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You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

You think your age makes you less to blame, But I carry the weight, I bear the shame. You crossed the line — no excuse to hide, No softer words can wash this tide. I’m not the one who should feel small, You built this cage, you made me fall. No matter your years, no matter your face, You took from me my safe, my space. But here I stand, I claim my voice, I break the chains, I make the choice. I won’t be silent, I won’t back down, I wear my courage like a crown. So hear me now, and hear me clear, Your actions caused this pain and fear. Age won’t protect what you have done— I am the survivor, I have won.

I guess I am here to share some of the experiences I have been through in the past few years. My therapist introduced me to this page as a way to see support/connect with others who have been through similar experiences. My fiancé and I have been together for YEARS, but when we first got together he tried to force himself on me, and once I pushed him off and started crying he backed off. That should have been my first warning. Throughout the years he had a much higher drive than me and I didn’t always want to have sex like he did. He would practically beg me to have sex and I would eventually cave, which I have now learned is coercion. Once I even still told him know and he still went through with it. And then wondered why I was so upset. One time his sister brought over edibles for him and he let me have 2 and I didn’t think anything of it until I was unable to really move/keep my eyes open. I never smoke or do anything so this was a new experience. I remember at one point waking up to him on top of me starting to try to take my clothes off, luckily I was conscious enough to get him off of me. Moving forward years later this is STILL happening. He pressures me into having sex with him when I really don’t want to. I also don’t want to now because of prior experiences. My last straw was when I finally initiated sex with him and then he rushed through everything and then it started to hurt. And I begged him to stop and he claims he didn’t hear me. As he kept going to the point where I was sobbing and in physical pain. We are now on a break and I called off our engagement and I guess I just am at a loss and don’t know what to do. I love him , but I know this isn’t healthy. There has been other emotional things as well. I am always battling with my mental health and he can be very mean. I once was even self harming and he knew I was and completely ignored it. He really wants another chance to prove he is changing but I just don’t know. Everyone in my family loves him. He can be a great guy so I am just stuck!

He planted spyware on my phone and computer that gave him full access to my life - calls, texts, contacts, photos, browsing activities, location. He couldn’t stand not having power over me and my life when I broke up with him. As if he thought I was an object he owned by doing kind things that he gradually bought and paid for. The kindness was never real, it was just him justifying his eventual perceived ownership of me. He used to tell me his favorite person is Robert Greene. I would later learn he is the author of 48 Laws of Power, a book about obtaining total power over people by manipulating them. When I saw how he became a completely different person around his friends it was honestly terrifying. As if the person I had spent 3 months getting to know was never actually the real person. It was scary. After dumping him he went scorched earth: sabotaging my job search, harassing me and my family after a sibling died, sabotaging my education, and eventually sabotaging my career. Literally 6 years later and he has still went through my new phone after getting another one, having no social media and no life to get away from him. This weekend I went on a day trip 3 hours away from where he lives with someone new I was seeing. Sure enough I see him driving up there on our way back. Apparently he did the same to the partner he had before me he claimed he “found” with someone else (he was actually stalking her). He can’t handle the thought of being unable to control me to compensate for his complete lack of control he has over himself. Below are my personal thoughts on the past 6 years of being tortured by this person (from me to him, since he has hacked multiple of my phones he is likely reading this anyway): I am sorry that when my family member died you thought it was more important to have attention from me and supply instead of letting me heal. To the point you destroyed my computer with spyware, lied about our breakup, and ran a smear campaign against me. I am sorry I went to a better university than you (even though you harassed me and sabotaged my education the whole time I was there to the point I had to get an attorney). I am sorry I got into a real CS program and you didn’t so you had to minor in IT and major in something else. Or worse that you were so bothered by it you couldn’t handle me being able to independently pursue my education in it without you harassing me the entire time. I am sorry your mom left when you were younger and instead of seeking therapy you take your anger out on me, sabotaging my healing and success. Apparently childhood abandonment is the catalyst for narcissistic personality disorder. I am sorry you blame your drug and alcohol addictions on me instead of seeking treatment and going to rehab. I am sorry you were fired for incompetence at your first real programming job so you think its acceptable to be jealous of my tech career and sabotage it. I am sorry the only way you are able to feel anything is by trying to control people and have power over them. To the point you are willing to crush the good in life just to mean something, anything, to anyone. What will you do when you can’t access my life anymore? What will you do when I leave and you can’t find me again? Will you turn back to hurting people, destroying everything around you and drinking or finally wake up and get it? No one thinks you are a sophisticated hacker, a genius, an intellectual, or that you have any substance. Underneath it all you are an angry man who can’t get over the fact that multiple women including your own mother left you. It will keep happening and you will never be satisfied until you change. You are in your 40s so this is what the rest of your life will be like until you wake up. You want power? Stop thinking about how everyone around you owes you this or that and what will benefit you. You will never be full and you will continue draining people your whole life. Move on, go to rehab, and think about the people you hurt while you are there so you don’t do it anymore.

