. this one night I went to stay at my aunts where he lives, and he tried to kiss me and grope me. when I asked what he was doing, he responded "don't you remember we used to do this as kids?" at that point I left. I had a very bad breakdown at this point, and couldn't stop crying. this has now bothered me ever since. it is hard as I have to see him on familial occasions.

What would you know? It's a question that was directed at me by someone who never considered that sexual violence could pertains to men as victims. This is what I know: What would I know? How do I even begin To talk aboit what I know About how I learned Too much, too soon Held in and on For far too long What do I know? I know that you never, ever, No matter how hot the water Or abrasive the cloth Will ever feel clean Even if you wipe until you bleed I know that your body My body, will never be your own My own That some part of it No matter the healing Will always remember Being forced to share itself But sharing is the wrong word Because sharing is given Not taken with force I want to say invasion But that sounds too Clinical Polluted, that's it You, I feel polluted. Its just in one small, dark corner now When it used to pervade Everything Every taste, every joke Every public shower And locker room Every smile, scalding touch And mention of intimacy But healing does that It shrinks the poisonous sludge Of memory Until there's almost none of it left And you, we, can live Not just survive But on certain days Anniversaries, birthdays On odd days when someone else Learns what it means to feel like you Me And we cry in the soft darkness Of our own beds Horribly alone yet never truly alone Because it never left They never leave. To take the finger from my lips I have learned to stop hating To understand their brokenness I am afraid of the dark and more afraid Of the light But only in giving voice to the feelings Can I shape them And in shaping them I give limits To the memories that created them And in doing so I take the shards Of who I was and might have been Putting pieces of me back together Alongside those I imagine into being The potential to be anyone I choose Has become the reality Of who I am What would I know? I know surviving is only an opportunity I know living is something else entirely I know that secrets are pervasive and corrosive I know that I carry fears within me And that gives me comfort because I will always be bigger than they are. And I know, I know, I know In my soul of soul of souls That I don't carry any of it alone anymore.

Ten days after my daughterX discharge from the hospital, where she had undergone brain surgeries for epilepsy, X was resting in her bedroom and my ex-husband asked me to help him buy something online. I said no (very unusual but I was fixing something for X. to eat) and he exploded, throwing hot coffee on me then trashing the kitchen. And for the first time, a light bulb went on in my mind. The light said, "This is going to stop." Once he saw that something fundamental had changed inside me - that I was indeed serious - he escalated his tactics week by week. We had been married for almost 20 years, and he was absolutely incredulous that I was leaving him. All he knew how to do in response was more assault, more threats, more stalking, more financial theft. He was out of his mind. At one point he stood on the steps outside our house screaming "Why didn't you abort the kids?" over and over. For about 6-8 months I'm pretty sure he was considering doing a murder/suicide. I had to leave everything behind to get away - the home, friends, my job. I sold everything of value that I owned. Since I had grown up in a home of domestic violence, I didn't understand it very well, even as I was being victimized. I didn't know that shoving someone, kicking someone, and throwing objects or hot liquid at someone are all against the law. I didn't know that insults, name-calling, and coercive sex aren't part of normal relationships. I didn't know how dishonest my ex-husband was (and is).

