Community

In my survival story, "Just Words, Dirty Words", I shared so much and I brushed over an experience with a male gynecologist. It was a much bigger deal that I let on because it had triggered my previous abuse as an adolescent on my first job. I wonted other girls and women to understand what is not okay for a gynecologist to do. It was not until after it happened that I realized the full impact. I realized I had let myself be victimized again without trying to stop it. I felt self-loathing and anxiety. I write this letter to that opportunistic predator. You broke your oath. You betrayed the trust. You are terrible! I have done research on what a breast and pelvic exam is supposed be like and understand you used the framework to sexually assault me. I was late for the appointment to get birth control at the university clinic when I had just moved for college. You let me in even though you had no nurse chaperon, it seemed that you might have sent them home after putting me in the room. You are a man and that is against policy. We shared our first eye contact and I ignored your lust and first glance flirtation. You saw I was vulnerable and needed something from you. You told me as a new patient you have to do a full first visit exam. Now I believe you may have lied. I nodded and put down my guard. When you returned I was undressed wearing a paper smock for a false sense of security. I was self conscious even though I had impeccable hygiene and grooming but worried I was not fresh enough so late in the day because you were a man and you made it sexual. You examined my breasts with no gloves. I said nothing. I knew you were massaging them for you pleasure. You went on for five minutes like that. I think five whole minutes while you kept talking. When my boss used to molest me just seconds was plenty to make me feel sick and used. He would sit on my torso, compressing my ribs to the point I could not take a deep breath and have sex with my breasts and he usually took less time than you. do remember you used the words “wonderful” and “amazing” when commenting on by breast health. We could both smell the musk from down below from stimulating me like that. I was embarrassed. You should have been the one ashamed! You mentioned the textures and gave some instructional anatomy to pretend it might be official. You asked random questions and you shared personal stories like it was a date. All the while you were groping my tits like a pervert. Both hands at the same time! I tried to cover for you by pretending like this was not insane and not a sexual assault. You were twice my age and your mustache was ridiculous. You finally moved on to the pelvic exam. You said the words, “Very nice” when you lifted up the paper drape to help my feet into the stirrups. That is not appropriate when viewing a patient’s vagina for the first time. You explained every step from “I’m going to touch your thighs now” to “take a deep breath as I insert the speculum”. That part was quick but then you explained the manual exam that you did for too long. You inserted two fingers to check for cervical motion tenderness but rubbed my clitoris with your lubricated thumb as you did so. That was wrong! You explained that you were going to move your other hand to check for tenderness of my ovaries to check for infection but kept working your other hand on my clit and inside me. You put what felt like three fingers in me! You were sexually assaulting me again. Breaching my trust. Ignoring you oath. As a last indignity you felt for masses in the space between my vagina and rectum. You left your thumb in my vagina while you put a finger in my anus and moved them both back and in and out explaining you thought you felt something for a second but it resolved on massage, meaning it was nothing to worry about. You raped me! That was rape! I looked it up and what you were doing is a real part of an exam but no gynecologist had done that before then or ever since! Instead of leaving the room while I dressed you stayed and helped by holding out my clothes! Totally inappropriate! You should not have a medical license! Sure I let you, and I cooperated, and even tried to endure it and put on a pleasant face. I was a different person then and you just continued my cycle of being abused by men. But the anus part was where I felt true terror and wanted to get out. You gave me a business card with your name on it and told me to call and ask when you were working to schedule next visit. Then you only wrote me for 1 refill on 30 day birth control! Like I would even come back to be assaulted again. You smug abuser of power and trust! I left with you thinking I enjoyed that and would see you again!!! You make me want to scream and pound on things! It was delayed, but my abuse anxiety was triggered that night, and days after. I will never see a male gynecologist again. Your lust and greed is not better than that of a rapist. You broke my trust in the medical system and I still get anxiety at any doctor visit. Just because a girl’s reaction to abuse is not instant, because of some survival mechanism, does not make it any less painful. Sometimes even more, because we feel guilty for not being strong and assertive. You were in a position of authority and abused it so badly. You should be ashamed, doctor! You should be in prison!

