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I met name on Tinder at the end of February 2022. A week later I went over to his to talk but he kept making requests for me to perform oral sex on him I kept telling him I wasn't ready and I haven't done it before. When I stopped during it he slapped me across my face and got angry because he said "once you start you can't stop". I was traumatised when he orgasmed into my mouth and I couldn't process what just happened. He then said he didn't believe me when I said NO and that I shouldn't use the word rape because his neighbours could hear and he could get arrested. He showed no remorse and that made me feel even worse so I ended up apologising to him. The following time we met at his apartment we were cuddling and he kept asking for oral sex and said "just do it and get it over with because I am not gonna stop... you're making it difficult". The more times I said NO the angrier his voice got, and he said " you should want to make me feel good... do it or get the **** away from me". He would also threaten to throw me out of his apartment past midnight and I was too scared to walk home that time. I would usually end up following his demands even though I felt my boundaries being violated each time, worse of all when I told him how he made me felt he would say "I don't give a **** and **** off". When it came to sex I felt pressurised to say Yes and when I came to his apartment I told him I wasn't ready. At first he tried taking off my clothes, I was scared and he said " let it happen" I kept saying NO even with all my clothes off. He got really frustrated because I wanted to put my clothes back on and so he said " if you're not gonna **** me get the **** out... if you're not gonna **** me then why did you act like you were". I wanted to cry but instead I apologised. When we first started to have sex it was way too painful for me I kept bleeding and telling name I'm in pain, can we stop please? repeatedly. He would either say NO when I moved away from him, he kept getting angry and said " stop saying that it's not stimulating for me". I kept saying NO to which he replied "I don't care, I just wanna have sex." From that I remember seeing blood drip down to my legs. One time I tried moving away from him during sex so he slapped my face, hit my back and said "I nearly got it in" in frustration. I fell onto the bed. Following things he would say was that I am working against him during sex because I wasn't letting him properly penetrate me, " You should enjoy it, other girls would enjoy it... you don't even like sex".

When I was 15 I met this boy from one of my local schools. We formed a good friendship and he urged me to open up to him as he was “someone I should trust” I was struggling with my family situation and he knew I had weak family bonds. This boy lovebombed me told me I was pretty and things like that. He met me one day and took me into a woodland. He grabbed my face and started kissing me. He also ate my tits and then started fingering me. It hurt me a lot he just went those places without asking. It killed me as I was left with no one to talk to, he blocked me on everything showing he used me. It’s a memory that I can’t forget as it has emotionally damaged me. I feel like I can never trust a man again that was someone who I thought was my friend and he used me.

I recently broke up with my girlfriend who’s been my best friend for around 11 years and we still have sleepovers frequently and the other day I was half asleep and she kept telling me I was too tired and I needed to go to sleep soon and when I gave in and I was falling asleep she asked me for a kiss and in my sleepy state I said yes forgetting we had broken up and so we kisses not a peck it was quite a long kiss no tounge..? I don’t know how to feel because I didn’t even remember it happened until the next afternoon and I told her it made me uncomfy and she said sorry I just needed something and “I didn’t think u were tired enough to not give consent”?? I don’t know does this count as a form of sa? It felt like it..?

