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🇬🇧 English I have hidden what happened in my childhood for years, and I don't know how to deal with it anymore I am writing this because I have been carrying an experience from my childhood that I have hidden from almost everyone for many years. About eight years have passed since what happened, and I still don't know how to deal with it or how I should see myself because of it. When I was a child, I was very innocent, quiet, obedient, and trusting. Some things happened between me and other children at that time, and I did not understand their meaning or seriousness the way I understand them today. The main person involved in my story was also a minor, but he was approximately three years older than me. At one point, things were presented to me in a way that made me believe it was something ordinary between children. I did not understand what was actually happening. Later, another person told me that he had photos or videos involving me and what had happened. He threatened that they could be shared or that he could tell someone in my family. I was a child and I was extremely frightened. I did not know whether he was lying or telling the truth. I asked to see the video, but he said it was with someone else and that he could not show it to me. This made me believe that there might actually be something, or at least made me terrified that there was. Later, another person made a similar claim and said that he knew what had happened and had a video. He never gave me real proof. I never saw any video. But at that age, I did not know how to distinguish truth from lies, or manipulation from reality. Eventually, I reacted and went along with something while I was frightened, confused, and under pressure. I don't want to describe the sexual details here. What I want people to understand is that I was a child, and I was not dealing with the situation with the understanding or judgment of an adult. There is one thing that has confused me for years. When I was with the second person, I told him not to film me “again.” That single word has stayed in my mind because I keep thinking: if I doubted what he was saying, why did I use the word “again”? Does that mean I was admitting that something had really happened before? Or was I simply frightened and acting as though what they were telling me might actually be true? About eight years have passed. During all this time, I have hidden the situation from almost everyone. I act as though nothing happened and try to live normally. I see myself as a confident, strong person with my own values, character, and morals. What makes this harder is that I still live in roughly the same area, and sometimes I see the person who harmed me from a distance. My friends who live in the same area do not know the real story, although some of them have heard rumors or other things said about me over the years. Those rumors have made me question everything: Was there actually a video? Were they lying? Did some people know something? Did someone give information about me to someone else? I don't have real evidence for these things, so I don't know where the truth ends and where rumors or manipulation begin. The hardest part is that I constantly blame myself for how I reacted as a child. I analyze every word I said and every decision I made, trying to find evidence that I knew what was happening or that I was responsible for it. At the same time, I know that I was a frightened and confused child and that I did not have an adult's understanding of the situation. I am not posting this because I want people to feel sorry for me. I don't want people to see me only as a victim. I am afraid that if people know my story, they will see me differently. Some people may become overly sympathetic in a way that makes me feel like my identity has become connected to what happened. Others might use the information against me or try to provoke me. I am a different person today from the child I was then. I have my own personality, confidence, values, and life. I don't want this experience to become the definition of who I am. So I would really like to hear from people who have been through something similar: How do I deal with something that happened during childhood and that I have hidden for so many years? How do I stop judging my childhood self for the way I reacted when I was frightened and confused? How do I deal with the possibility that there are rumors about me in my community, especially when I still live near people connected to the story? And how can I talk about the past without becoming “the victim” in other people's eyes? I am not looking for pity or judgment. I am looking for honest opinions and advice from people who understand these experiences, especially people who have managed to move forward and live their lives after something similar.

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.

