Community

I still don’t know if my abuse counts. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. Or maybe that’s what I want to think. When I was 10, I was at my (at the time) best friend’s birthday party. I can’t remember much of the party itself, only that I had a white cardigan on. I remember the air smelled likes churros and popcorn. I can’t remember how I got to my friend’s bedroom. I only remember what happened there. The memory starts with me, standing in front of the bed. On the bed was Name, one of my friend’s older brothers. I remember staring at him for I don’t know how long. I think he was talking, but it was all static to me. I remember there was one those party lights things, the ones that project blue, red, and green lights onto the ceiling. Then I remember he starts jumping higher. And then he jumps at me, tackling me onto the ground. I was frozen in terror. And all I did was cry silently. But to this day, I still don’t know if it counts as rape. I was 10, but he was 13. He was only a kid too. Maybe he was also experiencing abuse, and he took it out on me. I also feel like it’s my fault for not doing anything, and not telling anyone. I could have screamed or something, but I just laid there, frozen and silent. I haven’t healed from this at all, probably because I haven’t really talked with anyone about it. I don’t know what to do.

A few years ago when I was a sophomore in high school I sort of remembered that I was touched by my brother (I was about 3 or 4 and he was about 12 or 13) and my mom had caught him and the only thing she did was force us to switch rooms. But I ignored it because I thought I was making it up for some reason. But I’m a junior in college and it’s finally hit me that, that I didn’t make it up. And I finally had the courage to ask my mom if he did anything and she said yes. And it really hurt and sucked because she was supposed to protect. She asked me if he had done anything else and I said no but after I said no it kind of hit me that I don’t really know if he did or not. We continued talking about it more but then she said she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And now it’s really getting the way of our relationship because I see his daughter every Thursday at his place and I’m trying to tell my mom I don’t want to. Like I love my niece but idk. I feel almost jealous of her? Idk what I’m feeling. But I don’t really know what to do? I can’t afford therapy and I want to tell my sister but I don’t really know how to bring it up. So I could use some help?

My name is Survivor and when I was around age 3, my father started raping me. My mother helped hold me down. He was raping her, and she offered me up in her place. This continued until age 23, maybe 24, shortly before my wedding. By the time I was 6, he was raping other members of my family too. He’d come into my room at night and would throw my nightgown up into the headboard and then I’d have to wait my turn in fear and naked shame while others were raped. We had a large waterbed and I still remember the bed rolling up and down, up, and down, up, and down like on a boat. Once done, he wiped me down roughly with a red shop rag he used in cleaning the garage. It allowed him to keep the rag around to smell it and hold it close with no one questioning why it was so dirty with red stains. Most of the time, my dad was friendly and polite. But once he turned into the monster no one did anything to stop him. He never did these things when he was nice. Only when he was the monster. But he used the nice times to make it easier to attack. He would lull you into a false sense of safety and peace which really made you question your intuition and gut instincts that this was a bad man. This made it easier for him to sexually assault other children and adults. As I got older, my parents controlled the narrative of our lives, every aspect was carefully controlled. Like my mom knowing how to force miscarriages. The first abortion forced on me was when I was 15. I don’t know how I managed to make it to adulthood. I continue to remember more and more of the abuse by other family and church members. And other things my dad did within the church where he was pastor and then later deacon. But I still can’t talk about those memories. I think my dad felt like anything he did was inevitable, therefore, never his fault because he couldn’t control himself and when it happened God would forgive him, so it was all right. I know this because I overheard him grooming another family member to do the same things when he was 11 years old. Males in our family were groomed to be abusers too. I was groomed too. To always be the abused. Forced to keep silent, I learned quickly what happens to people who stand up to my dad. They die or get assaulted. As you can imagine, I had terrible anxiety growing up about being sexually assaulted and worked hard to fade into the background. I thought that might help. I thought it mattered what I wore, color of my hair, how much I weighed. It’s taken years and it will probably continue to take years to unlearn the lies I was taught. The worry made me constantly ill with one thing after another-- I got cancer when I was 32 and before that incapacitating vertigo and motion sickness. My parents met while working down in Texas for an independent fundamental Baptist preacher. Lester Roloff—an Independent Fundamental Baptist preacher who opened homes across the country for “troubled” children, teens, and adults. He liked to say he was saving dope fiends, whores, and hippies. I believe many of the children in the homes had already experienced abuse growing up and Lester Roloff homes should have been a safe place to heal. Instead, the kids met caretakers like my parents. My mom was in a charge of the 16 and older home and my dad flew around the country raising money and preaching the party line: men were akin to gods and women were lower than dirt—their only worth was in being a virgin and then baby factories once married. Very masochistic and minimizing of abuse of any kind, my parents ate up the evil rhetoric being preached from the pulpit My parents eventually took their brand of abuse from Lester Roloff’s out into the churches and communities where we lived-from Texas to Washington and eventually into Alaska. He disappeared in a plane over the waters near Anchorage in 2006. The events surrounding his disappearance were always very suspect but intense pressure from my family kept me quiet. Every day for almost three years straight, a family member called and reminded me talking about “our family issues” was causing generational sin to 4 generations. The pressure to keep quiet and do what my family told me to do was so significant I would have rather died than disappoint them. It wasn’t until I set out to heal from all the trauma, that I found out my dad faked his death. I had always been told since he was gone, there was nothing to be done for what I experienced growing up. But let me tell you, knowing he’s still out there perpetrating on other children and men and women really compelled me to come forward. I finally felt free to start talking. Getting past the pressure to stay silent was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Harder, even, than fighting cancer. I have spent many years in intensive CBT, EMDR and Polyvagal therapy learning how to process my wounds in a healthy way. I had pushed for criminal and civil suits against my perpetrators but the Texas statute of limitations don’t allow for justice to be done. So now, I spend my time now speaking on panels, podcasts, and community platforms about the intersections of trauma, faith, and advocacy. One of the biggest honors of my life has been sharing my story and advocating for Trey’s Law on the Texas Senate floor in Spring 2025. Forcing a sexual assault victim to keep quiet is what allowed people like my parents to continue their mistreatment for so many years. I will do what I can to make sure justice isn’t minimized by NDAs and Statute of Limitations. My efforts connect me with survivors, true crime audiences, mental health communities, and faith groups seeking to understand and confront abuse. I invest my time in mentoring survivors, creating resources for healing, and building digital tools to expand access to supportive materials. Because living a life whole and healthy is what I really want for me, all the victims and their families. We make our own opportunities to heal.

