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I was in an emotionally and physically abusive relationship for 4 years. I have 2 daughters, I got out of it just 3 weeks ago. I am now filing for divorce. Im still not completely over it, im still somewhere in the middle. I blame myself for taking it for so long but I also wish he had not been this way. He did love me, or thats what he made me believe. We would have really good moments together, we were like friends most of the time but when something would happen that he would not like, all hell would break loose. He would scream, abuse and then raise his hand. Sometimes her would just raise hiss hand first and abuse later. After the abuse, the next day, he would come to me with bouquets and beg me for forgiveness. He would cry for hours and ask me not to leave him. He would convince me to stay, but he never honoured his commitments to me. He hit me 15 times in the total 4 years of our marriage. I cant believe I let it happen to me, I can’t believe even after being hit 15 times I had hope of things getting better. ❤️‍🩹 I am glad I am out of his house, I am glad I am away from him. I hope I can push through and persevere. The movie it ends with us came at the perfect time, when I saw it I felt it was me. It was me living that experience, being made to feel like I was crazy. The only difference is that lily decided after the 3rd time for me it took -15. But i realised at the end, I cannot out my daughters through such a traumatic childhood. I cannot let it go anymore, so ai took a stand for myself and I left. Now I am filing for divorce. Everyday with every step it only gets harder but I am certain once this is all over it will be much easier.

I’m 20 now; when I was 13 a childhood friend started to see me in a more (clearly) sexual light. I wasn’t very attractive as a child (big curly hair, acne, too tall for my age), so when he began to show interest I didn’t discourage it. I even flirted back. We met at our old middle school, once, before our freshman year of highschool. He didn’t want to look at me, he only wanted to touch me. He kissed me in a way that’s irrepetible because of how violating it was. Once we started highschool, he asked to come over to my house. I thought he was just joking because it was 9pm at the time. He took me behind my apartment complex and wouldn’t listen to me when i said stop. I told one of my sophomore friends, who reported it to the school as a sexual assault. He and I had separate meetings with the school, and our schedules were changed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, because of how popular he was. He began going around our school telling everyone he had r***d me (he hadn’t). Then he flipped the narrative that, of course i was lying. I would hear girls talking about me when I was sitting right in front of them. I wanted my story to be heard. I wanted everyone to know what he did to me. Nobody listened. Nobody cared. Nobody apologized to me. “He didnt do it to me, and he’s still my friend, sooo….” is what I heard from 80% of the girls that I told. That experience cracked me. When I was 15, I was (ACTUALLY) r***d by a 34 year old man. I felt like I was ruined goods. I felt like nobody cared about what happened to me, nobody cared that I was so traumatized that i didn’t care if i lived or died. Later that year, I met a 19 year old who got me on . I would overdose 4 times in front of him. After the last one, he told me I had wasted money and product with my overdose. We stayed together until I was 16.5 and he was about to be 21. He ‘cheated’ on me with a 14 year old and countless of his friends. By 17, I realized my Prince Charming was never going to come save me, and I had to do it myself. I decided to start my own life. Stop living in the past, and get my shit together. I enrolled in community college hoping to get my nursing degree eventually. Realized that wasn’t the right path for me, and now I’m 2 months away from graduating from a prestigious cosmetology school & am the executive assistant at a 5 star salon. For some of us, it’s on ourselves to pick the pieces up and put everything back together. Now that I am 20 years old, I feel that i’ve lost so much time suffering in my silence, so much youth wasted as an anxious puddle who didn’t want to be perceived. Live for your future. Live for the laughter and the smiles. Every day we make it through, is a day we accomplished. Some days will be better than others, but we’re always moving forwards, never backwards.

This is a interactive blog I created to share my sexual assault story, and my journey to healing. I only hope that others will have the courage to speak their truth. We all have a story and we are all in this journey to healing together.

