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I must have been around 4/6 when my sister started to ask me for ‘massages’ all over her body. She is 10 years older than I am. It felt wrong at first but I remember her telling me it’s okay because it’s just skin. I don’t recall her ever touching me. She asked me for oral sex also and this was our game. But I feel so wrong looking back now because I even recall asking her to play this game just one more time. So is this my fault? It’s never been something I’ve let affect me however the last few years I’ve thought about this more. I am 21(F) now and realise that I was curious about sex from a very young age. Falling in love with a girl older than me at age 10 and always being attracted to those older than me, even if only a year older. I always wonder if I would be straight if I hadn’t had these young experiences.

I don't have very clear memories from my childhood and high school years so this might be a bit scattered or lacking detail. I have often had a complicated relationship with intimacy and men. I don't know when or why it started, but I have never truly valued myself the way I should, and thus let others value me even less. I have always been shy and a bit awkward, so when boys started to take an interest in me during high school, I guess I just ran with it. I had a friend in high school who would often make sexual advances to me. I had liked him for a little while and so wouldn't object outright to anything. We developed this sort of "relationship" where we would meet in the back of the auditorium to make out and he would often pressure and please with me to give him oral. I remember being very hesitant, and very afraid of things like that. Looking back I think there was always an off feeling that made me anxious. I would usually push through it, it's hard to say no when someone is basically begging you over and over. Especially when you are trying to keep as many friends as you can. This went on. I think maybe my reputation in school was that of being sexually "easy" The guys I liked would pressure me for sexual acts and in return would bribe me with compliments and hopes of maybe becoming something more. I feel ashamed at how I was so easily led. I don't think I wanted attention, I didn't enjoy it, I think it was more I wanted romance and thought this was what I had to do to make someone like me. Flash forward to right before the pandemic. I met a guy through my good friend. He proceeded to ask me out to lunch. I had been on small high school dates but nothing so "formal" if you can call it that. So I went. We quickly became a couple and despite my uncomfortableness on how quickly things were moving, our relationship became more serious. When the start of the pandemic happened we sort of used it as an excuse to quarantine together. I remember feeling happy he was around but off about how much my space was being invaded by him. He took up all my time. He stopped hanging out with our friends and encouraged me to as well. He would make comments about the weirdest stuff, saying the way I did things, (basic stuff like the way I showered) was dumb. He would talk shit about my mom and play into the cracks in that relationship. He turned me on everyone in my life I was close to over the course of a few months. I was isolated, living in his family's home with him, his parents, and his siblings, all during a pandemic. This is when my mental health took a downfall. I was so homesick, I would cry every day about missing my family and my cat. This is when my libido started slowing down and he did not like that. I was sad and tired and the world felt like it was ending, cause it kind of was. But he still wanted some kind of sex almost every day. In the beginning, we would compromise with maybe not having full-on sex but just doing small things. Eventually, I started to say no, I didn't enjoy doing something EVERY DAY. He would get all pouty and go quiet and passive-aggressive at me. I would say "No, I'm really just tired tonight and want to sleep" and he'd accept only to turn around and beg me over and over before I'd eventually give in and stroke him off or give him oral. I felt like maybe something was wrong with me that I didn't want to be sexual with my boyfriend. Like I wasn't good enough. This relationship lasted a little over a year. At that time we moved into my father's house as it gave us more space and privacy. During that period, my "no's" were less and less heard. I would give in to sex after hearing his pleas and disappointment in me. I'd lie there and let him have sex with me almost every night. He started to experiment with anal. In the beginning, I agreed cause I had never tried it, and I was willing to test the waters. When I knew very quickly that it was not something I enjoyed, it became another thing he would coarse me to do. He would go down there and try over and over after I pleaded with him not to. He would buy me sex toys and anal plugs repeatedly to see if he could use them on me, and he often did. I was mentally so unwell at this point that I eventually became impatient for a couple of weeks. Even there he would pester me with calls and wanting to know what I was doing all the time and even telling me that I didn't need to be there and that I should just come home. After I finally broke things off in a long drawn out and equally unpleasant process, I started to read about SA and rape. It's still hard for me to admit to this day that I was truly raped. It feels invalid and like someone else label. There were many more instances of abuse, verbal and sexual, and I often loose some memories of that time only to have them come back at random times. I often feel like my body isn't one I recognize, and I often feel very out of control of my own life even now. I'm trying to practice writing my experience down, and sharing what I went through, it helps me to feel like I'm not hiding anymore. I often want to hide though. I want to go back to feeling shy, and unseen. I have very good people in my life now, and a partner who is helping me learn that there are people out there who will respect your words and wishes. I don't really know where to go from here, and I don't really know how to heal. But I guess we are all just trying to figure that out.