PART 2 The emotional abuse was the worst. I started to feel i was a bad girlfriend. I started to think that all our arguments was because of me and i started to submit to everything we wanted, even if i didn't want to. It was particularly difficult when he proposed loosing our virginity together. I initially said no and that we needed to wait a little bit longer, but through out a few weeks he kept pressuring, subtly but enough for me to feel like i have to say yes. And when we did i tried to stop him because i got cold feet and i didn't like it, but he ignored me💔 After this, I felt annoyed and upset, and i wouldn't speak to him about it. He would just laugh and act like nothing happened. Things got harder when he told me he wanted to marry me. He told me because of his culture he needs to marry me fast otherwise his parents will arrange a marriage with someone else. he told me it would be good because he wants to spend his life with me and he doesn't want anyone else. I shrugged this off as much as I could before it got too intense for me to ignore it. I tried to tell him we need to wait for at least a year but he started panicking about his VISA! Looking back now, he could have been using me, which breaks my heart entirely. When we were talking about marriage, he made me promise not to tell anyone about this (and he did this with the money too). After a lot of wood pecking (my way of saying a lot of nagging, coercion and manipulation) i gave in and said yes. He was very happy and we eager to get married as soon as possible in his home town. I tried to persuade him that we married quietly near where i lived or where he lived, but he seemed too keen to get married where he was from, which now scares me... what could he have been planning? Not too long after i agreed to the marriage, he tried to get £500 pounds because a family member needed it for a medical reason. i refused and told him the most i could give him was 200 (i didn't even have enough for the rest of the month, which i had told him) He agreed with this and left me alone... for the whole of 2 days before trying to manipulate me for £300 more. I refused and things got heated. I found out after that the money i sent for the family member, only a little bit was sent to them and the rest was for his phone data which was only £17!. I was really annoyed about this and when he sense this, he told me he will send the rest over soon. I don't think he ever had. Not too long after, i saw the app i met him on still on his phone. I asked him why he had which he replied by just deleting it. So many difficult things happened, things i am not ready to talk about. But one day, my boss got in touch with someone close to me , because she was worried about me. That person then talked to me, I disregarded all of the concerns before calling him... he went straight into blaming me, refusing to talk on call and texting me. we were still on call but chatting on text because he didn't want to risk anyone hearing the conversation. He started to manipulate me and guilt trip me, turning things on me and being dismissive. As i was reading the messages and trying to get him to talk on the video call not on text, my mum came into my room asking if i was okay. I hung up on him and told her EVERYTHING. It was then i realized i was abused, manipulated, coerced and hurt. As i heard all of this coming out of my mouth, i burst into tears and my mum just had to hold me for ages. It was then that i broke up him, and after a week of crying and having to block him every time he messaged me, i haven't heard from since. Its been 4 months and i have my days where i don't want to get out of bed because i feel like i dont know if my feelings are real or not and i feel my mind isn't my mind. But i also have days where i feel free and i can do what i want, i can talk to who i want and i can hand around with who i want. Its okay to have ups and downs, we'll get there together xx

I went through this kind of thing twice in my lifetime. Once as a child and once as an adult too. I know I'm not alone. There are many who have had this twice sometimes more in a lifetime mine the first one happened when I was 6 to 8 years old. The second one I was much older in my late thirties. Having been through it twice in a lifetime takes allot out of you but somehow you persevere even if you don't think you can. My adult one happened in my last foster home.Tt happened over 4 years I was trying to keep the peace in my home. And he took advantage. I want everyone to know I'm ok now I live in a better place now. Just sometimes it overshadows me. And I know it's not my fault. Thanks for listening.

I think I am a victim of COCSA. I've only told two people of this and they are my closest friends that I am associated with and that I love dearly, they mean the absolute world to me, and they have told me that I am. When I was a child, about 5 or so, my family brought me to my cousins house. (I don't remember how old he was or exactly how old I was, just that we were young) That night we were doing the usual things kids do, sitting on the couch watching a movie and playing games with his siblings, until he grabbed my hand and said, "Come here." So, thinking nothing of it, I let him lead me to the tent he had in the same living room. He had me lay down and then zipped the tent up before saying, "I want to show you something." I had a weird feeling about it but I trusted him nonetheless, bc he's family and I was innocent with no understanding of what was going to happen. He then pulled down his pants and then mine before proceeding to SA me. I didn't understand what was happening or that what he was doing to me was bad, I was never taught about sex or sexual assault due to being sheltered. Afterwards I felt weird about what had happened and had a feeling of disgust even though I didn't know what had happened. We haven't met since then but growing up was definitely difficult when I thought about that, along with some other stuff that had happened to me. I always felt disgusted and dirty when I learned what sex was and hated myself because I was so young and we were related, constantly blaming myself for it. I've caught myself several times growing up telling myself that I was gross for doing something like that at such a young age with someone I was related to and that he wasn't to blame because he was a kid and kids don't understand what they're doing. Even though it was difficult I taught myself that it wasn't my fault, that I didn't understand what was happening and that he knew what he was doing. Even though we were young and about the same age the mental gap was there. I've only very recently become comfortable with only people I'm close to touching me just because it brings the unwanted memory or what had happened back. I've been coping and putting myself back together from that and some other experiences, I have grown more aware and have grown as a person.

