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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.

At the age of 7, I was sexually abused by my school bus driver on my way home from school. As I grew older, I realized that I didn't remember most of the things correctly, and even forgot some parts. I didn't get psychological support from a professional and I grew up as a child who was very sensitive to physical touch. I had thoughts of self-harm many times when I was younger, but I never could. I'm now 19 years old and traveling the world while studying abroad. I love myself, my friends and my family. As someone who grew up thinking that I was never fully understood, I would like to remind you that you are not alone and that this life is worth living by finding the good in you, no matter how much negative trauma you have experienced. Whoever reads this has clicked on this page for a reason, first of all, love yourself and remember that I am always there for you.

I was in a relationship when I was 15. He was older than me. He pressured me to do things I didn’t want to. One day he pushed me against a wall after I told him I had to go home and he started to take of my pants and do things to me while I tried get out of there. Unfortunately he was much (physically) stronger than me. He would also hurt me physically. He choked me once (not in a sexual way, he actually wanted to hurt me)

I was thirteen. He was my boyfriend. I never thought of it as a form of sexual assault because most of it was online, I blamed myself because I felt as though in the end I was the person in control and no one else could have been blamed. He would force me to touch myself, I was thirteen; I was not ready. It was ongoing for two years. It continuously got worse. I never understood how to deal with it. He had convinced me that he was the only person who cared about me, no one else would want me or even love me. It was a traumatic experience.

Hi I am 22 year old woman two years ago I finally admitted to myself that I am a childhood sexual abuse survivor… I finally spoke up and told my parents thank God they believe me they care for me. When I was 11 years old my 17 year old brother molested me a couple times not just once not just twice but I remember he molested me for a while in 2011. He performed oral on me and made me grind on his lap… I was an innocent little girl I didn’t know what was going on my parents always warned me of abuse but it wasn’t a stranger abusing me it was my own brother… I was very confused deep down I knew it was wrong deep down it didn’t feel right but my body said otherwise and it made me feel ashamed and guilt. He never forced me he wasn’t aggressive never used violence on me but he did groom me. We weren’t raised together my parents had to immigrate to the United States (personal reasons) my siblings had to stay with my grandparents, aunt and uncles (from my father’s side). I always felt lonely I’ve always wanted a big family I wanted a good relationship with my siblings so I tried my best to get close to them but my brother took advantage of my vulnerability. He manipulated me he gained my trust and abused me now that I am older I’ve realized how sick he was he used to tell me to sleep in his room all the time… the signs were always there but I was a very innocent child. Two years ago I had to confront myself and accept that I was sexually abused… my brother wanted to visit my parents I got really scared so I opened up to my parents. They believe me and they’re on my side it feels nice knowing they support me but ever since then I’ve been dealing with this repressed trauma and feelings this is my story.

Trigger warning for discussion of COCSA. I am a victim on child-on-child sexual assault. I think it's important that I share my story because so many people still tell me that what I went through is not valid just because we were both children. She was even a slight bit younger than me. I know other people have heard the same thing. You aren't alone, and your experiences are valid. I was eleven when it happened. We had been friends since we were six, but she never really liked me, and she controlled everything I did. I practically devoted my life to her. When we were ten she started to abuse me physically and mentally. I hear often that she was just "playing around". That a child would "never do that!" She would. And she learned how from true crime stories online. She used it to get her way. And after a year of so much escalation, she started abusing me sexually. Despite being months younger than me and smaller than me, she was smart and cunning and manipulative, and she took advantage of my love for her and my lack of social awareness due to my autism. And it went on for months. Going to her house for sleepovers was something I dreaded because it brought me the worst discomfort and the worst nights of my life. After years of enduring this abuse, I was mentally and physically drained. I finally realized that if I didn't find a way to escape from her I would die. And it took a while, but I made it out of her grasps eventually. I won't lie, the experience has had lasting effects on my mental wellbeing, but I think I've healed tremendously. There are still steps I need to take, but I'm heading in the right direction, surrounding myself with people who truly care about me. People who have gone through things themselves, that understand me. If you have taken the time to read my story, I thank you. Listening ears are one step closer to recovery. To anyone reading this, you are valued. You aren't alone in what you have gone through, and your feelings and experiences are valid. To anyone who has gone through anything similar to me, I am wishing the best for you 🫶 Thank you all for taking the time to read this.