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

Firstly I want to thank ourwave for creating this safe space and thank anyone who takes their time to read my story, when my mum was a teen she fell pregnant with me, once I was born we didn’t have a stable home we lived between houses the main house was my nanas, where my uncle lived too. I was 5 he was 15 and When no one was in my uncle would take it upon himself to rape me I don’t remember everything as I was so young and somethings slowly come back especially since my police report but I vividly remember him taking out his penis and putting it my face telling me to suck it..the other memory I have it him sitting me on my nanas bed and him attempting to rape me..he used pliers to try make it easier and also asked me to try help too which I did.. these memories stuck so well in my head and I can never shake them..I also remember my mum bathing me and she has since stated she saw very sore red skin around my lady area and asked “who’s been touching you” to which I replied “name” …now I may not remember everything I may not have been pinned down but that day a piece of me died and I haven’t been the same since, I went my whole life my mum telling me it never happened all my family went against us told everyone i was lying and he was protected whilst I questioned should I even be alive right now at the small age of 9 years old..because I did question my mum on the night terrors and I asked why I got moved so far away and why I have memories of it and I went all this time thinking I had made it up I told myself I was a freak an attention seeker but all along I was right I was a survivor and now I’m 21 years old I’ve just recently reported my uncle to the police and I have my own baby to protect..I don’t get why everyone or how anyone can hurt a child the way so many are hurt

Experiencing sexual harassment in the workplace was shit. I was a single parent. I was informed by my employer that I couldnt quit the job without being able to prove I was experiencing sexual harassment. With my employer, if you leave a job without good reason, they can refuse to pay. I had a daughter to take care of, and responsibilities. By that point, my power was already being put out, and light gone. I was quite lucky; as I was still with a union. But I couldnt use my voice. I started dressing down for work, not caring about my appearance; not taking care, not looking professional. I couldnt find help. Didnt know what to do. I managed to get away, a signed off holiday for a week; although even then I was just swimming in dark waters, not thinking about it, trying to push it away, deep down; it didnt happen. I returned from my break, not sure if it was a day or the same day, my wages were deducted. So much so that I wouldnt have been able to pay the rent or get through the month. It was like a lid coming off. An eruption. It was a small warehouse, with a small cabin. I was in disbelief at first. Then my mouth opened and I just let go slowly building up to a shout saying you took my money, you took my money, then shouting the obscenities that they had committed in the work place against me, I wasnt even aware it was happening, tears of anger pouring out. I was sacked the same day, within minutes. The worst part at the time I left to go outside to ring the union, and they told me to go back in My power was constantly being taken. Now there was no personal or human resources, just the director. Given letter and off I went. Advised by union to go to police. They took my statement. A day or so later I was informed by a police woman over the phone that the only reason I was reporting the sexual harassment was because I was fired. The union wrote a letter confirming that this wasnt the case as I had been in contact with them prior to contacting the police and being fired. Didint make any difference. The police never contacted me after that. However, I did find out by chance later on that on their records its says I didnt want them to do anything about it. Which wasnt true. I managed through the union to take it to a tribunal. I wish I hadnt gone on my own. I felt so unclean for such a time after the event; there were triggers, lots (continued for years). Having to go to the tribunal although they didnt have the guts to turn up, there was a directors partner there, they followed me into the building having almost bumped into me on the way there; giving me dirty looks etc. I had the barrister there eventually, who was quick talking and looking to get it over and done with. It was never about the money, it was justice and them admitting what they did. But they never did. They did call round my home before the tribunal at about 3-4am. I didnt answer the door. The judge seemed very one sided for the employer. I never got the chance to talk. It was like being a victim all over again and losing my voice. They said how kind etc this guy was. It all gave me the creeps that these 3 people were saying that it was ok what he did. The judge seemed to be going with them. They decided to settle. That was it. I sought counselling, but its never gone away. I've been a full time carer since. The thought of working with men again well, I would prefer to set up my own business so that I never have to be in that situation again. The other thing I dont see mentioned often is the aftermath. Youve spoken up which really takes some. Its the revenge that person takes after. they've not stopped. Theyve gotten other people to do their dirty work. These people must be under the illusion that I made it all up. Its a few years now, and they are still instigating others to harass me for telling the truth and making a stand. The Me too movement had just started a couple of months after my ordeal. The ordeal never goes away, like grief. Its disempowering. Its the hindsight, its the fear of freezing again. Ive not been the same person since. I have a gagging order, not allowed to talk about it. I think thats bullshit. Another way to disempower and allow them to walk around and do it again. I know for a fact that they did it to someone else before me. I bet theyve done it since; obviously, I hope not. The problem is, the constant revenge style they have going on means they've not reflected on their behaviour once or considered how wrong it is. They continue as though they have a right to touch another human being without consent in any way they wish. There were three people at the tribunal that agreed with that. Even the judge at the end was surprised that they settled. Where is the justice in that and the ethical considerations? The police response at the time, from a police woman. What kind of society do we have? I wonder from the me to movement what it would be like now for others to come forward? I also wonder, what are we educating our young boys in school and at home about consent and respect to women and themselves. Why did all those people look the other way, or project that it was acceptable behaviour? Im not the same person.

