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

I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

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

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

I am a victim of COCSA. This was not easy for me to deal with, and the one question I keep asking myself is "Why can he get away with it?" Now, in this case, it is very overlooked, but when you're the one who is living with that trauma, it doesn't feel fair. In some cases, nothing ever happens, and that person has to live with the trauma caused by this. Personally, I feel like the abuser/assaulter should be held accountable for what they did. In fact, I know what you were thinking in that exact moment, too: "This is normal," "it will pass," "They still love me," "They are just angry." But I'll tell you, however old you are, whatever situation you're in, whoever you are, this is not normal, it will not pass, and it is not okay. There is never an excuse for physical, sexual, or emotional violence. Stand up for yourself. Even if it's not easy, fight back and most importantly, get the justice you deserve. You are strong, willing, powerful, and smart. No matter where you're reading this from. You are a survivor. You are brave. You are capable of surviving. I was 14 when I finally escaped it and 13 when it started. It may be hard at first, but believe in yourself because you can escape this. Finally, don't let the trauma control you; always remember you are stronger than they are. If you ever find yourself in need to talk, email me atEmail. Don't hesitate because if you feel like no one understands, I will.

Even though I went with him, it was ultimately nonconsensual. I still feel guilty. He was my sister's ex-husband. Having sex with him was the low point in a spiral started by my extreme workplace sexual harassment. Let it serve as a warning to women of all ages everywhere not to start down the slippery slope of letting men get away with things you know they should not. It was the fourth of July and let me tell you about my mess then. I was a business major interning at a Rental Car company in the midwest, desperate to get connections to have a job out of business school and I put all my eggs in one basket- the company I was interning at. Two men took advantage of that, especially the one who invited me to stay on after my regular internship like I was special. Like I wrote a year ago in my post "Major Sexual Harassment", he had degraded me into performing oral sex on him in secret to end most of my days working for free there. It was killing me internally and I had nobody to go to with my sorrow and self-loathing. So I went home for 4th of July weekend. My parent's house that we all grew up in when it was a smaller town was a prime location to walk a couple minutes to a new big park they had next to a pond where they had a fireworks show. My big sister and her three kids, my nephew and nieces were there, my aunt's and uncles and their kids. Barbecue and a keg of beer before we all walk to the park. (I was 20 but it was our culture to bend the rules a little). My sister's ex-husband, KA divorced 2 years before, father of all three kids stopped by with his friend. We all knew each other. My sister tolerated KA for the kids even though she did not like him anymore. I was drinking, trying to forget my problems at college, the workplace sex abuse that was my own wound. The sun had set and on the lawn of the crowded park I ended up wandering from my family and hanging with KA and his friend because they brought beer in gallon jugs and I wanted to keep filling my cup. KA was about 10 years older than me. It did get flirtatious, and I did reciprocate compliments about how good I looked with how KA and his friend stayed in shape for old men-it was playful. I had always looked up to him as a big brother/Uncle and was not really around for the divorce when the bad blood happened. So I was still kind of intimidated by KA. I recall getting a charge out of sitting off back in the dark between the two bigger, confident men and making out with each of them, back and forth. I know! Terrible! Men might say I had it coming. Also, when I got worried that my family might see and they suggested we sneak away I went willingly. I know this sounds terrible. Imagine when I told my sister. We headed back to the house to get fresh beers from the keg in the back yard. The fireworks finale happened while we were talking and I think we knew the family would come back. KA suggested that we get to his truck before everyone got back. It was just on the the street near our house and when we got to it he opened the back that had a topper and inside was thin mattress with pillows and blankets. It was obvious what they wanted and I made it clear I was not getting in there with both of them. So KA dismissed the friend , who walked away. I still resisted, telling him I did not want to go to bed with him. I know I told him. He got me to kiss him some more, then said he saw my family walking and we should just hide a minute I got in. It was hot and humid. He fanned me with a flattened beer case box but had me take off my T-shirt and shorts so he would not be wasting the air. He stripped too and we started kissing again. I told him I wanted to get out. We were so sweaty and he asked me to at least blow him. I had bad feelings about it of course because of the hell I was going through at the office with my "boss" who had talked me into giving him blowjobs when all I wanted was to be appreciated for my hard work and intelligence. That sobered me up. But I was doing it. That is as far as my consent went. He did not let me finish. He told me he had always wanted to F me. He knew me since I was in junior high! I did not want to. I did not want to have sex with my sister's ex husband!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! He told me it was "too late now." I remember. Just like at my internship it was a man's world. I had made out with him, I was on a bed in the back of his truck in my panties, bra off, and put his penis in my mouth to appease him. In what magical world could I realistically have accused him of rape after that point? He could have done anything including anal rape or call his friends in for a gangbang and nobody would believe I was anything but a slut. To think of myself as lucky makes me shudder. Never again! He physically overpowered me while we were both slippery with sweat and we had sex. It was quick the first time but then he got out, drove to the gas station while I put my clothes on in teh back, drove briefly again and climbed back in and closed the back before I had a chance to get out. He had gatorade, water, snacks, and beer. I drank blue Gatorade to cool off while he drank beer. He opened the topper door but not the tailgate and I wasn't allowed to get out. I still didn't know where we were, but it was a dead end of a street near my house. I can't say for sure but I think I had Stockholm syndrome. I remember being scared, then laughing and drinking beer and eating Doritos with him until we had sex again, this time for much longer. And carried on like I was his girlfriend or something. I enjoyed it then, after the coxing, and the trickery, and the forcing, and the raping. But only then. A self-deception for survival I tell myself. When I woke up next to him in the middle of the night I was afraid and ashamed. He woke up when I did and this time let me get dressed and leave. No attempt at romantic connection. Like he was done with me and I should know it. I just walked away, figured out where I was, and went home. I snuck in the back door. My dad was up and I lied to him that I had gone with my old friend who I saw in the park when we first got there and went to her house and we drank beer and feel asleep. I stuck with that lie the next day for everyone and went back to my apartment and summer internship where I spend a few minutes at the end of each shift satisfying the "boss" who eventually wrote me an impersonal, bland letter of recommendation that caused me to have a breakdown. I never wrote down that story until now. When I first told my sister out of crushing guilt was when I told her everything else and started to heal.