Wow, first of all. How empowering. I can't even fully talk to therapists or my family support workers because I'm afraid I'll have to make statements. I've been sexually assaulted and raped more times than I can remember. One particularly tough event, my ex, my child's fathers. Well I was passed out. I woke up to him carefully pulling out of my body. I ran to the toilet. Sick with shock. I had a protection order but I had let my guard down and gotten drunk with neighbours the night before. I called my sister. She came to bring me to an emergency chemist. I took the morning after pill. Month came, the Date and I still hadn't got my period. The test was positive. I had to illegally obtain tablets and have an abortion in my sisters house. Very sad and awful time of my life. This platform is a god send.

I am a victim of COCSA. This was not easy for me to deal with, and the one question I keep asking myself is "Why can he get away with it?" Now, in this case, it is very overlooked, but when you're the one who is living with that trauma, it doesn't feel fair. In some cases, nothing ever happens, and that person has to live with the trauma caused by this. Personally, I feel like the abuser/assaulter should be held accountable for what they did. In fact, I know what you were thinking in that exact moment, too: "This is normal," "it will pass," "They still love me," "They are just angry." But I'll tell you, however old you are, whatever situation you're in, whoever you are, this is not normal, it will not pass, and it is not okay. There is never an excuse for physical, sexual, or emotional violence. Stand up for yourself. Even if it's not easy, fight back and most importantly, get the justice you deserve. You are strong, willing, powerful, and smart. No matter where you're reading this from. You are a survivor. You are brave. You are capable of surviving. I was 14 when I finally escaped it and 13 when it started. It may be hard at first, but believe in yourself because you can escape this. Finally, don't let the trauma control you; always remember you are stronger than they are. If you ever find yourself in need to talk, email me atEmail. Don't hesitate because if you feel like no one understands, I will.