I was SA'd multiple times by my now ex boyfriend. He was 18 M and I 19 F. He also made some comment about how "no one will believe you because I'm the one who's younger/closer to the age of consent". I will be pursuing legal action once I go back to the state of where the crime happened. I will be traveling back for Thanksgiving. Trying to figure out if it technically counted as insertion as it was through clothes but that was obviously the intent. He also lied about being over his porn addiction which had allegedly been solved 2 years ago. He manipulated me into not telling my and his parents about said addition because he said that he hadn't told his parents. Later, he said that he'd told a mutual teacher (who is misogynistic and legitimately horrible). He'd force himself on me- he had about 50 pounds on me and about 6 in (15-16cm) on me. So the only way to remove him was to cobra wrap him with my legs and twist him off. I knew that this was my only way of escape because it was the only muscle region in which I was stronger than him (my max lift on adductors is 205 lbs/93 kgs). Just realised what it was- I broke up with him this past April and only realised the past few weeks. And now I'm having flashbacks and other PTSD seeming problems. And he thinks we're still friends even though I told him that I'd block him. He has no idea what he did or the damage he instilled. There's also some religious trauma because he said that I needed to "pray my anxiety away" when it's physically just a lack of serotonin. So I can't even go to a church because I'm so bitter. I know I can solve this for myself, but I don't want any other girl to get trapped by him. I felt asexual a little before all of this happened and now that feeling is stronger- am I still validated in that?

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

At the tender age of 9 I was molested by a family member. This went on for 3 years. When I did mention it to my immediate family I broke down and was admitted to the hospital for a period of 48 hours. I was truly saddened and really felt alone. I carried this burden on for over 20 something years where afterwards I befriended someone that physically abused me. I ignored the red flags and in order to keep my children safe I told the perpetrator that I will stay. He would hit me in the back of my head many times to this day I have a small protruding disc in the back of my skull. The last incident when I knew that I couldn't take anymore and that my children would be safe is when he tried to throw me down my stairs after straddling me while choking me. I prayed and I asked God for strength. This was in Date. I found the strength to heal, seek therapy and start my own nonprofit (Nonprofit name) which serves Women and Children of domestic violence with temporary shelter, counseling, and 10-week trauma sessions. I now know my Worth and I know that I am a Woman that matters.

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

I just learned what the term COCSA is. I’ve been in trauma therapy for a year and finally told my therapist, after 8 years of seeing her, what happened to me when I was a kid. I was around 6 years old. One of my best friends, who was also a girl, told me that she wanted to play a game. Once she started doing what she was doing, I felt really confused and scared. She threatened to tell her mom that I was mean to her if I told anyone what was happening. This happened for years and she also introduced me to other things like pornography. One time, her mom caught us naked and SCREAMED at us. Another time, MY mom caught us but only shut the door and never talked to us about it. Two adults saw the inappropriate touching between children and neither of them did anything. And unfortunately, I ended up doing the same thing to another friend, because I thought it must be normal and okay. I was only 7 years old but I hate that I did this to another person, too. It happened to me but I made it happen for someone else. For over 15 years, I kept that shame all to myself: obviously nothing happened to me because she was also a girl, a year younger than me, and i never stopped it and neither did the adults. And then the extra shame now that I put another person through that, and who knows how it’s affected her to this day? My heart aches for little me. Things would’ve been different if the adults who saw what was happening did something to stop it.