Hey! I'm 18, and all this happened a year and a half ago, I was 16. It's a really weird and messed up story, I never heard a similar one. I was going home late afternoon and got literally attacked by a group of I think 3 or 4 people older than me, all male. I dont know which language they were speaking. I really really tried to kick them and scream and resist but there was nothing I could do. I dont know how long it lasted, I was scared what they would do when they're done, if they would kill me or let me run away. They let me go when they were done, I picked up my things and literally ran home without stopping. I am so grateful there was nobody home and that nobody saw me going home. It was this feeling of emotionless and numbness when you cant feel anything that saved me. I showered, last time next 9 months, got dressed and prayed no one gets home soon. I didn't go out much next few days, acted normal enough that my parents wouldn't notice and tried to not think about it. I only told people online: a close friend and anonymously to hundreds who would read my reddit post. After a few months of constant crying in my room, I tried to kill myself, every time I decided I'd rather not die yet and threw up the pills, then be mad and try again... I cut myself, hit myself, would cry and scream in a corner of my room and hit myself with something when nobody is home. Hid all pretty well, parents would tell me I've changed and tried to get to me, mom would cry and ask me what's wrong but I would, barely holding it in, tell her shes making it all up and go to my room rolling my eyes. I still cut myself, sometimes hit myself and pull my hair, subconsciously pick the skin around my fingernails so it bleeds, my hands look absolutely horrible. My thighs are covered in 30cm long scars from knee to hip and it's sometimes a pain to walk and even sleep. Idk how I survived the summer, people at the beach would look at my leg but nobody ever said anything. I've still never told anyone in real life, I am extremely ashamed of all of it, cant walk down the street with my head up, cant imagine telling parents or talking to a therapist. I really just dont want to be sad anymore. This text is poorly written and doesnt really transfer all emotions well, I didnt really see the keyboard because of crying. But thank you for reading this. Knowing someone knows I'm going through this helps. And that there are other people. Thank you really.

Imagine your world suddenly turns upside down. Someone you love, someone you trust, hurts you in ways they shouldn't. That's what happens when a young person is abused, especially when it involves sexual abuse. But the pain doesn't stop there. Sometimes, even trusted adults like family members don't believe they are abused. The disbelief regarding sexual abuse comes from a confusing place called cognitive dissonance. It's like a mental alarm screaming "This can't be happening!" because accepting the truth would shatter the picture-perfect image they have of their loved ones and their family. So, they cling to denial, even when faced with evidence. The truth is abuse thrives in silence. Abusers are experts at manipulating, weaving webs of fear that keep victims and potential allies quiet. The abusers play on societal myths about who gets abused and how abuse "looks," making it harder for young people, especially those who have been sexually abused, to be heard. Moreover, when the abuse involves sexual abuse, additional layers of discomfort and disbelief often come into play. Society's taboos and stigmas surrounding sexual matters can exacerbate the reluctance to believe a young person's account of sexual abuse. There might be a tendency to rationalize the situation, to attribute the young person's statements to confusion or misunderstanding rather than acknowledging the gravity of the abuse. Remember, the blame for disbelief never falls on the young person abused. They are brave for speaking up and deserve support, not judgment. If you or someone you know is experiencing abuse, especially sexual abuse, please reach out. You are not alone. There are people who care, Resources are available to help you heal.

All of my closest friends have been sexually assaulted in some kind of way, including myself. It breaks my heart, all I want to do is hug them and tell them it’s gonna be okay and it won’t happen again but I can’t guarantee that and it’s so scary.

I was in a relationship when I was 15. He was older than me. He pressured me to do things I didn’t want to. One day he pushed me against a wall after I told him I had to go home and he started to take of my pants and do things to me while I tried get out of there. Unfortunately he was much (physically) stronger than me. He would also hurt me physically. He choked me once (not in a sexual way, he actually wanted to hurt me)