My best friend invited me to a party at her mums house. Everyone was drinking. I’m bad at drinking. I notoriously can’t hold my alcohol and fall asleep. A drinking game started, so of course everyone picked on me. Predictably, I fell asleep on the sofa. My best friend made me comfortable and covered me in a blanket. I woke up later to find her boyfriend touching me under the blanket between my legs. I froze. Was this real? Was this really happening to me? It was. I’ve never told my best friend. They got married, and then divorced. I don’t know why I’m still keeping his secret.

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

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.

The first sexual assault I went through was when I was 12 years old and my first ever boyfriend I had at the time Raped me he was 14 years old at the time I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him he ended up pushing me on his bed and he ended up raping me I couldn’t even get him off cause he was very heavy & hurting me. I got sexually assaulted when I was 16 years old old and the guy who did it was 22 years old and it was a painful experience when he grabbed my boobs. The third and fourth times I was sexually assaulted from my then boyfriend he was also physically abusive towards me as well he used to always punch me in my stomach and he would hit me on my neck & shoulder I was eventually able to get out of the relationship I am a survivor of rape I am a survivor of sexual assaults I am a survivor of domestic violence as well

My Story — I Just Want a Safe Life for My Children I am sharing my story anonymously because I am afraid that people from my past may recognise me. Some details have been changed or left out to protect me and my children. The experiences and feelings I describe are my own. For most of my life, I have kept my pain inside. I have carried things that I never told anyone because I was frightened, ashamed, or simply didn't know how to explain everything that had happened to me. Today, I am finally trying to tell my story. Not because I want revenge. Not because I want people to feel sorry for me. I just want someone to hear me. My childhood When I was a young child, I was expected to clean the house, wash clothes, iron and cook. If something wasn't done exactly the way my mother wanted, I would be punished. I remember being beaten with spoons and other objects. I would have bruises on my body and would try to hide them. I was frightened in my own home. Sometimes I was thrown outside without proper clothes or shoes, even when it was cold and getting dark. I remember hiding underneath a tree because I was scared. One of the few places where I felt safe was when my uncle would take me to his house. I looked forward to those visits because I knew I would have some peace. I also felt that my siblings were treated differently from me. I was made to feel that I was less wanted because my mother had wanted a boy when I was born. For years, I wondered what I had done wrong. I was only a child. I had done nothing wrong. A decision that was never mine When I was a teenager, my family told me we were going on holiday. I wanted to finish my education first. Instead, I was taken abroad and discovered that the real reason for the trip was that I was going to be married. I was still very young. I tried to convince myself that perhaps marriage would give me the loving family I had always wanted. Very quickly, I discovered that my new husband was not the person I had hoped he would be. When I told my family what was happening, I was told that things would become better. I didn't want him to come and live with me. My wishes were ignored. My first marriage When I returned home, I was expected to work and look after everything. My money was controlled. I was expected to work long hours and still cook, clean and look after my husband. When I couldn't meet all the expectations placed on me, I was shouted at, insulted and physically abused. I also experienced sexual violence. I did not consent, but my wishes were ignored. Eventually, I was thrown out. I managed to find somewhere safe to stay for a short time. I thought perhaps my life was finally going to change. But I was persuaded to return. Later, I was taken abroad again and left there for a long period because I would not agree to live with my husband. I was heartbroken and frightened. Eventually, under pressure, I agreed. My children I eventually became a mother. My children became my whole world. Their father was violent towards me, and there were times when I had to put myself between him and the children to stop him from hurting them. I was terrified, but I would never allow someone to hurt my children if I could protect them. After years of cheating, violence, shouting and fear, my husband eventually left. I felt relieved. Then he returned. People around me told me that he had changed and that I should give him another chance. I didn't want to. My children and I were frightened. Then came the night that I will never forget. While I was working, one of my children contacted me and warned me not to come home because they were afraid their father was going to kill me. When I returned home, I was attacked. I was hit, thrown against furniture and injured. At one point, a knife was held against my throat and I was threatened. My children were terrified. They helped me find a way to keep him distracted long enough for help to arrive. I remember praying that the police would come before something happened that could never be undone. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. The police arrived. He was arrested. I was shaking and crying. My body was hurting and I was terrified. I was taken to hospital. My children and I were then moved somewhere safe. For the first time in a long time, we had some distance from the danger. Starting again After many months away, we returned home. I hoped we could finally rebuild our lives. Instead, our belongings were removed. Furniture was thrown away. My children's belongings were sold. I was told that we did not deserve comfortable things and that we could sit and sleep on the floor. I was devastated. But the next morning, I got up and bought basic food for my children. That was when I decided I had to work. I found a job working nights. I arranged childcare and built my entire life around my children. I would work through the night, come home, get my children ready for school, take them to school, sleep for a few hours, wake up to cook and clean, collect them, feed them, take them to their activities, put them to bed and then go back to work. I was exhausted. But I did it because my children needed me. Losing our home While I was trying to rebuild our lives, I also suffered serious financial difficulties involving people close to me. I had worked hard to build a home for my children. I had invested years of work and money into making it a safe and happy place. Then I discovered that arrangements had been made for the house to be transferred to another family member without my agreement. I came home from work and was told that the house had been sold. I couldn't believe it. That house wasn't just a building. It was where my children had grown up. It was where I had tried to create the home and family I had never had as a child. I had spent years making it ours. Suddenly, it was gone. My children and I had nowhere to go. We stayed with family for a while, where we were made to sleep on the floor. Eventually, I went to the council for help. My children and I were placed in temporary accommodation. We had very little privacy and were struggling to cope. Eventually, we were given somewhere to live. I continued working wherever I could. I worked in care and took other jobs when I needed to. I did whatever I could to support my children. Trying to find love again My family continued to pressure me to marry again. I didn't want another marriage. I was frightened of going through the same things again. But people around me kept telling me that I should give someone else a chance. Eventually, I agreed to marry a man who had been described to me as kind and caring. At first, he seemed wonderful. I thought perhaps I had finally found the person I had spent my whole life waiting for. Then I became pregnant. Things changed. He began asking me for money. He became angry and verbally abusive. He wanted me to arrange for him to come and live with me. I was pregnant and unable to work normally. I couldn't understand why someone who had seemed so kind was treating me this way. I asked people for help and was told to keep him happy and do what he wanted. It felt like my past was repeating itself. When I gave birth by Caesarean section, I was still in hospital when he said something that broke my heart. I had just given birth to our son. Instead of feeling loved and supported, I was made to feel worthless. After that, he continued to be kind mainly when he wanted money. I was paying for things and trying to provide for my child. Eventually, I discovered evidence that he had been involved with another woman. Once again, my heart was broken. I had believed that this marriage would be different. Eventually, he left. Where I am today Today, I am raising four children. I have spent years working whenever I could to provide for them. But recently, everything changed again. I became seriously unwell and was diagnosed with blood clots affecting both lungs. Because of my health, I am currently unable to work. This has been frightening. Working has always been how I have tried to keep our lives going. Now I am unable to do what I have always done while still having the responsibility of caring for my children. Everyday life has become a struggle. After everything I have already survived, I never imagined that my health would become another battle. But I am still here. I am still trying to look after my children and find a way forward. For years, I blamed myself and wondered whether there was something wrong with me. I am beginning to understand that being mistreated did not mean I deserved to be mistreated. I was a child who deserved protection. I was a young woman who deserved a choice. I was a wife who deserved safety and respect. I am a mother who deserves a safe and stable home for her children. I don't want revenge. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want pity. I simply want my story to be heard. I want my children to grow up feeling safe, loved and protected. This is my story. For the first time, I am letting it be heard.