Hi there, To anyone still in an abusive or toxic relationship, or healing from one like I am — I want you to know that you are strong enough to break free and to heal. It’s important to remember that none of this is your fault. You don’t have to go through this alone. Speak up, ask for help, and believe in yourself again. I was in an abusive relationship for 8.5 years, and it’s been 9 years since, the time it took me to realize that this isn’t something you have to face by yourself. I wish I could go back and tell my younger self this! Please don’t keep it a secret. People will listen, and you will find your way out and begin to heal. Don’t let anyone, including yourself, tell you otherwise. You deserve to be safe, happy, and free. ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

Betrayed When someone I trusted so much Took a part of me When I was living my best of life Breaking me beyond repair Forever changing me Altering me physically and mentally The pain I endured through the sleepless nights Linger even years later Indeed it has made me stronger person After years of struggle and perseverance But never would I want someone to walk in this path for strength

I had a tough year, I had lost a parent, I had been cheated on, I had to end a very good friendship. That summer I was going to have a good time, and enjoy being young. After work one day, I sprung up the idea to go on a night out with my cousin who had a similar year to mine. We went out for drinks, the two of us going through the same motions of a night out, batting off creeps at the bar, dancing, having a good time. We met with one of her old school friends and his friend, and I took a liking to the friend. We all piled up in a taxi and went back to their place. We all had a couple more drinks, and my cousin and her school friend went upstairs, leaving me with the other friend. One thing lead to another and we went upstairs. Through the motions there were things that didn't feel right, and I tried to tell him to stop, that I was uncomfortable, that I didn't want to do that, but he didn't listen, he just kept going. When finally, it was over and I just felt frozen in time, more concerned for my cousin in the next room, and not about myself, being in a scary position. My phone had died and nobody had a charger for it, so I had to beg the guy who had just assaulted me to order a taxi, because I didn't know what part of town I was in at the time, but all I knew was that I had to get home, and fast. All I remember was my cousin getting annoyed at me for leaving, but I didn't care, I wanted to get home, I wanted to be safe. I remember the taxi driver, it was a woman who told me about her son living in locationand how humid it was that time of year. It mightn't have been much, but it was comforting in that moment. I remember the streetlights reflecting on the rows of houses in that suburb, which still haunt me any time I pass through that area, sending a shiver down my spine. She pulled up to my house, the sun was starting to come up, my dad left the porch light on. I undressed and took a shower. Still not processing what had happened, I wrote in my journal and tried to pass it off as a silly dating fail, but knowing at the back of my mind it wasn't okay. I couldn't sleep so I read a book and the following day, took my younger sibling out into town to get school supplies for the new year. Months passed, and I tried to tell a friend about what happened to me, but all they could say to me was: "Well, what do you expect, that's what happens when you hook up with random people" and I retreated into myself. After that point, I went a long time without telling people what happened until I was visiting another friend in a different city and I decided to go on a date with someone I matched with on an app. As I was about to board the metro to get to the date, I froze up, I panicked, I started to cry. My friend immediately asked what happened, if I was okay, and was there anything she could do to help. I couldn't say it was nothing, because it wasn't nothing. It was something that shook me to my core, made me think I was in the wrong for enjoying my sexuality. I didn't go on the date, but what I did do was tell my friend what had happened, and instead of being met with judgement, I was met with kindness, compassion, and love. We left the train station, picked up bits for a self-care night, and I was allowed to be myself in a space where I was believed and listened to. It took me a good while to feel comfortable in myself, how I looked, how I expressed myself, how I even was in relationships. If it weren't for the friend who made sure I was okay and I was safe, I mightn't be sharing my story right now. There are still times when I pass through that same neighborhood, hear that person's name, or even go pass the bar we met at, and a cold wave passes through me, but I'm proud of the work I have put in to not let it ruin my day, get me down, or define me.