I'm 63, but it was 6 weeks ago I was first molested by a priest. It started 57 years ago. I was 6, an alter boy, a cliche', multiple priests for 5 years. No one paid attention to the signs. The temper tantrums, the crying, the acting out? No one saw a thing, and I was handed off like it was nothing. It stopped at 11, I think. Memories are still flowing in. It wasn't over. At either 14 or 15, in September. Odd I remember that. It was cold. I just gout into the boat after my turn skiing. I was really small for my age, maybe 5'3" and 100 lbs. Brother name, a christian brother, grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me to "warm me up" I can feel his fucking hands on me as I type this. I turned to look at my brother who is 3+ years older than me turn his back to me. My brother fed me to this wolf. Who does that? There's more I haven't uncovered yet. BUT Because I'm 63 I am past every statute available. I've gone from making over $400K to now, living in a beat up camper, with no job, only anxiety, anger, why, fear,and most of all determination. For all accounts I shouldn't be here. For all accounts I should be a drug addict, hooker, or was. I wouldn't have gotten past 30. I attribute my intelligence and the ability I had to bury everything that happened to me from age 4 - 18. If it wasn't clergy raping me, it was my brothers bullying me, my parents ignoring me, the several times I was left behind and no one noticed for hours. Finally I told my little sister, 7 years my junior, and 'm quoting "We all had a tough life, get over it" She's been blocked. I texted my brother and asked why he left them (I said them so I'm afraid of what's coming), he blocked me. Admission? I think so How do I get my JUSTICE?!

For a long time I hid behind the shame of what happened to me. It took a long time and some therapy before I was able to speak about my childhood. Growing up in a chaotic home due to parents that were addicts made it easy for me to be hurt. I always thought that somehow it was my fault. I don’t remember every part of what happened but the pieces that I can recall are unsettling. I have memories of an older cousin showing myself and two other cousins different parts of his body as a child. I knew it was wrong and from what I remember, most of it was being in a dark living room with the TV on and trying to hide from an adult seeing us. After some time I remember my female cousin who was the same age as me showing me how to masturbate and later on we engaged in oral sexual acts on various occasions. Her bother who was two years younger than me would touch me until I caved in to do things with him as well. I just remember feeling so scared that someone was going to find out. I can’t even recall how we learned how to do those things. I was embarrassed but also terrified of an adult finding out and us getting into trouble. I carried that shame with me forever and always felt like it was my fault since I was older than him. I wish I could recall all of the details and how it all started and ended. Later in life, I had a guy over to hook up with which I regret. After we had sex the first time I was done. I didn’t want to have unprotected sex but I didn’t stop him when he started up again. I just remembered feeling frozen and the sound of his breathing and his smell made me relive the experiences with my cousin. That was when I decided to talk to my therapist about what had happened. It took a while for me to understand that I had no reason to feel shame and that it was not my fault. I have worked on my healing process and I can understand it a lot better now as an adult.

Hi, so when i were 7 years old I was sexually abused.. by a friend older than me, she was being SA by his dad i think and she did it to me.. i understand cause she didn't even knew that was bad but also i feel bad for myself and i still cry and feel bad.. I've been soo sad and i want to suicide cause some days ago i remembered that i also abused my brother.. but it wasn't my intention i thought it was normal because she did that to me and i never wanted to hurt him... now that i know its not normal i feel so bad and guilty but i were like 8 years old to know i was hurting him or that wasn't right.. i didn't even knew why i did it.. i feel so bad

This is not easy and I am now sure more than ever that others felt the same way. While you can feel you are in it alone there are so many many many stories that are the same. I was at such a tender age. Innocent and blameless. I never knew that i was being taken for granted by the very person who said they love me. They were my family member. Little did I know i would continue to move forward in my life in a manner that only God could heal. Now I sit hear as a full grown adult after going through emotional, physical, psychological abuse by so many that claims to love me. I continued to protect them all because I never told my side of the story. It all ends today. No one else gets to take advantage of my weakness. I was in a long time relationship that started as your typical relationship just beautiful. All of the nice things occurred flowers, candy, gifts. As time went on and things were more settled the take over begun. The insecurities continued to grow and grow. Around year 2 is when the physical abuse started. He had me right where he wanted me. My family tried to intervene but I thought I was in LOVE. Yea I said that 4 letter word that can cause so much pain. Yes I stayed and that was the end to most of my relationships with my family. The relationship with he and I would span another 10 years before the END was the END. I tell you it was not easy at all. One thing I did learn is that most people that should be for you will call you all kind of names stupid, dumb, etc. so much so until you start to believe it. Never give up on yourself.