I don't know how to start, it's just I am having pms rn and I can't help but feel disgusted. It was my cousin brother. We have been close since childhood. We used to do all kinds of things that you would usually do with your brother. I used to live far, I with my fam used to visit their fam. I still remember the last conversation we had when I last visited him before covid, we were talking about him getting a gf and Me getting a bf just normal conversation. After covid, in 2022 I moved. It was near where he lived. He came to stay naturally, just like we would hang out daily and eat out and had fun. One day, I was laying down with him. All the days, he stayed with us. I used to sleep with him in the same bed. But that it was a nightmare. Out of nowhere he started putting his hand on my stomach. He started touching me over my underwear and in between my thighs. I froze on place. I couldn't think anything I was begging God please don't let him go further. He was trying to open my underwear and touching around it. I pulled away his hand. He still brought it again in between my thighs. Then after sometime he stopped. I continued sleeping there..ik it was the dumbest thing but yk how it is, you freeze in a place, you can't think right. I didn't shout or anything. I was just stunned and didn't know anything that I could do then. Next day, I woke up I literally felt it was a dream but I had a clear memory. Very clear memory Long time, it felt like I was at fault.. for sleeping in bed with him, for not shouting, for not reacting enough, for never speaking up about it to me. I was just disgusted and decided to talk to my friends. They made me understand it's not me, it was him. It was not something he could do without any intention. Its been 3 years, only my closest friends know, my parents don't know. I don't know whether he remembers it or not. It doesn't matter. It was something so disgusting and it stays with till today. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I stay away from him and made sure to never have a good connection with him ever after that. He once blackmailed me with something I didn't know. He just randomly started telling me he knows what I did. And called one of his friend saying that I will give 500 rupees and you give me that thing. I don't even know what it was about. But he is the most disgusting person to ever exist. His idea about woman disgusts me and how he keeps his gf too. I wish the old me would have done something then But I am so glad I understand myself more than anything and bring that up will only cause harm in my slowly healing life

I used to think rape was what you'd see in movies. Jumped on by a stranger and violently assaulted. Turns out I was wrong. I have been raped on multiple occasions and didn't fully understand it until I got older and wiser and also found out that I'm autistic. This is what helped me to understand what had really happened. I learned and studied autism in girls and women and figured it out from there. I was vulnerable and impressionable and masked so much that I was a completely different person on the outside than who I really was on the inside. When I was younger and had no clue that I was being preyed upon due to my vulnerability and started to pretend as though I just liked sex and was willingly promiscuous. It was a lie I told myself and my friends so that I didn't have to face the fact I couldn't and didn't know how to say no and mean it. There is flight, fight and also freeze. So many times I was telling them no and when they didn't stop I just froze and realised that my voice was pointless and they weren't listening to me. It was easier to allow them to finish without fighting and having it be violent too. I didn't realise how badly the mental impact would be. One particular night I was out in a bar and a few of us went back to a house party. One guy was showing interest in me and I actually liked it. We kissed and had fun and then he led me to a bedeoom and I hesitated but ended up going in. When he started to undress me I held my dress and said no. I said it so many times and he started to get really rough and forceful and started saying things to me about leading him on and what did I think was going to happen and I just wanted it rough. I realised that no matter what I said, sex was going to happen so I had two options, fight and be both violently and sexually assaulted or just have the sex without any further resistance which would mean that I'd be only sexually assaulted without the extra violence. I chose the latter and for a long time I believed that I just had sex that night. I now realise that was absolutely rape. It's played with my mental health for over ten years and I'm ready to acknowledge what happened to me instead of being in denial.