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

I'm not sure where to start. I feel like it was my fault. I should have tried harder, ignored more, never gone when he called.. but I didn't and then this happened. I am still coming to terms with it. It happened two days ago. He is my friend's husband. He knows I have an emotionally and sometimes physically abusive husband. He knows and he and his wife, one of my best friends, the godmother of my second, have tried to help. They both came over to the country where I live. Their oldest, whom I adore like my own, is at university here. My friends went back. He texted, asking if I wanted to meet up because my friend had been ill and we couldn't meet this time. I said sure. We had done this a thousand times before. We were very very close friends. We had gone on trips together since the children were 2 and a bit..we were practically family. We hung out, went to each other's houses, spent time together with our families, went to meals alone or with each other's families it was all normal. He had always some across as someone who teased a little, said the odd inappropriate thing, even in front of my friend, his wife and over the 20+ years I had known him, this was just dismissed as part of who he is, we rolled our eyes, raised our eyebrows, laughed a little and carried on. It was never anything else. Until two days ago. His wife had gone back home last week. He was still here. He asked me to come over, we could go to lunch before he went back, I said sure. He then said he was "excited" to see me. I ignored it and in my head just dismissed it as him being silly. He said he would meet me at the train station. When I got there he had some bags, he asked if I minded leaving them at home before lunch. I shrugged, it was at that point totally normal. He lived 5 minutes away by cab, I had been to to the house a zillion times, I was stupid. I got in to the cab and when we went over, he said, let me leave this and come down, he went up stairs. He was dressed up...very well. I was in a hoodie and jeans. I laughed and asked what on earth he was dressed up for. He looked at me and suddenly said, you look good, have you been working out. I laughed..I looked far from good. I am now 48 and years of emotional and physical trauma have taken their toll. I had not coloured my hair, I had lost some weight but I still felt that after two children, I was fat, flabby and ugly. I was cold. He asked me if I wanted a drink. I had some water. It was mid morning. He turned up the heating and asked if we should order in. I said yes because it was so cold outside and I couldn't be bothered going out again...this again, was normal. I kicked my shoes off and crossed my legs under me on the sofa warming my hands on the radiator behind. He laughed and took one hand in his, saying gosh you are freezing.. I didn't think anything of it. I put both hands back on the radiator and said, I'll warm up in a bit. We started talking. He asked me how things were. With my husband, the kids, I asked him. We talked about not being able to meet properly, go on a trip..all normal. His dad was friends with my dad. I asked after his parents, he asked after mine. Again, totally casual. Totally normal. There was a fox in the garden. I remember that. I thought it was cute. He laughed at me saying there are always foxes around here. He asked if I wanted to listen to some music while we waited for the food. I said sure. He put music on and then asked if I wanted to dance. I was taken aback but again, stupidly, stupidly, laughed it off, saying no. I hadn't danced in years. I felt slightly uncomfortable but didn't want to see weird to him so I pulled a couple of cushions around me and snuggled into my little corner of the sofa. He sat at the other end. He pulled his phone out. Asked if I wanted to see what the menus were like, I leaned over and then he tried to nuzzle my neck, he put his arm around me. I got a shock and pushed him off, saying what are you doing, are you mad...what is wrong with you. He said, "don't be so silly, I'm just trying to give you a hug...you've been through so much....you've got so much on your plate. I feel sorry for you. Seriously, don't be so stressed and uptight. relax". I felt foolish so I didn't say anything and he moved away so I thought it was ok. I stretched my back scrolling through the menus because my shoulders hurt. He picked up on it and said, "do you want me to give your shoulders a quick rub". I said, "no, I'm fine.". He came closer. Said, "I'm pretty good at giving massages." I was beginning to think I should leave. I said, "please don't. I'm fine." He said "ok fine" and moved back to just chatting about life, about the country he came and I originally came from which was in political turmoil, we talked about our kids. I relaxed. That's when it happened. The music went off. The blue tooth thingy was behind me. He stood up, went over to put it back on and then leaned over and grabbed my shoulders from behind. I gasped. He is 6'1 or 2" and I am 5"1. He pushed me down on the sofa, came from the side..I still can't really remember how he got there and started kissing me hard. I tried to move, I kept repeating, "stop, stop, stop, stop, why are you doing this. Please stop. You can't do this." He only replied saying, "please, stop struggling..it's only a little kiss. Just one kiss.." but it wasnt. I tried to turn my face. By this point, he was on top of me, holding me down, holding my arms above my head. His legs on either side of mine and his entire weight on me. I couldn't breathe. I tried to speak again and screamed, "stop". He said "stop screaming and kiss me." I turned away and with his free hand, he pressed my cheeks hard so I would open my mouth. He put his tongue in, and wouldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. All I remember was panicking..thinking about my friend, thinking what this would do to her. I couldn't stop him. He turned my face away and then put his tongue in my year. He lifted my top, snapped my bra open and pushed it up and started sucking and licking my breasts, I was sobbing now and saying, "no no no don't do this...please stop..please, please don't do this.." He said, "ok ok..I'm stopping and stuck his hand between my legs. He pulled my head back so it was almost hanging off the sofa and leaned on top of me saying, "lick me" ..I turned my head away and he pulled on my hair and put even more weight on my arms leaning forward and pushing his chest on to me. He brought his hand up again squeezing my cheeks in till I opened my mouth...and then pushed his nipple into my mouth. He put his hand back down between my legs. I was wriggling and moving and I managed to cross my legs. He then pushed hard with one and then the other of his legs, opening mine. I couldn't even think. I think I was in shock. I don't know what happened. I was trying to lift myself off, my arms was aching so much. He pressed his other arm onto my stomach and said, "stop moving so much". He took the button on my jeans off. I screamed again, saying, "please don't. I beg you, please don't. All he said was, "ok. If you beg me I won't" but he carried on. He moved his hand from between my legs, and carried on pressing him mouth on mine, grabbing and twisting my breasts with his other hand. I don't know what happened. I feel like I might have blacked out but I don't think I did because every time I replay it in my head, I