Whispers to War Cries: Finding my Voice after 26 years. I am a survivor of CSA Incestual Abuse. This was a secret I held in my heart, and no one knew except God and I. Forgive me if not everyone believes in God, but this is the only way to express my story. So at the age of 3 I was a go lucky happy toddler, until my older brother stripped me of my innocence. 7 years of my life were a blur and then around age 10 i began to remember the daily abuse and it happened until I was 15 years old and he was 23 years old. I was extremely attached to my brother not truly knowing that this bond came from years of abuse. I remember having flashbacks of having sexual memories of my brother, but then bringing myself back to reality to say hey this is my brother that's nasty. As years passed once I was 18 I would fall into a life of addiction, from alchol to drug addiction and being sexually violated throughout my adult years. My brother doesn't know I am aware that he abused me as a child, and this was all brought back to my recollection because of a spiritual encounter I had with God. God used my stepfather who may I state was not in my life at the time of the abuse, to reveal this to me. My stepfather asked me what happened to me as a child, and I froze and instantly mentioned my brother's name. 26 years of a hidden secret came to light, and while I was relieved my heart was shattered. I loved my brother dearly and to know he was the cause of my hidden trauma was even more heartbreaking. Intrafamilial abuse was on both sides of my maternal families so the apple didn't fall too far from the tree when it came to my brother. I remember instances of me calling 911 as a child, but I got scared and hung up they ended up coming and I firmly believe I was trying to tell on my brother but once my mom asked if I called the cops I got scared. I even remember slapping him in his face when I was about 12 years old, and the way he reacted was as if he was expecting it to come. I am here to say that YOU ARE NOT ALONE WE CAN OVERCOME!!!

I was 17 years old and I started working at Location 1. I was estranged from my family and I was living house the house and getting a job to try to finish high school and to get my own place.So I was going to school all day and working from 3 to 11 every night. Back then the minimum wage was under two dollars an hour so you can only imagine how hard I had to work to save. The manager of the company had a disability with his hand so he wasn’t able to do much physical stuff with that particular hand. So we come to work and he would pick on just a few girls but mainly me. Yell and scream at me he called me names he called me horrible sexual names he tell me that I was no good and then I had to go clean toilets for four hours or I’ll be fired. And he would follow me into the women’s restroom and try to put his hands on me and he wouldn’t stop talking about things sexually. I felt so uncomfortable I felt scared I was 17 I didn’t know what to do. This went on repeatedly being trapped in the room in the ladies room or being trapped in the corner of the kitchen always having his hands all over me I did everything I could to pull myself away from him but he kept touching me and if I was pulling myself away he would start swearing and calling me horrendous names while he continued to threatening my job. He threaten to call the police because I was 17 he threaten to call the state if I didn’t let him touch me and kiss me. I was so scared I was so worried and I just kept pulling myself away from him as he was literally throwing himself on me and it was just horrifying he was touching me everywhere he was trying to kiss me he was pushing me down and I just despised going to work the next day because I knew it would happen all over again. I was so scared that he was going to fire me and report me to the state for being a minor. But after Seven days and my first paycheck I just couldn’t go back anymore. So I just didn’t go back I didn’t call I just didn’t show up. I am 55 years old and still affects me to this day. Then it continued my next job was a team working for Person 1 in Location 2. The Person 2 used to corner me in the copy room with your hands on me and one went as far as following me home again terrified. He sexually assaulted me and I never said anything I just never went back to work again. Then I took a job in wises supermarket and Location 3 in the meat and bakery department thinking I could be away from people. And the meat butcher used to corner me in the freezer he’s trying to kiss me constantly is putting his hands on me he’s constantly sexual comments it just never ended I managed to push through for a year of putting up with that but then eventually I quit. I went to school for nursing and then I got a job working with doctors and they did the same thing one particular doctor or dentist would body shame me make me feel like I was less of a woman but then he would make comments about my Feminine body parts continually. It just got to the point where I felt like there was just no way around this if I wanted to work I had to put up with it. I wish things were different back then like they are today. The PTSD that I suffer is tremendous. But I would love to be able to help others