I survived. I got out. You can too. Insidious and devious are the words I think of when I've wondered how I got trapped. My ex-spouse was so charming, everybody thought he was a great person and I did too. So much so that I decided to ignore the fact he raped me and chalked it up to us drinking. Then gradually as we dated and then married he tried to spin a web of control around me by being angry and violent when I would spend time with friends or go to the gym or go to the library to study. Telling me I was not allowed to go to the gym because there were men there. Being told I couldn't go to work events. Calling my work when I was working late and accusing me of having affairs, then being verbally and physically abusive. He was so successful at manipulating others even my dad, initially, didn't believe me when I told him about the monster and the horrible things I had endured. I finally told my dad what had been going on when he threatened to kill me and chased me with a baseball bat. I was able to get in my car and get away and called my dad crying and screaming. He thought I had lost my mind. Some of my friends also thought I had lost it, and told me oh he is so nice and scoffed when I said I was filing for divorce and a protective order. After the first two calls to the sheriff they believed me and were so kind, frequently driving by my house and making sure I was safe. There is power in being believed. There is strength in knowing that others have made it out both alive and eventually became whole. I still experience occasional flashbacks and certain situations will trigger my anxiety, but I am able to trust people again and no longer fear "being in trouble" if I spend time with friends. Even more, I have allowed myself to become emotionally vulnerable with other people again after all these years. That was a huge leap for me. And I genuinely feel like a good person again.

I was 17, he was 26. It was my first boyfriend and I was head over heels excited that I had my first boyfriend and that he was older. First year felt normal and I felt so happy. After I turned 18 there was a big shift. The following years were filled with coercion, manipulation and grooming. He hurt me for the first time while my friend was sleeping next to us at a house party. I had to stay silent while I was wincing in pain. When we got back home that night he hit even worse and it hurt to walk the next day. He cried and said it was my fault and said I made him do that. Manipulation continued, coercion got worse with threats like not letting me back into his apartment till I gave him what he wanted, another time he punched me in the arm out of anger and gaslighted me into thinking he never punched me after a bruise was visible. 4 years into the relationship, I always say to myself now it’s like a lightbulb turned on in my brain and told me this isn’t right I need to leave, I could have a better life than this. So I did, I opened up to those around me and found support in them. It was hard, I still had emotions to let go of and he tried so hard to keep me around by being extra sweet with me, but to this day I am so happy I didn’t fall for it again. Memories of him still haunt me, but I remember I am free now. People always ask DV survivors “well why didn’t you just leave?” It’s more than that. Once you’re in that cycle of abuse it’s hard to get out of. I pray to everyone experiencing this one day too has a lightbulb turn on in their head. I see you, i hear you and i wish you all the freedom

I'm having trouble categorizing traumatic experiences I've suffered with my younger brother. When I got my first phone, it was a common occurrence that he'd steal it to take pictures of his private areas and leave me to discover the photographs in my gallery. During this time, it was also common for him to peek into the bathroom while I was in there, which is why I'm so zealous over locking doors and turning mirrors away from me nowadays. At one point, he touched me inappropriately. I brought it up to my parents, but they either didn't believe me or simply didn't do anything about it. This behavior has ceased since then, but would these experiences be catalogued as COCSA given how he's younger than me? I want to understand this so I can learn to heal from it.

My husband is abuse emotionally, physically and financially. He threatens to kill me if I leave him. I have tried to engage his family but they keep defending him. Everyday is a blessing that I am still alive.