knew what he was doing. I remember him murmuring, saying, "he doesn't deserve you, I'll take care of you...he doesn't love you, he hits you, he threatens you, he doesn't deserve you. Let me show you.." I remember thinking, that he must have done this because he thought I was easy. Because I had told him and his wife about what was going on in my marriage. I remember thinking how stupid I was. Then suddenly, he pushed between my legs with his hand. He still had not let go my arms, I said "please stop, I can't breathe." He didn't say anything, but he let go my arms, and really quickly pulled my jeans down with both hand, ripping my panties in the process. I screamed again and tried to get up. He pushed me back down and put his whole weight on me, saying "don't worry, I won't have sex with you because you begged me not to but I bet no one has done this for you in a long time right? Not years maybe right? " I couldn't answer, I was crying and crying. He started putting his fingers inside me and pulling in and out and I couldn't move. I think I went completely limp in shock. He slowly let go my arms again and slid down, pushing my legs apart even further with his head and he put his tongue inside. holding me down from my stomach with his forearm. He kept saying, "let me show you how you should be loved" I don't know why I couldn't fight back harder at this point. I tried so hard before, I just couldn't move. I tried to push him away, push his head away, but I couldn't. All I could do was cry...like I was pathetic and weak. I was so angry with myself for not leaving when I could, I was trying so hard to normalise the signs and then this is where it ended. He kept going, back up to my face and back down for almost an hour and a half I think and then it got worse. He pushed me to the ground, holding me by my hair and asked me to take him in my mouth. He said, "I want you to kneel, I want to watch you..." and I kept saying, "no no please no...and he pulled my head back, saying, don't bite...and stuck himself so far in, I gagged, over and over....he had his legs round my body now and I couldn't stand because my jeans were still near my ankles, he was holding my wrists with one hand and my hair in a tight pony tail at the back. I remember thinking he's going to pull my hair out. I couldn't speak, I couldn't do anything, I couldn't get up, I couldn't do anything but keep doing what he was forcing me to do..and then he said, almost like it made it alright.. "don't worry I won't come in your mouth and pulled me back up just before. I just slid off him to the floor and he finally let go but I couldn't get up. I just curled up on the floor sobbing. I hand't even pulled my jeans back up. He finished and then carried me back on to his chest like he cared... started stroking me and saying, "why are you crying, you were amazing..stop crying, it's ok. Your friend will never know unless you tell her and you aren't going to tell her are you... this is our secret...what she doesn't know, won't hurt her.. she'll be fine...don't cry...you were great..I'll be back in July...Are you crying because it's me? It's better like this because we know each other..." he was stroking me and stroking my hair and holding me tightly like somehow, I had been complicit or as if I had said yes...I wanted to scream again, and hit out, now I could...but I couldn't do anything but cry. I let him hold me..I didn't push away..I couldn't. I felt so ashamed, so broken, so dirty and cheap. Then he said, I'm going to order an Uber for you, you can't go back in the train in this state. Go and clean yourself up.. and he pulled my jeans back up with my torn pants inside. He was laughing, saying, "gosh imagine if anyone saw you like this"...I coudn't do anything but just follow. it was like my mind was screaming but my body was just doing what it was told so I just followed him to the bathroom.. he left me there and all I could do was cry sitting on the toilet. I rubbed and rubbed myself with reams of toilet paper...and washed my face..and went back out. I look after two elderly relatives who think the world of him. I couldn't go back home and say anything to them. They are sick and elderly and they wouldn't really be able to comprehend what happened. My hands were shaking. I was shaking. I came out and he hugged me again tightly, saying calm down...you're fine. You're fine. I'll be back in July. Let's do this again. All I could do was shake my head. He kept laughing and then the Uber came. He even put me in and carried my bag in for me. I don't know how I did it, but I managed to calm myself enough to go home and then drive to pick my kids up and then I just washed and washed and washed in the bathroom, told my mum I had a headache and could she manage the kids and binned my clothes which still smelled of him and curled up in bed. The next morning, I got a text from him saying, "all ok?" and I just replied saying, "no..what were you thinking..." he called and told me not to make a big deal of things, that my life and his were more complicated than they needed to be already and to not make it worse, to not make a "thing" of what happened, that he had a lovely time...I hung up. I could not speak. He texted me saying, please don't tell anyone....this is our secret. I'll be back in July. I'll see you then.. I asked him why again, and he said I always liked you. I said but why would you do this. I said no...and he said it is only a little fun..I asked him if he had a bet with someone that he would do this and he said no..I said I feel cheap and horrible. You did this to me and he said, you don't need to, I forced you to.....I feel so horrible. I feel so dirty and used and cheap. I am so angry with myself for not leaving when I had the chance... I told another friend what happened. She wants me to go to police. I can't. It'll ruin his family, mine, his kids...and I love those kids like my own...my friend...I can't do that to anyone....but I can't function...I keep replaying it in my head. I can't stop thinking about it. My hands are shaking all the time...I can't focus. My other friend thought that perhaps writing my story might help. That is why I put so much detail. I am so sorry if it is too much. I wanted to write everything down...to get it all out...I've not told anyone all the details. I'm so sorry if it is too much.. She said it was ok to be angry but that is the other confusing thing...I am not angry...I feel nothing. I feel absolutely nothing. I am angry with myself but not anything else. I am so confused as to why he would do this after 20+ years of friendship. Why did he think it was ok? Do I look easy? By meeting him did I give him the impression it was ok? Why would he do this to me? We were friends..good friends..our families adore each other..why would he risk all that? What does he think of me now? I keep looking at myself and it is mad but I keep thinking, his wife is gorgeous and in great shape and I am flabby and haven't looked after myself at all...why would he do this with me when he has an amazing wife? I don't understand...I don't understand at all....I find myself repulsive...I used to look alright but my marriage has taken a toll...I no longer look anywhere close to what i did before...so why would he do this? And now when I feel like I've hit rock bottom in all aspects of my life...this happens.. If not for my kids..there would not be any point in my life...I'm so humiliated..