Survival. Fawn. He kisses me, I kiss him back. He touches me, I touch him too. He takes me, I let him take. Fawn. There’s safety in the fawn, A predictable safety, A safety perceived as consent, A safety that is survival. Frozen. My body responding, My mind screaming, My eyes pleading, When my lips cannot. Frozen. There’s a strength in the freeze, An unseen strength, A strength perceived as weakness, A strength that is survival.

We met back up at 19 , I fell pregnant he was happy ,I was scared for so many reasons , he had no job , mine was not stable ,I had a termination, he begged me not to , I went ahead anyway, he picked me up from the hospital , swore he would my life miserable and he would never forget what I had done , drive me back to his hometown where i was staying until after termination, in that poky little flat was where the abuse mental and physical started , I did not know how to handle this , I was so scared of him , I tried to run once but his uncle was at bottom of stairs . It’s nearly 30 years later I’m still here 4 children and I’ve put up with so much due to me having the first termination, I could never understand why this is my life how I ended up like this feeling like I was in an arranged marriage, I have tried to leave so many times and I get broke down with his emotions as he suffered ptsd after I had the termination he said . That is why he acted so abusive towards me for years, everything has always been my fault and still is , now I still want to leave but haven’t the courage any more to be emotionally drained on why I should stay in this controlled environment that he created , founding out this info has been a massive blow to my self esteem that I have somehow allowed someone to control my adult life , there is no violence anymore I think only because he can’t get away with it . Manipulation I think I’m finding out is what my real is .one big fat manipulation

The first time I remember being abused I believe I was 7 year old. My first abuser was my father. He sexually assaulted me while I pretended to be sleeping. I told my younger brother who told my mother. My mother made me tell her what happened and no one ever talked about it again. I didn't see my father for 7 years. It wasn't until he passed away that I found out he sexually abuse my step sister most of her life. Up until I knew he abused someone else I thought I did something to cause him to do what he did to me. It was early in the morning, maybe my stretching caused him to get on top of me. It seems ridiculous now, but in a 7 years old mind it made sense to me. As an adult, it makes me sad for that little girl to believe she did something to cause it to happen. My next abuser was my Uncle. I don't remember how old I was, possibly younger than 7, but I cannot remember. I remember being at my grandmother's home and my uncles were taking us on motorcycle rides through the woods. On my first ride, one of my uncles decided to put his hands down my pants and play with my vagina, but never quite put his fingers all the way inside my vagina. I remember it feeling good. I wasn't scared, in fact, I wanted to keep going with him on motorcycle rides. The next ride with him, I waited until the same place he first unbuttoned my pants and instead of him doing it, I unbuttoned my pants. I don't know how to feel about that, but right now I feel shame for that little girl so desperate for love and attention. I told my mother and she said, "oh, he was only experimenting" or something like that...kind of like, boys will be boys. I remember feeling hurt by my mother's response and feeling all alone. I don't believe I've ever been the same. I became a very angry little girl. So much so, my mother didn't feel it necessary to tell a man who was 11 years older than me to leave me alone after he made it known he was in love with me. He was her drug dealer so he continued to come around the house and lived what would be a city block away from us but we lived in the country so about 500 yards or less. I was 10 left to tell a grown man to leave me alone while he told me "you love me, you just don't know it yet". What the f*ck is wrong with people?! My mother's second husband was also a very terrifying man. I don't remember much about him, but I remember being afraid all that time. I was 4 and I remember seeing him throw my mother across the room and she hit her head on a radiator and began bleeding. Another time I remember being drug by my hair because I had accidently made noise upstairs. He used a belt on us but I don't remember being hit. I just remember him snapping the belt and hiding. As an adult before my healing journey began I was sexually harassed at work. I did finally speak up to my supervisor, but the man continued. I never spoke up again because clearly that guy wasn't going anywhere and what else could I say or do to make it stop?! Other bosses took advantage of their position of power. I had sex with two men who had say in whether I could keep my job. Afraid if I rejected their advances I would no longer have a position on the team. I felt helpless. All this though...could have been so much worse. So. much. worse. I've heard stories of worse, but this is mine. F*ck people who come to this earth to hurt others. F*ck them. They will never hurt me again.

