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I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

it happened in the fall. it was cold outside (so was he), i remember worrying about not looking pretty enough for him. i invited him in and we started talking we instantly clicked, he was funny, charismatic, good looking, everything i wanted in a man and as the night progressed he offered me edibles and i took it (not ever having taken them before) and i feel that's where i went wrong, i accepted something that was going to leave me feeling like i was in a nightmare for months. i don't necessarily remember every detail, at times i even wonder what was real and what wasn't but i know my body tells me what is real. i blacked out through most of it and the parts i do recall have begun to fade but my body hasn't forgotten. part of me blames me for letting him in, for allowing myself to be put in that situation, aftercall he was a tinder hookup. when i wanted to take legal action it already was too late and i didn't want to have to face him again. he scares me now, i often find myself looking at his pictures thinking how can someone so normal looking live such a normal life after what they did? how can monsters walk upon us and no one notice, it often reminds me of when no one noticed the day after it happened. i remember feeling so dirty and different, i felt like an alien that everyone would look at but no one would say anything. i never said anything because one of the first people i told didn't believe me at first, it was only after they saw how damaged i was that they realized they should have helped me instead of telling me i was a "liar". it just baffles me how he was able to move on and i have to live with this for the rest of my life. i often find myself wondering if he even is sorry or if he realized what he did wrong not only once but twice. i have tried convincing myself it is my mind trying to protect me from it but then there's days where all i see is him, all i feel is him, and then it hits me. i was raped.

At the age of four, my mom used to take me out to the trunk of her Jeep and beat me for 20-30 minutes at a time. She would hit me, pull my hair, and scream profanity at me. The physical abuse lasted until I was 11-years-old, and she only stopped once CPS got involved. My dad knew; he did nothing. At the age of 6, I got sexually molested at school by another female. My mother told me it was not molestation, and that I was just "playing around." At the age of 11, I was sexually abused by the neighborhood boys. They were in their mid-teens, and would touch me inappropriately, rub their penises against me, and tell me inappropriate jokes. At that same age, I was also dry humped on the face by multiple boys who I considered friends. At the age of 16, I was raped by a 26-year-old man. He groomed me beginning at the age of 14-years-old, and convinced me he was a safe person. At that same point in my life, I was raped by a 23-year-old that I had known for two years and considered safe. He took me to a room where we could "be alone" then proceeded to force himself on me. I was crying and telling him to stop, but he didn't stop. I dated him for three months after that, and he continued to pressure me into sex and emotionally abuse me. Starting at the age of 14-years-old, I began getting harassed online. I stupidly gave out my phone number and address to someone I had trusted, and they were posted on 4chan (a public image board). I was harassed daily: I received death threats; I received threatening phone calls; I would receive calls to my school. I then found out that the person I trusted killed a girl in his home city, and that they had proof I was going to be the next victim. At the age of 17, my step-dad physically assaulted me and almost broke my wrist. He put a cigarette out on my head, strangled me, and threatened me. My mom watched, holding the phone, and told me it was my fault for "not leaving when [she] told [me] to." The only help I got was from a neighbor who saw me run out of the house, covered in blood. That same year, I was kicked out because I refused to lift the restraining order off of my step-dad, and my mom gave me an ultimatum. I refused and went to live elsewhere. At the age of 18, I moved in with my first serious boyfriend. He was abusive and cheated on me multiple times. He would call me every name in the book and threaten to harm me and break my belongings. I did not get away until I was just turning 19. At the age of 20, I moved in with my dad. My step-mom was jealous of my dad and I's relationship and physically assaulted me and kicked me out on my 21st birthday. My dad did nothing again. At the age of 21, I developed life-threatening bulimia and anorexia and began drinking heavily to self-medicate. My fiance helped me through these disorders and saved my life. I am now 24-years-old and have many stable and healthy relationships--both in friendship and love. I am also receiving help via medication for C-PTSD, GAD, and major depressive disorder. I began therapy recently, too, and am learning to confront my traumas and move on. It's hard, and there are many things I remember each day that send me into a panic, but I want to heal and reclaim my innocence, power, and self-worth.