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

When I was 12, my ex situationship on his 13th birthday got his friend to rape me while he got off on it bc he didn’t want to do it with a virgin. he would then, months later continue to slam my head into walls, punch and hit me, and strangle me. said really horrible things. n yeah, i’m now 19 and at uni trying to be successful with good people in my life so healing is possible. it’s difficult and not linear but there’s so much more out there

I never knew a happy safe experience of intimate connection until i was 39. Well, I don't know if that is 100% accurate to say but it feels true to say. It was with a woman - a friend. We were pretty drunk and I was getting over my first relationship, one which had turned abusive, and she was maybe exploring her sexuality before committing to a life relationship with her partner. We were not alone - there was another friend also there - on the other side of her - a good guy, a very good friend of hers. Me and this guy friend did not gravitate towards each other though. She kissed my hair. I hadn't felt so loved or cared for in a long time. The grasping/rejecting/fearful dichotomy was gone and for the first time i sensed it didn't need to be that way. She seemed to want me to be close to her and i didn't feel pressure to be anyone or do anything other than what felt right in that moment. From that experience, i learnt that there is such generosity and healing in reciprocal loving touch. I guess i maybe felt that way occasionally with my ex-partner. But it's funny how when bad experiences happen between you and another person, it can rinse even the best memory and sensation with a dulling wash.