I was 16 I just started college when I met my ex he was 17 We talked for a week and then started dating he would manipulate me in to doing things and tell he things and gaslighted me And he would SA me every time I saw him Multiple times I dated him for almost 4 months when I broke up with him On the Date I when to is house and he SA I took my phone from me and when I went to get it he would pull me , drag me and push me away from it buy my arms and legs I broke up with him 2 day later This was almost 2 years old I reported it to the police He also SA 2 other people in the same class Who also reported him

I have lived through many battles, some visible and some invisible. Chronic pain has been a constant companion, and alongside it came experiences of assault, grief, bullying, and being overlooked or targeted in the workplace. Each of these left scars that ran deeper than I could admit at the time. For years, I tried to hold it all in — the pressure, the pain, the silence through alcohol and substances. But it built until I couldn’t contain it anymore, and I crashed hard. My mental health episode was frightening, for me and for those around me. What has made it harder is the culture I grew up in. In South Asian communities, mental health is often brushed aside, stigmatized, or seen as weakness. Instead of compassion, I felt shame. Instead of understanding, I carried guilt. I believed I had let down the people I loved most. But I am learning that what happened was not my fault. Trauma is not a choice. Crashes are not punishments. They are the body and mind crying out for care. I am still here. I am learning to see my sensitivity and survival not as flaws, but as proof of resilience. Sharing my story is part of releasing the shame and reclaiming my voice. My hope is that others who have lived through pain and silence — especially in communities where mental health is hidden — can know they are not alone. Our stories matter. Our survival matters.

I knew the man that raped me, he is the father of my daughter which he also strangled. There are two sides to this man, one that's beautiful, loving and very calm and the other that is violent and manipulating. I was too scared to tell anyone because who would believe me. People that I thought were friends saw the smashed glass and the punches above my height on the door. They saw how unwell I became and that I attempted to take my life. It took me months after leaving to realise the extent of what we (me and my children) had experienced. But I left for my children because the truth was I still loved him, but the love for my children was bigger. Going through the courts dare I say is even harder to cope with than surviving the abuse itself. I have met so many amazing people and judges that have been hugely supportive, but sadly also so many corrupt people in that police reports and videos went missing, contact centres that lied which honestly I'm in such disbelief now and the shock itself made me ill. Judges and barristers know each other and gas lighting on a larger scale. I'm totally and utterly terrified and wish I never come forward. I am ashamed to say if I was a reader I would not believe this story. But it's my story to tell, that has imprisoned my life. I don't feel I can trust anyone because so many have lied without real heartfelt thought for my poor children. I'm so very tired of being scared. I'm not alone here in this country there are many of us silenced by the very people that ought to protect us. I desperately want to trust our family courts, but after reading about others going through what we have been through I feel scared about what will happen to my children as my punishment for coming forward. I have one child with this man but 4 children altogether. No one will really know what we survived only now to be at risk of having the remaining time of their childhood further stolen. How naïve I have been.