It was a cold night in 2019 I was at a party while on FaceTime arguing with my on again off again boyfriend of 3 years I was at the party with a mutual friend of ours in the bathroom throwing up from too much liquor as he yelled at me through the phone accusing me of having sex with men at the party in the bathroom even tho I was in there just throwing up. I told my friend I wanted to leave I was not feeling well she said ok, little did I know she was setting me up we left the party I’m in the backseat of her car In & out of it. I hear her on the phone with him he yelling at her through the phone telling her he ran out of gas on the expressway & to come get him ( a lie) I tell her please don’t pick him up we were in the middle of our off phase which usually led to a fight. She ignored me as she drove towards him & I fell asleep. I was abruptly awakened to a slap across my face & to my horror he was in the back seat next to me, I felt a sense of dread over take me I came to & looked around we were parked in front of my apartment my friend sat in the front seat silently as he criticized my outfit & told me I was dressed like A slut asking for it ( I had on a black mini skirt & a big pullover hoodie with tights) he hit me again but this time I swung back defending myself I knocked his glasses off his face & he looked at me filled with rage. I looked down at my hands as 3 of my false fingernails started bleeding I guess i punched him so hard i cracked my nails. He told me “ you gon be sorry u did that” he grabbed me by my hair & yanked me out of the car I tried to hold on to the door because I had a sinking feeling something bad was about to happen , something worse than the usual abuse he subjected me too. I called out to my friend to help me she did nothing as he dragged me out of the car & up the back stairs of my apartment complex I screamed as he pulled on my pony tail like a yo-yo dragging me one flight at a time no one came to save me. He grabbed my lanyard with my house keys from around my neck & used them to open the back door he shoved me inside I fell on the kitchen floor he grabbed me by my hoodie & pulled me into my bedroom our bedroom that we once shared he pulled my hoodie over my head & threw me on the bed, by this point I was pretty sobered up ( I wish I wasn’t so I wouldn’t have to remember this part) he stood over me “ that little a** skirt this what u choose to wear outside? You In the bathroom with other men with that little skirt on?” I diddnt know what to say we fought plenty of times & I saw his rage but never like this he reached down, ripped my tights off & pulled my skirt off all in one motion in that moment he turned into a living breathing MONSTER his pupils dilated & dark he climbed on top of me it wasn’t gentle it wasn’t nice it’s like the whole world stopped I couldn’t hear I couldn’t speak I was nothing I sank into nothingness every stroke sent me deeper into a black void of nothingness the room was pitch black dark the only light coming in from the moon through the window I looked at this monster taking over the shell of the man I once loved I watched him kill my soul slowly. I finally found my voice through the agonizing pain “ please don’t please stop” I pushed on his chest & instantly felt the sharp pain of my broken false nails shoot through my hands. A single tear fell from my left eye he paused he asked me “ why u keep telling me stop like I’m ra**** you?” I replied “ you are get off me.” I felt his body stiffen as he announced “ I have young daughters I don’t play that” he pulled out. I quickly put my self in a fetal position & cried as I Layed on my side shaking. I should have never turned my back on him it angered him he blurted out “ but you think it’s ok for you to go out in such tiny clothes anything could have happened to you.” I Layed there thinking to myself wats worse than this? He seemed to contemplate sparing me for a few minutes but ultimately the monster won again he grabbed me out of my fetal position like a rag doll & put me into a doggy style position I reached back my hand in an attempt to stop him from entering me ignoring the throbbing in my hand “ please I’m sorry for wearing the skirt please don’t” I guess the monster doesn’t have ears he grabbed my hand & pinned both down from my wrist he killed wat little soul I had left I felt myself starting to bleed I drifted away to the moon I left my body sweet relief I was ok I was far away. Bittersweet defeat. When I Came back to my body he slumped over sleep beside me I Layed there awake until the sun fully came up. His phone rang & he woke up & kissed me on the forehead like nothing happened he sat on his phone & FaceTimed his friend as they joked casually about how drunk I was the night before & how he “ diddnt get any” he looked me in my eyes to see if I had any objections I quickly looked down At the blood stained sheets on the bed, a stark reminder it wasn’t all a horrible nightmare & that I was still sitting with my monster. I got up To go take a shower & rinse the embarrassment off my body.. I stand there numb he burst into the bathroom with my phone in hand it’s ringing I look at the screen it’s a call from my ex he instructs me out of the shower & hits me I fall on the bathroom floor naked he stands over me, “ please not again “ I think to myself my spirit is so broken I don’t speak he tells me to unlock my phone I don’t respond I’m frozen trying to brace myself for the monster to come back I look up i recognize the black g** he always carries around he holds it to my head for a split second I wish he would just do it I already feel Like a worthless empty shell laying there naked at his mercy once again. I give him the password he instructs me to tell my ex I never want to speak to him again & that I’m happy I do it. I get up get dressed & dropped him off at his friends house that’s the last time I see him. I move to the house I’m at now & cut communication. Fast forward to 2023 we reconnect I get the courage to confront him about what he did to me we’ve only talked on the phone am I wrong because I still think I love him? He apologized he was my boyfriend my protector I tried to forgive him & move on it was so long ago I feel like if I would not have turned my back on him or wore that skirt he would have not been triggered I know it’s not my fault. Secretly tho some times when I talk to him that night pops up in my head & I lose my breathe I feel sick to my stomach & I can’t breathe about it I get stuck back in my old room until I come back & focus on my breathing I’m getting better I believe tho. I never thought I would be able to tell my story I’ve always felt so embarrassed & ashamed something like this can happen I thought it only happens on law & order. Sorry it was so long but thanks for listening. 💔