I never liked yoga. It was hard, it hurt, and I especially hated the woman who forced me to do it. Ah, stepmothers. As if my own father wasn’t shitty enough. As if he hadn’t already tried to kill me when I was 7. As if he hadn’t done enough to traumatise me, he goes ahead and marries her. She was obsessed with natural healing. She came from old money, and was an ‘earth healer’ as a full time job. She believed in meditation, yoga, essential oils. So when I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and a few other things at age 9, she decided she was going to fix me. Thus began the weekly yoga classes. I went to each of them. I only faked being sick once or twice… or seven times. I hated it. It hurt, my body would pop and hurt and do everything it wasn’t supposed to. So she decided to start yoga classes at home. She decided to train me to be good at yoga. Meaning, she decided to get me in tights and no shirt, despite my eating disorder and gender dysphoria, and she decided to get her hands on as much of my body as she could. No one believed me, of course. No, I was just an attention seeking little ‘girl’, who hated his stepmom and was being brainwashed into thinking he was mentally ill (yes, they actually said this). I gained my father’s attention for it one time, and one time only. I must have been 12 or 13. This had been going on for years. At the time, they had implemented a strict diet and exercise regime, meaning I was severely underweight and couldn’t stand up without feeling faint. I’m currently in the process of being diagnosed with EDS. Just to give you an idea of how particularly bad that is. Anyway, I finally gained my father’s attention, because I kicked her. In the stomach. She was pregnant. “Why did you do that?” He asked. He was being surprisingly calm. I should have noticed. “Because she was trying to touch me, and I didn’t want her to.” I replied. Not long after, they dumped me on my mother’s doorstep and told everyone else in the family that my mother was a psycho bitch who tried to keep me from them. I feel disgusting.

I don’t know where to begin but all these triggers come up so many And each one seems to lean back to the very first time that I can remember where my autonomy was taken from me I was 11. I can even remember what I was wearing. There was a man in his late 20s. He passed away last summer and I was glad that he wasn’t here anymore. I’m 47 now and it’s still bothers me just as much as it did back then and maybe it’s because I didn’t have support. I was in the backseat of the car and my two sisters were on either side of me. They were younger I’m the oldest my mom wasn’t in the car yet and the man he was drunk. He had a beer in his hand and he reached, he turned around and he he put his hand inside of me and I can remember it felt so heavy I couldn’t get it out. I had on white shorts a few minutes later my mom got in the car. I remember her sunglasses they’re so big. I always thought they were ugly to wear them all the time I called out Mama and she said what she didn’t even turn around to look and I think I said tell him to stop and she started to laugh and she looked at him and he looked at her and she said I hope you never get a boyfriend and they smiled at each other and he took his hand out. Although I was married for 30 years, which my mom introduced me to him when I was 14, I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a relationship not one where it was my choice. I’m 47 and I haven’t been in a Relationship. I suppose now it’s like nothing was ever my choice right so it’s almost like there’s a clean slate. And All these triggers like they go back to this one incident there’s so many other memories and so many other things that have happened to me honestly, there’s things that have happened to me that are worse but it’s like this one and I think it’s because I was only 11 and my mom was right there and shouldn’t help me And I became this person that would just figure it all out herself, but the thing is I can’t and I need help and I don’t even know how to accept it let alone get it and I’ve been going to therapy for over a year and this memory is just as active right now that as it was When I started going to therapy and it’s because I haven’t actually talked about it in therapy. The first therapist I had was an experienced and so I had to find a new therapist and although I’ve been to EMDR and we processed it all the way through where it felt like it wasn’t as intense and it still is, but it’s more than just what happened. There’s defined me. It literally made me who I became I got married when I was 17 and I didn’t wanna get married. My dad made me and I didn’t think I had a choice and I don’t even know why I got married Other than that. My whole life has been a series of what everybody else wanted or whatever everybody else was doing or needed or was pushing or forcing me to do not my choice And when I finally able to make my own choices, it’s like nothing is coming together in the way that I want it to because I’m afraid I’m so afraid that I’ll get hurt. This may be the first time that I have talked about this because I chose to.