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..?

I was 18 and had gone back to a friend of an old friend of mine's house. I was there with him (H), his friend (J - who's house it was) my closest female friend (E) and a few others. We drank a lot and we ended up playing strip poker. I didn't feel totally comfortable with it at the time but wanted to join in. As we were playing, it became my turn to take my top off, so I did. I went to the toilet but wasn't sure where to go in this house I wasn't familiar with. J offered to show me to the toilet and I accepted. He kissed me on the way there and picked me up and took me to his bedroom. I didn't mind, and then it got a bit intense and I stopped feeling okay with it. I was hoping my friend (E) would notice I was missing. He tried to have sex with me and I kept refusing, eventually, I just let it happen. I heard E shouting up to me from downstairs and J got angry, he stopped and told me to go downstairs. It was 4:30am and he threw us out of his house in the thick snow. I remember how cold the walk was. I felt so vulnerable, drunk and scared in that moment. There was only one person we felt we could call and that was a drug dealer we had known, he was a man other men were wary of so we thought he would be the safest option (looking back, I have 0 idea why we thought that was a good idea). The next morning I told my friend E what had happened, J was someone she knew fairly well and she was disgusted when I told her. She phoned him straight away and he denied everything, said I was lying. I'll never forget that instant wave of doubt. Was I lying? Had I led him on? Was it my fault for playing strip poker with everybody? 5 years later and I still doubt my memory, doubt whether I was raped or not. Rape. It's such a strong word isn't it?

It took me years to come to terms with what was really happening. When I was 9 years old, I met a boy online, and we quickly became friends. We knew everything about each other - He was 15 when we first met. When I was 10 and he was 16, he asked to be my boyfriend. Being a naive 10 year old girl I said yes. I can’t be mad at her for that. It was innocent at first. Just what you’d expect from a childhood relationship - “I love you, goodnight.” “Hope you’re doing okay.” “Let’s play some games together!” The only difference was that one of us were nearly an adult. Someone who should have known better to not even THINK about being romantically involved with a 10 year old girl. However, it went sour. He started talking to me about sexual subjects. Stuff I wasn’t at all familiar with. He’d make us roleplay situations, what he’d do to me if he got ahold of me in real life. Asking for photos. Guilt tripping me for seeming “off” or uninterested. I began to feel distressed at the time, but I was so young, that wasn’t really an emotion I had felt before. I told myself, this sick feeling must be love. That must be why I feel so nervous, why I feel knots in my stomach when I see his name pop up on my screen. I was very attached to him, at least I thought I was. I was always picked on in school and the few friends I had were awful to me, so he was my only real friend. My worst fear was somehow losing him, and he must have known that I thought that. He took advantage of that, and would guilt trip me at any opportunity to make sure I did whatever he wanted me to. After a while, he broke up with me, but we were still very much so “friends”. We would talk everyday, and he was still just as inappropriate and creepy with me as he was before. Throughout the years, he would begin to talk to me about worse and worse stuff. He explicitly told me about his attraction to children, and that he worked as a teaching assistant in a primary school. I tried to brush it off and keep it at the back of my mind, but I got to tipping point last year when he started to pressure me into meeting with him in real life. It went on for 7 years. I hate to say it, and it makes me sad for the little girl that I was, but the rest of my childhood was stolen from me. I’m 17 now, about the same age he was when we met. The thought of EVER saying the stuff to a 10,11,12 year old that he did makes me feel physically ill. I still haven’t fully processed what happened to me, but I’ve been working on it. I’m yet to cry, at least properly, about it. The thing that sucks about this is that this went on for so long, that it felt completely normal. The people in my life who know all cried when I told them. It felt unfair, really - that they could cry about it. And I’m just stuck in a mindset I’m desperately trying to get out of where this is normal, and I feel completely numb. Recently, I decided I wanted to do something about it. I went to the police. This night, I sent off old screenshots of conversations between us to a detective working on my case. It’s terrifying, being that vulnerable. But I feel obligated to do it. The thought of him being around children all day makes me sick. I don’t care if he doesn’t go to prison - as long as he’s never near a child again I’ll be happy. That’s why I’m doing it. I won’t let shame and embarrassment stop me from doing this, and I especially won’t let my brain tell me he doesn’t deserve punishment. Because that’s exactly what he’d want me to think, too.