My sexual assaults story is uncommon for most and hard to most people to grasp. Who would believe that children are capable of knowing and doing such gruesome things to person? Most children are not like this and their experiences are different. It first happened when I was 8 years old while, my abuser was 7 years old at the time. I remember the abuse happening gradually as we build our friendship. It first started with us doing typical kid stuff like us playing together and joking around. And one day, he asked me to play this new game with him. I said sure. I thought it would be one of those silly jokes stunts of his. Instead he pulled my pants down and rubbed his private part against my bottom. It was really uncomfortable moment for me since, I grew-up in a strict Christian-based family. I have never witness anyone on television or heard of the things he was doing to me. Afterwards, I remember me being shy to tell anyone and feeling like I would get into trouble. So I remained quiet. How would any parent react if you see children engaging in sexual behavior? Wouldn't you automatically assume it was the oldest child to teach someone this behavior? This went on for almost 2 years. His behavior became more advance and his request got more weirder. One time, he begged me to drink his pee directly from his part. I told him no. And he stomped across the room mad. He kept persisting and demanding that I try it. Eventually, I gave in but, I told him only from a cup. It was the most dehumanizing experiences of my life. It was not long afterwards, that my father caught us. I remember me trying shove the boy off of me. And telling him that my dad was coming and he kept going harder and harder. I guess he thought I was lying to convince him to get off of me. He wouldn't stop until my father walked into the room.