Hello, everyone! I will immediately say that I am from Russia and do not know English well, so I am writing a post via Google translate. I must say right away - I do not support the policy of my country. Since my relatives do not sit on reddit (it is not popular with the older generation in Russia), I would like to share my story here, but keep my anonymity just in case. I want the Internet to know about my story, maybe some people have a similar situation as me and they will realize that they are not alone. Know, guys, I support you, you are the suns💕 I have never written such serious posts before and maybe there will be a lot of water here (for which I apologize). So, let's move on to the story itself. Let's go back 8 years ago, when I was still ten years old and was about to turn 11. My grandparents took me to the village to my godmother's mother (in Russia there is such a tradition - to baptize a child and give two people the position of godmother and godfather, who will be responsible for him before God. They may not be spouses, completely different people, of different ages), there were also in the village - the niece of the godmother, a girl a year younger than me, her teenage daughters and her husband. The godmother was there less often than her daughters in the village, which of course went into the hands of her husband. Because, as you know, teenagers like to walk in different places, explore the surroundings, which her teenage daughters often did, and therefore it was easier to commit a crime. And my godmother's husband presented it through a game. He showed "secret" techniques when he served in the army and was taught how to fight the enemy - to take off his pants, which he did the whole month that we were there. At first, as I said, it was a game, but in which something went wrong - he took off our pants and licked that place, and it still makes me sick like a child. Then it got worse - he just caught us and took off our pants and it all came down to those oral, terrible caresses (sorry for being so frank, I write on emotions so I don't know how to describe it exactly), we tried to fight him, but he beat us (damn 40-year-old kachek), while he was doing "this" with one, the other of us tried to save the victim, but nothing worked, and the roles changed. He also liked to show us his strength and arrange fights against his musly hand. Then he locked us in a room once, tied us up and did terrible things, it was so vague that I hardly remember anything. We both couldn't believe what had happened for a long time, it seemed to us that it was just a stupid dream. That this is not real, a kind, calm uncle who has two loving daughters, a good wife, a decent family who helped his relative in difficult times and sheltered her by raising (an adopted daughter). By the way, there is another character here - my friend's grandmother, my godmother's mother, where we lived, she owned that house. She did not notice what was going on behind her, always busy in the garden (a typical grandmother from Russia). As I said, the pedophile made a perfect plan for his crime, calculating everything in a straight line, he is a smart bastard because he also realized that we are both modest girls and will be afraid to tell adults about what happened. And he also had one trump card up his sleeve, but more on that later. Then it started what I hate myself for and why I was afraid at first to tell my family and what happened because he could reveal me - my girlfriend and I started asking him to touch us there, we were pleased (what the hell?), in a matter of time we stopped resisting him and what-something went wrong in our psyche. I'm just sick to the point of vomiting. It was once, but this time I'm sooo ashamed, it feels like I betrayed Name - the very girl in me who resisted him. For one more time, I'm also ashamed - we wanted to bring him discomfort and take revenge on him by pulling off his underpants, looking at his naked prick and laughing at him so that he would be ashamed. Do you remember what I said about the trump card? It turns out that we gave it to him ourselves. He told his daughter that we were "climbing" into his underpants and that she should talk to us. His daughter scolded us, and I remember we looked at her with fear in our eyes and could not answer anything, I wanted to admit that he had done this to us, but shame overcame me, and I was afraid that I would be accused of lying, I was afraid of Haight. I'm writing this now, and I'm terribly ashamed of all this, I feel like I hate myself for this. If there are psychologists here, then I would be interested to hear for what reasons we could do this because I can't understand my actions, I don't even remember my intentions. It felt like a game, but we knew something was wrong. It seemed to us that this was not real and that he was a good person. Then the school year begins, I had thoughts about death, a strange feeling of pain in my chest, I liked how I was getting old, dying and finding peace, and also my body was decomposing and soaked in grass. I wanted to take this secret to the grave with me and I didn't want my parents to be disappointed in that person. But I couldn't stand it, the pain in my chest squeezed me even more, and I couldn't carry such a terrible secret with me and told my mother about everything. She didn't actually believe me, but she told my grandmother and she believed me because in her opinion a child can't come up with and lie about such a thing, seriously I had no motives to do so, at that time I was an honest child. Grandma promised me to talk to him and threaten that if he did this to me again, she would complain to his wife or the police, I don't remember exactly. But as the years passed, the promise was never fulfilled. 2016, I am 13 years old, she invited him to visit with her wife. Before that, she warned me that if he came at me, I should threaten him with my finger and say that I would tell my grandmother everything. For a while, everyone went to the balcony to smoke and chat, but he does not smoke and took the opportunity to contact me, he wanted to give me a foot massage (I have flat feet and he began to come up with a hundred reasons why he should massage me), I said no, but he began to insist, they say -"You don't want your legs to be as swollen as those of old women, do you?" I told him that I didn't and didn't give him my consent, but he didn't care, I remember how it hurt during the massage, and how he lifted my dress so that my panties were visible. When everyone left, he quickly fixed everything and returned as if nothing had happened. For a long time I was afraid to tell my grandmother that I was afraid to tell him a warning, my body seemed to be paralyzed, I was embarrassed, offended. Then I found the strength to admit it to her, to which I received condemnation and reproach, like - why didn't I threaten him? I was afraid of the answer, she waved it away. He didn't get anything for it, like last time. This is not the only time they invited him to visit with his wife. The second time he stayed with his wife for the night, don't worry, there was no harassment, but there was a tin. He was supposed to sleep on my bed, however, when I wanted to sleep, I forgot about it (it happens to me, especially when I'm super sleepy), I wanted to sleep on my bed and told my grandmother about it, but instead of reminding me that my bed is occupied for this Night, guess what she said to me? "So you said that he molested you, and today you want to sleep on a bed with an adult uncle?". In such a vulgar way. I started having my first panic attacks when I was lying on my grandmother's bed and looking out the window. I feel like I'm running out of air, but I stay calm. I'm not scared much, but another part of me is glad that now this is the end of my suffering and I'm going to die. But no, it was just a panic attack, but I'm glad I'm alive. So, in the summer of 2018, I am 15 years old and I communicate with my friend in messenger, where she reveals the details of her life. That freak is still coming to her, but everything has become more serious. He was trying to insert his prichendal into some hole. Why was she silent? I was afraid. She has an overprotective mother, she would forbid her to go to the village and see her father especially, which she did not want, she rarely saw her father, my godmother - her aunt and other relatives. Perhaps there were other reasons. But I don't blame her. But it hurts me that she went through these sacrifices and no one saw her suffering. I was not allowed into the village all these years after the incident, at least so, thanks for that. I showed the correspondence to my family, proving definitively that I was not lying. They believed me, and I smile contentedly, to which my mother angrily asks me - "What are you smiling at? Is it nice when another family collapses? What a bad person you are." What did the family do? Nothing again. My father, with whom my mother is divorced and he lives separately, recommended that I buy cameras (why the hell didn't I even have money?), put them on, invite a pedophile to visit when no one is around and film his harassment of me. It's the most fucked-up idea I've ever heard. Moreover, I would not like to go that way for a long time. So, it's still 2018, summer. I got a boyfriend, I turned 16, and here we are sitting like this and decided to film his visits to my friend by going to the village to my godmother. I wanted to put an end to all this and avenge myself. We came up with a plan - we pretend to go somewhere, he stays alone with my girlfriend, we take cameras and film it. The pedophile could do this even