I had posted something before and I don't know if it's okay to post this here but I hope it is. I am so angry right now and just had to get this out. My Loved One’s suicide attempt. Multiple attempts if we are being accurate. I want to start by telling you, I am no stranger to the suicide world and suicide ideation. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder and when I became involved with my Loved One (LO.), I knew I had met someone who would/could understand my depression as I understood theirs (to a degree). I also knew that if I continued the relationship there might be a time when we might need to lean on each other (hopefully not at the same time). My previous career also had me working with families of victims of Suicide in the direct aftermath of completed suicide (my company came in and cleaned the scene. I want to apologize for the length of this and please understand that I have had to consolidate 12+ months into a few pages and its barely a drop in the bucket of this story. For All Intents and Purposes (there are 4 main people in this story; plus myself as the storyteller) Below are the abbreviations I am using throughout the story KP = K Provider (CRNA). *My loved one was their patient* L.O.= Loved One (The Patient) Psych Nurse (Nurse Practitioner – Psychiatric Nurse. *My loved one was their patient* LMHC = (License Mental Health Counselor/Therapist) *My loved one was their patient* The K Provider owns their independent clinic The Psych Nurse owns their practice and the LMHC is their employee Suicide Attempt One In Month, Year– my L.O. (L.O.) was given two back-to-back high-dose K infusions from KP (KP) (two days in a row). The decision to give my L.O. two back-to-back infusions was made by the KP and the Psych Nurse. The KP took my L.O. back to their home (KP’s home, not L.O.’s home) and also fed them 4mg of their (KP’s) personal Ativan, to “calm them down”. My L.O. sent a message to their psychiatric nurse (who assisted in scheduling the back-to-back infusions) and pleaded to never be left alone again after a K infusion with their abuser (the KP). The following day a 2nd high-dose K infusion was given to my L.O. along with more (personal) Ativan and afterward dropped off at a relative’s home. This time the they were not taken back to the KP’s home (as previously described “the abuser” from the previous day/evening’s infusion). My L.O. was in a lot of distress after this 2nd high-dose treatment and tried reaching out to the KP but they found their number was blocked from receiving calls/texts. It is assumed they were blocked because my L.O. didn’t want to go home with the KP. My L.O. began reaching out to their psychiatric nurse. But was met by the psychiatric Nurse telling them to stop contacting KP. The more and more my L.O. reached out (via texts and calls) the Psych Nurse told them “you are manic and scaring me”. They were told to “stop calling” (the Psych Nurse) because “they were not going to answer the telephone”. They didn’t want to take a call because “it would wake up their entire home and “my child is sleeping”. Both KP and the Psych Nurse knew they had given my L.O. two high dose back to back infusions and ignored them. Cut them off from help. They were supposed mental health care providers. (It has been learned) My L.O. was having a paradoxical psychosis due to the (2) high-dose K infusions and all of the Ativan that the KP and Psych Nurse had been giving them. The KP was supplying their own prescribed Ativan to my L.O. The Psych nurse had given them a prescription for Ativan a day before. Neither KP or Psych Nurse would answer calls (as stated above), in the midst of the paradoxical psychosis and their providers ignoring them…My L.O. slit their throat open to end their life, sending out final text messages and photos to the psych nurse stating “I hope you and KP are happy for what you have done to me.” This is when the psych nurse decided that my L.O. needed help and 911 was called. EMS and First responders were able to get to & save the life of my L.O. Everyone in the house that evening now has PTSD and became traumatized from this suicide attempt as they are all over 80 years old, because the Psych Nurse and the KP failed their patient. They (KP and Psych Nurse) chose to use more than the average standard dose per mg/kg/hr dose of K and continue to give Ativan to control the patient. The Psych Nurse has ZERO formal training on K administration. The KP is a cRNA and was only trained by their former employer, before opening their clinic. The KP has ZERO formal training in psychiatric and mental health matters or therapy to treat patients’ mental health. ****It should be noted that the Day before the 1st Infusion the KP stated in the morning to my L.O. they were going to admit themselves to in-patient care because they were “not well.” It should also be noted that the same evening the Psych Nurse told my L.O. They were going to “Baker Act” the KP, because they were not well. The KP never admitted themselves to an inpatient facility. The Psych Nurse never baker acted the KP. What did happen the following day(s) was the KP and Psych Nurse administered the High Dose Infusions to my loved one. (All of this is documented in text messages) 3 days were spent in a baker act. The psychiatrist at the hospital asked my L.O why they had attempted to take their life. My L.O. told the doctor. They were in a romantic relationship with KP and the KP had been mentally and emotionally abusing them and they were having issues in their relationship because the KP was still actively involved with their abusive spouse. The psychiatrist at the hospital interviewed the KP and the KP lied and stated that they were not in a relationship with the patient. And that my L.O. was confused “it was the anniversary of the breakup of their previous relationship” , and they were having a hard time with it. (This is documented in my L.O.’s health records). It can be proven that the KP was in a relationship with my L.O. and the text messages sent to them before and after the suicide attempt show how “IN LOVE and didn’t want to lose them”. KP was also going to visit my L.O. during visiting hours and cuddling with them in the day room of the facility. AT THIS POINT YOU MIGHT BE THINKING WAIT WHAT? THE KP was in a Relationship with your Loved One, the Patient? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?? HOW DID THAT START? The Grooming of My Loved One My L.O. was referred to the KP by their Psych Nurse provider, stating that K treatments would be beneficial and that they wanted them to see the KP, to help with their treatment-resistant depression. My L.O. stated that during the first 4 months of treatment, they would wake up and the KP was sitting in the room talking to them after their infusions. The K provider called it “therapy time”. The K Provider is only a CRNA and in Statutes this is practicing outside of their scope. The K provider would text message the patient excessively. In the first month alone the provider sent over 500 text messages to the patient. The 2nd month over 1200 text messages which included inappropriate photographs. The KP provider also would talk about their former drug use, current alcohol and partying ways, and body modifications such as piercings. They would also speak about how often they were hit on while they were out at functions and conferences. The provider once gave my L.O. a ride home and while parked outside of a relatives house, disclosed that they were unhappy in their marriage and told them personal things about how bad things were in their marital home. My L.O. still under the influence of the K infusion sat quietly and did not respond. The provider was constantly texting my L.O. and crossed many boundaries at this point, many of the text messages were personal and selfies, and some were inappropriate and sexual of nature. The KP provider even suggested that my L.O to give food poisoning to their new romantic partner; to go through their wallet to confirm their identity and age. One evening after providing a K infusion to my L.O. (after 4 months of text messages and “therapy time” after K treatments ) the KP confessed they had fallen in love with them, and they hated their abusive spouse and would leave them if my L.O. felt the same way. Because they felt that my L.O. had feelings for them. ** Remember For 4 months the KP had been sitting in on every infusion and been slowly grooming and manipulating my L.O.** My L.O. stated they were attracted to the KP. The KP took this as their cue and then undressed my L.O. and proceeded to have sex with them. From here on out the KP laid stakes on my L.O. and this marked the beginning of the relationship between the KP and my L.O.(the patient) The KP mandated the patient break up with their romantic partner, even though the KP was married and had not initiated a divorce. The KP then confessed to the Psych Nurse that they had engaged in sex with the patient and were now in a relationship. The Psych Nurse then reached out to a divorce attorney and assisted in obtaining legal counsel so that the KP could file for divorce and be with my L.O. The Psych Nurse even went as far to blind CC my Loved on the email sent to the divorce attorney. The Psych Nurse then purchased a burner phone so that my L.O. (patient ) and the KP could talk and not be discovered by the KP’s spouse. The KP also mandated that the patient download and use “WhatsApp” to have conversations, to hide from their spouse, and send photos of their genitals, since they could set the messages to disappear after 24 hours. The Psych Nurse did not report the KP for having sexual relations with a patient. The Psych Nurse encourages the relationship. It is believed that the psych nurse also instructed my L.O.’s licensed mental health counselor to not report the relationship. After the relationship was established the KP began even more sick and diabolical actions of imprinting themselves on my L.O. The KP provided free infusions to my L.O. and would engage in intercourse as my L.O. was coming to after an infusion. It is believed that this is part of the reason my L.O. is “trauma bonded” to the KP. The KP would unhook the IV from the pump and engage in sex, while my loved one was still in the recliner. The KP also mandated that my L.O. refrain from taking certain prescription medications to make the sex better for them so they could engage in hours of sex. During the first month (30 days) of the relationship with the KP, my L.O. attempted to break things off due to experiencing mental abuse from KP. The KP would have mental breakdowns and claim they were going to kill themself if they broke up. The KP was still living with their spouse but would often rent hotel rooms so they could have sex. But the majority of sex happened right inside of the clinic on the floor or in the patient chairs, until the KP moved out of their marital home, 45 days after the first sexual encounter with the patient. During the 2nd month of the relationship, it became very apparent the KP was abusive, my L.O. attempted to get out of the relationship because they began to feel that it was detrimental to their health; the gaslighting, manipulation, verbal psychological, and mental abuse were too much for them. The KP again threatened