Just words. You have trouble talking about these things. You realize you have trouble talking about a lot of things. You remember being excited about your first job at Company Name. One of your friends works there and you know a lot of people work there as a summer job. It’s the 1990’s and it’s been grandfathered in that they can pay you less than minimum wage because it’s like a part time training experience for students getting their first work experience. Like a newspaper route. Those are for boys. You got so excited after being nervous you asked for an application along with your friend. You don’t remember meeting him then. So many people want to get chosen for that crap job because for some reason it’s become a sought after thing among the cool kids. You do remember the phone call that you can come for an interview. Walking home you wonder if being cute and having larger breasts than most almost freshman girls had something to do with it. You met Name and remember him for sure this time. The way you look has been a curse far more than a blessing. One reason people would not feel that bad for you. 'God sure blessed you, honey." You have so many bad memories, blocked memories, repressed memories because of Name. You are having second thoughts as tears build up. You need a drink. You quit drinking years ago and today you have three months and eight days sober. Your record is nine months and two days. You are strong. Most of the time. You are hollow. All the time. Name wasn’t the last but he was the first. You change his name although you don’t want to. He is the symbol of your hatred of all that is wrong with men. You were tricked. Name got what he wanted from you. Too many times. Too many times before you stopped going back. Just stopped. You could have just stopped after the first time he held you close and caressed you before your mom picked you up that night. The first time. You still don’t understand or forgive yourself for that. You had let a boy at a party and a boy at an 8th grade dance put their hand up your shirt. You had liked it so much those times. It had been exciting and happy. Name did not make you happy. You went back. You want to talk about something else now. Not the other men who thought your body was their plaything. Not the time you went to Ireland with your Aunts and mom. You miss mom. That was a good trip. You got back to that a lot. You sat down to talk about things you don’t talk about. On a family trip to Adventureland you asked your cousin if was considered losing your virginity of a boy did it to your boobs. You pretended it was a cute boy, not Name. It was hard to breathe with him sitting on your torso thrusting. You sometimes break things and scream. Never when your son is around. You have two jobs and don’t really like the one that pays the most. Your college degree does not count much. How much life is wasted on despair and doubt and taking the wrong path? You feel relief when he finally finished. You hate when he finishes because you know he is stealing his ultimate pleasure from you when he has a wife. He acts like it was just another day at work to keep you on his leash. You are pathetic. His remnants are inside you every time you go home after closing with him. Just another miserable day in the life. You say nothing. You tell no one. You are worthless except as a vessel for him. Your parents say nice things to you, about you. They always have. They have to. They don’t know what you really are. A black shame is the times you felt pleasure in your body while he was doing it do you. At least while you remained quiet and motionless there was some dignity. Defiance. Insult to him. When your body and voice reacted like you liked it it was a betrayal. Like you liked that tub of disgusting man on top of you and inside of you, fucking you on that tile floor, kissing you like a lover. You befriended a group of guys by mid high school. Over a year after Name was more than thorn in your soul. A deep callous. The group figured out what you were. They played football. They were important and had strong will. They shared you and passed you around. They told you they loved you. That you were the coolest girl. They took what they wanted when they wanted. Why? Name 2 was you lab partner for biology. He was the first. He was the only one your age. You went in his car for lunch and met some others. They wanted you. You volunteered. It is all you are good for. Draining them of their juice so they can be happy and feel like men. So you can feel empty and dirty. Even after they graduated they got together for group fun, or had you sneak out at night to go for a ride. You headed far west after you graduated. A fresh start. An exodus. An escape. You went to one reunion. The ten year reunion. Name 2 came with his wife. He introduced you as his ex-girlfriend. You let hm take you to the disabled restroom and have his quickie. You went to the bars afterward and ditched your real friend and let Name 3 take you back to his hotel room to live his fantasies just because he claimed that he always loved you. They say attractive people have sex more frequently with more partners than normal people. The darkness behind that statement is that for females it is no always because they want it that way but because of the relentless pressure from men and how they will do anything if they get the opportunity. You are not a nice innocent girl. Would you have been if it had not been for Name like you want to think? Would you have let your much older cousin you barely know take you back into the woods with him behind their house to the shack where he smokes pot after a wedding. Then wait there for him to call his friends after he found out you were a bad girl and wait for them too. Swatting flies in your underwear while you waited for them. You did not drink because your mom did not allow it even though kids younger than you were. But your cousin and his local friends did. Four of them counting your cousin old enough to be your uncle. Still, you acted like you liked everything they did. They took it so far like you were the world's greatest toy. Porn star, they called you like it was the best thing you could be. The anal was excruciating. It was easier to just wash off all your makeup than to try to fix it after all the sweat and sticky. Smiles and complements followed by the deep hollow feeling of total isolation in the station wagon on the way back home from Kansas city. Hating Name and feeling like you betrayed your aunt because one of them was her fiancé. You got an infection and it was embarrassing when the doctor told you. At least it was a female doctor. The idea of a male gynecologist is unnerving. The one time you were examined by one was terrifying. You were in college. He was way too thorough and talkative like he was working up to asking you out on a date and you decided never again. The only one you ever had that did not wear gloves for the breast exam. The most sensual digital vaginal exam you ever had to check the cervix and ovaries for pain. Was his thumb supposed to be brushing your clitoris? You even wonder if he was recording it on his phone that you saw him adjust twice as it was peaking out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. His stupid November mustache he asked you if you liked. So some days you don’t eat. You exercise to maintain the body they want. It gives you value to them. You are nothing. People always say nice things. Hollow things. What if you had never met Name? What if you never got fucked on the floor for $3.45 an hour. On your back, on your hands and knees, sometimes even on top of him. Your first orgasm on that floor that smelled like stale milk and bleach. Having to tell your mom pick you up 45 minutes after the place closes for your cleaning duties. You used tampons just to keep from his semen leaking out on the way home. You pretended to be a virgin when you were far from it. He told you not to worry because he had a vasectomy. That part must have been true. You don't got on dates even though they always try to set you up. Not a chance. Your son is a good excuse. And a real reason. Real love. The Earth spins in space. Why can’t it just freeze and die like me? Your boss doesn’t go all the way with you because he won’t cheat on his wife. You give him oral because he doesn’t think that counts. Preserves his purity. He says he wants to so badly, like he can take whatever he wants from you but he is strong and valiant. You are nothing. He is handsome. You let him kiss you and fondle you. You long for his touch. He is not a great man but you long for him. The closest thing to a good man you have known. A father figure. Your son needs a father figure. He is everything. He deserves better. He loves you. He tells you are a good mom and that is worth enduring the world for as long as it takes. You put on a good face but he knows you are hollow, deep down. A wounded duck pretending to be a swan. Always pretending. Was there no pretending before Name? Maybe not. The days begin and your mind pretends and it is hard and the days end. Bad dreams on both ends. Will he be a good man? The funny thing is you want him to be a prince because he is your prince but even if he is like most men you want his total happiness. You want beautiful girls, good times, and strong friends for him. You exist to fake it and to have let those men enjoy you but mostly to give your son the best life possible beyond you. You are not worthless. It is not your fault. You are stronger than you know. Hollow words. They have to say it. They always have. No creativity. No insight. No truth. Just words.