When I was 7, I started being sexually abused. This wasn’t by a family member, it was my grans second husband. It all stopped when I was 12, when we moved a few miles away and he didn’t visit as much. When I was 17, I was having therapy for other things, it eventually came out then. They helped me decide how I was going to tell my mum. They also said I should prepare for family members to not believe me. I thought, you don’t know my family. They all stick up for each other. Well so I thought. My mum never wanted to talk about it. I understand now that was due to guilt, she had her own mental illnesses to deal with. My sister, well she turned against me for a few years. Saying I was lying, I tried to ruin my grans marriage with my lies, threatening to beat me up. My sister even tried to prove I was lying buy having him watch her new born baby whilst she went and done his food shop. When this man died, it got worse. My sister and aunt said they can’t grieve over him cause of the lies I said about him. Saying I’m evil and not wanting me near her child incase I do stuff to her. I had cousins asking “what exactly is it he did to you? My gran saying “he’s not a pedophile”. All this almost destroyed me. It was worse than the sexual abuse I had went through as a child. I decided I wanted away from my family. So I enrolled in college at 23, at 27 I was qualified and got straight into a job, I had been saving through college, so managed to move onto my own place pretty quickly. Now 33 years old and looking back I often think, did all that really happen. I’ve since moved further away from my family, Doing this has helped me stay away from their drama and only visit on occasions. They’re a lot better now, but I’d still rather keep my distance. I’m in a good place mentally. I’ve got great friends and built a good life for myself. My advice to anyone going thought it. Prepare yourself for family not to believe you. Only talk about it to people you trust and only when you want to talk about it. Don’t feel you need to explain yourself to anyone. The best thing my therapist said, no matter what you did or didn’t do, it wasn’t your fault. You were only a child.