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.

i cant really remember when it all "started" i was 6 or 7 i believe it lasted until i was 8 but he was still doing creepy shit until i was 9 or 10 one night he asked me what sex was im not sure what i said but i think i kinda knew what it was but didnt really know he asked to have sex i didnt know what to do i think i "contented" this time i was anxious the entire time i wanted him to stop i would tell him to quit and that i hear someone and he wouldnt stop after that it continued i dont remember the order or anything it happened i dont remember it really but he would use code words such as "wanna watch funny mine craft videos" i would try to convince him to watch ACTUAL funny minecraft videos but he wanted to watch porn or "have sex" i never would say yes when he would as for sex right away it usually was him begging me or manipulating or sometimes forcing himself on to me. he would say "you never wanna do what i wanna do", mock me, ask over and over again, or if i was sitting infront of him he would stick his private into the back of my pants. i remember oncs i kept saying stop and no when i was playing minecraft on his xbox and he kept sticking his yknow down my pants. he raped me one time. he usually just sexually assualted me (rubbed my private, grabbed boobs, did the whole sticking his private down my pants thing) but this time he begged and said since he touched my private (i didnt want him too) that i had to do stuff to him i told him no but he said i had to and its not fair shit like that yknow. he made me give him head basically. after that i put an "end" to it by threatening to tell if he asks me again. he acted all depressed. i felt guilty like i was doing something wrong. that wasnt the only reason why i felt so guilty. my dad passed away around that time and i thought he was watchkng over and hated me for what my cousin was doing for me because i thought i was "having sex" when i was pretty much sa the entire time. he still managed to do creepy things to me after. like holding me down and pressing his private aganist mine saying its "a game", writing this is making me grossed out i dont wanna think about this anymore i just need someone to actually listen to my story even though i dont havr all the details or good memory of what happened to me.

I'm a 19-year-old Filipina girl from city in the Philippines. My father raped me when I was 11 years old. It lasted for over three years. When I was 13 years old and had my first period, he stopped. He works as a seafarer, and when he comes home, I always feel scared and intimidated. I didn't want to tell my mother because she would either not believe me or launch a lawsuit against my father, and since he is our family's breadwinner, we would struggle to live. For years, our mother also verbally and physically mistreated us, even taunting to kill us out of rage. That, they claim, is their method of discipline. I am the eldest of four sisters, and for years I remained silent and faced the trauma alone. My 14-year-old sister, who came after me, just revealed that our father attempted to rape her as well. I suppose she was stronger than me because she taunted our father, threatening to tell our mother. My father then came to a halt. Aside from that, our father would regularly make jokes or say things about us that had sexual innuendos in front of my mother or even in front of guests. They think it's a joke and would join in the laughter. For my sister and myself, it irritates us that he appears unconcerned about what he did to us. An occurrence earlier this year prompted us to tell our mother about what our father had done to us on the spur of the moment. We assumed she'd understand, but it turns out she blamed us for what happened. She was enraged with our father, but much more so with us, since she feels betrayed that we didn't inform her after all these years. My mother had heart complications, and the news made her body so weak that we were afraid she would die. Our father, who appeared remorseful, pleaded for forgiveness, and because I was also concerned about my mother, I accepted his apologies right away. My parents appeared to be back to normal a few days afterwards, as if nothing had occurred. It appeared to be brushed off their shoulders until today. They kept up their dictatorial, condescending, and destructive parenting styles. My sisters and I have been through a lot in our family, and we don't seem to have a choice about it. I want to seek for help, but I'm afraid it will destabilize our family, and our parents also wanted us to remain silent. I still can't get it out of my head, and I'm finding it difficult to cope with every day. I had regular suicide ideations, but I couldn't even bring myself to seek professional aid.

