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I was in a abusive marriage for many years. I never told anyone and was incredibly ashamed of myself and what I was allowing to happen. He was a military man. We moved around and I had few friends. We had children. One girl from my previous relationship and 2 children together. He sexually abused me. The last time resulted in my 3rd child. Years later my oldest child told me he was "touching" her. I reported it immediately and ne er doubted my child. A few months later, my 2nd child told me the same. He had raped her. Needless to say, I reported both abuses. And I left him. Moved out of state. He did some prison time, remarried and has built a new life for himself. 20 years later I am still angry, full of hate towards him and sickened by the thought of him. He was a registered sex offender, but after 20 years he petitioned to be removed. Time goes by and I'm okay. Other times I am depressed, full of anger, sadness, bitterness, grief & so much more. Not sure what I want to do? Do I need more therapy? Do I have Ptsd? My kids thank goodness, have turned out well. Me, sometimes I wonder.

Last year I was gang raped. I have an ear ringing called tinnitus that has not stopped since. I have nightmares. I flew with my mom to a wedding overseas. I was excited. She would be busy with her friends and cousin and I would get to spend time with my awesome second cousin who is two years older than me. After the rehearsal dinner we went out. It was fun because I was not legally able to drink there even though the age was lower than in my province, but they did not check ID’s. I did not drink much because it was not my thing and I had a boyfriend but I was able to go to some bars then a club attached to a hotel. So much fun up to when we met two soldiers in uniform who were cute and separated us from her friends because of our looks. My cousin is stunning beautiful. They had a private room at the club and several soldiers were there and two prostitutes also. Those prostitutes definitely hated us being there. I wanted to get out anyway and the cute ones that invited us acted like they understood and took us out of there. We stupidly let them take us to their hotel room where they totally dropped the cute romantic act and made us strip our clothes to music. They showed us a gun they had in a drawer. I was terrified. They made us lay on our stomachs bent over the bed side by side and had sex with us that way. They switched like we were interchangeable before finishing in us with no protection. We held hands. I was crying while my cousin was trying to be strong and cheer me up. We weren’t allowed to leave and our clothes were hidden. Before took our phones we had to text that we were staying at my cousin’s friend’s house. Then they called two other soldiers, one of them a huge tall dark guy with body builder muscles. He was the worst to me. They made us dance and then we had to use our mouths on the cute ones that had lured us there while the other two had sex with us. I vomited and my cousin cleaned it up but then it started again. They had cocaine and made us sniff it off their parts and sniffed it off us. Another one came and I think it was just those five during the night but they kept raping us and making us do things even when we would pass out. I would like to have been more unconscious but cocaine makes you so awake. I want to remember less and think about it all less. We showered many times. The big dark one peed on me and in my mouth the shower. He did it more than once like I was his toilet. The other men even had to tell him to chill out when he was making me scream liking his fingers and pushing them in my arse, but not when he made me crawl around like a dog using my hair as a leash. I remember one of them calling their friends to tell them to turn all their t.v.’s way up to hide the noise in our room. They watched sports news on the t.v. They had me and my cousin kiss each other and stuff. I could not act like it was a fun party like my cousin did sometimes and encouraged me to do. She tried to take some of their attention away from me over and over. I love her for it but they did not leave me alone. My chest is something they were obsessed with. They did not care that I was obviously distressed and freaking out or that in my country I was three years below the age of consent. There I was the minimum. We woke up in the morning on one the beds together with only the two soldiers sleeping on the floor. The black one was gone! They had sex with us again and another man who was much older and who they called SIR came in and had sex with both us but mostly me. They cheered him on and my head was pounding and I was crying and it seemed to last forever. Finally we got our clothes back but they took us for brunch wearing their normal clothes. They showed me pictures on their phones that made it look like I was having fun and warned us how bad it would be if we said anything different than we had a nice party. A nice party in hell! Before that I’d had sex with only my 1 boyfriend ever. One night of hell and now my number was seven!! We had to start getting ready for the wedding right away and I was exhausted. My cousin hid me and I took a nap in my dress, hair and makeup until the last minute. I cried in the ceremony but not for the wedding. I was so sore in my vagina, muscles, and brain that I got so drunk at the reception I barely remember any of it. Just part of being on the plane home. I told my mom the truth when I got back and she got all crazy, so did my dad, and they tried to call over there and the hotel and such but there was nothing the police would do. I saw my dad cry for the first time as I told the whole story. My boyfriend could not handle it and dumped me. I go to group and do therapy. I take a pill everyday and now benzo’s for break through anxiety. I try to hide my large chest under baggy clothes where before I used it for attention. STUPID! My cousin does not seem to have the trauma I do or the nightmares. In her country they are done with secondary school up to two years before us and are more treated like adults sooner. I said mean things to her once because of it. She forgave me but we talk much less since I asked if she has gang bangs all the time. I felt terrible because she even let them have anal sex with her to lure them away from me. I could tell it hurt her so much but at the time was just thinking about my own survival. My childhood is OVER but I do not feel like an adult. Her advice is -Don’t let it get you so down-. Like I have a choice in this!! She went to a therapist ONCE because her mom made the appointment and does not plan to go back. Her life did not really change!! She works reception at a tech company and models on the side and still goes to parties and clubs and dates. How??? It is unbelievable how attitudes toward something like this can be so different in different countries. I am a victim now and I usually feel like it. Definitely damaged. Everybody at my school knows why. I am THAT girl. My new more mature boyfriend is understanding but I feel like a sad little burden to him. I am hypersexual sometimes now and can’t help it. It is a coping mechanism that happens to some victims of sexual assault. I did not ask for it. I worry my boyfriend can’t trust me because of it. I had an older guy friend who’s been my neighbor for years take advantage of me after I told him the story of what happened at his house. We had sex and then he felt guilty for being turned on by my rape story. He admitted it and asked me to forgive him. The sex helped me calm the ear ringing for just short time periods so I did it with him more than once a day for a bit until my dad started to suspect something and talked to him. Since then I don’t trust myself. I want to marry my boyfriend in large part just to protect myself and show him I love him and am loyal even though I am not sure I can be. I worry I cannot love like a normal person. I worry I push him away being too needy and wanting to marry him so soon. I need him more than he needs me. Is that the way it will always be in relationships for rape victims??? I work hard at school not to ruin my future. It is so hard to focus. My ears ring constantly. Thank you for listening.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