Date’ I’m 16 years old. I went to a private school in region. There was a post grad following me around the party. I knew him so I wasn’t alarmed(even though he was 19 6’5” and 200 lbs a basketball player) He was my best friends ex. I needed to use the restroom. My first red flag. The guy tried to come in the bathroom. I said oh here you can go I’ll go somewhere else. Smooth move. I went upstairs and when I came out he was standing there waiting for me. He brought me into plunketts room and asked me to go on the roof and hook up. I said no I have a bf. He tried to kiss me I pushed him away. The fireworks were starting. We went on the roof after he apologized and said let’s just go smoke a cigarette. I agreed and we went out. This is when he forced me down and started kissing me. I was helpless 120, 5’8”. I cried and replied no stop pls stop. I can still feel the the rocky shingles on my back while he defiled me. Not even the worst part. I could hear ppl right under us but I was so embarrassed and scared I didn’t scream. That’s my worst regret I could have just screamed. When he was about to finish he gave me a choice. “I won’t come in you if you let me cum in your mouth”. I’m 40 and have never been the same since that incident

I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

I've not shared this story with many people. The first time I told a boyfriend he fell asleep and I felt even more alone than before. I have a good relationship with a good person now, many years later, and it has helped to heal me. As much as the experience has impacted me, my story could have been much, much worse. And that is where part of the problem lies. I have not believed or taken seriously because it never got to the worst case scenario. I have been estranged from my entire family. But I was the child and the victim, I should not have been blamed and shamed and faulted for my absence and my trauma. I simply couldn't stand to be in the same room anymore with the one who was responsible. Which was my father. As I said it could have been much worse. Luckily I was never actually raped. But I lived with the fear everyday as a teen. Because he would walk in on me in the shower, my room and the bathroom. And I did not have a lock on my bedroom door. I did start frantically locking every other available lock, but still felt vulnerable as he was on the other end of the door trying the handle. He would watch pornographic content while I was in the room and refused to skip over these parts when changing the channels, waiting for the scenes to end first. At some point when he came across one, he out if the blue asked if I was old enough for this already. Seriously? Who thinks it is okay to watch porn with your daughter? I cannot unsee his face as he asked this, his stare. I tried to be away from the house as much as I could and stay in my room as well, scarcely coming down to eat to avoid being seen. I even once tried to heat food under a table lamp to avoid being in his presence. The relationship with my parents obviously deteriorated and my mother grew very frustrated with me, blaming me for hurting her and my father by being so aloof. But how could I tell her -or anyone else -this, my father ultimately wasn't a bad person, was he? Eventually I must have told them at least 3 times what had happened (first when I still lived at home pressured by my mother, later after I moved out and had fallen into a deep depression), but they refuse to understand or accept the facts. My mother says it never happened and that my memories are false. She also said it is not acceptable to stay away from family (no matter what basically). My father reduces it to his internet porn behaviour. He once tried to touch my hair after I tried to avoid him at all costs and I still have chills down my spine at the memory of his touch on my head. It's a theme in my nightmares that I'm screaming for him to stay away and not touch me, while my mother is angry and denies it all. I have ultimately broken contact with my father completely, after trying for years to overcome the trauma and nightmares. It has helped me immensely. I try to still be in touch with my mother but it is always painful and difficult. She tries to talk about him, shares pictures that have him on it and I can't even bear to look at those. I am still always on my guard with men older than me, though not as uncomfortable as I used to be. So... This is my story and I am glad I finally have somewhere to share this. No-one should have to go through these things, it's good that there is more awareness to how common sexual assault is and that we should do everything we can to stop it. I wish you all the best.