No matter what your abuser says, it isn't your fault. You are braver than you think and stronger than you know. Your truth is THE truth, and your voice matters. My abuser would gaslight me constantly to where I was no longer certain of what had actually happened in a given situation. He emotionally, verbally and psychologically abused me yet claimed it was all my fault. After I ended our engagement and finally left him for good, he put an AirTag on my car and used it to track my location and stalk me. According to him, this was also my fault. He was convinced I was cheating on him - something I never did and would never do. I got an Order of Protection against him, and we went to court multiple times. It was the worst time in my entire life, but I survived. Two years later, I've moved across the country, started my own business and rebuilt my life. You aren't alone. Even if you feel like it, you have the strength of the survivors who've gone before you that will carry you through your darkest days. We stand by you and with you. It ends with us.

° Hard Candy° Does it get better ?. She asked me , little golden eyes filled with tears hands pressed so hard against her reddened cheeks I could hardly hear the words pouring out of that little 8 year Olds mouth. I took a long pause before I decided my next approach.. You see She this child resembled a frightened mouse, Cautiously pressed back into what must of been the safety of her room blended underneath a blanket,. Her body was so small you could barley see the tiny frame. Frozen in place. Instinctively I wanted to give this child space but as a adult. I needed to comfort this child. Or was it I who needed comfort after seeing how badly damaged she was emotionally and mentally?. I haven't decided. It took a while Don't get me wrong not only does seeing a child in any form of distress unsettle the soul,. But regaining their trust is a challenge in itself. There was no door in this child's room so I wanted to be respectful,. Taking my time with this one,. Each step polite and over apologetic,. I stepped over the forgotten toys that had collected dust from previous visitation,. I can still smell The hard candy melted to the oak dress from the summers heat,. Slowly I unraveled this child and moved her hair out of her face. Millions of little freckles covered almost every inch. Hazel eyes stared at me, strawberry blonde hair and a pale complexity, but there was so much more to it. curiosity and fear looked back. Where was the love for this child?. I touched her face slowly. And whispered. Yes sweetheart. It sure does. We are grown now. We are safe now. We will always be safe. Because I will always protect you The inner child in myself smiled and hugged me tight. Thankyou she whispered. You're welcome sweetheart . ♡ Initials

When I was younger, my cousin used to play “house” or “doctor” with me and he would also make me watch pornographic content with him and overtime, I would do the same too. Growing up, im still very close to him and we tell each other every single thought we have, but recently I’ve been thinking about it a lot and i just told my sister before writing this. I do not want to tell my parents or authorities because I do not wish to ruin his life. What should my next step be?

My first time was sexual assault by a stranger. I have done a lot of work since then and recovered. It's been years since then and more recently I had a crush on a friend of mine. I ended up back at his house a month ago and I told him I don't want to have sex with him. Throughout the night he continued to try, degrade me and make me feel bad for not having sex with him. I am confused because each time I said stop I don't want to have sex he would keep stopping and say he respected that. But then we would start kissing later and he would try again. After trying a few times I got angry and said why do you keep trying after I've said no so many times. He said "what do you expect I am going to do when you're on top of me like that". I later had sex with him because I felt so guilty and I believed what he was saying. I feel sick and stupid about it. I have avoided seeing him. Recently someone we mutually know passed away and I have had to see him again. I avoided him and then I felt so guilty for avoiding him. I feel bad for him and I don't want him to feel bad. I don't like that I care so much about how he feels but a part of me thinks he just did not realise what he was doing and that it was wrong to keep trying after I'd said no. I don't know how to deal with this as I keep fluctuating between hating him and getting angry at those around me being nice to him and wanting to be nice to him myself.