You hear it all over the news. You see it in films and tv shows. As women, we are often warned, and we hear comments about ‘safety in numbers’ when you go to the toilet. ‘Watch your drinks’ when out and about. ‘Don’t show that much skin, cover up’. ‘You can’t wear that.’ ‘Get a taxi home, it’s not safe to walk’… unfortunately words can not protect you from the intentions of others. I went on a night out with friends, a reunion that started off so well. I remember the dancing, the constant flow of drinks…pints, gin, vodka, sambuca to name a few. Yes, it is not ideal to mix however, when you are reminiscing, and your group had a booth with a table full of drinks; you would probably do the same! Anyway, the lights flashed, the music bounced off the walls and suddenly a trip to the loo mixed with alcohol on a busy autumn international night in Location…makes you forget what floor you left your friends on. Fast forward to the smoking area alone on the phone, where I swayed and debated leaving. “A taxi home would be safer than walking in the rain”. Before I was allowed in, I had to pay by card, he insisted on no cash. I entered the taxi behind the passenger seat in the back and it began. The looks through the rear-view mirror were instant…my memory of the journey is absent until we reach my corner. My directions at this point were now ignored but I trusted him. He parked, away from my house. He locked the car with me still inside. He looked back. “Kiss me”. He had hold of my wrists and climbed through to the back where he began to sexually assault me. I am unsure for how long this lasted but he later broke away and asked to use my toilet. This enabled me to get out of the car so…I said yes. Why I ever thought I could get into my house first in a pair of heels whilst heavily intoxicated I do not know, but even so, I looked back to see how ahead I was…even now I can see him running down that pavement to reach me at my door. In my own home, he was in control. He stole my breath, he stole my voice, he stole my body. He raped me. No one ever prepares you for an event like that, or even how to tell your parents. I went to SARC, I did the forensics and repetitive questions, and I was told it would take years of my life away if I were to take it further. So, I went back to work the following Monday as I had a responsibility to fulfil. It weighed on my shoulders. I knew there was an expectation. Many google searches informed me of my next steps…I made an anonymous complaint to the Police, and everything began to move. Everything became intense…I was living out what felt like a BBC drama. Months later he denied it in court, so we went to trial. The support I received was minimal. I was still working, taking unpaid time off. My close family and friends were those who got me through the days in court, the days in-between and the days I live now. I took away the screen during my time on the stand, I answered every insulting question and remark. I looked him in the eyes, he held eye contact for only a few seconds before breaking into a smirk; as I broke down in the stand. I was torn to pieces in front of a judge, jury and courtroom. In front of him, who proceeded to spin his web of lies which were the complete opposite to the ones he had said in his initial statement. “To be a good liar, one needs a good memory” …He was found guilty. It took 2 weeks for me to be seen as a victim and believed. Fast forward to the sentencing hearing where my main pillars of support accompanied me…I read out my victim impact statement… He got 11 years…a minimum of 8 ½. I got a lifetime sentence, anxiety, depression, dissociation, insomnia, scars and PTSD. February 2024, 2 months after the 1st anniversary; I made my 3rd attempt. A phone call from a friend pulled me back to reality, who later pulled me off the bridge. A mixture of anger, tears and confusion filled the next couple of days, and I knew I needed to take back control of my mind and body. Which is hard when his monstrous hands are imprinted, his poisonous breath echoing in and flooding my ears and the pain weighing heavy on my body. This time I had to do something different. I could not bring myself to hurt anyone else further, so I searched online. I came across The Survivors Trust and after a quick scan through what they had to offer, I instantly thought ‘why wasn’t I told about this sooner?’. Talking can feel repetitive especially when you cannot explain how exactly you are feeling…which is ok in this sense because of their ‘Survivor Resources’. They echo that everyone has a different healing journey and they have sets of resources that have been put together with the survivor in mind…whilst also having a section for those who are looking for help on how to support a survivor they love in their lives. The Survivors Trust then became an outlet for me because even though I am very much at the beginning of my healing journey, I felt responsible and motivated to raise awareness for this charity. No one should ever have to face a traumatic event like this but sadly, the actions of others are something we cannot control. Therefore, I created a Facebook page called ‘Name’ and started promoting my quiz night followed by live music and started a Just Giving Page. I never anticipated a big response; I had a goal of £1000. A goal of raising awareness for the charity, fellow victims and survivors. A goal to inform. The CSEW estimated that 1.1 million adults aged 16 years and over experienced sexual assault in the year ending March 2022 (798,000 women and 275,000 men). 15% of girls and 5% of boys have experienced sexual violence by the time they are sixteen. Every five minutes in the UK someone experiences rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault by penetration. ‘On the face of it, something has to change’ (Prima Facie, 2022). Date he was sentenced. Date 2 I raised a total of Specific amount from site.. People have different opinions on the length of time to which I will be ‘fixed’. “Sometimes, it takes a few days”. A few days, a few weeks; a few months to fully grasp what happened, to trust myself? Living in and out of my own body, not knowing when it is truly me or what is now left. The sleepless nights, the nights that repeat every detail. Every once in a while, my ears go out, ringing as I simply stare into thin air, dissociating and remembering each and every detail without speaking a word. Sometimes it only takes a smell, a name, a piece of clothing, a sound to take me back to these moments. It does not take much to remind the brain of the agony. It’s hard. I float throughout each day, each night, as each aspect of the memory replays every time, I take a second to think…no matter where or who I am with. It is currently day 630…I have finally started EMDR therapy, I am still at times in denial of the events, and I am very much at the beginning of my journey. I am beginning to understand there is no timeframe on healing and with the support of this charity, my close family and name, taking time to self-care and keeping up with my medication is all I can do for now. Everyone is different. Therefore, it is totally natural to heal and deal with trauma in different ways. I work and like to keep busy…some say to avoid/escape the flashbacks but unfortunately, they do not escape me. However, although I have tried many times not to be…I am alive, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure things change. No one should live in the fear of not being believed. No one should be put into situations where they experience a type of sexual assault. No one should have to go through something they could not control and feel guilty for the rest of their lives. No one should feel alone. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel shame, guilt, embarrassment, regret and the list goes on but I will get there. I am alive today because of the resources and support presented on The Survivors Trust site. My journey is very much at the beginning, and I so wish I knew about this charity sooner. Therefore, this is me giving back as well as letting others know about the charity, not only the victims either…Survivors Trust helps everyone impacted. Raising Amountp is just the start of the work I will be doing for the charity. It is okay to talk, there are people who will believe, who will support in any way they can. Together we are stronger…you do not have to face this battle alone. I have recently continued to share my story and been a listening ear to others on my page Name on Instagram and Facebook. I don't want anyone to ever feel alone in their trauma, in their healing, in their journey. I am far beyond cured. My EMDR therapy has been completed but its like a bomb has gone off...I've accepted what has happened, happened. But it'll forever be part of who I am no matter how many steps forward I take. He gets out in 5 years and is then under watch for 3 years as he is eased back into society - that support has been planned for him. However, if I didn't attempt to take my life 5 times...I would never have been put forward for MH screening by my gp who then referred me for EMDR. I wasn't given any support from SARC or Victim Support - and it's honestly made me feel so defeated yet again by him. Yes, he was found guilty and went to prison in 2023 but I am the one serving the life sentence.