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

HELLO PEOPLE , its nice we can share our stories over here . So im a 19 year old girl from india who has a very typical indian family of four , me my little brother, mother and father . So my story is , my father used to physically abuse my mother since i was some months old , it started . he beat her over silly reasons . then when i gradually grew up and reached class 1 i was 6or 7 years old at that time , my father made me study for an entrance exam for class 6th and the syllabus was all of class 6th and 7th 9(to be noted that i was in class 1 at that point) . so my father made me study high level subjects of class 6th when i was still in class 1 which was a very tough job for me . i couldnt understand anything , and then my father used to beat me . he never let me play with friends , go out , in short he never let me have my childhood as childhood . he was always very extremely focused on my studies but forgot that i was still a child . We lived far from my father's village where my grandmother lived so in every summer vacations he used to take me and kept me there in the village where he would give me tution classes for the examination prep so i never got to enjoy my vacations . When was home , again the same thing , study and watch domestic violence at home . i always had to hear really abusive words which as a child i got traumatized . so when i was in class 2 , my mother got into an extramarital affair which i found out eventually and i hated my mother for that i was very shameful and i wanted to tell my father about this but i didnt . eventually my father found out and i remember that day when he beat her so much after he catch her red handed . It was a divorce situation but even then they stayed. my mother was no more into affair stuff but still i hated her . i wished she would die . later as i grew up the violence continued at home where i had to stop them both , physical abuse , abusive words and everything continued . it was really toxic . they both used to abuse me and my brother verbally with words like slut , Name and any abusive slangs you can think of . this is to be noted that my mother was also not very decent or you can say nice , she didnt do household chores at time , didnt made food on time , was extremely lazy (to be noted that my father helped her in everything ) but she didnt cuz she was ill manned to be honest . and so all of this continues and when i was in 1 i had my first boyfriend and my parents found out and they kind of accepted it at the first so when i appeared for 10th boards , i scored a 90.2 percent despite being in love and stuff but my parents where not happy infact they shamed me for my result (to be noted that they have never been satisfied by my results even if i score the full marks or become the topper they just always compare me with other children which made my self esteem and confidence shatter ) . they blamed me and my love affair for the 90.2 percent i scored which was too less for them because i was not the topper , the topper was at 93 . and now im in college , 3 years have passed by after that result but still they abuse and compare me for my 90.2 percent . i attempted suicide twice but i survived and they dont know bout this . i always get suicidal thoughts . they have never given me any privacy , they take control of everything , dont let me go out , visit a friend , talk to a friend over call . its suffocating . now im 19 and im again preparing for an exam , they have continued they abuse , domestic violence and everything . they make me hear for anything i eat , they have locked me up in a room where i have a laptop and study and sit here the whole day . they verablly abuse me a lot . some days ago i had a packet of noodles when i was hungry because my mom hadn't prepared food and it was very late and my mom found out that i ate noodles and she called me slut and other slangs infront of all neighbours . they always have been toxic . please mind that i have no problem studying . but i dont think something which takes away your entire childhood from you is not worth it . So my entire teenage and childhood was destroyed . i dont know how my adulthood would go because they wont let me live they are always here to pull me down . i wish i could just die .