I have four children, they are all adults now. I fell pregnant at 21 and my father insisted we got married. The first slap he gave me was on our wedding night, and him saying, what the fuck did I get married for. After two sons were born he beat me up whilst pregnant with our daughter, and then as I lay injured upstairs he came in the bedroom and forced himself on me. My 17 years with this brute have affected me all my life. He slept around and had zero respect for me and also shouted at the children. We were all scared of him, but in the end I got him out. Years later now and I had to put up with this man walking my daughter down the aisle last November. I hate them having anything to do with him, also he is a bum and never supported them. I feel that what happened to me is just being dismissed as not important and it makes me resentful. I want to forget and move on but feel I want him punished for what he did.

When I was 14-18, I was in an abusive relationship, but at the time, I could not see it. This boy was controlling, manipulative and he forced himself on me when I said no. He was physically violent and tried to prevent me from going to university. Whenever I tried to escape the relationship, he would threaten to kill himself, and I was also scared of him. I never had any time to myself as he would be there. I was not allowed to have any male friends on social media, and I could not hang out or talk to any boys. I was not allowed to wear certain clothing, and he told me I was ugly and should wear makeup. I use to self-harm because I cut my emotions out, and I wanted to feel something. One day I told him that I did not want to be with him anymore and that I was going to university. He again told me he would kill himself, but at that point, I told him I did not care, and I managed to get out. He has since been arrested and kicked out of his home. This relationship has scared me since I'm now 28.

Aged 9, my neighbour who wasn't a great deal older than me wanted to play with me all the time. After some time he told me he wanted to show me something which he knew I'd like, it would be good for me but it must not be told to our parents. I said no, sensing it was probably not good territory to go into. But he kept on insisting. He went on so much i eventually said yes. I think I was nervous but also excited and intrigued because it felt a bit like an adventure and fun because no one knew. He had knowledge of something I didn't. I don't remember too many exact details but I know it started out as sexual exploration of our bodies. If often happened on sleep overs. And the aim, I became to gradually understand, was sexual stimulation, mainly of me... and I think this in turn sexually gratified him. This went on for months and turned into, by my calculations, between 18 months - 2 years. (I know I was 11 when it stopped - just before starting secondary school). At some point, he was figuring out and attempting to have sex with me. I've always found this hard to classify as rape because he was a child. Although he wasn't much older than me he was pubescent and I wasn't. So although not fully grown, he was able to penetrate to some degree. I often couldn't breathe under his weight and I also felt sick at the overwhelming nature of it all. But despite this I was still able to orgasm (and this brings alot of shame to me today because I some how feel like I must have wanted it as I didn't say no and my body responded). But in truth, I had no idea that saying no was even an option. It didn't exist. I felt I was doing him a wrong by saying no and so I often just let him do what he wanted. He'd often tell me he loved me, which was simultaneously wanted by me (I was lonely in my own family system), and yet it also felt wrong and I felt objectified and sick. At one point, I became more understanding of how reproduction worked. I became petrified that I would fall pregnant (even though I hadn't started my periods, my belief was I was going to get pregnant), and I started worrying obsessively about it. I couldn't talk to anyone in my family about it because the shame was too strong and I felt at all costs I must keep it hidden. Which I still have to this day. Eventually I told him that I was scared and worried of pregnancy. He seemed surprised like this hadn't crossed his mind. But it wasn't enough to make him stop. So it continued for longer. Eventually I got the courage after what felt like a very long time in agony in this situation I didn't know how to get out of, I decided to tell him I wanted to stop. He begged at first not to. But I held my ground. I said we'd have to stop being friends if he continued asking. And that's when he turned from 'nice' to being emotionally threatening. He told me he was going to tell everyone what I'd done, how disgusting I'd been. And he did infact tell a few people. The damage this period of my life has done to me is indescribable. Mainly the self loathing and shame I've experienced and which formed part of my identity/ my idea of who I am as I developed. It's not a part of my life I can section off and compartmentalise because it's effected how I see the world, myself and other people, resulting in dissociative sypmtoms. I haven't allowed myself to see what I experienced as abuse because he was a child too. I always behoves believed I was bad because I consented. I'm only just realising with therapy that 9 year olds can't consent. That there was a power differential between us in very different and quite subtle ways. But that being trapped in that situation for so long was very real for me. There didn't need to be physical violence to keep me in it. I'm slowly learning to reframe what happened to take the self blame off of me. He was a child too and the reality was we both needed help and were let down by parents who weren't present enough to stop the situation unravelling. He was likely being abused himself. Whilst I have empathy for this side of things, I feel I need to protect my position in what happened because, in cocsa, more often than not, I see the child who does the harmful sexual behaviour as being put before the child who was harmed in terms of their needs. This is because it's necessary to stop that behaviour and because it's assumed they are being abused by another, likely adult, source. But the kid who's been abused has very real consequences to deal with and more often than not cocsa is not treated seriously enough. There's little validation from a societal pov making it hard to speak up and own our experiences openly. I have all the trademark effects of SA and I'm learning to now accept this and try to own it without minimising what happened. In the hope that when I can recognise this myself I can move on.