In my survival story, "Just Words, Dirty Words", I shared so much and I brushed over an experience with a male gynecologist. It was a much bigger deal that I let on because it had triggered my previous abuse as an adolescent on my first job. I wonted other girls and women to understand what is not okay for a gynecologist to do. It was not until after it happened that I realized the full impact. I realized I had let myself be victimized again without trying to stop it. I felt self-loathing and anxiety. I write this letter to that opportunistic predator. You broke your oath. You betrayed the trust. You are terrible! I have done research on what a breast and pelvic exam is supposed be like and understand you used the framework to sexually assault me. I was late for the appointment to get birth control at the university clinic when I had just moved for college. You let me in even though you had no nurse chaperon, it seemed that you might have sent them home after putting me in the room. You are a man and that is against policy. We shared our first eye contact and I ignored your lust and first glance flirtation. You saw I was vulnerable and needed something from you. You told me as a new patient you have to do a full first visit exam. Now I believe you may have lied. I nodded and put down my guard. When you returned I was undressed wearing a paper smock for a false sense of security. I was self conscious even though I had impeccable hygiene and grooming but worried I was not fresh enough so late in the day because you were a man and you made it sexual. You examined my breasts with no gloves. I said nothing. I knew you were massaging them for you pleasure. You went on for five minutes like that. I think five whole minutes while you kept talking. When my boss used to molest me just seconds was plenty to make me feel sick and used. He would sit on my torso, compressing my ribs to the point I could not take a deep breath and have sex with my breasts and he usually took less time than you. do remember you used the words “wonderful” and “amazing” when commenting on by breast health. We could both smell the musk from down below from stimulating me like that. I was embarrassed. You should have been the one ashamed! You mentioned the textures and gave some instructional anatomy to pretend it might be official. You asked random questions and you shared personal stories like it was a date. All the while you were groping my tits like a pervert. Both hands at the same time! I tried to cover for you by pretending like this was not insane and not a sexual assault. You were twice my age and your mustache was ridiculous. You finally moved on to the pelvic exam. You said the words, “Very nice” when you lifted up the paper drape to help my feet into the stirrups. That is not appropriate when viewing a patient’s vagina for the first time. You explained every step from “I’m going to touch your thighs now” to “take a deep breath as I insert the speculum”. That part was quick but then you explained the manual exam that you did for too long. You inserted two fingers to check for cervical motion tenderness but rubbed my clitoris with your lubricated thumb as you did so. That was wrong! You explained that you were going to move your other hand to check for tenderness of my ovaries to check for infection but kept working your other hand on my clit and inside me. You put what felt like three fingers in me! You were sexually assaulting me again. Breaching my trust. Ignoring you oath. As a last indignity you felt for masses in the space between my vagina and rectum. You left your thumb in my vagina while you put a finger in my anus and moved them both back and in and out explaining you thought you felt something for a second but it resolved on massage, meaning it was nothing to worry about. You raped me! That was rape! I looked it up and what you were doing is a real part of an exam but no gynecologist had done that before then or ever since! Instead of leaving the room while I dressed you stayed and helped by holding out my clothes! Totally inappropriate! You should not have a medical license! Sure I let you, and I cooperated, and even tried to endure it and put on a pleasant face. I was a different person then and you just continued my cycle of being abused by men. But the anus part was where I felt true terror and wanted to get out. You gave me a business card with your name on it and told me to call and ask when you were working to schedule next visit. Then you only wrote me for 1 refill on 30 day birth control! Like I would even come back to be assaulted again. You smug abuser of power and trust! I left with you thinking I enjoyed that and would see you again!!! You make me want to scream and pound on things! It was delayed, but my abuse anxiety was triggered that night, and days after. I will never see a male gynecologist again. Your lust and greed is not better than that of a rapist. You broke my trust in the medical system and I still get anxiety at any doctor visit. Just because a girl’s reaction to abuse is not instant, because of some survival mechanism, does not make it any less painful. Sometimes even more, because we feel guilty for not being strong and assertive. You were in a position of authority and abused it so badly. You should be ashamed, doctor! You should be in prison!