I’ve attempted to write this so many times, zoning in and out staring at the blank screen. Disassociating as my mind and thoughts spin at 1000 miles per hour, yet not one has landed in a constructive sentence. My entire outlook on myself, the world and life as I knew it changed in a way I never imagined possible. I lost myself. I lost my confidence, I genuinely didn’t recognize the person in the mirror looking back at me. I was a social butterfly who had turned to isolation and drugs for comfort. Being on social media the last couple of weeks has been tough and triggering. But I know I’m not alone. I was raped by a bouncer of popular City bars, a number years ago, in my own home, with everyone partying in the room down the hall. He was a friend. Someone I thought I could trust. I’m a lesbian and I now blame myself for letting myself get too comfortable around guys. Just because I was gay, I thought it gave me a safer card to be close and alone with men. I had a few friends back to my house after a night out, we were on a bit of a love buzz. Mixture of drunk and high. I was going to the bathroom. In my own home. A lot of it is blocked out still til this day, yet some of it feels like it just happened yesterday. He came in while I was using the toilet and I didn’t mind because he was my friend and I was gay, and not coherent enough to worry. We were talking, laughing, he was complimenting me as I pulled up my trousers. He pulled me in and kissed me, at first I kissed him back until I realized what was happening and pulled back. He then got very strong and restrictive of my movements and I started to panic. I told him stop. I told him no. I told him I’m gay and we’re too fucked up. He persisted to kiss me where he could, he ripped my trousers open. I had only done the button, I hadn’t a chance to zip it so they ripped open without much effort. I tried to pull away, I tried to stop. I even tried to scream but literally nothing was coming out of my mouth. I was moving so much that he (5 times my size and weight) pulled and pinned me to the ground and tore my trousers to my ankles as he couldn’t get them off over my boots. When he couldn’t get it in far enough in the front he dragged and twisted me around, forced my face into the radiator and raped me from behind. I can still HEAR him breathing in my face and my ear from in front and behind. I can feel his weight suffocating me. I had bruises for months afterwards. I finally managed to coerce him off and squirm out with the excuse to get a condom to make it easier. I ran for my life through the house. Kicking off my shoes, pants and underwear to get it off my skin. I went into the front room and collapsed crying. Got sweatpants and into the next room to the party goers. The moment they saw me they knew before I could even get out the sentence. They ran to the bathroom and he was wanking himself off. I lost a lot of myself that night. More than I can remember. More than I’m willing to. For a long time people accused me of lying because he’s “such a nice guy” “he’s a bouncer he wouldn’t do that” “he’s the nicest person iv ever met” “how much did you have to drink” “what were you wearing” “did you lead him on” “he apologized to me for sleeping with you” “he said you took your pants off” NO. MEANS. NO. NO MATTER HOW DRUNK. NO MEANS NO NO MATTER HOW HIGH. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER IF YOU KISSED THEM BACK. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER YOUR SEXUALITY. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER HOW NICE HE IS PERCEIVED TO BE. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU PUSH THEM AWAY. NO MEANS NO. A piece of my inner heart, died that day. And I wish I could say it was the last time a male friend refused to take no for an answer. I suffer with C PTSD. I had to leave hospitality after almost 12 years. I don’t go out any more. I became too dependent on drugs and alcohol to numb out the noises, numb out the flash backs, numb out the feeling my body will never recover from. I’ve been trying for continuous sobriety but I haven’t got the hang of it yet. Although I’ve had more days sober than drunk/high but I’m tired of running. I’m tired of numbing. I have breakdowns in Tesco now. Yet I still see him around every now and again. He still has a job. He still has a life. He still has access to so many drunk women. Thank you to the staff at City hospital and City who took such good care of me under the circumstances both times. I will be back for part 2 but for now I’m pretty drained out. I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and typed about this this much before and I need to do more grounding exercises. You are not alone. We are not alone. We are stronger together. A pencil can break easily alone, but it’s much harder to break in a bunch. I don’t have the will power or strength to read this back before posting but thank you so much for creating a space where we can come together and feel safe despite having such heavy trauma’s on our backs. Name

I was 14. We were at sleep away church summer camp. Me and one of my friends had been giving people tattoos. He asked for one, of course. Wanted some lyrics on his hand that were far too inappropriate for a church camp. He put his hand on my thigh to give me 'better access to his hand'. Conversation between the three of us got dirty, quick. I hate to say that i participated in it, but I did. I have a tendency to get greedy about male attention, stemming from little to no attention from my deadbeat father. Fast forward a little bit, about an hour later. Me, a few of my friends, and him. We made our way from the chapel to the lodge for dinner. He waits till we're in the far corner of the line to grope me roughly, whispering horrible, degrading things into my ear. Young, starstruck, naïve me thought he loved me so much that he would tell me those things. It was only after he tried to force himself down my throat that I realized how terrible it was. I didn't want my innocence to be taken by an older teen who i had just met, much less in a chapel. When i told the counselors, they seemed like they believed me. But his father was a major donator. My friends didn't believe me because he was 'attractive'. When i told my mother, she didn't believe me. "You probably led him on, so he thought it was fine." No. If 'Yes' was never explicitly said, then it's not consent. Since then, I've struggled. I've questioned my religion. But then I thought, why am i giving this horrible boy any extra thought? And why does everyone I love believe his word over mine? Maybe because they never really loved me. Maybe because it was easier to pretend it never happened. But a real supporter would take the scared child's word before considering the almost adult male who had a history of sexual disturbances.