to commit suicide if they broke up. The KP promised to be better and get better “help” and would go get a therapist. The KP then started counseling from my L.Os mental health counselor and began to see the Psych Nurse who was treating my loved one. KP claimed that they could not find anyone else in the very large city they reside in. I believe this was to cover up the relationship, as this relationship was highly illegal and against State statutes to have sex with your mental health patient. The Psych Nurse and the LMHC both covered up this relationship and failed to report it to the Department of Health or State Nursing Board. The Psych Nurse and the LMHC both profited off the patient by billing the insurance company for psycho-therapy sessions from both the KP and my loved one. The Psych Nurse also encouraged the relationship, so it is believed that they did not want to say anything because they did not report the relationship from when they learned about it two months prior. The KP also had the LMHC treat their children as patients as they were having a difficult time dealing with the impending divorce and break up of their family. The KP had begun bringing my L.O. in as a “parental figure” and stated to my L.O. that the children loved them, and they needed them in their lives. They ask about them all the time. My L.O. does not have children of their own and it made them feel as if they finally had the family they always dreamed of. This was again another manipulation tactic of the K.P. Over the course of the entire relationship, every time my L.O. tried or attempted to terminate the intimate personal relationship the KP would have a “mental meltdown” and state they were going to kill themselves. They often made dramatic outbursts and comments of “someone needs to take care of my patients” or would physically hurt themselves in front of my L.O. and children by hitting themselves or laying on the floor and crying clutching bottles of alcohol. The K.P. would also state they would sell the K clinic as it was not worth their life. In the third month of the relationship, the KP tried to smooth things over by taking my L.O. on an all-expenses paid trip to Saint Augustine. While in the shower the KP shoved their finger up the anus of my L.O. My L.O. told them to stop and they didn’t want that and asked “Why would you do that, we have both talked about butt sex and we both said we never wanted that? KP stated said… because “it happened to me and I felt you were safe, I needed to do it to you so I could see if I could get over being anally violated”. The KP sexually assaulted my L.O. to “get over” something they had experienced in the past by another partner. I'm not sure how that works… I’ve been raped before and I have never had to rape someone else to get over it. My L.O. finally broke off the relationship with the KP. But the KP again tried one last attempt to keep the relationship and rope my L.O. back into it, by claiming they were going to kill themselves. The KP even sent “Goodbye” texts to their shared Psychiatric Nurse. The KP didn’t do any harm to themselves. They were just crying wolf like the many times before. After a month of gaining clarity and feeling they had gotten to a safe space, my L.O., decided that they needed to contact the Department of Health and report the KP for having sex with their patient(s). They were afraid that the KP might seek another victim and use K again to gain control over another patient. Currently, it is unclear if this was an isolated event (relationship/sexual encounter) or if it has happened before. But the threat was still there, and it needed to be reported. What is clear though the provider has had an affair with another KP (their former boss). KP is unethical in many ways. KP did confess to my L.O. that they had copied their former boss’s ( K provider) patient list (the one they had an affair with) to build their business. My L.O. contacted the Department of Health and reported the provider. In retaliation, KP went to the county court and placed a stalking injunction against my L.O.. stating that my L.O. was stalking them and they were afraid of them. This is the same provider who sent 500+ text messages to the patient in the first month 1200+ in the second month sent inappropriate photographs to their patient, and invited them out on outings to spend time outside of the K clinic. The provider even asked them to come to the Walk-a-ton for suicide awareness last year, so they could spend time together. My L.O. declined as they were going to be spending time with their significant other (the one the KP wanted to give food poisoning to). In the 7 months that the provider knew my L.O., the text conversations (mostly from the provider) totaled over 900 PDF pages (all of which are in my possession). Suicide attempt Two In Month, Year, everything became too much for my L.O. They had been spiraling since March because of the PTSD of the KP; manipulation, gaslighting, and psychological, emotional, and mental abuse. The false accusation The provider filed in court and with the police. The KP created a trauma bond and groomed my L.O. to fall in love with them all under the influence of K. Because the KP wanted to be in a relationship with my L.O. (the patient). It must be noted My L.O. paid for these treatments (the first 4 months). They had been giving hundreds and hundreds of dollars in the hope that their mental health could be healed. My L.O. trusted this KP with their mental health. And it almost cost them