Grandma’s house I don't Think anyone really Knows how long It really Went On. I don't remember how old I was when it started either. I don't really know the age I was when any of It happened. I tried to block out most of it. I was young we lived in a little blue house. Grandpa would babysit me and my older brother Name. Because mom worked Before School and didn't come home till 5, we would go up the hill to grandma's house before and after school. Grandma was a nurse, So She was gone at the Same time as mom was, so grandpa watched us. Grandpa would go Outside to work or fall asleep on the couch leaving me and Name alone. It started all of a Sudden Name would take me into a room where he could close the door. I remember the first time he pulled me into my grandparent’s room he pulled down his pants then he made me touch “it”. I was crying because I knew I wasn't supposed to even be looking at It, it’s a boy's private part. It just got worse from there. At that time grandma had a door in her laundry room and that’s where we would play school because the chalkboard was there. Name would close the door, and make me lay on my stomach and he would pull my pants down around my Knees. He would put his hand on my mouth so grandpa couldn’t hear me cry. The day grandma replaced the door with a swinging door was one of the best days of my life. He found other places though; it was a constant struggle. I was so young The Yellow house It only stopped for a little bit. We moved to the yellow house and mom got a new job. She worked a night Job and my Stepdad worked days so there was a 2.hr period where Name and I would be alone. It was the same thing almost every day. I would find every excuse in the book to make him stop “I was sick, my head hurt”. They never worked. He would tell me don't tell mom she will be so upset and I'll have to hurt you". I didn’t like to upset Mom, and I definitely didn't want to be hit. I Can Say I was in 5th grade when This was happening at this point It was whenever and wherever he could get me alone. One time it was across the Street from The elevator in a little clearing. one time when we were up at grandma’s house I think it was a holiday. We were playing outside. We were allowed to run around town, it was a small town. He tried to get me alone, but I remembered that church doors are always unlocked. I ran to the church. I then realized all that would do was make it so he could really get me alone so I ran out the side door and back up to grandma's house he caught me I was already full-blown tears by now. He told me to tell mom that I had fallen and that’s why I was crying, so that’s what I did. My world changed one morning, he and I were alone again and he was getting ready to start. He had my pants pulled down when grandma just happened to walk in. I instantly started crying. I couldn’t tell you if it was because I was scared of what she would do or what he would do or even the fact now someone knew, maybe it was a cry of relief. She told me to grab a blanket and go to the car. We went up to her house where I sat on the couch and cried while she called my mom who was on her way home. She got there and grandpa called saying Name was up in his room threatening to kill himself. Mom ended up calling 911. She brought me school clothes and my bookbag. The bus pulled up in front of the house where there were flashing cop lights. Everyone put that and the fact that Name hadn’t gotten on the bus together. They kept asking what happened and I said nothing. The bus driver asked if everything was alright, and I just cried. Mom picked me up early because we had to go to Omaha where they were admitting Name. That day I was asked so many questions I can’t remember them, but I can tell you I lied, I just wanted it all to be over with. I didn’t want them to tear my family apart. They still did, I had to move in with my grandparents and we had to have weekly therapy sessions. After a while they were able to move on, I was able to move back in and life went on. I never got to move on. I pretended everything was okay. Nothing was ok. I was afraid to be alone with any guy older than me. I thought there must be something wrong with me, why me? As I get older I regret not telling the truth. Maybe things would be different. Maybe it would have stopped what came next. Brick house Years later, I was in high school. I would say life was good, but I'd be lying. I was suffering from what I could only blame on depression. I hated the way I looked. I hated everything about myself. I didn’t want to do homework. Hell, I didn’t want to go to school. There were really bad days that I didn’t want to be alive. I used to self-harm. My wrist and thighs were the most popular spots. I wore tons of bracelets to cover the marks. Witch, sometimes they would chafe my arms and hurt, so they served two purposes. I was still afraid we were older and he always had a girlfriend but I hated being alone with him. Mom was with a different guy, he had two kids who were both younger than me. The most important part of that is the youngest one was a daughter. He didn't know of Name’s or my past. He should have been told we should have protected her. Everyone thought he was fine but no one really knew. They thought Name was over all that stuff but they were so wrong. I always thought it would happen again to me but I was wrong. One night mom was working the night shift and the stepdad was as well. I was laying in bed when all of a sudden I heard my little sister crying. I went out to the living room where I found him on top of her. I grabbed her and brought her to my room where I locked the door. We lied in bed and cried together. I told her everything would be ok, I would tell Mom in the morning but don’t tell anyone else till we get things figured out. She fell asleep and I cried. I was holding the only other person who knew exactly what I was going through. That morning when mom got home I went right to her. She told me she would take care of it and that my little sister was to sleep in my room from now on. It was weeks before anything happened. My little sister was only at our house on the weekends; she lived with her mom the rest of the week so we only had to worry on the weekends. The day my whole life changed for a second time. I went to school just like I did every day. My first class was small engines, I remember the secretary walking up to me and telling me to grab my stuff because there was a family emergency and my mom was there to pick me up. I grabbed my stuff and walked out the door trying to figure out why she didn’t call my phone. I looked down and my arms were covered in grease. I got to the car where both my mom and stepdad were with my little brother. I got in and was informed Name had been arrested, apparently, my little sister told her mom who reported it to the police. We had to go to the police station to talk to the cops. We got there and my mom went in a little bit later they called me in and I told them what happened that night I brought her into my room. We were there for 2 hrs or more when my mom came out crying. She handed me her stuff and told me she loved me. They were arresting her for not reporting it. So both my mom and big brother were going to jail. My stepdad took us to the car when he got in. He was on the phone with my grandma telling her what had happened. The whole way home he was apologizing telling me he was sorry but he couldn’t stay what I hadn’t realized till he dropped me off at grandma's was he was packing up and leaving taking his kids and leaving me all alone. I might have had the rest of my family but not my parents or siblings I was by myself. I hated him for that hell I still do. I understand why he left but who just takes off like that. My Own House Now that it’s years later I don’t see the stepdad or his kids at all and Name is still in jail. A lot has changed. I am slowly learning to love myself for who I am. I got married and live in my own house with no bad memories in it, only good ones. I am working on loving my life, and It mostly gets better, but it's not right away, or all at once but I'm trying to sort through everything that happened so my life can move forward. But as I've gotten older I realized that so much more needs to happen. I need to be able to tell my story not lie. I need to do things for my benefit, Not everyone else's. I know I have so many people who will support me and stand behind me. This has been a long journey, but maybe someday I will not have to worry so much.