At 19 years old and away from home for the first time…I thought I was in love. I married someone I barely knew. I met him at Military Training, and we got stationed in the same city. I wanted a wedding, but he did not so we ended up at the Justice of the Peace. This was one of the first of many things I did to compromise. Shortly after we were married, his true colors started showing. Slowly, I was isolated, moved away from all my friends and family. I could not do anything right. Everything was my fault. No matter how hard I tried it was never good enough. He forced me to watch pornography and forced me to do things sexually that I had not consented to. Yes, a spouse can rape their spouse. I was called all sorts of names, mocked, belittled, insulted, and worse. It was mostly behind closed doors; however, some was done in public. We would only hang out with my friends and family when he wanted to put on a show. At one point he moved his “friend” in with us because she had nowhere to go. After being diagnosed with an STD, I learned she was one of many women that he cheated on me with. She was his mistress in every sense of the word. At some point I lost who I was and began to think I was exactly who he said I was…worthless, ugly, and nothing. I was living in a fog. I could not make sense of my feelings or thoughts. I had no idea what to do to make him happy because no matter how much I tried to do what I thought he said he wanted it was never right. I attempted suicide which surprised my family, friends, and co-workers because I had never said a word. I had been able to put on a smile and always help others during the workday. No one knew the verbal, emotional or sexual abuse I endured at home. After my suicide attempt my family, and the few friends that still stood by me tried to get me to leave. I refused to leave. I was insistent that could make my marriage work. If I only tried harder. If I were only the person, he wanted me to be. Then, out of the blue, he was arrested, court-martialed, and sent to military prison (on matters unrelated to the marriage). I still tried to make things work. I would go visit him in jail, take care of our home, pay the bills, and try to be a “good wife”. One day he called asking for things he wanted. When I told him that I had not bought the requested items because I was looking for a part-time job to pay the bills (we had mounds of debt thanks to him), he called me “undependable”. It was in that moment I finally realized I deserved more. I yelled into the phone “You’re right; I’m undependable!” and hung up the phone. I then took off my engagement and wedding rings and proceeded to throw them across the living room into the kitchen where they came to rest under the washer and dryer. The next day I contacted a lawyer and within a few weeks we were divorced. We had been married for one year and four months and had known each other for one year and nine months. In less than two years this man had broken me to the point that I no longer knew who I was and kept me from making new friends at my duty assignment. The only friends I had at this point were some old friends from high school that I did not see often but they refused to be pushed away. His actions caused me to spiral into a pit of depression so severe that I thought the only answer (or way out) was to take my own life. Throughout my first marriage, I had a friend who told my first ex-husband to back off and that he was going to stay my friend no matter what. He kept his word and continued to always be there for me during my marriage. When I told him, I was getting divorced, he took leave and came to stay with me for a week so he could be in the courtroom with me during the divorce hearing. 2 years and 7 months later this friend and I were married. Like my first husband, I also met him at military training. Our whole relationship had been long distance except for the few months at military training and that one week during my divorce. We spent the first year of marriage apart waiting for the military to station us together. We got pregnant the first weekend we were finally living together. Once we were living together, his true personality quickly emerged. He was always on the computer due to video games and/or pornography. He could not be bothered to help if he was on the computer. He would yell when he was not happy. I called to say I was in premature labor with our child and he did not come to the hospital. Once the baby arrived, I would ask for help, but he could not be bothered because he was busy. As time went on, the yelling, silent treatment, name calling, not helping around the house, and just ignoring me only seemed to get worse. Then he got deployed. I discovered he was having at minimum one online affair and saying all sorts of hateful and nasty things about me. I confronted him, and he acted like it was not a big deal. I felt differently. It was a big deal to me, so I left. I filed for a divorce. He spent months sweet talking me until I foolishly took him back. At this point we were now both out of the military. We bought a house, and he went to school. I worked full-time, tried to go school, and took care of the house and our child. He still seldom helped with anything. I had to pay for childcare because our child bothered him while he was doing his schoolwork. The name calling, silent treatments and ignoring only got worse. I noticed he was punishing our child in ways that were not appropriate for a toddler and expecting things beyond a toddler’s capability. I started having panic attacks when I pulled into the garage after work because I did not know which personality I was going to meet when I walked in the house: Mr. Happy or Mr. Angry. His behavior after we moved in together did not match the behavior of the friend who was there for me during my first marriage; he had changed – or had he? He stopped telling me how much he loved me and how much he needed me and proceeded to tear me down or not talk to me at all. I had reached that all too familiar point where I was again in a fog and not sure what to do because everything, I did was wrong…unless he wanted something. I felt like I was walking on eggshells at home all the time. I remember he said something to me at a store one day and a woman made eye contact with me…her look said, “Honey, just say the word and I will help you escape”. I just quickly looked away. The final straw was coming home from work one day and finding my usually very active child sitting very still on the couch. When I asked what was wrong, my child said, “Daddy slapped across both cheeks for playing in some mud with the dog.” I confronted him and told him he had three choices: get help, leave or I was calling the police. He chose to leave and blame me for making him “poor and homeless”. Seven months after we separated, we were divorced. We had been married for eight years and ten months. We had known each other for ten years and seven months. He had gone from being one of my best friends to a total stranger who left me feeling even more empty and broken than my first husband had. It is hard to put into words the slow way both individuals managed to tear me down to nothing, to the point that I felt like I had nothing left to live for. Unlike my first marriage, the second time it was not just me. I had to protect my child. Both used verbal and emotional abuse to slowly control me and make me feel like nothing, make me question my sanity, and make me believe I was a complete idiot and loser. One of them used sex as a weapon for his pleasure and another withheld touch of any kind knowing that it is one of my Love Languages. Both could be kind when it suited them to make them look good or to get what they wanted. Thanks to both of these individuals I now know gaslighting, love bombing, flying monkeys, triangulation, projection, threats (both threatened to kill me), trauma-bonding and more are all part of a Narcissist’s play book. It was not me who was crazy or not worthy. They used these tools to get what they wanted and then tossed me to the side when I was no longer needed. Now that I know what these actions and terms mean I have been able to educate myself on how to recognize the signs, heal from the trauma and reach a point where I am able to share my story of survival. I had no idea who I was, what I liked, how to live a happy life or how to be strong. I could put on a good show for the outside world, or so I thought. I have since learned that my family and close friends could tell things were wrong. They were praying for me and standing close for when I finally reached out for help. When I look back over both marriages, I see God’s hand in them, and I know that it is because of Him that I am still here to tell my story. My first ex-husband walked in on me with the pills in hand and a razor blade at my wrist. For all the bad he did God used him to save my life by having him walk-in at that exact moment. He reported me to the military thinking it would get me in trouble but instead it saved my career and my life. His going to jail allowed me to get away. During my second marriage I can honestly say that the only reason I was able to get away is truly a miracle. I believe the prayers of my loved ones were answered by giving me a strength that came only from God, allowing me to stand up to him and give him those three choices after he slapped our child. How did I escape and repair my spirit? How did I find me again and become happy, strong, out-going, courageous, stand my ground, and know my own worth? I did it through the mercy, forgiveness, and love of God. I have spent hours in prayer and bible study. I have gone to Christian based counseling. I have shared my story with others. It has been a long road to recovery, but I know now I am a child of God and I am worth more than what those two individuals did to me. I will never settle again. Never settle for less than you are worth. You are worth more than all the rubies and diamonds in the world. You are His child. You are loved. You are beautiful. You are strong. You can. You will Survive.