When I came forward about my sexual assault I was 18 and still in high school. It’s been almost 7 years now since I first came forward. I was assaulted multiple times for almost a year by a person of authority, a teacher of mine and he was also a member of the local fire department that I was in a program for. This person took my virginity and for months this person abused me. I will never ever forget how scared I felt when this man who was so much older and so much bigger then me forced himself onto me. I will never forget the look on his face. I will never forget the fight I put up. I will never forget the tears that rolled down my face. I will never forget going to the bathroom with blood running down my legs. I will ever forget when I got back home sitting in the scolding hot water in the shower looking down at myself who was now so damaged. I will never ever forget hoping that each time would be the last time. This was a person that I was supposed to have trust in and felt safe around but he used his power to abuse me and control me. He often made remarks saying no one would ever believe me and threatened things that meant a lot to me, my family, future career, and worst of all my life. For almost a year I did what I had to to stay alive and safe. When he first raped me I fought so hard. I screamed but he silenced me, I would bite him but he would bite me harder, I hit him he held me down tighter and hit me back. Eventually with each time that he raped me I just laid there thinking of being somewhere else. Hoping he would just stop. I felt like a zombie stuck there most times. When I came forward I thought things would finally stop and I’d be free. That was not the case even though I wasnt being raped, beat up, and verbally abused and threatend a new pain came from coming forward. When a survivor comes forward their world often comes crashing down with having to give statements, having doctors appointments, people bullying and judging, and in some cases having to go through the legal system for justice which can oftentimes be very traumatic. I had to continually relive my worst days over and over again. I had to encounter years of threats, bullying, and accusations that he was a “good guy” and would never do something like that. I was having to give multiple statements to the police and the school board and was oftentimes questioned on if I had my story correct. This made me feel so terrible knowing they were trying to protect him and doubting me. This was a pain no person should ever endure. Going through almost a year of being sexually assaulted and fighting for my life and then having remarks and actions made like this made me feel so small, weak, and hopeless. For so long I felt so alone and I wish I had known then that sadly I wasn’t and many others have endured similar pain. I share my story today because for so long I was silenced and lonely. Tackling this battle alone was scary and painful. I often regretted coming forward and often times thought of the life I had before. I share my story and my voice for those who are scared, alone, and confused because those feelings I felt I don’t want others to feel. I share my story in hopes to help maybe just one person know that there not alone, know that I see them, I hear them, and I believe them. I will never ever understand why I was raped but I do believe I fought so hard and was strong enough to overcome it because my purpose is to speak out and help others and help change the way rape is viewed when a victim comes forward. I share my story because I want others to see that they too can make it out and that things do get better.