He was my boyfriend. We had just had sex and he wanted to go again. I said “no”, he said “but I want to”, and he did. Those words ring in my mind so clearly. It wasn’t violent or aggressive, but it felt like something broke in me then. I carried that with me for a long time, and still do. Part of my shame was that I didn’t leave. Months later, I confronted him about it and he was so angry and not open to hearing me. That is not how someone who loves you, cares for you, or respects you acts. That is not how someone who respects women acts. It took me a long time to see that. Years later, I am seeing someone who is kind and safe. He doesn’t know this story but he cares for me and wants me to feel safe regardless. He has never been angry or upset when I didn’t want to have sex, if I wanted to stop or pause or talk about it or if there was something I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. He listens when I explain a boundary and is always open to changing his behaviour to make me feel as comfortable and safe as possible. That is someone who cares, who inherently respects other people and wants to be a safe space. That is normal and the bare minimum. Abusers, perpetrators, and predators can warp your sense of reality but I promise you, people who are kind and good exist and there are so many more than you would think. You deserve to be treated with respect, kindness, and gentleness. That is never too much to ask for, that is the bare minimum.

I really want to tell anybody my story to be better than me my story start when I love my casein he really pretty and hot I love him for 5 years and it was the best 5 years I never tell him that I love him but he always makes me feel that he have the same feeling by doing moves but he really selfish and he proud at himself a lot I don't know why and he sometimes is really rude and star tells me that am ugly fat and you not pretty you like men but I wasn't ugly but when you love anybody you understand them and try to not make problems with them and one day he was really jealous of my guy best friend and start to tell me his not good don't talk with him and I try to know why he tells me that I want him to tell me that he is jealous so after one day he said that am used girl and I be really sad but now I try to forget him and love my self cause he let me hate my self so I need to tell you don't let anybody make you feel sad and uncomfortable with your self just be your self and people opinion it is just an opinion not true . I hope you get advantages from my story.

I was a prudish teenager in the '80s, an introvert who wanted friend but only on my terms (they had to respect my boundaries, and I had many). It was only in my twenties, while I was working with more liberal people, that I made a conscious decision to cast off my old, narrow way of relating to people because my barriers had become walls. So I opened up more, made myself vulnerable...and attracted perverts. Older men, bosses, colleagues and contacts (I worked in industry). I still had enough boundaries to prevent actual rape, but I would not push them away as forcefully; I would make light of it when a man put his hands on my hips or made some inappropriate comment. This went on for years. I had a a few boyfriends in my twenties including one I stayed with for three years and loved (I still love him but don't want a relationship with him and have to keep enforcing psychological boundaries - he was never a sex pest but he wants to be friends and gets upset when I don't want to meet him). Being an introvert, and possibly Aspie (I have yet to find the courage to look for a diagnosis) I have always felt like an outsider, and in relationships always felt as if I was playing at being "sexy". In my forties, the men who breached my sexual boundaries (with inappropriate comments and the occasional arm around me as I sat beside them on a work assignment) were men my own age and slightly younger; I was still attracting men in the same age group: 40s. They would obviously want to take things further, but I would always put up that barrier...and I noticed that after I rebuffed a man I'd lose a work opportunity. I was frozen out of the cliques in my profession (I don't have family in my industry and I did not go to university so I didn't have the underpinning network to fall back on). I dealt with this by developing a tough, jokey exterior; desperate to prove that I was "not a prude", I merged my career with a rather tarty image (I cannot go into details here without possibly revealing who I am or, worse, narrowing it down - which would not be fair to others who might not want their stories told). At first, it actually helped my career and social life; suddenly I was great craic, a youthful looking middle-aged woman who was happy in her own skin, free-spirited - and "great craic". The men who used to flirt with me would also mock-boast "I'm a prude"; they had respectable wives / partners (indeed many of these women were my colleagues). Eventually, it was time for this middle-aged disgrace to be managed out of the industry. It didn't happen all at once; my mentors and good contacts retired or died (these were the people who never abused me). There were various reasons: cutbacks, personality differences, my political views were at odds with my bosses' views, and there were new people looking to fill my role. I adapted by finding a mosaic career, doing a few courses and muddling through. Now I see my former colleagues (the flirts and their partners) getting on with their careers; I am on the outside, looking in. But I was always on the outside. And I have no doubt that my story is very common (a bit like me, some would say!).