when his wife was around, but she didn't see it, so we more or less understood how to catch him. The plan is not perfect, sometimes stupid, now it seems to me to be a cringe. We called my godmother and decided to arrange that I would go to the village, but take my boyfriend with me. She became dissatisfied with something, and my family found out about it. Mom got into my messengers, found out about our plan, as well as about our vulgar correspondence (well, how vulgar? We had vulgar jokes, then condom stickers were popular, and we stupidly sent them to each other a thousand times). What did my would-be relatives come up with? Stock up on kringe pills. Grandma called my godmother and lied that I went there to have sex and sleep with my uncle in the hay (that's what she called my boyfriend). By the way, my ex-boyfriend and I decided to wait until 18 to have sex. And there was never any mention of a hookup in the correspondence. Thank you, you stupid bitch, for shaming me and fooling me into a juvenile prostitute. I remember my mother screaming, "How dare you want to destroy someone else's family? You're a terrible person!" We were punished, Mom said that I was breaking up with my ex because we wanted to destroy someone else's family. And that we would not see each other again, we had to see each other in secret from her and our families. What were you seriously punished for? Me for wanting to expose a pedophile and put him in jail. We have another, but also stupid plan. I went to college, in Russian colleges students do not live in a dormitory, so I lived with my parents. My ex and I decided that it would be better if we ran away, and our friends would rent us an apartment, and so we would hide until we were 18. The first few days we spent the night in the entrance. It was cold and so cringe-worthy that I'm ashamed to remember it. Then we did come back, because the mother of one of the ex's friends had dissuaded us from doing such nonsense, after that we returned, and we were allowed to meet. Anyway, I slipped off the subject. Then I wanted to write an anonymous statement against him, saying they should believe me without proof, but I would have shown the correspondence with my friend, but I chickened out. I decided to tell the adopted daughter of the pedophile's family about what happened, and she believed me, especially with my friend's correspondence. But she also didn't do anything, I asked her to protect my friend, and she promised to do it, but according to my friend, that freak got to her before she came of age, until she grew up and became more feminine. For many years, adults knew that a crime was happening, but no one did anything. And they scared me with bullying, and I had a feeling of guilt that I was bad, since I could destroy someone else's family. Now that freak doesn't bother my friend, but now she insults him harshly and takes off on him, and I think that bastard deserves it. By the way, we took good revenge on him as a child - we peed in a jar at night so that the urine would evaporate, poured it into a glass during the day, told him that it was lemonade, he started drinking...And you should have seen his face. He then whined about how he would go to work with the smell of urine in his mouth. Serves you right, moron. By the way, when my grandparents see him and his wife, that freak is still looking at me, which annoys me, and what happens when I don't expect it. Enrages. I'm 21 now, but I look 15, which is probably why. So, this is not the only case of harassment against me and not only. Let's start with my grandfather. Mom told me when I was little that he groped her when she was a teenager, but Grandma didn't do anything. I told my grandmother about it, to which she replied that my mother was lying. And oh, in vain, I believed my grandmother, because she was lying. Let's go back to 2016, when I was 14, my grandparents got drunk and were drunk. Grandma started asking Grandpa about his motives for molesting my mother. She asked, "Were you looking for diamonds or something?" Grandfather did not answer. I remember crying a lot then and praying to God that it would be better if my grandfather molested me and not my mother. I felt sorry for my mother. At the age of 13, he pressed on my underpants when I was passing by, groping for my gasket, and I started laughing, thinking that this was a game. But then I realized after a second that it was terrible. At the age of 15, he groped my breasts when he was drunk, I told my mother, to which she answered me aggressively - he was drunk. I didn't tell my grandmother. What's the point? At the age of 20, I fell and had a ligament rupture, in the morning I went on crutches to cook breakfast for myself. And he took advantage of this and ran his hand over my ass. It was a shame. Recently, he got drunk and tried to pull off my nightgown, but I didn't let him do it, he groped my chest. Then again when I was sober. I couldn't stand it, I told my grandmother, he doesn't touch me anymore. But Mom thinks it's temporary because she's been bullied by him all her life. I was groped by my former friends, with whom I no longer communicate. And oh damn, how I hate the feeling when my body freezes and I can't move. I justified them, saying they did a lot for me, like my grandfather once did, but thanks to psychology, I don't do it anymore, fuck them. 2021, I turned 20, I went to live with my boyfriend from abusive relatives. Everything was fine, but his father started acting strangely towards me, started seeing me as his daughter, but it went too far. He started with the "harmless" thing - climbing under my T-shirt in front of a guy and adjusting my bra. I decided to talk to him about it and tell him that I feel bad about it, that I don't blame his father, but something strange is happening. My boyfriend (thank God, the ex) started shouting at me -"My father is not like that", despite my calm voice and the offer to discuss everything with him calmly. Then my ex was taken to a mental hospital to check his psychological health before the army, his mother left for the village, and then it started. His father started demanding that I not wear a bra under my T-shirt because my nipples are deformed. And how will I feed his grandchildren then? Or else he would have taken off this bra himself, I had to take it off myself. In addition to the apartment, the older sister and her future husband also lived. And I found an excuse like I don't want his daughter's husband to see my nipples shining through synthetics. And he allowed me to wear a bra on such occasions. He also liked to braid my hair, call me Nyusya, like his daughter. Then it got even worse - he started giving me massages, and if I refused, he did it forcibly, and he also loved when I lay half-naked on my stomach, and when I refused, he justified himself - "you're like my daughter, don't be afraid of me." Once he pulled down my pants to see my naked ass, despite my protests. He was mad when I was sleeping naked under I didn't want him to see me. Even before my ex left for the mental hospital, he came into our room to take something when we were sleeping, and I was sleeping naked, and then he confessed that he had seen my penis. And he apologized for it. Since then, I've been sleeping under a blanket, but also because of his sister's haight that I sleep naked in my ex's room. And personal boundaries? Maybe I don't want to be seen naked? Why did I put up with it? I wanted to keep my toxic relationship with my ex, which I thought was perfect because he saved me from my abusive family, when in fact he did it to control me. I didn't want to go back to my family. Even during the move, I silently packed my things secretly, afraid that I would be discovered and ran away from home without saying anything. They called me for the first few days and asked angrily, "When will you be back?". I knew that no one from that family would believe me. And finally, after the words and screams of my ex, I began to think that I was crazy and exaggerating everything, and that such an attitude was normal, in short, for a moment I went crazy, until my friends returned my consciousness. Although, in fact, this is the very first reason. Then my ex's sister started being jealous of her father, that he started giving me a lot of money, that he called me by her nickname, she told my ex a lot of bad things about me, and so he dumped me. I also remember his angry words- "He never treated us the way he treated you." If you only knew how I had to, dude. I went back to my grandmother, told her everything, she did nothing, reproached me - "Why didn't you come back? Why did you put up with all this? Did you like it?". Back at the age of 21, I was diagnosed with depression and schizoaffective disorder, I don't have the strength to work, especially after the shit that happens in my life. I am constantly bullied for being lazy, bad, and not doing anything around the house. My grandfather said recently: "You're not human if you don't work. You're an animal. And animals can be beaten. What did she say? I'm going to knock your jaw out. I will kick you out of the house because you are not registered." In November, when my beloved cat died, he told me the next day: "Here you are not working and you will die soon, I will pay 1,500 rubles for the disposal of your corpse, as well as your cat." I just hate this scum, all the scum that messed up my psyche. If you've read this to the end, then thank you very much, from the bottom of my heart. And please, without negativity. I wish it was a simple dream. I want to write a book about my life in the future because living with such stories is killing me.

