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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.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

Hello! I don't know how to go about this at all, but I know I need to put it out there. I am a lesbian over 21 years of age, and I experienced rape and sexual assault by my last lesbian partner. I apologize if this is long, but if anyone reads this, it's greatly appreciated! I met my ex last January, and we texted for about a month before we had our first date. the first date went well, nothing concerning. The second date, which was 2-3 days after our first one, was where it all started. I didn't mind that she kissed me first, but I got nervous when she told me she wanted to take it to the backseat. She started to grope me and to palm me through my clothing before eventually trying to get her hand in my jeans. I stopped her and told her I wasn't comfortable doing any of that yet. Her response was "Oh, but eventually you will want to, right?" and to that I said "yes, but not right now." She continued anyway. That's the moment I look back on and wish I had left. I stayed. Maybe a date or two pass without her doing anything concerning again before there's another incident. We are in her car outside her workplace for an event we chose to go to. There are people on the street. She starts making out with me, to which I feel icky about bc people can probably see us and it's not appropriate. This time she starts to palm me through my skirt again, and at this point I kind of don't remember much other than me saying that I was scared and nervous, and it doesn't seem safe, and her coercing me. Before I know it, she has her hand down my underwear and is raping me. we didn't go to the event. we left and she told me next time she could find a secluded place. she never did. and that's where it all started. over the next 5 months she would rape me in her car every single chance she could. every single time I told her I wasn't comfortable. I would wear tight underwear, but she would still do everything to do it. if she didn't, she would get mad and stonewall me. but there was never once where it wasn't attempted. the worst night was maybe a month after it all started. again, in her backseat. it was in a fairly public parking lot, she tried to cover the windows with clothes, but it was still obviously visible. she made me lay down and take off all my bottoms and completely spread open. it was so humiliating. she then proceeded to violently rape me so bad and painful I was crying and holding on my screams bc I didn't want to bring attention to the situation or possibly get in trouble. I told her I was comfortable and that I wanted to scream but she just threw a cloth over my face so I wouldn't focus on it. after I had to put my clothes back on and I ruined them. I was in pain for maybe up to a weel after or a bit more. now I wish I had gotten evidence of that night, but I have none. In total I think it happened around 14 times. the same care situations in public that I hated. during the relationship I was blinded to an extent, and I didn't realize it counted as rape until after we broke up. At first, I had accepted what happened but now I have a new partner. my new partner coincidentally works with my rapist ex. ever since finding that out I feel completely distraught and suffocated by what she did to me. Not only that. before finding out they worked together they sat next to each other and were becoming friends. so my ex told my current gf how I am a terrible person and that she's afraid of me. they don't speak anymore. I don't know I just feel suffocated by it all. she also has a new gf. I wish I could tell her new gf to be careful, but I'm scared. in my community there's so much stigma around rape and homosexuality. I don't think I could ever safely publicly come out with my story as much as I want to. she completely changed my life. it's like I don't know how to be myself anymore and I feel like I'm going insane.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

Number years since what happened to me. There has been so much pain and hurt. One of these men was constanty asking me to sleep with his friends but my answer was always no , never, not a chance , You see i found it so hard to accept what had happened because i had to much to drink . I do believe that something was put into my drink as i had no more to drink than what i normally would . I was a at party with these two people. I dont remember leaving the house but i do remember getting sick out of the taxi on the way home. Both of these animals took turns to have sex with me . I remember just lying there with no clothes on and been unable to move unable to fight them of . Both of them went outside and i remember the strong smell of cigarettes and could hear them both laughing . Shortly after both of them left and i lay there confussed , helpless and alone. I must have fallen asleep because i remember it was bright out and one of these men came back to the house. No accountability has been taken from either of these and this is what makes healing so hard for me. Im trying to take back my power but some days are just so hard. Both of these men took adavantage of my vunrability. Learning to tust myself and love myself is my main goal for now and knowing that i did nothing wrong,

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

"She thinks he assaulted her." That's what my best friend in high school said to another friend of ours when I told her how my date went the Saturday before. He was a star football player on our high school team and I didn't "talk" to a lot of guys. We were never official after a month of talking because of that night. He came over to my house to eat dinner with my parents we had hamburgers and then cheesecake. I remember what I was wearing. That's kind of how I started to realize that what happened wasn't right, I remember so much. We started to watch a movie in my living room, my mom was upstairs and my dad walked through the back hallway occasionally, but never through the living room. I was shy, so I was sitting on one end of the couch while he was on the other. He began to kiss me, I remember thinking what a bad kisser he was. He started to go further, and I told him not to put his hand up my shirt but he kept trying. I would move his hand away but he kept moving it back. My puppy jumped up on me, to this day I think she knew something was wrong with me and with him, and then he stopped. While he was stopped I texted my mom and told her I was ready for him to go home and she came downstairs and we drove him home. I told him not to leave hickeys on my neck and he did, I was so embarrassed and I felt so gross. I took a shower and just thought about how gross the whole situation felt, and the next day, instead of telling him how uncomfortable I felt, I told him I "didn't think our personalities meshed." Which was also true. I didn't tell anyone for years because I felt like what happened was so minuscule in comparison to other stories of assault and rape I had heard of, so I didn't tell anyone, especially after I told that one friend. Recently, the guy posted something on his social media about consent, and it made me so angry and triggered me in a way I didn't know was possible. I was so mad at him for making me feel how I feel, for potentially being the cause of my current difficulties with sex, and now posting something about consent? On one hand, I was glad he was more educated than when we were younger, but on the other hand I was so so mad he couldn't have learned sooner, and that he probably doesn't even realize what he did or how he made me feel. To this day I still feel like I'm being overdramatic and that what happened wasn't wrong, just how guys are.. but that doesn't match with how that moment made me feel and how it continues to affect me.