I was assualted, sexual assualted by a man I trusted, who I looked up to. I was 21 at the time, modeling, doing shoots, stepping into the modeling industry. Little did I know how dark things would get. These women who would stand by these abusers. He groped me from behind and touched me sexually on a shoot. I froze, I couldn't say anything. Couldn't process what was happening. He drove me home, told me to play with myself and let him watch. I ignored his requested and he told me if his wife found out, she'd die from the stress (she was sick at the time) and it would be MY FAULT. I strongly believed this and held everything in for three months. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, denied it. Everywhere I looked I saw the make of his car, his name, thought he was following me. I eventually I had a breakdown, went to the guards. Who were absolutely useless and laughed at my five page statement. There was no evidence but my word against his. So he got models to read off scripts and tell the guards how I was in love with this man and "asked for it". Told everyone in the industry that I was "unstable" and how he feared for HIS life. As if I was the predator. The coward couldn't even come forward himself...turned everyone against me. Feeling so alone, I confided in my dance instructors who I really trusted. Only for them to be STILL working with this man to this day. I gave up fighting as no one around me believed me. Taking me 7 years to open up again about my trauma. Everyday it still effects me..seening his name everywhere on social media. People singing him praises, if only they knew... would they believe me?? Do I risk going through the trauma all over again??