It’s been almost 10 years and the scars still feel so fresh and I honestly don’t know how to stop feeling so much pain and anger. How can someone who claims to love you, hurt you because your boundaries did not benefit them. “I am trying to help you“ lol. Help me? By violating my boundaries because you didn’t want to wait for me to be ready? Because you knew this was something I’d never done and I wanted to take my time to make sure I was comfortable but that would mean that you would have had to respect what I wanted and that didn’t sit right with you, so you decided to force something that I didn’t even know if I was ready for. Thanks to you I have an emotional scars and trauma that feel like I will never be free. Thanks to you, I feel so much anger, thanks to you I have to spend the rest of my life trying to heal because you couldn’t wait for me to be ready.

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 guy was my best friend. He knew everything I was dealing with. He was the reason I got out of the abusive place I was in. Less than 2 weeks after I got out of that abusive place, he raped me when I needed a safe place to stay. I had trusted him so much with absolutely everything and he not only violated me, but my trust aswell. He then text me the day after telling me not to tell anyone what happened. But I didn't remember anything about what happened until 5 days after it happened. He denied and denied and denied when I confronted him until eventually he admitted to what he did. Its been numberyears and I still can't walk around my hometown alone anymore out of fear, I can't hear his name or see anything remotely near to what he was wearing or I was wearing. But I'm in therapy now and it's making me realise so much. I'm working on trusting the world again. I didn't deserve it. No one does. As difficult and painful it is to deal with something like this, we can all survive. We can get through it. Someone wants to listen to your story. Someone wants to help. Don't deal with it alone xx