I am not even sure where to begin but I am struggling lately and have come to realize that although my main abuser might be dead, I haven't dealt with a lot of feelings. I feel like I was always a target. I had no self-confidence as a child. I was painfully shy. I had a speech impediment and was always bullied in school and moving to 10 different elementary schools didn't help me make friends. I had a critical, narcissistic mother I could never please. I was first sexually abused at age 8 by an older teenage cousin. My mother allowed me to stay the night knowing that his father, my uncle, was a pedophile and molested many children. I didn't find this out until years later. He was my favorite cousin of course. I looked up to him. Went to all his track meets. He was grooming me of course. Why else would an 18-year-old male cousin want to spend so much time with his 8-year-old cousin? Back then no one spoke much about sexual abuse. Or sex at all. At least in my household. It was dirty and you will go to Hell. That is all I was ever told. I thought it was a bad dream for many years. Except it was so vivid. I could hear the music playing. Open Arms by Journey, I could smell and almost taste the round, white, powdery almond cookies my aunt served me before sending me to bed in a room with my male cousin his friend name (also male). To this day I still cannot fathom why my aunt would put an 8 yr old little girl in a bed with 2 teenage boys. It haunts me. Was she just as sick as my uncle and my cousin? All I found out later as an adult is my uncle molested all 3 of my male cousins. One turned into pedophile, one fought those urges his whole life and lived a sad, lonely life, and other one killed himself and died alone in an alleyway at age 40. I laid in that bed that night and my whole life changed. I woke up to my cousin fumbling around with my pants. I kept moving away as much as I could. I tried to pretend I was still asleep. I knew he knew I was awake. He didn't care. He did what he wanted. I just laid there. Tears silently rolling down my face. Then I forgot about it. Pretended it didn't happen, but it kept popping up in my head. I kept telling myself it was a horrible dream and dirty. When I was almost 17 I confided in my cousin. Girl cousin. She told me the same thing had happened to her while she was watching TV with him once. I decided I should tell my mother. That was a mistake. She didn't do anything. All she did was make me feel worse. Like it was my fault and she told everyone. He was still allowed around. To every Holiday. One Thanksgiving when he was at our house, he cornered me in my room. I thought I was about to pass out from fear. He said, " I am sorry about all the times I did things to you." That messed me up more. I had thought it was just one time. So, then I realized I probably forgot or blocked out other times. I could not stop playing things over and over in my head trying to remember. I could not wait to get out of my house and away from my mother. I never dated in high school. Never even kissed a boy until age 19. Yet my mother always called me a whore. When I moved out and started working, I felt free for the first time. I was saving myself for marriage, but every boy I dated and told that to would dump me. By age 22 I started thinking I would never find anyone. Stupid. I wanted to get far away from my mom and then I met a guy who was in the military. There were a million red flags. I ignored them. He drank. I didn't. His parents were both alcoholics. But he lived in state. So I wrote to him a couple years while he was in Japan stationed. Then he suddenly got out of military early. Wouldn't tell me why. I didn't care I just wanted to move. So I packed up and moved from California to state. I almost didn't when right before I was to leave he got a DUI. He was only 20. I was 22. He had also lied about his age. As a Christian the DUI really worried me and the lying about age and an almost 3-year age difference. Long story short, I of course ended up pregnant a year later. Twins. My parents didn't meet him until the day of the marriage. They didn't like him. Once married the first strange thing was when I was pregnant with twins and about 7 months along. I woke up and he had a flashlight and was between my legs doing things to me. I was horrified. I had no idea what to say. Through our marriage the main issues was drinking. I never allowed any alcohol in the house. Well, he took a job on the railroad. He was home once a week. I thought all was fine. For seven years he was home once a week. Apparently, he was drinking daily. We had 2 more kids in those 7 years and raising 4 kids alone was hard with no family around. We moved every year or 2 also. Finally, he went into management and was home every night. Thinks took turn for worse then. He could no longer hide his drinking. He was getting abusive. Emotionally to me. He stopped wanting sex most of the time and then I found dating sites, porn sites. Then he started raping me. He would wait until I was asleep. Then I would wake up to him having sex with me. I freaked out the first time. He acted like he thought I was awake. Next time he told me I am his wife, and it isn't rape. I told him don't ever do that again he knows I have been molested in my sleep and how awful that is to do to someone! He just didn't care. I finally said I was leaving if he didn't go to rehab for his drinking. that got him into marriage counseling. They told him he was raping me. That was the end of that. He didn't like to hear it. Then he got a girlfriend. I am disabled and he blamed me. Said he was sick of extra work. He was the laziest person. He was spending money from our retirement. I had always been a stay at home mom and had recently had spinal fusion and because he was spending our money on drugs and alcohol I went and drove a schoolbus in pain! I was not extra work for him. I took care of everything including children with kidney disease, and genetic conditions and chronic health issues in and out of hospitals all their lives. I filed for divorce. The abuse was enough. I was so shocked when after 21 long years of marriage he walked away and abandoned his 4 kids. No support, no visits, nothing. Due to his alcoholism I was grateful but sad for my children. THEN 2 years after my divorce was finalized my youngest baby girl confided in me something that broke my heart. She said, "Mom I have to tell you something disgusting" my heart sank. She said her dad molested her when I had been out of state for my friends funeral. She was 8 years old. We cried. I couldn't believe this horrible thing happened again to my baby!!! The guilt. I immediately reported it. Nothing was done. That was more devastating. I had prepared her for what would happen and then they did nothing. Karma in the end took care of that evil man. He died at age 46 from abusing his drugs and alcohol. He died alone. Like he deserved. My kids are Doctors, Nurses, and a Businessman. They didn't let that evil man define them. I didn't let him take my happiness. I had a very hard life. I can't even write about most of it. I never let my hard life or an evil person steal my happiness. He didn't determine my happiness I made my own happiness. If I had let my difficult life make me unhappy my children would have had a unhappy mom and had an unhappy childhood and not have turned into successful adults probably. I have bad days. Bad weeks even. Like this week. However tomorrow is a new day and I get to try again. I feel better sharing some of what I experienced. Thank you to anyone who takes time to read it. Sorry it is babbling in places lol..