This is another incident from my survivor story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER. I am working up to the police incident. Please read my story for context. This one brought back pain in writing it. Sophomore year of my philosophy major in college. I had recently gone on a trip to Portugal with nice older man who basically invited me to Portugal with the understanding that I would be his lover for a free trip. He had been one of my customers at the restaurant and I took him up on his proposition for the fun of it and had a great time. That was my spring break. This was a few year period when I was very promiscuous after being abused by my brother for years at home and repressed in a Catholic high school as parental punishment for starting a sexual relationship with a boy my age. When a girl in my logic course who was pre-law invited me to a fraternity party I thought it would be nice to hang with people my own age. Fraternities and sororities were not my cup of tea and still are not. After doing a keg stand to impress strangers I was looking for the upstairs bathroom because the line for the downstairs one was long. That one had a few girls waiting and a guy who had held one of my legs for the keg stand started flirting with me and offered to take me to a secret bathroom. The bathroom was legit but then he beckoned me into a bedroom across from it where two other frat brothers were. I was apprehensive but with the other guys there I was a little more at ease that he wasn’t just trying to take me to bed. I was open to finding a hot guy, to be honest, but he was NOT it. Neither were the other two. I sat chatting with them and drinking tiny shots of cinnamon whiskey and getting more nervous when somebody tried to get in the door to the room but it was locked. My guy yelled at them to go away. Then I tried to get up and leave but was pulled back to my seat the bed. I am small so I am easily overpowered. “You can’t leave yet. We’re just getting to know you.” One rapist said. “No teases allowed here.” “What do I have to do to get back out to my friend?” I asked something like that but used her name. They looked at each other with nasty smirks and I regretted the question. What one of them came up was a blowjob contest in which I have twenty seconds to make each of them cum but I had to go in circle until one did and then he was eliminated and I had to do all three. So they stood on three sides of the bed with me in the middle and took out their penises. One had a stop watch and without hesitation I started sucking the one nearest me. I wanted to get out of there and was physically afraid of them. This was away to avoid any violence and not even give them the satisfaction of thinking they forced me to do anything. So I went round and round getting very tired. 20 seconds was too short and they had pulled off all my clothes. I stopped and asked the one who made up the game for 60 seconds. Suddenly I was pulled violently back by my legs from the one behind me he held my legs apart as he quickly started banging me. I did not even see his face until later. The one who I had been talking to got up on the bed and started doing it to my mouth. I don’t me he put it in my mouth. He grabbed my head with both hands and forced it in and was banging my face as hard as the guy behind me was doing it. I had to stay up on my elbows arched to prevent him from ripping my hair up to keep me at his level. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. It had always been one partner at a time. They were mean and I tried so hard to keep up. After that craziness was over and both of them satisfied themselves in me, the original guy pulled me up onto the bed and said something like, “Only one hole left for me.” I was not used to anal sex then. I offered to go wash up if he would please not do anal with me. He laughed and shook his head. So, laying on my back with my legs spread, he squirted some aloe vera gel from the bedside table down there and watched me face to face as he worked his penis in one thrust at a time. He saw the pain on my face that I could not hide. I had to kiss him while her hurt me. Even when he got going fast it took him a while. One of them was watching us, smiling from the side and the other was playing with his phone and I think taking pictures. Phones did not do videos yet. The smiling one once asked, “Dude, is it really in her ass?” After he was finished with me he thanked me and left. Said he had responsibilities. The one with the phone left too. I tried to leave. “Not so fast.” The other one said pushing me back down. I told him I had done everything they wanted and more and asked to please leave. He told me I was the hottest chick he had ever F-’d and he wanted round 2. I just wanted to get out of there. One more obstacle. I worked my mouth on him for a while to get him even half rubbery again and worked it inside. That failed and I had to do it again. Finally I used every trick I could including faking orgasms, having a real orgasm, and talking dirty to him to get him to release inside me. I was so shaky and exhausted after being their whore for so long it was hard to get my clothes on. I was in fear he would stop me, and he did. I told him I just wanted to got pee and clean up and asked him if I could sleep in his bed with him—just a trick. I worked. I thanked him, nonchalantly closed the door behind me and hurried down the stairs without drawing too much attention. I kept a smile on my face as I made it out the front door and off the porch. I kept of the act for a block before I just started running as far away as I could. I was actually terrified someone might be after me until I was out of the neighborhood far from campus and to a gas station. I called a taxi and went home. My roomate was sleeping in her room and I just sat in the shower. In my story I used this as an example of how I avoided being raped by just going with it when I was in a rape situation. But this felt like rape. I went back to partying and using alcohol and marijuana to dampen the impact and feel artificially warm and fuzzy. And casual sex with hot men. But this was rape. I was gang raped. Maybe better for me than if I had tried to fight them and lost but it still sucks and leaves me with hurt and guilt and fear.