I met him when I was 4. We became friends quickly and so did our families ; my parents gave his family a voucher for him to join the same out of school sports group and it stayed like that for a good ten years . By this time we had gone to different secondary schools however we still saw each other at sports clubs once a week. Eventually we both quit and I began going to his house instead; soon we began dating. The communication between the two of us was terrible as expected at such a young age which led to lines being crossed. One of these lines was consent. I said no and expressed that I didn’t want to multiple times yet it was ignored and laughed off; he told me he wouldn’t talk to me if I didn’t and even set a timer for how long it would last saying it would only be quick. I went home and cried . It wasn’t a cry I’d experienced before- it’s truly indescribable. Despite this I remained with him however tried my very best to avoid anything similar occurring again. This didn’t work as it occurred I’d estimate another 3 times. You’d maybe wonder why I stayed with him; the simple answer is that I liked him and couldn’t comprehend what was happening to me. We eventually broke up for somewhat unrelated reasons and two years on i’m still dealing with the sexual trauma. For a while I questioned whether I was asexual however I came to the conclusion I wasn’t and instead I am simply sexually repulsed. He was the first person I was with and it has completely ruined my view on sex and intimacy. If someone else with a similar experience is reading this I read some advice this morning which helped me: Rape is not a form of sex. It is a form of assault. Sex feels good. Assault is traumatising.