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.

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

i had/have some healing to do. my worth was tied to my supposed purity, my body was used for male consumption and pleasure, my experience was minimized, my pain was ignored, my human emotions were neglected. so where do i even begin? i needed some honest conversations with god because i was fucking angry-- livid! and i was tired of people telling me some church cliches like that's gonna make me be like, “oh, you right, it was just a lil rape... god is good, all the time!” like, nah bruh, i was hurting and i had every right to be hurt. what happened is trash and someone telling me to find joy in my suffering is not helpful when i'm traumatized. what has helped me, is being able to acknowledge my feelings and write about them. it doesn’t mean the truth of who god is doesn’t exist, but it also doesn’t mean that you won’t feel forgotten, scared, frustrated angry, confused, and it doesn’t mean that as a christian, you’re required to immediately put a positive spin on your suffering. so, with that in heart and mind, i can write a poem about being objectified, about being pissed at the man that raped me, or about being confused about how my relationship with god is supposed to look after such a mess, ‘cause keeping my feelings hidden is not helpful and it does me no good. so, i’m telling you, black woman who is learning to shake off the damaging roles we were forced into: f politeness, you’re not wrong, you’re not being sinful -- kick, and scream and assert your humanity. survivor

I was married and attending a wedding with my now ex husband. His friend came up to me shoved his knee between my legs, grinder on me and backed up and said, now who wants to smell my knee. I was humiliated and my ex and his friends dismissed me and said that's just how he is. I pushed thw issue and my ex verbally attacked me for telling a guy friend of mine who was taking up for me. I was beaten down emotionally and my ex pushed me to apologize to his friend. And I did. I have healed now, I am able to talk about what happened without fear of what could happen. And that had made me feel powerful.

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

No one really prepares you for what comes after sexual violence. The act itself brings unbearable pain, but the tragedy and emotional burden after are what hurts the most. Most days I feel like I am treading water. Kicking just fast enough to stay afloat with my head just barely reaching the surface. My face tilted towards the sun as my nose inhales deeply. It’s hard to keep my feet kicking just enough to gasp for air, but I can do it. I am exhausted. But other days I am in a deep, dark hole in the earth. Rain trickles down on me and I can smell the crisp smell of the dirt. I am alone in the cold, huddled in a fetal position, looking up into the sky. As I’m looking up, the hole tightens and the dirt from the sides of the hole loosen and come crashing onto me. I reach my arm out and try to push the earth off of me, but it is too heavy. I am buried. There are some days where I am safe. My body lays flat on the sand and I am in control - no fear of drowning or being buried. The waves reach the tips of my toes, washing the guilt, shame, and fear. I am free.