Hearing other people's stories make em feel not alone

I wrote this poem after being into 30 pages of Madwoman. by Chelsea Bieker. Something erupted in me. It brought out a poem tucked in my gut.. I have never written a poem. Here it is. Never Too Late Never Too late to give up hate bludgeoned on me from a reprobate who lived in, or resided or never but confided himself in a state of hate, scare so unfair, force I could not divorce, violence that was never silence in the mind of my childhood body and brain. It all was internalized as life's truth in a house of lies, where the mind took over and played a record or tape, but fake news after awhile is awake news for a lifetime from a totally insane male caretaker never found his best but instead would invest in a child who could be nested to ingest his toxic fumes and ways and means. Never the children could ever keep him at bay. One day, one or two, but only a very few have become him and not them-They will be angry, betrayed, and will blame themselves for the hatred of his frame, splitting away only to find a highway to a haven they must learn to nest again and rest eyes off this main life monster and into the basket they finally flew because they knew, really knew they could and would find a friend and way to renew and include themselves in an eternal embrace of self love and worth.

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

I’m a 27 year old female now but when I was about the age of 6-7 my sister would kiss me on the lips. I vividly remember laying down on my bathroom floor (which she told me to do) and would just tell me to relax. She is 4 years older than me. I also remember one time I really wanted to kiss her and she said yes. I think it was a game to me at that point. She had left for a moment and I got naked. I remember she came back and said to put my clothes on because our dad was going to take us out to eat. Those are the only moments I remember but my mind might be pushing down other similar moments I had with her. I’m struggling now to have a relationship with her. She has never talked about it, but I feel like she remembers. It’s so hard to speak to her without getting annoyed or frustrated. She is annoying to me and never communicates well, she tends to always ask a question when asked a question. She’s never wrong and is hard headed. At this point I feel like I need to speak to her about this and distance myself to heal. I don’t even know what I want but I just don’t want to feel this way.