I hope someday I can come back here and tell you all about what healing means to me and how i’ve grown and turned into a survivor, but i’m not there yet. I don’t think i’m even close. but I do have a story, my story and that, I can share. may that be enough to help someone else. i’m sorry my story is so out of wack. maybe it gets better the more I tell it? It was a new year’s eve party. the start at 2022, my best friend took me to the party she was going to with one of her fuck buddies. the part was small and we where the only girls, the house smelt of BO and alcohol (maybe that should have been our sign to leave). one boy, name(not scared to say you’re name asshole) he was tall and skinny with red hair and green eyes. EXACTLY MY TYPE I was always so attracted to red heads, until I meant name. now when I see a red haired, tall skinny man I get scared. my heart skips a beat and I stare at the stranger until i figure out if it’s him or not. than I see his face: sweaty, mouth agape, reddened, jerking in and out along with the rest of you’re body. anyways, we play beer pong. i’m on name's team, i’ve never played so he shows me the ropes. I had never drank so I got drunk, quick. one beer, 2 mixed drink, a shot and I was tapped out for the night. new years comes and goes, we party more, people slowly trickle out (by people I mean one. one person left) and suddenly me, name and another guy are all sitting together. somehow oscar the grouch gets mentioned and i’m sure it’s Oscar the grinch so I google it. while it was loading namesuddenly kisses me. I remember being excited and kissing him back but from there it gets hazy. I remember as he starts to underdress me that fear started to creep it, slowly at first. I wondering where his friend was, was he sleeping? next thing I remember he’s kneeling over me his penis right next to my vagina, he’s holding my legs and i’m terrified. things are going way to far and I need to stop it. I remember I told him things like how I was a virgin and not on birth control and on my period but none of it worked so finally I got the courage and said “I don’t think I want to do this” and his reply was forcing himself inside me. I was afraid to say no because if I said no and he ignored me that would mean this was “officially” rape as if somehow this wasn’t yet rape. it fucking hurt. hurt so bad I managed to dig my acrylic nails into his skin. if you’ve had acrylics than you know, that’s hard to do. It was too late, I couldn’t stop him. “don’t cry yet, once this is over i’ll wake up my friend and we can leave than i can cry at home” i was too embarrassed to cry in front of him. my hand grazed something and I look next to me where my head was dangling off the bed and I realize i’m brushed up against another man. I was being raped, my first time having sex was rape and it was in a room with two sleeping men. we go to the bathroom, I figured it was for a condom but in reality he places a bright orange dirty towel on the sink to absorb my blood, he lifts me into the sink and continues to have his way with me. “you have to give in at some point” he tells me and I think that was the moment I died. that was the sentence cut onto my tombstone, ringing in the ears constantly. give in? so, you know I don’t want this? I have to give in and let you in? release myself to you against my will? at some point? I thought I was already being completely compliance, we change locations for fucks sake. yet I tried my best to relaxed. he grabbed all over me, my squeezed my boobs hard and grabbed my neck. he was shoving me I to the sinks faucet so I put my hand on it to try and block it from hitting me but he kept moving my hand. it resulted in a big bruise on my lower back making it hurt to walk. every step I took was a reminder of that moment. sometimes I still feel the bruise, I know it’s gone but I can still feel it. god! I grew up christian (loosely). I don’t even really believe in god anymore but hey it’s worth a shot right? so, I pray “god, any god out there please help me. please make him cum already so this can be over.” and what felt like hours later I muster the courage to speak “if you can’t finish it’s okay”. he pulls out. that was it. it was over. we shower, we cuddle, we sleep in each others arms. i’ve convinced myself he will be my lover because if we don’t end up together that will mean that I was raped for nothing. in my head if we at least dated than it would have worked out in the end. I was searching for ANY reason not to call that was it was. and for while I loved him, I talked to “him” in my car (to myself while pretending he was next to me), thought about him 24/7, talked about him with friends and family. I felt guilty like I made this sweet innocent man rape me because I didn’t say no. than slowly I began to hate him. maybe this is the first stage of going from victim to survivor. anger.

in january of this year i was sexually assaulted by the head chef at a restaurant that i worked for. the restaurants manager asked me to not go to the police otherwise i would lose my job. i went to the police anyway but they closed my case because of the little evidence they had. however, it has just come out now that this chef has a criminal record and three other girls have come forward claiming it has happened to them too, from the same man! our case is going to trial and there is a strong chance he might face prison time!!!