their life. I still fear that it will. In July my L.O. drove to the parking lot of the KP’s clinic and in the middle of the night and attempted suicide. I had luckily been at my L.O.’s home and noticed my L.O. had left the house and figured out why they left. I was able to call 911 and assist the sheriff’s office in finding them. I don’t even know physical the address of my own doctor’s office. And I was able to recite every address I knew where my L.O. could be. I don’t even live in the same city as my L.O. I live over 3 hours from them and was just visiting and taking care of them because they were having an exceptionally hard time. I prevented my L.O. from ending their life that day. I worry that in the future I might not be so lucky to prevent it. I know the statistics that the likelihood of them retrying is very high. Especially since this was the 2nd attempt. The KP has now been playing the victim. Stating that the patient is a dangerous person. That they are afraid of the patient their former lover/partner – whom they had groomed into the relationship. The scariest part is this provider is still allowed to practice while the Department of Health investigates all of this. I wanted to add a little about me. I spent 11.5 years running a company that cleans up after suicides and homicides. A crime scene clean-up company. I have taken thousands of phone calls from family members after a suicide. Never in a million years had I ever believed that I would be on the opposite side of that phone call. NEVER. I never thought I’d be saying my L.O. attempted suicide, or my L.O. killed themselves. I am no stranger to suicide and those who have experienced it. It is why I am such a huge advocate for mental health. It’s the reason I dropped my entire life and worked remotely in my L.O.’s city to make sure they were okay, so they weren’t alone as they were trying to deal with the PTSD from what they experienced from their K provider. I was trying to help navigate the darkness. Or sit in the dark so they weren’t alone. Because as someone with depression, I know how dark that dark is. My reason for writing this is because of the K provider I speak of. Is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The KP has befriended a person on the Board of Directors for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention who is also an Investigator at the Department of Health (in which this event occurred). The KP has donated $1000 to the AFSP for the suicide awareness walk that will be hosted in the city. I find it fascinating they have collected a donation of $1000.00 from this KP for the Suicide awareness walk a ton. Is this HUSH HUSH MONEY ?? Is this cover-up money? Is the donation to get insider information on their case? Or to have the case altered in their favor? I am so sick to my stomach. At the thought of this or that the provider is allowed to be a sponsor.(granted they don't know the story.... well actually I have sent an email to their public relations department this morning) The audacity that the KP even has to make the community feel like they care about Suicide Awareness when they are the ones that caused someone to attempt suicide multiple times because they wanted to be in a relationship with their PATIENT. A mental HEALTH PATIENT. People do not seek K treatments because they are well. The K provider learned everything about my Loved One while they were under the influence of K, they made my loved one feel they were a safe provider and then they sucked my loved one into an adulterous relationship, left their spouse, broke up their family and abused my loved one; psychologically, emotionally, mentally, and verbally. So much so that my loved ones tried to kill themselves. On the second attempt my loved one tried to kill themselves in the parking lot of the K clinic in hopes it would bring media attention. I have been so angry that this K Provider is making a mockery of SUICIDE AWARENESS when they are such a sick and vile hazard to the community. I also find it disgusting that the KP uses SUICIDAL THREATS to keep control of people in their lives, as a crutch to manipulate people and keep them in their life. We have been very private about this situation as it is embarrassing to know our loved one was sexually assaulted by a practitioner. It has been a lot to digest to know that someone suffering from mental illness (depression and PTSD) has been sexually taken advantage of and all 3 of the people (K provider, Psych Nurse & LMHC) were supposed to be helping our loved one…. Were the ones that almost cost us their life. And we would all be grieving for the rest of ours. I felt like I needed to speak out. I am at a loss as to why the Department of Health is moving so slowly. I feel like I need to contact a new station or something and this needs to go public Nationwide so that people are aware of this predatory behavior. My Loved One is not well. This has exacerbated their PTSD/CTPSD and we are getting them help but its been a very long road and they are tired. So very tired. This has been a setback on so many levels. The story gets worse....there are even more evil things that have happened but this is all I care to share for now. I feel like we have been living in a Netflix Docuseries for the last year. My mental health has taken a toll. But I can tell you that my K Provider in my city has been nothing but wonderful and my experience with Ketmaine saved my life. My heart hurts that my loved ones' K provider and K almost cost them their life.