It’s been 2 years since my ex-husband and I separated. We have two children together a girl, age 8 and a boy, age 5. After our relationship ended, I began to tell various third-parties about our relationship’s dynamic and what our sex life was like. With this, I started to reflect on the relationship and soon realized how abusive it was. My ex-husband would force me to have sex with him at every 2-3 days and if I didn’t he would treat me terrible, getting angry at me, giving me the silent treatment, acting like a pouty child and excluding me from dinner conversations with my children (speaking only Danish, a language I don’t understand with them.) It was horrible and I feel like whoever I tell this story to minimizing my experience, victim blaming or straight out takes his side. It’s been incredibly isolating and I feel so alone. I can’t get out of bed on the days I have the kids. I just sit on the couch and watch tv or scroll social media on my phone. I don’t know how to move on from this without going to the police but I truly don’t believe that would be good for my children because he’s a good dad for the most part. I feel so stuck, sad, broken and hopeless.

You filled me with your emptiness Leaving a chill Where you found your thrill And I found myself Speechless In a state of undress I was never trying to impress Not you Not anyone. I just wanted to be happy Spend time with friends That's what you are Were? My friend A person in whom I confide A person to laugh and cry with A person from whom I don't have to hide A person I no longer recognise Fuelled by fury and hate Seeing only flesh Not me Not your mate. You diminished my light And left me with only heavy My body shaking My heart pounding This reality is confounding I didn't want you when I fell to the ground I didn't want you when you pinned me down I didn't want you when you left me there Drowning in guilt and shame In my self hatred, full of self blame. I didn't want you then I don't want to know you now You're just a faceless man Using whiskey as your reason As if that makes it open season I know that you remember That cold night in November The night in order to survive I had to surrender

Hi all. My story with abuse begins 2 years ago. My assaulters are my ex boyfriend and his cousin. When I first met my ex boyfriend I was a teenager and had never been in a relationship or done anything beyond just kissing someone. Very inexperienced. Conversations regarding relationships and intimacy were unheard of in my family, so I didn’t know anything about what was normal or not. A few months after I met my (now ex) boyfriend, he asked me to have a threesome with him and his “close friend.” This was maybe a week after the first time we had sex together. He told me that the friend was my age and was interested in me. I told him that made me very uncomfortable and I am not interested. He seemed to move on so I didn’t think any more about it. At this point he seemed like a very kind, understanding guy. Fast forward another month and it’s New Years Eve. Boyfriend came to my house (I lived on my own) and asked if he could bring some friends. No problem, sounds fun! He shows up with one friend (that I’ve never met) and says the rest cancelled last minute. I continued thinking it was innocent and the night would go well. We were all drinking and snacking and watching movies together, which was fun for me! It wasn’t long before I realized that they kept passing me shots and I was almost black out drunk. Completely incoherent which was not my intention. I don’t remember much between now and waking up, other than the worst part of the night. I vividly remember laying on my bed, pretty much unable to move or talk I was so out of it, and my boyfriend coming in and having sex with me. Then his friend walked in and did the same. I couldn’t move or speak or even fully comprehend what happened, but I know I never said okay to this. I would have never said yes to this no matter how much alcohol is involved. I woke up the next morning and had no clue what to do other than just continue on. I didn’t remember enough or have the guts to say anything. They left that morning like nothing happened. My (now ex) boyfriend turned out to be a narcissistic sociopath. I was I was exaggerating or joking. He made me believe I agreed to that and had fun. Not true. Almost a year later that friend reached out to me and clued me in on the situation (I think he felt guilty). He told me that my ex told him that I was his friends with benefits and was excited about this “threesome” idea. We were dating, or so I thought. I also found out that my ex set up the situation so this friend could lose his virginity. And the next fun bit of info, this “friend” is my ex’s COUSIN. I lapsed in sanity apparently and refused to believe this and continued dating “the love of my life.” The sexual, mental, emotional, and financial abuse continued with my ex for 2 whole years before I reached my breaking point. The trauma I’m having to work through now is something I wouldn’t wish on the worst soul on the planet. Please learn from my mistakes and DO NOT ignore red flags. They present themselves for very important reasons. Listen to them.