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.

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.

I grew up thinking that my body was not my own. I experienced child sexual assault and rape all before the age of 14 and that shaped how I viewed my body and the world around me. It took years, almost a decade, before I would seek therapy and try to start my healing journey. I felt so disgusting in my own body and it made it hard for me to have romantic relationships. Therapy has really been helpful and sometimes I still feel that discomfort in my body but I am learning everyday that what happened to me is not my fault. I also have grown to learn that there are bad people out here and that there is nothing that I did to deserve what happened to me. Although my abuser is free to roam the world as if he didn't harm me and my rapist is free to live his life as if he didn't rape me -- I find peace in knowing that I am healing despite what they did to me.

I got out of an abusive relationship. It wasn’t till I left there was physical abuse and emotional abuse. Even if the physical was minimal. I’m so glad to be apart of a group of women who are healing. Healing is hard, it’s been countless sleepless nights, extra periods, and nightmares over and over. But the reward of being free is so much better than anything I could’ve imagined. I don’t wish to ever be back in that, and am glad I left every day

After over a decade, I'm just now coming out of a fog and realizing I've been abused since before we even married. I feel so lost right now. I'm trying to forgive myself, love myself, and gain strength, all while still having to be married to my abuser. I want to leave but don't have the resources to. And I cannot stomach the thought of my children having to suffer even weekend visits with him without me there as a shield. I'm so exhausted. I'm so hurt and angry and sad. He's abused me physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially. I feel so trapped and don't really see a way out for me and my kids. When I watched It Ends With Us, I related so much because I knew exactly how it felt to look back and finally realize what had actually happened. I am just now processing so much that I didn't feel safe enough to even consider was abuse before. It's hard and sometimes I want to hide from it all, but I know the only way to heal and somehow leave is to face what I've been through head on and make a plan to escape.