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 :)

Dedication: To all of the women and children that are fighting domestic abuse. I witnessed domestic violence between my mother and her boyfriend every day from the age of 6 up until the age of 11. I witnessed brutal attacks, one time my mother actually stopped breathing. He was a very jealous man. He wanted me out the way as much as possible. He even resorted to breaking my dogs leg in a fit of rage. My mother became a victim of ‘cuckooing’ by a local gang and was introduced to drugs. Her boyfriend stole from them and my mother was kidnapped. We both had to go into protective living. I stayed with my nan for 2 months not knowing where my mother was or even if she was alive. The gang found my mothers boyfriend and beat him to an inch of his life. My mother was later given an ultimatum; Him or me. She chose me. After us he moved on to another family. Unfortunately those children weren’t so lucky. They all got split up by the care system. It has not been until these past couple of months that I have learned to accept what happened. It has been a rollercoaster of emotions. Confusion, anger and tears. I had to say goodbye to the innocent little girl that was once me. At a crucial time when my child brain was meant to be developing and understanding the world, I had to skip that part completely. I was quickly brought into an adults world. After it all ended I had to build a whole new foundation and create a whole new person. It was almost like Norma Jean transforming into Marilyn Monroe or Beyonce becoming her alter ego Sasha Fierce. Before this, I had no identity. At the age of 6 I was just starting to find my place in the world which was then quickly taken from me. It wouldn’t be until I was 17 that I would have to come face to face with my mothers abuser again. She came home one night in a complete drunken state with him in tow. I looked him dead in the eyes and told him that I was 17 not 7 anymore and I was not afraid of him and he couldn’t hurt us anymore. The police ended up escorting him away. My mother was always encouraging of me and always told me she believed in me and to believe in myself. That I am so grateful for. I am so grateful for life. Every day I would wake up and wonder if that day would be the day I died. I think the way I got through it was fight or flight. My body chose fight. I had a best friend at the time who I am still best friends with to this day. Her mother was also tackling her own demons at home, so our friendship grew closer. My mother ended up having a hard time coming to terms with dealing with what happened. She is unfortunately a shell of person he once was. The song by Jessie J – I Miss Her sums it up perfectly. She is still breathing but she is not really living.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

My stepdad has abused me and groomed me since I was 12 years old. I have never told anyone about this because I was very afraid and scared as he has threatened me so much. He has tried to get me pregnant on multiple occasions due to this i can’t be in a relationship and struggle with self harming. Such as going in the shower and deep cleansing my self with dettol to feel clean.

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 am a survivor of abuse from a partner. With this abuse I was learning how the system fails to have safety nets for helping women in need. Domestic Violence grows in closed doors situations. I want the public to learn that I went to college and was emotionally abused by a Spouse who was running a double life. This abuse was able to be successful because isolation was first done followed up by manipulation, control, drugging, sex trafficking, Domestic Violence, abuse, slavery and because the gas lighting was so good I prayed for death. Now I'm left feeling broken with PTSD and huge trust issues. No-more will I put myself in that situation. I trust no-one now. Forever alone. Forever sad.

I was around 14-15 I was assaulted by someone I know I was so scared for such a long time scared to share my story but now I’m ready He used to always make me feel really guilty for the things he did to me He used to touch me inappropriately he was older I thought I was to blame for a while I blamed myself for what happened but I realise now that I need to share my story to help others out there struggling I fell into unhealthy coping mechanisms everyone handles trauma differently but I found help and reached out to friends and family and shared it with them

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.

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.

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.