I was silenced for so long, now my voice rings free. I’m still filled with agony and it’s hard to bear, but there is hope and I know each day I am getting better. I was silenced by so many who wanted to keep me and my story down. I was sexually assaulted by a member of a fraternity and then the whole fraternity has worked endlessly to help cover up my assault. I was too scared to even come forward as they threatened me and started rumors and lies to harass me. I will not be silent anymore. I am standing strong and resilient. They did not break me, I will rise from this terrible event. I am leaving behind the shell of me who never would have spoken up and sat in agony longer everyday for someone who now stands tall and proud. I’ve used my voice and my experiences to advocate for others who have been hurt like me. I am ready to use my voice for good and start a revolution.

I wrote this poem, while I was in the process of therapy. I was sexually assaulted after a night out. I had only turned 18 and I trusted this person to look after me. He was older age and a family friend. I hope this poem helps someone. You took what wasn’t yours to take You took it and I felt I gave it away I cried and I lied because I was scared I tried to speak up but there was nobody there My friends refused to believe it true As I lied to protect you… how cruel I pretended at the time, that everything was fine My mouth told a story my body knew was a lie I coped with food, drink and drugs You lived your life And I never could what you did has stuck with me for years It took me a while but maybe I am fixed Although it’s been 6 and I seem to be fixed My mind and body are still very mixed I now find time to speak about you Even though I wish I didn’t have to It brings up emotions I wish did not exist You took my power and gave me shame But now I am taking back what you took away It shouldn’t be me who feels disgust It should be you who pays for your crime. I took back my power I took back my life I now know so much more I wish did way before But I can’t change what has already been It was not my fault and I know now it wasn’t me.