Hearing other people's stories make em feel not alone

LOVE YOURSELF : In this life, I learned a lot of stuff. When I was little I thought that life was so easy but then when I started to grow up I started to acknowledge that life is not only full of that kind who will treat you with kindness. At my middle school, my first year in it was so simple and nice but then after a year, I started to face that kind of people who have nothing but to give you hate and make you feel so insecure. It all started at the age of 13 and we all know that this is the age where our feelings and thoughts start. I faced a lot of shit in my life and they were all the reasons to break me into really small pieces I felt even so mad about who I am and hoped to die, it was so hard for me to accept this in my life!! Every bad thought you will think about while you feel broke is everything I have felt at this time, and all I saw in my life got black. I always sat alone in school thinking I'm not that important and useless and I'm nothing in this life and that no one needs me anymore!!, and that happened after some fights that happened with some thoughtless girls. The only thought I had at those times was all really bad thoughts. I always told myself that I'm not that important and that I was only a heavy thing for people to be with and to be around with. I talked always shit about myself, the only thing I did in school is to sit alone and draw a lot of dark pictures that represent my life! at that time. And at home, I was only sitting alone. In school, some of my true friends came and talked to me to kinda try to comfort me but that never helped. And even my parent tried to help me out but that all was no use!! After some months of me throwing more hate to myself, I started to think again and write all the things I like about myself and after that, I started to think right again. In that time it took me some time to get to my right state of mind but it was worth it. I thought about those couple of questions. Who am I to myself? why am I living for and what is my goal in life, I even thought that even if I don't have a goal in life I'm going to make one for myself. I also thought about my future and who will be with me and do you know who is going to be with me to make my future to make my dreams come true?!! IT'S NOT THEM!! IT IS ME WHO WILL BE IN MY FUTURE AND MAKE IT COME TRUE AND I'M THE ONE WHO WILL MAKE MYSELF HAPPY. I even made myself more confident to face people. In the past, I used to listen to people's opinions about me or my life, and I remember a lot of them telling me that I changed, I even thought about this for a second, why did I change for? and did I change to the best or the worst I did take some time for myself to re-think again about myself, and that is one of the reasons that made me love myself more than before, and the encouragement to live for myself and make my life much brighter and to make everything I want to come true. At this time I never even care about people's opinions about me or what they think about me!! do you know why?!. It is because you, first of all, meet a lot of people in your life and each person of them has a different thought about you!!, even if sometimes people think that you are psycho it DOES NOT MATTER ANY MORE!!. you know why!! because you know yourself the most and that is also one of the reasons to LOVE yourself!! So in order to live happy never listen to people's thoughts about you. And remember that you are the only one who makes yourself happy in this life and its no one else that will make you happy. So go there out in this life and do all your best to make yourself happy. And DO NOT EVER MAKE THOSE USELESS PEOPLE TAKE YOUR HAPPINESS!!. Show people who you are and that you are strong and confident about yourself!! All the love and support :) from your life supporter REMEMBER THERE IS ONLY ONE OF YOU ;) . SO LIVE THE WAY YOU WANT AND LOVE YOURSELF :D

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

Each year it crashes in like the waves beating the stand. It brings a swirl of emotion and feelings unbeknownst to my fragile mind. My body seises as it struggles to stay afloat. I gasp as the sharp prickly water traps my body, unable to move, but only to breathe, breathe... breathe... and breathe. A calm air slowly comes over me as I become conscious of this storm. Sobering me, I remember that it will pass...

The body remembers trauma. I didn’t know this until I experienced it myself. After a fun and rambunctious night with my husband (now ex) I woke up the next morning feeling particularly sore. As I sat on the toilet I realized that this soreness was something I had felt before. I then had a flashback from my sophomore year in college. When I woke up groggy after a night of partying with my soccer teammates. I headed to the bathroom. As I peed I felt that sore and ache-y feeling. I didn’t know what it was and wrote it off as cramps and hangover. I remember looking in the mirror and seeing that I wasn’t wearing my pajamas. Just a random top and shorts. When I got back to my dorm room my then boyfriend was just waking up. And that was the end of my flashback. I then realized my sexual history was a lie. I thought I had lost my virginity to my husband and he was my first and only partner. But this changed everything. I lost my virginity to my boyfriend who raped me and I had no idea. My sexual narrative and my identity changed in my late 30's because of this revelation. Who am I? What does this mean? Bits and pieces from the night returned. I know we drank a lot. I know he walked me home. Thats all I can remember because I blacked out. Is it better that I blacked out? That I cant remember the horrible thing done to me? I don't know. I just feel a bit lost and scared for the 19 year old me who was young and naive. She didn't know what to do. Now in my early 40's divorced and a single parent I'm healing the wounds that were invisible and hiding for so long. Im listening to my body now. And I'm going to nourish it.