PART ONE: I started to date someone, we i met on a dating app. We video called every day for a month before we met. During that time, i fall for his charms and believed everything he said about himself, although looking back now there was already red flags... for example a couple of lies and not telling me certain details many people wouldn't hesitate to answer in normal situations. When we arranged meeting up, he didn't give me a choice, asking me to go to him. At the time i understood as someone close to him had a personal situation and he needed to be near by. There is a little language barrier because he is from another country, but apart from that the date went really well. He paid for everything and made me feel special. However, things just got weirder... He had told me he was looking for a job, so he was short on money- so i told him i would support when needed, even though i am on apprentice wage myself. At first it started off okay, just little bits of money here and there for little bits he couldn't quite afford. But he started to ask for bigger amounts. i would ask him why he needs that much or if i challenge it because it doesn't seem right, he would manipulate me and use coercion to get to me. Once it worked once, it became and often event, leaving me with no money. It got to the point when it was my time to go to him, i wasn't able to pay for my train. When I told him I was struggling to pay for my trains, he turned on me, gas-lighting and guilt tripping me. This led to me feeling bad and I having to dig into my savings to be able to go and visit him. This became a regular occurrence. (To be continued if possible, the most painful bits I am not ready to share just yet 💔)

I look back and am plagued by doubt. It’s less now but still it creeps in - did it happen? Was I too sensitive? Maybe I made too much of it? Have I remembered it wrong? What I know to be true is how I felt and continue to feel when he is mentioned or I see him. FEAR. It’s been 2 years and I still think about if he will like what I am wearing or will have a comment to make. I question my reality - ‘did that happen? Did I say that?’ In lost interactions with him. I met him on line 14 years ago. Things moved quickly, ish. I didn’t see it then but looking back he was ALWAYS there. He gave his friend keys to my flat and I arrived home with it tidied and reorganized. He thought I was messy and that it was a nice thing to do. I felt utterly overwhelmed and very uncomfortable with this but stayed and thanked him as I was left feeling ungrateful. Interestingly I didn’t introduce him to my friends - in fact I kept him quite separate. I think I knew that I didn’t want them to meet him as something was off and they would probably see it and point it out. Or maybe o was afraid that they wouldn’t see it and wouldn’t point it out so it would make me feel even crazier. He didn’t like how I breathed in his direction in bed. He didn’t like how I fiddled with things. (These all felt ok to change for him……. I really had no self love and held myself with very little worth). The first physical element to the abuse (which I can now name as such) was a confusing incident at the time. He was napping and I woke him and he grabbed me by the throat. I was so shocked and I wanted to run a mile but ended up being told that it was my fault as I woke him too quickly. I was brainwashed already (3 months in). I was hard wired for this though as I had be taught not to trust my instincts - how dangerous this was. I stayed for 12 years, 2 children and gradually faded away. I dreamed of leaving, I said I would over and over and I nearly did once but it took so much courage to do it. I was terrified of the financial implications. I was isolated. I was exhausted. And I did it. He would have ‘waking dreams’ during which he would scream at me, push me, throw things, terrify me but would not remember them in the morning or want to talk about them. He would say ‘ well it wasn’t me, I was asleep’. I went to bed in fear most nights. There were never any bruises you could see but so much had been pulverized internally for me. I was on life support. This is part of my story . A start. It continues as he is in my life as our kids are young. The emotional and psychological abuse continues but I am doing the work to reposition myself. I am taking responsibility for my part in my journey and this is both empowering and exhausting. This abuse is very misunderstood- it is dangerous and invisible. I am learning to believe myself and look to myself for validation and answers. With love

I met a guy online, we became close and after around a month of talking we met up for the first time. We talked for hours, had our first kiss, set boundaries (or so i thought). For example, one of my main ones is i struggle with sexual stuff due to being assaulted on a bus when i was 14. As time went in i noticed the only time he’d have a full conversation with me was when it was based on sex. I met up with him a second time and he was touching me in specific places and i froze. Inside, i felt like i couldn’t breathe. But i couldn’t say no. I couldn’t move to get away. I told myself i was being dramatic and ignored how gross i felt when i went home. The third time, it happened again, this time i had tears rolling down my cheek, i was frozen, tense. After a few minutes he stopped and smirked, saying “you’re so tense.” He laughed. Again, i ignored the whole thing and said i was being dramatic. New years, i stayed at his. I woke up to his hand in my shorts. I pretended to be asleep, again, i couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to scream. I wanted to hit him. But i was frozen. I came home and haven’t spoken about it until today, as i’m writing this, i spoke to my best friends and they said it is assault. I feel so dirty.