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

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 was just 10 years old when a family member decided it was okay to play "doctors and nurses with me" it was then when he started to sexually abuse me. I was so oblivious to what was going on, I didn't realise how wrong it was until I grew older, I thought it was normal as he was doing it to his sister too. I was told not to say anything it was a secret between us 3. I blocked it out of my memory until I left school, well I believed a blocked it out, but looking back now I think that is why my behaviour was so defiant. I was just always told I had ADHD/Autism was why I was naughty, but looking back now I think its because I still had to see his face. I eventually disclosed what happened to me once I had left school to a friend, someone I trusted. I needed to tell someone and that's when I really realised how wrong it was and it really hit me. It's surprising how something you push to the back of your mind and block out can really affect you psychologically still. I have 0 confidence and still don't know, I feel worthless, like a failure and I never feel good about myself, I really struggle too. When I disclosed my abuse to someone, it all went so fast, they helped me tell my parents and then my mum helped me reach out to the police. The local police in my area let me down, I realise I had no evidence, because it happened when I was 10 many times, but I still recall what happened, I was brought to a safe house where I had my interview, I felt violated all over again. the questions they asked me, it brought everything back. It didn't even make it to court the police came to the conclusion that it was "JUST A GAME BETWEEN TWO KIDS" they believe there was no maliciousness behind it - A Game - These words have stay with me since then and I can never shake them off, it was not just a game he knew what he was doing, he understood and had full capacity of what he was doing to me. He didn't even make it onto the register, even though he was doing it to his sister as well. The worst part is going though it at such a young age, then having the courage to speak out and then not being believed and told it was a game really affects me to this day, even though I don't like to show it does, I'm very much a girl who makes jokes and smiles all the time to get past the trauma, even having dark humour to cover up the hurt I feel inside, I have always let this abuse, being SA'd affect me. I can't have Sex with men, I feel broken and damaged, I want to be able to have fun but every time I go to have fun I close up and I physically struggle to have sex with men, and when I do have sex with them I do it to make them happy because I feel so bad about letting t hem down and failing as a partner. Maybe I haven't moved past my trauma as much I think I have. I think I still have a lot of healing to go. I recently encountered something at work, which again I was let down people that I thought would help me, I feel so hurt and so Alone. A couple months ago I was working in my local hospital It was my favourite job, I was helping people through chemo and there cancer treatment, I was, as many of my patients called me 'Their little ray of sunshine on a gloomy day' ☀️. I was working on a night shift and was approached by an agency worker who start talking to me, and me being me was nice to him and talking away, like I do with everyone I am a very friendly person and he took my being nice as a invitation to try it on with me, which I said no thank you. and he continued to touch me, and at one point got his man hood out which again I said 'No' he grabbed my hand to touch it, which I continued to say no, he told me keep to down, stay silent and feel what I was doing to him, I tried pulling my hand away. I went numb and started to just shut down. Luckily saved by the bell, someone was needing assistant and we were the only two working so he went and answered the bell and told me he will come back later, at the time I was heading on my break too sleep in the staff room, I was terrified to sleep, even though I locked the door so he couldn't get in I was so upset about what just happened, he said he would follow me home. I told the nurse in charge what had happened and he was moved to another ward in the hospital. They told me in order to do anything I need to write a statement and they could involve the police but I would have to go to court, do a statement, re live what happened, face him, which at the time I was just to traumatised to do because I wasn't believed last time anything happened and I couldn't face him, he was banned from the hospital and was not allowed to work in healthcare establishment after that, he then disappeared no one knew where he went or where he was. I took a few days off work for 'Mental health' as I got 'triggered' (I word I don't like to use) and I got penalised because of it. I have recently lost my job and I tried to fight my corner and had a tribunal due to me being off for sickness, the head of nursing turned around to me in the tribunal and told me 'Being off sick for the 'alleged sexual assault was not a good enough reason'. Again making me feel absolute shit as if she didn't believe me and my reason for being off which I only took a few days off to just try and sort my head out and find my worth made me feel like my reason was not validated and even if I was to take anything further regarding the SA in the hospital, they would not of supported to me anyways. Every day I am constantly having a battle in my head about being good enough. I get scared and also feel like I shouldn't share my story because what happened to me isn't half as bad as what some people have gone through. Did I lead them on? If only I wasn't too scared to speak up? Did I flirt with him or make him want me? questions I ask myself daily... I know I was only 10 but when people who are meant to be people you can trust and have authority tell you its a game, it does make me question still now to this day was it a game, a game that hurt me, and made me feel very uncomfortable and a game I didn't like, but still just a game between two. Law and Order and Olivia Benson (Mariska Hargitay) has saved my life, oddly it is my comfort show and helps me through some dark times and helped me understand and also know that it is wrong what happened to me. I also learnt its okay to share your story and it is always good to speak out about it, don't feel you're a burden or you're worthless, you are never alone there Is always someone out there that will be there for you. I am on a journey like everyone else that has suffered and been through some dark times and I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel and I am not alone, I think sharing my story will really help me feel less alone, I hope more people are able to speak up even if it is just through this. You are not Alone <3 sorry for such a long post