After spending a year being single on purpose, I had decided that I was finally ready to invest myself in a relationship. The very next morning, I opened my phone to see a message from someone on Facebook asking me out on a date. Apparently they were following my photography page on Instagram and we had a mutual Facebook friend, and they decided they would shoot their shot. From the very beginning they were extremely funny, our sense of humor seemed to mesh really well, and they were easy to chat with. We met at a pub, and it seemed to go pretty well for a first date. It ended up getting crashed by their coworkers, so it turned into some drinks and karaoke. My cheeks hurt from laughing, they seemed really outgoing which I appreciated and their coworkers said really great things about them. On the second date we talked for hours - I felt like I had known them my entire life. No nervousness, I felt seen and accepted right away for who I was, and it was comfortable. It was a dream come true, which is how it felt for the first few months of the relationship. They appeared to check all of my boxes: self aware, empathetic, honest, open-minded. We fell in love quite quickly. The early signs of psychological and emotional abuse started within the first 6 months, but I didn't recognize it as abuse at the time. They were extremely jealous and would often say very hurtful and derogatory things about me. I'd catch them in lies and then they would break up with me stating indifferences in morals, but then would return the next day with heartfelt apologies and promises to work on their insecurities. I believed them. Of course I did, because I excused this behavior as a result of their trauma, the stress they were enduring at work, they were drunk, etc. I thought I could love them through it, so we made plans to move in with each other. That was when the insults, gaslighting, stonewalling worsened - and new aspects developed. Now I was being criticized daily, punished if I didn't tell them where I was going before leaving the house, threatened to send emails to my boss or intimate photos to my family, and my things would be written on with permanent marker or urinated on. That was when the violence started. I didn't feel safe in my own home because my things would get smashed and broken regularly. Police came to the house twice and told me if they came a 3rd time, they would make an arrest, so I ensured they never got called again. However, if I tried to call someone else for support I would get chased, held down, grabbed so I couldn't make the call. I locked myself in the bathroom once and the door was kicked down. I didn't see that as abuse at the time though, because they never hit me. I was so lost in this disillusionment of "love" that I thought they just needed my support, I needed to be more compassionate, I needed to love them better, that's what they told me anyways. This was my fault and I had to fix it. All areas of my life had been threatened: my home, my job, my relationships with my family, my pets, my safety, my health. I became extremely depressed and lost in a state of dissociation. My family became aware of some things (I kept most of it secret until near the end of the relationship, but there was much I wasn't able to hide), and they told me they feared for my life. I didn't respond, as that thought had crossed my mind already many times before and it no longer evoked a reaction in me. I was completely dissociated by this time and I had accepted the possibility. One night while I was driving, they grabbed the steering wheel and steered us into the ditch. That was when the fears became a reality for me. I started safety planning with the hopes that we could still make the relationship work. The trauma bond was strong. One night they started drinking and things were escalating, so I left the house and went to my sister's. In the past I would stay to ensure the things I loved most didn't get destroyed, or I would leave and sleep in my car - but this time I chose to see my family. I started getting text after text all hours throughout the night with horrible things being said. They hinted that my new kitten had "escaped" from the house, and my family had me back at the house, kitten and bags packed, and out the door in 20 minutes. At this point my family had seen everything and there was no turning back. Ending the relationship was confusing, because I didn't feel like I consciously made the choice myself. My family drafted my messages to kick them out of the house. I accepted it, because I just felt so drained and defeated by that point, I had absolutely nothing left to give. We continued to talk for a few months and both discussed how we missed each other and wished things could work, but I knew I could never go back to that, I didn't have the strength. My heart hurt and I definitely grieved - on the floor sobbing - for months on end because I truly felt as though this was my person, this was someone who I thought knew me and saw me for who I truly was. But the truth was, they didn't know me. They didn't even know the color of my eyes after 2 years together. I eventually realized I was grieving a version of them that didn't exist. I was grieving the life I thought we could have, the future family, the relationship that I thought we could work towards. I also realized I was grieving myself. My self esteem was diminished, I felt a huge loss of identity, I couldn't make a decision to save my life, I was exhausted and irritable and angry. I didn't recognize myself for a very, very long time. I felt betrayed and manipulated, and there was a lot of shame towards myself as I felt it was my fault for not seeing the signs or for somehow finding a way to make it work, or for staying as long as I did. I felt like I couldn't trust my judgment anymore. It's been two years now, and I am finally feeling closer to my old self. I struggled for a year and a half with my grief and learning that what I had gone through was abuse. I experienced survivor's guilt, hypervigilance, nightmares, depression, and panic attacks for months. I would start to feel better with the support of my therapist and the domestic violence specialist that I was working with, and a new trigger would happen or another development in my story would occur and I would be back at square one. I felt like I had no hope in finding myself again. I missed the person I used to be and it seemed impossible to ever shake these feelings. But even when I felt the most stuck, I still pressed forward. Even if that meant just making it to work that day, then staying in bed for the rest of the weekend. Or eating a piece of toast before bed if nothing else. Or attending the therapy appointment even if I didn't have the words. There would be weeks of darkness, but then I would have one day where I would cry and felt a little bit lighter. I would visit my family and a genuine laugh would escape my lips. It took very, very small steps, but I do believe I am finally at a place where I am surrounded by the light. I know there is still so much more work to be done, but once I started allowing myself to feel the anger, feel the hurt, feel the pain without shaming myself for it, things started getting better. Keep going - after everything you have survived, I know you can survive this.