I went out with friends but left early as I was drunk and tired and I asked someone for directions to find my Uber when another guy asked if I was going to uni and said I was pretty which was fine but he then asked if he could have a kiss. I didn't know what to do so I stepped towards him and then he put his arm round me and I felt like I had to kiss him but I didn't want to. I tried to face away from him hoping he would just kiss my cheek but he didn't so I turned my head and he kissed me and I feel gross and want to throw up every time I think of it.

I was only 15. I convince myself it was my fault for not speaking up or saying no more clearly. For just freezing up and letting it happen. I wish I didn’t feel this pain. The flashbacks and feeling the crawl under my skin. I cant enjoy the beach anymore. I get scared if someone tries to grab or hold my wrist. The certain way water touches my skin makes me sick and relive. I cant wear certain clothes anymore. All I want is to heal. To come to some sort of peace with this. I’ve only just started to speak out about my rape after 2 years and I’m glad I have, but it’s still so overwhelming.

I don't even remember how old I was. It was around the time when my parents got divorced, I might've been around 6-8, and this happened over multiple years, that's why it's such a blur to me. I used to go to my auntie's house in the holidays on Thursdays, sometimes Fridays too. Every time I would go, my cousin, who is 2/3 years older than me, would do things to me. I think the first time we ever did anything sexual was just kissing, with tongue of course. But as time went on, she began to just eat me out every time I went, I definitely didn't enjoy it, I was just frozen. I tried to tell her to stop so many times, but she would never listen. We would go to the guest bedroom on the third floor, away from everyone and she would ask to play families, where she would be the dad and me the mum, or she would beg me to role play as 'celebrities' with her. She always said she would be the male and me the female. One time, we went to my nan's house, and she dressed me up in scarves, role playing a 'wedding' with me. She even made me kiss her in front of my nan. I don't see how this was so normalized for my nan to not question her forcefully snogging me and picking me up. She even tried to assault me in front of my brother when he was a toddler once. It was terrible when my parents divorced, when I was with my dad, we stayed with her and my auntie. Of course they made me and her sleep together, because they thought we were close. That's when my world caved in, those were the worst years of my life that I can't even remember much of today. I lived in fear of her for years. One day, I just forgot. I forgot about her, I lost most of my memories of what she had done to me, and we grew close again. I was naive, desperate for my older cousin's attention. So, when I was 10, it almost happened again, and I've not been the same since. It was my birthday yesterday, and she came round, acting normal as she always does. It makes me feel sick. She's moving out from her stepdad's house with her mum, and asked if I wanted to sleepover. No. Never again. I don't think I'll ever tell anyone in my family. My best friend and my ex know but, I genuinely think it doesn't even matter because it happened ages ago and nobody would believe me anyways. So much of my childhood is a blur now and I can't help but feel terrified of intimacy yet I think about it so much. Thank uou for reading.

It was my spiritual teacher. I loved him and trusted him more than anyone. Now I don't feel safe with my faith. My friends were in the spiritual community and ghosted me for seeking treatment. I don't feel safe to leave my room. I have constant panic attacks. I don't recognize life anymore.