It was the mid-90's. I am not sure of the exact year or date, yet I am trying hard to figure this out. I have recently been trying to go back a fit the pieces together - I am told this is part of the healing, although I would prefer to just keep it tucked away - way back - in my head, so that I do not have to process it. Yet I want to move on from it. For years, I kept this to myself. I am a strong woman. I survived cancer at the age of 23. I traveled the world by myself - I moved to Australia by myself, I put myself through grad school - by myself. I got married, got divorced and then adopted and am now raising my daughter - by myself. But I am not someone who likes being alone. I am an extrovert. I love people. I love being n partnership with a man. I always thought I would build a family together with someone. But, here I am. It happened right after grad school. It was the early 90's and the job market was tight. I tried so hard to find a good job. I believed n myself. I had a Masters degree in international business from the top business school in the world. I came back to my hometown of Location and joined the international business committee at the Chamber of Commerce. It was there that I met Name. He offered to help me find a job in my field. He was a powerful man. He had been one of the founders of Organization. I was in my early 30's and he would have been probably in his 60's or 70's. He offered to meet for lunch, and said to meet him at his office near Street Address. I was excited to have someone of his caliber believing in in me and in my court. I wore my business suit and drove to his office. It seemed strange that it was a small older building. I parked and went inside the building. There was no one at the reception deck. In fact, the building seemed really quite - there seemed to be no one there. I say "Hello" and Name said to come on back to his office. I walked down a short hall to his office - which was a big office with his desk at the far end and in the middle of the room. I said hello, and we made some small talk, before we were going to head out to lunch. I was sitting in the guest chair on the other side of his desk. He got up to get his coat (I thought) but then I realized he had actually closed the door. I felt trapped. I was trapped. WTF! He came back towards me and told me he wanted to have sex with me. I was stunned. I did not know what to do. I was so confused. He walked towards me and started to touch me and leaned in to kiss me. I pushed him away and was able to somehow get around him. I ran for the door. I ran outside. I ran to my car and drove a block or two away. And I sat in my car for hours and cried - too paralyzed to move. I did not know what to do or who to tell. It would be my word against his. He was rich and super powerful. I was just starting my career. He could ruin me. No one would believe me. I told one or two friends at the time, yet I cannot recall which ones. I carried it with me, and stuffed the experience further down as time went on. Or so I thought - but I had a hard time trusting men. Then the Me Too movement happened and it all started to come back to me. I have struggled to fit the pieces of that day and time back together. Certain that he must have died by now, why speak up? Because it was so premeditated, so calculating, so intentional - I am certain I am not the only one who was the victim of his abuse - his sexual abuse, his manipulation, his abuse of power, abuse of trust, abuse of authority, etc. I want to expose him because the world needs to know what kind of man he was. And because my voice could give rise to other voices - it could empower other to come forward. It makes me so angry that this mans abuse has affected my life so much. Yet by sharing my story, I am further along in the healing process. And I hope that by speaking up - I help to create a slightly safer place for my daughter to grow up.