My ex was my first boyfriend and at that time, I was only 14 yrs old. I was not ready to have sex, but felt pressured to give in and I did. From then on, he was persistent about having sex whenever he wanted. I would tell him no, but he never took that for an answer. He continued to try and pester until and he wouldn’t stop until I would give in because I wanted him to leave me alone. It always made me feel used and unhappy with myself afterwards. One time, during sex I asked him to stop because it was hurting and he told me to wait until he was done. I never yelled no and he never got violent with me so I never knew that what he was doing was actually wrong. I knew I resented him not listening to me, but I didn’t know it was wrong. It’s hard to explain. If I ever stuck ti my guns and refused to have sex with him, he would ignore me and act as though I didn’t exist. He never admitted he was mad about me not giving him sex, but it was obvious he was. That made me feel guilty and sad. I felt like I had to have sex with him in order for him to be happy in our relationship. It’s something that has always stayed with me and though, we broke up years ago, it’s something I never truly got over. And honestly, I can’t say I’ve ever had a man make me feel that my choice to not have sex was really ok. I’ve always felt pressured or not heard and because of that, I don’t love myself or value enough.

It happened years ago. I was 10. He was 13. He told me it would be our secret game. He said that if I told anyone he would say it was my idea and I would be the one to get into trouble. I never told anyone and I did my best to pretend it never happened. I repressed it for years and always thought it would be a secret I took to my grave. For so long I haven't even been able to admit to myself what happened. I often wondered if I had made it up or if I was exaggerating things. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought, maybe I'm not remembering it properly, maybe I did something to deserve it. But I know now that's not the case. I trusted him. He was my friend. I was sexually abused. I was raped. More than once. That's the first time I've been able to properly admit that to myself. I don't know why it's come back to haunt me all these years later. I thought I had moved on. But recently I'll have these episodes that come from nowhere where I just feel so sad and empty. I don't know why I can be fine one minute and sobbing on the floor the next. Or why I sometimes still see his face when I close my eyes or why it's the first thing I think about when I wake up. I thought if ignored these, pushed them back they'd disappear. I had never truely forgotten what had happened to me. Sometimes there would be something that would remind me or trigger a flashback but overall I was doing ok. I was happy and making progress. I don't want to be defined as a victim or someone who is weak. But sometimes I look in the mirror and I still see that scared 10 year old girl. Sometimes I feel dirty and ashamed. Embarrassed and like I should have done more to stop it. I thought if I pretended it didn't happen I would be able to move on with my life. I know it's affected me. How the thought of sex sometimes makes me want to vomit, why I freak out if someone grabs me out of nowhere and why I can't stand having a hand over my mouth, even if it's a joke. But I know to heal I have to start by admitting what happened to me. I can't let it damage me anymore than it already has. And I refuse to let it damage my relationships with others. I want to take steps to move forward. I won't let it rule my life or define me. He has taken so much from me. I know there's no proof. It'll always be my word against his. And all these years on I don't want to report it or risk any of my family finding out. But I just want to be able to properly trust people again. To not sometimes flinch away when someone goes to touch me. To be ok with being vulnerable. To feel safe again. Posting this is my first step to being okay again. It feels good to be able to say what happened with no judgement. To know that this is anonymous and I could be anyone in a sea of faces. I want to gain the strength to be able to talk about it. To be able to tell my friends what happened and not feel like I'm keeping something from them or being dishonest. I know that one day I will get there. No matter how long it takes.

When I was five years old, I was repeatedly molested by another student at my school. I am in my twenties now, and these memories have slowly been returning over time. Although many aspects of the time are hazy, I can still remember vividly the sensation of his hands on me. He would corner me and get me alone so he could force his hands under my clothing and underwear, groping me for several minutes at a time. If I resisted, he would hurt me by pinching, kicking, etc. There was at least one other boy involved who would help in cornering me. I was five and didn't understand the extent of what was going on but felt so shameful about it. At one point I mustered the courage to tell my mom who screamed and then never mentioned it again. Since I was five, I have suffered anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, an eating disorder, psychogenic non-epileptic seizures, night terrors, and an autoimmune disorder with symptoms like alopecia, rashes, and weight loss. I do not know to what extent these health issues have been a consequence of my assault as I have only just come to terms with what happened. I have long considered myself asexual, but starting a serious relationship has had me re-grappling my sexuality and fears of intimacy. I am so ready to heal but also feel so afraid. I can't imagine life without this fear and shame.