This story, my story, started 25 or 24 years ago, when I was 7 or 8 years of age. I was sexually abused (once only but enough to make an impact) by my dad, the first person that's meant to protect you. I never told a soul about it, no one but myself knew it during those 25 years, and even I did not want to think about it. As the years went I learnt to put it at the back of my mind, it was to painful, disgusting and worst of all, I was ashamed, ashamed for something I didn't do, but something that someone too close to me did instead. I learnt to push back if that memory ever came back to me. I grew (somehow) very closed to my dad, and pretended that never happened; only last year I learnt that very action has a name, and it's called compartimentalising. It was only last year, when I started to have issues with anxiety to another level that I finally, when I was about to have a nervous break down, decided that it was time to say it out loud. Weirdly enough, I never had considered myself a victim of sexual abuse... and the words 'sexual abuse' were really difficult for me to mention when talking about what happened to me, although, over time I grew used them and more comfortable (it still hurts though). I was on therapy for over 10 months, followed by a 3 months of CTB course, I still have catch up calls with my therapist every now and then. The worst part of my therapy was, what my own body needed, and that was to seek my dad's accountability, the one which, after confronting him, still hasn't acknowledge, and let's be honest, he won't ever do it. But I learnt to move on not expecting that to happened and at least, my dad knows the big impact that one action that happened that one time, has badly affected my throughout these past years, and my present. I discovered that most people that has suffered this type of abuse tend to develop any sort of chronic pain condition, which I did at the age of 13, mostly from what it felt like, was eating me alive from the inside of my body. Discovering the condition I have had for more than half of my life, is there because of my dad, was no easy discovery and that's where the panic attacks started. As you can imagine, and like all of you, it's been a long healing process. My 4 most important things that really helped me through my healing process (unfinished healing process) were: - My support network (my friends as family only found out after and they still don't know who did it). - Exercising, the best thing I have done for my mental health. - An incredible manager at work who supported me throughout my journey - And (unfortunately) antidepressants to manage better anxiety, as it got really bad at some points. I know, my healing isn't over, I know I might never get what I really want which is that accountability, but at least I know that what ever I decide to do, I'm now (mostly) in control, not my dad or my fears. We all still have bad days, but at least now I know, I'm not alone.

No more feeling shame. The shame is my abuser's to bear. I was in an abusive relationship 7 years. She would Yell and throw items around the room. Tell me who I can and can't see, and where I could go. She would degrade me by playing on any insecurity I had. If I questioned her motives I was gas lighted to change my way of thinking. She would smack my chest and call it play fighting. She would convince me "I'm the only one who is looking out for you" she monitored where I was and how long I was there. I would hid in the bathroom, because I was terrified of her. She would convince me to cut people out of my life. She would manipulate me emotionally and physically. Everything was on her terms, she loved that I feared her. No more feeling afraid of speaking my truth. #yournotalone

TW: physical, emotional, sexual abuse Ever since I started primary school at the age of 4, I’ve been afraid of my dad. I truly believed I was the worst daughter in the world and that I was a huge disappointment to my parents. My Ukrainian immigrant parents were well educated and well respected people, they were quite wealthy and interesting people who had a “perfect” daughter. No one knew what happened behind closed doors, of course, and no one suspected anything as I was taught to hide my feelings and physical signs of abuse (still hate thinking about that word) really well. The physical and emotional abuse started as I started school and was a punishment for something I did or didn’t do, but looking back now, there was no consistency and no “reasoning” behind all of it. The sexual abuse started when I was 8 and stopped when I got my period at 14, when he told me it made me dirty and disgusting. Only at the end of high school I realised that not all fathers were like this and, in fact, this was very severe abuse. At 15 I was sexual assaulted by a coworker of my age at my job in a leisure center. At this point I was attracting the somewhat wanted attention of boys and I was naive. Even now, I am still trying to remind myself that I am not at fault. My 2 years at sixth form were made up of studying very hard and also trying to get help for ptsd symptoms. I met my current boyfriend of 2 years at sixth form too. I have told him about the majority of my childhood and he has been extremely supportive. I am so grateful for him. I am now having CPTSD support and, although I have bad days, I am keen to get better and to start a new chapter of life :)