This happened back in 2023. I had met this guy through my sister because she had told me that he had seen my picture and had asked about me and wanted to talk to me. At the time I was living out of state, so we were talking and we got together a couple days later. During the time that I was living out of state I had to be on the phone with him 24/7 if he was home and I wasn't at work which should've been the first red flag, but the second red flag should've been when he didn't let me go out drinking with my parents on my 21st birthday and told me I had to be on video chat with him during my birthday party. A couple weeks after my birthday I moved back to my home state to be with him and things were going fine at first. But then things started progressively getting worse, the first job I got when I got back he also got a job there because he didn't trust me being alone. I couldn't go to my therapy appointments alone, I couldn't go to the store alone, I wasn't allowed to have friends but yet he was allowed to talk to other girls, I wasn't allowed to go to work alone when I got a new job even though it was an hour away from where we were living. It eventually got to the point where he had introduced me to a few of his friends over video chat and one night he had gotten drunk and accused me of cheating on him with one of his friends when I was in the other room making a Tik Tok video, we got in a fight and when I was trying to leave he grabbed ahold of my bag and shoved me into the bathtub. As I was trying to leave after that he took my phone and wouldn't give it back to me, he tried breaking it and was doing everything in his power to keep me from leaving the house. When I finally was able to leave and just go for a drive he was blowing my phone up trying to call me and when I went back to the house and decided to sleep on the couch until his mom got back from work he knew I was talking to a friend and he told me to choose between him and the friend. When I went into the bedroom to sleep for the night because I had given up with the fighting he took my phone while I was asleep and blocked that friend which I didn't realize until I left him 2 days later but the following day acted like nothing was wrong except wouldn't offer to buy me anything at the mall even though I was the one that drove us there and paid for gas to get there. When I finally got the courage to leave him it was because I had to go to work one day and as always he forced his way along. When we got to my work I was told that I wasn't needed that day which meant I was able to go home, the only issue with that was that I didn't have enough gas in my car to get home and not enough money to put gas in the car. So I called my mom and stepdad who live in another state and asked for help but told them what was happening and decided that day that I was done with everything. My mom told me that she would only help me if I left him which with the help of her I was able to. After I dropped him off I made my way to a safe location in town and locked my car waiting to be able to go get my stuff, while I was waiting he walked from his house to where I was parked and tried to get me to talk to him. After I finally left for good he was blowing my phone up calling and texting asking if I was seriously leaving.

Iam a 33 year old with 3 children(2 boys and one girl) my first born son is from my previous relationship. I was a fresh graduate when i met this man that i currently have two kids with …i finished university expecting to get a job to support me and my then only son but each time i tried to look for jobs my husband discouraged me saying i would be exploited and given peanuts so to whom it was wise for me to sit home and be a wife i gave in and sat home but him satisfying my needs was always a fight i remember i asked for panties and bras for the last 6 years and nothing.everything he provides we must first have a fight and he knows so well i have no where to run to because he isolated me from my family. After moving in with him and my son he started treatung my son with so much anger he would beat,abuse and use vulgar words to him and he still does it he shows him that am not your father and only favors the kids i have with him. Mine i came with is not worthy of anything good. While i was pregnant for his son he was flirting with my sister and by this time i was not getting any financial help so i opted to go to my mothers rental and after sometime my sister disclosed to me the kind of husband i have when i confronted him about it he was too bitter and threatened to take my kids from me. When i was pregnant for my second child with him i got him with 15 girls flirting and sleeping around i was so devasted and almost lost my child due to stress i put my self together and let it go for my sake of my baby but i swore i was done with this man so i started not to pay too much attention on him and concentrated on raising my kids meanwhile i was caught up had no money of my own and had no relative in contact with i perservered and stayed to have a roof over our heads and to solicit food for my kids. I actually lost sexual appetite towards him for all the disgusting things he does behind my back but he would force me into sex and threaten not to provide if i ddt satisfy him a time came when he would rape me saying am his property and that i couldnt live without him since i dont have any money. It was all verbal violence until may this year 2024when i confronted him about cheating with my cousin and messages of him in a lodge with another girl that he grabbed me by the neck and strangled me and beat up that i started spitting blood..at this point i said to myself i should leave and start a new life i actually told him am leaving and he laughed at me saying u cant leave what are u gonna feed ur kids .i was packing whole day thinking to my self i cant fail to get where to stay but reality hit me and for sure i had no where to go so i unpacked my stuff and stayed its now months and months of sexual, financial,emotional and physical abuse but i dont know where to start with 3 children ive actually contemplated suicide so many times thinking it will ease the pain. Am in fear please advise me