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

Healing is saying the secrets that you hid from the rest the world so you could get up, put up, and never give up. Healing is not lying to yourself anymore by saying, "Everything is fine." Healing is giving yourself the time to process the myriad of emotions that came flooding in when you finally left your abuser. Healing is forgiving yourself for the choices you made. Healing is not believing all the derogatory things you were called to control you and make you question your worth. Healing is telling yourself that you are strong enough to survive on your own, "You got this." Healing is taking responsibility for any pain or suffering you caused your child to endure because you were too afraid of what would happen if you tried to leave. Healing is finding gratitude in all that you do have. Healing is finding a way to help others that have experienced trauma bonds. Healing is knowing that you deserves to experience unconditional love... Healing is a journey that can help you appreciate living in the moment.

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

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

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.

Coercion, Abuse, and Feeling Alone in My Struggle I’ve been coerced into sex by someone who I thought was a mentor and a leader in human rights. He’s a researcher, a women’s rights defender, and runs a civil service organization. He approached me romantically and coerced me into sex, making me feel trapped and confused. We were in a relationship, but the whole time, I felt pressured and controlled. There were some times I was sick, intoxicated, or under his influence, and he used that to manipulate me. I initially resisted even his kiss,but it felt impossible to escape later days because of his repeated attempts and influences. Looking back, I now realize that what he did was wrong, but at the time, I didn’t understand it fully. What hurts the most is the disbelief and blame I’m facing from others, especially on social media. People don’t understand coercive control and rape, and it feels like no one believes me. He kept reaching out to me online, using me as a sex object, and I’m devastated by how he used me for his own purposes. I feel worthless, like I’ve lost my dignity and self-worth. The trauma, nightmares, and pain are overwhelming. I’m seeing a therapist almost every day to try to make sense of it, but it’s hard to cope when society and the connections he has make me feel so alone. I feel like no one understands what I went through. I don’t know if I can handle this trauma anymore. Advise me what I can do, or I am so tired of being hurt. … Please Name

I was abused by my mother. She was harsh with me, hitting me, calling me stupid, and saying I shouldn't have been born, making me feel like I had no value in life. My mother wasn't just a scary person; she was kind to my younger brother Name , so she could be kind to him too. I met my current husband at University , got married, and had children. I was overwhelmed with anxiety that I might do the same things to my own children as my mother did, and I cried to my husband many times about it. My husband suggested I talk to a counselor, and I am now attending counseling sessions. I always thought that my mother's harshness was my fault, but now I realize that it's not entirely my fault, and talking to someone about the words and actions of my mother that I had kept hidden until now has lightened my burden. I hope that sharing this here will bring some comfort to others. Thank you for reading this.

Im still trying to heal through all of my issues, I stay isolated and quiet and find it hard to make friends sometimes. my story started years ago as a lil boy my my older cousin always kept touching on me and laughed it off until he took me upstairs and told me how good it would feel to me. I later cried and told family in front of him he laughed and they laughed but at least it stopped . other cousins would tell what happened to me to there friends making it awkward to be around people. but with time people forgot. fast forward 3 or so years i'm nine at least I think ,and my older female cousin tells me im pretty I should stop being shy she would show me how to have sex and be a ladies man. well she did but it didn't end there her and a friend of hers set me up with a girl my age and watched me have sex a few times with her until I got old enough to stay home by myself . today I much older but very hyper sexual and long story short my past has caused a lot of my problems. it feels good to finally tell somebody.