*TRIGGER WARNING IN ADVANCE* So, it all began when I was like 5 or 6 and ended when I was around 10 or 11. I think. My own grandad was sexually abusing me. I couldn’t tell you all the events in chronological order because I can’t remember every single time or what order they went in. I can just share the types of things that would be done. When I would stay at my grandparents house, my grandad would read a bedtime story every night. However, it wasn’t just a bedtime story… no… it would end up with him holding my hand through a hole in his pocket making me touch his penis. Sometimes I’d be asleep and he’d come upstairs and rub his penis on my body and pull up my top and lick my nipples. I used to love insects as a child so his excuse was that his penis was a glow worm called Name and “Name would want a tickle”… he would draw bizarre pictures of different sexual poses and say that those would help with a spell because I was into magic… he would buy me things all the time like a phone, credit for my phone, an Xbox but this wasn’t on birthdays or Christmas this was just random and my brother wouldn’t get anything other than birthday and Christmas presents… I used to do acting and I loved it, he then made a script about a girl called poppy longstockings and bought a whole outfit for me to dress up in and gave me a script and I had to act out and let’s say the costume was certainly not PG… He would always try and do anal on me and I mean always… in his shed, at his work (which he was like a handyman and he’d work on student flats and stuff) I’d go on jobs with him sometimes. Listen. I was young I didn’t understand what was happening was wrong. Anyway… Let’s get to where it all got found out… When I was around 11 I told my friend that I thought what he was doing was wrong and that’s when it all stopped was when I realised or learned that it was wrong. Didn’t tell anybody else. Years later in secondary school me and my friend were in a lesson together and somehow it came up in conversation and someone overheard and then they went and told someone, then that person told someone, then so on… the whole year knew… I didn’t know everyone knew until I was sat next to my other friend who didn’t know and he texted me saying I know what your grandad did and I just bursted out crying… anyway I got taken out and a teacher spoke to me so I told her and that’s when I had to speak to the police… the weekend went by and I had to pretend everything was fine to my mum, dad and brother because they had no clue about anything… Monday came around and I get a knock on my class, it’s my brother asking to see me, we stand in the hall and he just hugs me and starts crying so then I start crying. Anyway, end up going home and my mum gives me a hug and then my dad comes home and gives me a hug and we’ve never been closer as a family…. Then comes court… What a horrible horrible experience…. But it was absolutely worth it! To see him go down for 15 years for what he did to me (wasn’t enough in my opinion but still better than nothing and I’m very grateful for that)… t This is not the end of my story but my entire mood has changed since the beginning of writing so I’m going to take a little break:) lots of love <3 x

I experienced COCSA, but no one really takes it seriously. This isn't my only experience of sexual violence. I was forcibly sexually assaulted at 19 by a friend, someone tried to kidnap me as a kid for presumably sexual reasons, I experienced sexual harassment from peers in secondary school for years because my bullies figured out sexual topics made me uncomfortable, I faced creeps following me home, old men commenting on my body when I was around 11 and one asking me to "dance" for him, faced people online trying to groom me into sending nudes when I was still a minor (fortunately I never took any). Plenty of non sexual trauma and abuse on top of that. But, for me, the COCSA was the worst trauma. I don't know why that one impacts me so much. We were just kids and he couldn't have fully understood the damage he was causing, so why was it the hardest one to cope with? I always hesitate to use the words "sexual abuse" when I talk about this, but in terms of what it did to my brain, that's what it was. When I was 6, a boy my age would take me into a part of the playground hidden from anyone else and would make me suck his penis. I'd say no, that it was gross, I didn't want to. But he was one of my only friends at the time, and I was terrified of losing friends because I was experiencing a lot of difficult things at home. It didn't start off like this, we had become friends for a bit before this and he leaned me into it. First by doing normal kid things like showing me his genitals, progressing to asking me to touch it, then lick it, suck it, and once even bite it. I still remember how it felt, and it still fills me with panic. It wasn't painful or anything, it just felt absolutely horrible and wrong. He would threaten to embarrass me and not be my friend, and would also say he loved me and I had to suck his penis to prove I loved him back. He would keep asking until I gave in, and because we were in a isolated part of the playground I didn't feel I could just walk away, especially since he was known for being violent (though had never physically hurt me). Its what people who love each other do, he said once. He was a bully, and when I did it he would laugh and tell me that he didn't really like me but maybe he would if I did it again. He'd do this with his friend who would watch. I don't think that other boy really understood why he was doing that to me, I didn't. But the one doing it at least understood that it upset me and didn't care, because he would laugh at me when he made me upset. It often feels so stupid that I am even experiencing any trauma from this. We were both kids, and it feels like it was my fault for not resisting more or not just walking away. But I didn't know what was happening, and I was really vulnerable and lonely at that time. I just wanted a friend. This continued until I was 7. I don't entirely blame him. To me, he's more akin to a bully rather than an abuser. But I do blame his parents for allowing him porn access since the age of 5, I blame his father for teaching his son misogynistic views which he continued to perpetuate onto other girls our age as we grew up. I blame whoever taught him how to do those things, because the way he spoke to me sometimes sounded too adult to be from a kid who stumbled onto some pornsite. I blame my school for knowing what was happening, and not lifting a finger to help EITHER of us. We both needed some sort of intervention, but they did nothing. I now deal with various diagnosed mental disorders and sexual dysfunction as a result of what he did to me. Worst part is, I still see him around town on rare occasions. He doesn't recognise me, and while I'm grateful for that it also angers me that he doesn't even recognise me while I freak out if I see someone who even looks like him.