In early summer 2022, I was raped by Name - someone I had known and was friends with for a decade. He was part of my group of girl friends, and was so proud to be the "guy who made it in the group chat" and always portrayed himself to be "one of the girls" as best he could. In reality, he was a loser when we took him in as a friend in high school - he so badly wanted to be friends with the "cool kids," but they rejected him so he settled for our friendship (that was too good for him). Over the years, he referred to us a "dumb bitches" and constantly made fun of everyone, proving his insecurity and emotional instability. About 4 years ago, we ended up in a situation where we lived in the same home. This wasn't necessarily my choice, but we lived with several other people and the homeowner begrudgingly let him stay for a while out of perceived obligation. During that time, he forced a sexual encounter on me which, looking back, I now realize was assault that I just didn't recognize as such until recently. I was almost blackout drunk and didn't want to have sex, but he forced himself on me and I went along with it because I didn't know what else to do. I tried to enter a sexual/romantic relationship with him in the weeks following, which didn't work because my body subconsciously rejected him and there was something I didn't trust, but the actual reason was hard for me to pinpoint. I didn't understand until recently, but that was all a trauma response. I was so hard on myself for a long time, because I felt guilty for "hurting" him by rejecting him, and I thought that I handled the situation poorly. It just turned out I didn't know how to deal with that situation; I moved states after a few months, and then we fell out of touch, but I was under the impression we were still friends, although we weren't in constant contact. He started dating a young woman early pandemic, but she broke up with him after about a year and a half of dating. Soon after the breakup, he had a get together with many of our friends for his 25th birthday, in May 2022. Because I hadn't seen him in a long time, I ended up going back to his apartment to hang out with him for longer, as well as another friend who was spending the night, and his mother, who he lives with. On this night, our friend and his mother fell asleep, and he began sexually assaulting me. He shoved his hand so hard in my pants, twice, that I needed to use muscle to pull his arm off of me. When I stood up to leave the room and get away from him, he followed me and raped me. I am a freeze/fawn type of trauma responder, but I did try using my voice to get him to stop. I even tried reminding him that there were other people just 10 feet away, and that they would hear - he said, "so what?" and "I don't care." The next morning, I realized that my genitals where bleeding and in pain, and remained that way for several days. The most damning part of all of this? He sexualized my physical trauma - it actually *turned him on,* and he had no problem with telling me so. It took me many months to stop being in denial about what happened - that someone I was friends with for years, someone who I trusted to keep me safe, violated my personhood in such a deeply degrading way. I strongly believe his mother heard me asking him to stop, as she talked to me after this night happened. She said "he told her everything," that "she woke up to pee during the night and heard us 'banging in the bathroom,'" and she point blank asked me if her own child had raped me. What kind of a mother asks that unless she was a reason to do so, and was either told something or heard something? I didn't connect the dots of that night until recently, but I can say I certainly unconsciously reacted in a trauma response sort of way. I desperately wanted to enter a relationship with him after that night, something I had never truthfully wanted, in a attempt to gain back the control he had taken from me. Because if I could try to form a relationship with him, and we ended up together, it would justify him raping me, right? Of course not, but that's how my brain tried to protect me. I started unraveling without even realizing it. I became hypersexual, putting myself in risky situations by inviting random people over to my home for sex, going over to random people's homes for sex, having unprotected sex. I started changing my appearance. My bulimia flared up. I started smoking again. I lightly confronted him over text last month after I came to terms with what he did to me, and told him that we needed to talk because he seriously violated my boundaries. He responded to say we could "definitely" talk, but I never responded. I need time before I can speak to him. When I do, I want to speak to him in person, not on a phone call, like he wanted. I want to look him right in his dead-eyed face to tell him I know exactly what he did, and I know exactly who he is - he raped me, and he is a rapist. It won't give me justice, it won't make him sorry for what he's done, and I'm at peace with that. I can only hope it will instill a fear in him by making him recognize that I DO have a power he can never take from me as long as I'm alive - my voice. I can tell my story, share it with anyone who I choose to, and there's nothing he can do to stop that. He'd have to kill me first. I haven't told anyone other than my sister/brother in law, one friend, and my therapist about what happened that night, but when I get stronger through therapy and become less scared, I will meet him face-to-face to call him out for what he is. Predator. Abuser. Rapist. I will share my story with more people. Nameis a rapist. I highly doubt he will ever see this post, but in the in the <1% chance you are reading this, Name Initials., I want you to remember that while you sit there and call yourself a "feminist king," YOU are the person articles are referring to when they talk about perpetrators of violence against women. YOU are the person who made your decisions that night, not alcohol. (Too drunk to realize what you were doing, but not too drunk to have sex with my body? Nice try. Funny how I get super drunk with my other friends, and somehow none of them have managed to rape me.) YOU are the one who is responsible for your actions. There was no miscommunication. There was no room for misunderstanding. I was clear with what I was saying, you disregarded and ignored me, and that is on YOU. If you have a conscience, I hope this haunts you for the rest of your time on this earth.