When I was in 6th grade I started crushing on a boy in my class. My friends told me he was a jerk, but all I saw was how sweet he was to me. He started calling me his girlfriend, and I wasn’t comfortable with this, but I never said anything. I told myself I had to like him, because he could be the only one who would ever love me, and I couldn’t throw him away, couldn’t hurt him. As time went on, I started realizing what a jerk he was. He swore constantly, and hurt people, but not enough to get himself in trouble. He once hit me with a tennis racket at tennis practice, and I started to realize who and what he was. At a school dance, I apparently didn’t say thank you enough for a gift and he started crying. He turned the whole room against me, with random people coming up to be a insulting me. I felt like crap and I broke up with him. A year later, one of my best friends started dating him. I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. She is still with him, and I worry about her every day. I don’t know what to do. Thankfully, they are going to different high schools, but I worry anyway. Whoever is reading this, you are beautiful, you deserve everything, and you are NOT alone. ❤❤❤❤❤

"The lady bug and her spots " Hello guys its me again ! :D I am the magic behind " To become A dandelion " (go check it out ! ) I would like to introduce you to a special short I wrote dedicated to my loving boyfriend, boyfriend initials. my father father initials my mother mother initials and my very best friends multiple friends initials (I wont be releasing any names due to safety of others.!) and anyone who has ever struggled, been hurt, abandoned , struggled with mental health problems grew up with a hard back ground felt alone in a cluster of people was neglected , felt unloved or hurt by a parent, domestic violence , sexual violence, rape neglect or anything else that pains a soul. This is for YOU. This is how WE GET OUR SPOTS ,. Did you know a lady bug only lives for ONE YEAR?. That's only 365 days. Now you tell me , if that lady bug knew that she or he only had ONE YEAR to live,. do you think the lady bug would curl up in a leaf ? comforted by its Veridian arms with last nights dew drops laying cuddled up from the night before ?. Do you think the lady bug would see the leaf of its past life begging it to stay close for it wishes to be safe?. Absolutely not. That lady bug is going to do anything in its efforts to SURVIVE and that's exactly what all of you have been doing, I myself included, we have given ourselves a limited amount of time and haven't realized we have our WHOLE lives to heal, and its okay if youre only on day, one.. However just like a lady bug you kept going. Regardless of the weather, you kept going now look at all of you. You literally glow,. Your wings have finally came in and its time for you to soar. You see thats what its all about, some say we earn our stripes with ever lick, every unkind word , every heartbreak, lost job or struggle with ones self,. But really its not about remembering the bad, a memory is only a thought we keep alive,. No this is about feeling the good bad and ugly and still seeing the sunshine,. Its sitting next to your bestfriend of 20 something odd years and remembering how much trouble you caused,. Its forgiveness of others after you have burned to many bridges,.. Yet they still hand you a cup of water because they love you. Its the work meetings that melt your heart because together your family is not always bonded by blood its created by so many different qualities all by others with just as many licks and just as many or maybe even more or less spots then us. But regardless we are here we are ALIVE and we have our whole lives to gain those spots. I will start with mine today,. Its not about how many spots you've got on your back,. Its about when you finally realize you're a lady bug.. just fly already,, Its time to live guys, . ITS MY TURN. ITS YOUR TURN. So please, . Go fly. Thankyou for all who have read,. and continue to support my writing,'. remember to become a dandelion you must first remember a weed is only a flower if you look at it that way,. And a lady bug is only a insect if you look at it that way,. But in a world full of roses,. Don't be afraid to stand out such as the dandelion and never be afraid to show your spots,. You never know what flowers you may attract,. <3 -sincerely yours truly author initials

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

I’m writing to try and seek clarity over my childhood experiences. It was mostly with a cousin of mine (both f). Nearly every time we would meet from the age of about 4 we would secretly kiss and she taught me oral. Then it became reciprocal oral. I remember feeling sick and ashamed whenever I would leave her house but it continued about once a year or less until we were 12. She tried to initiate something even later with me in our early 20s. I’m confused because of all the mess of feelings I have about it. I felt terrible after. I remember saying to her I preferred the kissing and tried to make her the centre of what was happening so I could give more than receive. I knew it wasn’t right and couldn’t tell either of my parents who were separated for a lot of this time span.

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.