mum was at work and my brothers were in the garden playing football with each other as dad had sent them outside so i could watch my show. Dad and I were sitting on the sofa, I was lying on his chest and he had one arm around me (right hand, disabled one) and the other was stroking my hair (left hand). He began to put his hand near my private parts, I squirmed slightly as it was uncomfortable, he chuckled to himself and whispered to me “it was normal for a father to show his daughter some love.” So I tried to relax. eventually excused myself to the bathroom but he followed saying “he didn't want me making a mess”. When I walked in I took my trousers down and he pulled me closer to him, his grip was rough and it hurt (I yelped a bit), he began to touch my private parts and I tried getting away again as his touch was uncomfortable and his grip was still hurting. At one point he pulled his trousers down and guided my had to his private parts making me touch them, he told me he was showing me love and i believed him, he said if I touched him he would give me a treat and love me more as well so I began to do it willingly. He asked if he could take a photo of me “for some friends” and then did it anyway, not giving me a chance to reply and fight back. about a minute later, my brother called dad because he was losing and dad was annoyed. He washed his hands and went out to josh. Later he returned with some chocolate and a ‘drink’. From what I remember of the smell it was beer of some kind but as a kid I didn't notice, he did this as a reward every time. It wasn't long before dad got kicked out, I was alone with him in the kitchen. He was annoyed at me as I had tried to tell someone about him, and he was punishing me. i was trying to go to mum and he had grabbed me tightly, i was terrified, he was towering over me and i had nowhere to hide. He walk over to the side and grabbed a knife holding it to me, i began to apologize to him over and over, he made me bow to him and call him ‘master’ . He seemed to find joy in threatening me. I wanted to get away from him. That night he still attacked me and beat me but I was too afraid to scream. He ended up using the knife to cut himself on his legs while telling me it was my fault he was hurting himself because I didn't love him anymore. I offered to touch him because I wanted him to be happy again. He accepted and I did it, after that I kept offering when we were alone to keep him happy. I didn’t tell anyone about him touching me because I thought I would get in trouble for offering to touch him. When mum kicked him out I was scared he was going to kill himself because I couldn't make him happy anymore. I still feel guilty for that night as if i would have not tried to tell someone it wouldn't have happened.

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 just filed a protection order in January. I have held on because I saw the hurt child within my partner and so it was easy to rationalize why he had negative behaviors. The last straw was when he apparently didn’t want me in the garage so he kicked over tools that were stored in totes and picked up an Axe and shattered a mirror. He looked at me while holding the Axe and I just retreated and created space because I didn’t want to create a reason for his anger to escalate any further. I am filing for divorce and am hoping to get sole custody as I want our son to have a safe and healthy childhood and my soon to be ex husband cannot provide that at this time. I pray he can heal but I cannot save an Adult as I cannot cause someone else to choose healing. Last I heard he is running around town looking to get high. I think he might just be reckless in his actions and emotions at this time. I have anxiety but I lock my doors and when he did violate the protection order he did go to jail so I hope that is motivation for him to not break it again but I’m not sure if it is or not. I was going through my google account and saw videos that he was putting cameras in our closet or bedroom which he did not notify me off. I also had to cut so much outside friends or people in general because he assumed the worst as others may be seeking inappropriate relationships with me, but that was never the case. I know he is most likely playing the victim but the patched holes in the wall the broken door frame and the shattered mirror tell a different story. If he wants to blame me that’s fine. My peace, safety and happiness is more important and my children deserve safe home.

When I was about 11, I went on tiktok and had a new friend alert so I friended him them back and we started talking he lied to me and told me he was 12, so fast forward, I got his snap and I was clueless bc he would never show me his face or call me when I sent him like 10 pictures of my face. Then once we started becoming friends, we did this to get to know you game, then he told me to send nudes and I complied. Then in exchange he sent me pictures and then it led to video chats and then he cummed to me and I felt disgusted so i blocked him. Then I had another guy who tried to take me purity but I had learned enough to recognize I was being SA'ed so then I blocked him too. I feel nasty and a burden. Please help!