Betrayed When someone I trusted so much Took a part of me When I was living my best of life Breaking me beyond repair Forever changing me Altering me physically and mentally The pain I endured through the sleepless nights Linger even years later Indeed it has made me stronger person After years of struggle and perseverance But never would I want someone to walk in this path for strength

Praying for forgiveness of the other person and learning to not have a grudge against the perpetrator.

When I was 10, I went on a camping trip for my cousins 80th birthday. There were so many family members there and I remember it being freezing outside. I was in a camper with my dad on the pullout couch. My 40 year old cousin name in the back bedroom and his girlfriend was on the kitchen table that was made into a bed. I couldn’t sleep and my cousin name was up and he saw me shivering and told me to come to the back bedroom because it would be warmer there. I, of course, agreed because I felt safe with him and trusted him. Soon after laying down he started asking me if I was asleep. At first I responded, “No” but then I got tired of responding. Eventually he thought I was asleep and put his hand on my side before moving it under my sports bra. I remember this sports bra. It was a shitty Walmart shorts bra, grey in color, and it was one of the first bras I had ever worn. He turned me around and kissed me through my clenched teeth. I was begging to wake up from this nightmare. He stuck his hand down my pants. He got up and I remember hearing crinkling noise and looking back on it, he might have been opening a condom, but I didn’t know that. Once he got back into the bed, I pretended to wake up and got back on the couch with my dad. I remember laying there in shock with what just happened. I laid there eyes wide open and I couldn’t sleep. Eventually I told friends and family and I’m so thankful for how supportive they were of me.

I don't know what I am writing. But I need a place to write it. I was in a relationship that ended recently. Really, it's been a long time since I had a partner. But the words to end it were spoken more recently. I'm so confused. I am processing things that happened. The words that have been said over and over to me and by me are that it was a healthy relationship, he never wanted to hurt me, he supports me.  I wrote that, "I don’t want to do as much as we’ve done. I give in because partly I like it and partly I feel pressured to, and I’d do much less w/o the pressure. He doesn’t want to pressure me but he does. “Please” “Blue balls” “I really want it”, mimicking s~x with his hands… I feel like I have to give him something. He said he’ll wait but I know he’ll be frustrated and won’t like it. He said that’s okay. I don’t want to fuck. I feel so defective. I tried to be honest and he just got mad at me. I’m trying to open up and it backfires in my face. It just makes things worse. I should just shut up and take it or lie. It’s smoother. He says I can say no but won’t take it once. I don’t feel like I give mixed signals but to him I do. I guess I have to see the signals since I can’t feel them. I don’t mean to make him upset. Sometimes I feel like it’s him or me. I have to pick, submit to him or stay true to me. I’m not interested in sex, I don’t need it and on my own I wouldn’t do it much. "He's severely annoyed at me. Fuck. I don’t know what’s in my head and what isn’t. Yes, I know I’ve done stuff. I’ve done shit and been stressed and he’s felt pushed away at times. Do I react like this when he does the same? I try to take it, stay calm, not take it personally and ride it out. And I think I can usually do that and it works. But if I’m annoyed, he’s annoyed at me. Then when I’ve calmed down I wait for him to. Am I being that annoying and upsetting to him reasonably, or is he overreacting? Am I imagining that I usually stay calm or no? "I know he’s insecure about intelligence. But sometimes he puts in comments that put him up/put me down. I don’t say anything, I try to build him up, maybe because I try to build him up, it feels like he puts me down." For the most part, it was a healthy relationship. So why is my mind stuck on these things? Stuck on that I wanted to want sex, but almost never did. Stuck on that he said it was always okay to stop in the middle, he'd be frustrated but he's allowed to have feelings; when he said that I decided I would never ask to stop in the middle because I didn't want to deal with that frustration. Why is my mind stuck on him talking bad about my family and friends, and now that I'm on my own I'm less isolated and these relationships are going much better? It was a good relationship! So why do I feel terrible about some things? Why did it, in the end, did it start making me physically and mentally ill?