This girl who did this to me, everyone thought we were sisters we were so close but here’s my story… Throughout being 9-13 I was molested by my cousin who is a year younger than me I know it sounds weird but we knew from a young age that she had things wrong with her. Her mum is a drug addict who’s been in and out her life for as long as I can remember I grew up with her and we were always so close. I never saw anything wrong with what she was doing because she made it into games so I didn’t see that there was anything wrong with it. I also have mental issues but when I started to realise what she was doing was more than “games” I didn’t stay at my grandads for a while because we used to spend every weekend there together. But then the last 6 months of lockdown she had to come live with me and I had never told anyone what she had been doing to me but nothing happens threw out the 6 months because we didn’t have to share a bed thankfully I had a cabin bed which is like a bunk bed and she was in a mattress on the floor and one night I heard making weird noises and I looked over to see her masterbating but never said a word. Then afterwords she went to live with her sister which she still does now and my grandad told us he bought two beds so we didn’t have to share whenever we came over anymore and he got me a cabin bed so I was fine so I stayed there a couple times and nothing happened so I started trusting her again and then one night she made us make a den like we used to when she was. Younger I didn’t want to but she said “well I’m already having a bad day your just making it worse” so I just did make it then I woke up and she was raping me but I couldn’t move all I could do was cry but she didn’t notice then we she stopped all I could hear was her finishing herself off and then she kissed me on the top of my back which to this day makes me feel so dirty but then I could move I grabbed my shorts put them on grabbed my phone ran out side and called my dad and he came and got me and he asked her what she was doing and she just sat there saying she didn’t do anything to this day j haven’t spoke to her and she’s tried to get in touch with me multiple times. Also she told her sister that she doesn’t get why she doesnt talk to me anymore I hate her I hate her I could never tel my family the details and how long she actually did it for all they know about is that one night.

We were friends. That is what I told him when he tried to kiss me when I was drunk. He smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That is what I told him when I agreed to sleep off the alcohol at his as he insisted it wasn't safe for me to walk home. I felt a sense of relief and comfort when he smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That was what was running through my mind in those seconds that felt like hours when I slowly awoke to his hands down my pants and his soft moaning. We were friends. That was what I screamed as I ran out of his flat. We were friends. That is what I repeated to our social circle that relentlessly placed blame on me for being to 'flirty' or 'leading him on.' We were friends. The realisation that took time to reconcile and fully conceptualise. My perception of the world now shaded with nefarious hues. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I began to enjoy life again. A fleeting moment overshadowed by a watchful eye and a sense of alert that never really leaves me. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I took on the shame that wasn't mine to bear and made me doubt what I knew happened to me. We were friends. That is what I told people when I began to share my experience. Every word feeling like a toss of a stone I had carried around for far too long. We were friends. That is where I find my empowerment. The deepest violation of trust and respect, and yet, I survived.

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