Hi, i was recommended this site by my therapist...so here we go. okay. it all started when i was 9, My grandparents had moved into NC and stuff etc etc- My grandfather and I were always close. We would do stuff together like lunch, shopping, get candy all that jazz. from years 9-12 I had not realized it, but he was grooming me. He would always tell me things like how special i was to him and how he would buy me things he wouldn't buy my brother or my cousins. It would always happen whenever i would spend the night at my grandparents house. Now my mother had really awful breast cancer at the time, so my dad had to stay by her side and support her in the hospital from time to time and since my brother was too young to babysit me (hes 4 years older by the way) I had to spend the night there. I also suffered from horrid night terrors that kept me awake at night and made me deathly afraid of being alone or in the dark. Sooo, i would share the bed with both my grandparents. You can probably tell where this is going, It was always in bed too. He would touch me around my stomach, chest, more details parts that i wont mention, my pants area etc... I never thought too much of it, Always reassuring myself that it wasnt anything malevolent...no matter how weird or unusual it was. It eventually stopped around when i was 12, when my mom finished chemotherapy and beat her cancer. i was staying at their place less and less. But he would often throw provocative comments my way about my body, such as my chest, my butt- you get it. the comments stopped at 14 when i stood up for myself. he asked me, "Oh dont tell me you dont like play with yourself of please yourself. everyone does it, i just wanna know if you do it." I told him it was gross to ask that, and he scoffed- but he stopped. not too long later that year i was thinking about everything while sitting in my room. Then it hit me. Everything he did, everything he said, was because he was grooming me. I had thrown up that evening, as if my stomach got clubbed by a sledgehammer. It had been maybe 2 or so years since ive come out about what happened. No justice has been served yet, if any at all. My grandparents blame me and my parents for tearing our family apart. I often blame myself too. But I hope and pray to any god out there that he gets exactly what he deserves, in this life or the next.

This year I managed to talk out loud for the first time about what happened to me as a "something", I always knew it but I kept it in the back of my head without giving it much thought because I knew if I did it was going to hurt, something in me knew it was wrong. When I was about 5/6 years old I had a friend a year or two older than me, I don't know how or when it started or why I "agreed", no matter how hard I try to remember I can't. This girl touched me and I touched her etc, I don't remember resisting or refusing and that makes it worse, I even think I liked it. Since then and as I grew older (similar situations happened to me at the hands of other girls) I began to feel shame and regret, in some ways it makes me feel dirty, as if I had never had innocence. Now I have a complicated relationship with sexuality, it hurts and makes me uncomfortable, I also can't feel good about myself, I feel like I'm guilty of this.