I am new here on this website, but I am not new to being an incest survivor. Over 35 years ago, in the 1960’s, 70’s and 80’s, I was the little girl victim of [entire childhood long] long-term father-upon-daughter incest with a non-supportive, disbelieving mother. It was a long time ago, so I am not in “danger” any longer from my abuser. But the injuries still hurt now and then and the scars are still healing. My mind is still recovering from the insanity that threatened to settle over me stemming from being raised up in that crazymaking, “gaslighting” environment. I woke up one day and could see that it was all just a nightmare from the past that I was allowing to “haunt” me in the present threatening to end my future early. I want to share my story, and I will do so in small portions, for it is far too long for here. As is probably the case with many father-upon-daughter incest survivors, I could write a whole book, no, a trilogy about my childhood and the problems I have had all along throughout my lifespan due that issue. He had a long “tenure” as a child sexual predator since he got started when he was only 5 years old, a sexual addict who loved children until he was of age 70 when he passed away of a fast-acting cancer in 2017. His dark secrets are coming out of the closet since his passing, but my family is still in denial. As I discovered, sometimes skeletons have a way of falling out of the closet on their own. After his passing, my father’s sexual abuse victims, all his siblings, are starting to open up. My father was the youngest sexual predator I have ever heard of. He didn’t become a child rapist in his adult life or develop his predilection due to some quirk in married life, ...he was already a child rapist when he married my mother when he was just 17 years old. My father was a 17 year old child molester-rapist [who sexually abused all five of his own younger siblings, leaving them with lifelong scars and psychological problems]. My father went on to become a highly respected CHP law enforcment officer and a highly respected, church-going, law-abiding [his pubic image, although he broke laws in his private life], tax-paying citizen that everyone revered throughout the small military base and civilian town I grew up in. I have lived out the real-life story of “The Girl Who Cried Wolf”, only I was telling the truth about the “wolf”, who was my father. In the Aesop’s fable, the boy was pranking the villagers, so they didn’t believe him when he really needed them to believe him. I know how it is to be telling the truth about a wolf in sheep’s clothing and no one else can see what he really is. It is very scary. Life-threatening, really. I knew as a child that I had to outsmart my dad if I was ever to “tell” on his dark deeds. But he was always two steps ahead. He always had 2 or 3 lies for each truth I had. I was playing a “rigged game” only I didn’t figure this out until adult life. My father tried to ruin my life and that of all of his siblings and my sister, my children, and any other kids he could get his hands near. I lived and I know the nightmares [figurative and literal] that children live with when their own daddy is the “boogey man” wolf creature that comes in the night, out from the closet or from under the bed, but magically disappears by morning, leaving [virtually] no trace. Since my dad got away with sexually abusing me all those years, I want to open up and expose his sneaky “tactics”. He didn’t get away with sexually abusing me because he was such a genius, so brilliant and talented at illusion and sleight of hand moves. He got away with it because everyone else around him, the adults, were ignorant and duped. I am in favor of using my experience to help to develop a better way to come to the aid of more of these child victims who are trying to find any adult who will hear them and may want to help them. It’s terrible to be held captive in your own home and no one can see it and no one offers to help. You realize you are stuck. Helpless. That ought not to be so. Children should be able to find someone to tell. Police can’t seem to find the “funding” or “man power” to stop these guys. They rarely can ever catch one and put them away, and if they succeed, it is only for a few years before they are back out, resuming their molesting. My life and my journey of healing has brought me to a place where I am done being a recovering victim who considers myself a “survivor”, but I want to be more...I desire to be an “overcomer” who has applied what I know and am [starting to ] make a difference. I want to be part of the solution for other victims who are crying out for help...the help that never came for me and other father-daughter incest survivors, who themselves had to endure “childhood sexual abuse by daddy” because no one saw the signs...because no one was “listening”. I hope to be a part of bringing better solution to the issue of incest than is presently in place...because the present way of addressing this problem is not working. The continuing influx of brand new reports representing all-new cases childhood sexual abuse perpetrated by another father tells us that we are not even close to stemming the tide of this insidious problem that grows behind closed doors. That is all I have to say for now. Thank you for listening.  Sincerely, ~ forthetruth

I was conditioned to think catcalling was a compliment, that if someone held your waist a little too long at work it was just cause "ahh they're just a bit touchy", that it's easier to just "go with it" than to say no and risk their response. It took me years to identify that no matter the degree of your experiences it still is never ok. We often get told sexual violence is one way but it isn't, it comes in many forms and sometimes you can't identify it at first - and that's ok. I am only recently coming to terms with the varying degrees of experiences I've had. I didn't want to say anything because I was made to believe I'd "rock the boat". Well some boats are meant to sink. Let's rebuild the boat so everyone can stay afloat, included and safe.

I never associated my assaults as sexual assaults. I always just saw it as a thing that happened me that was upsetting until recently. I was groped, forced into having sex and preforming oral sex on him. I remember one time he offered to drive me home. I lived over 40 mins from town so I thought i could save myself €60 in a taxi. Until I realised we were going in the opposite direction to my house. He drove me to secluded area. I knew it wasn't right I said no said I was due my period I tried everything I could to deter him. It didn't work. I can't drive that road without a feeling of dread. I do feel part to blame and I know that's wrong. I hate how it makes me feel. When I hear stories in the news I can't help but think my story isn't as bad as theirs or that maybe mine wasn't rape or a sexual assault. I hate myself for thinking it.

Being sexual assaulted by another child wasn’t something that I realized was rape until about 10 years later… which was after I had already pushed it to the back of my brain, and how guilty and gross I still felt about it. I am sharing my story here today in hopes of processing as this hasn’t been something I had told anyone up until the last year. This girl was my best friend. When it all started we were about 7 years old and would often have play dates at each others houses. It started with her secretly showing me her moms magazine introducing me to what a thong is, and while this is tame it set her up to progressively get more inappropriate. At another play date she showed me porn for the first time, she would put in topics like “truth or dare” or “funny”… almost like she was trying to make it seem fun and innocent (which hurts to think about because I was so young). We would hide in her closet watching on her iPod for long periods of time, I was too innocent to really know what I was looking at. I do not have a good idea of the entire timeline and how long each step went on for since I had repressed it for so long but one day this became kissing to “practice for boys” (we are both afab for context). I honestly hated doing it but I didn’t want to say no to her, because I was afraid that I was the one in the wrong for thinking I was uncomfortable. I can still feel how gross it felt when I think about it almost like I am there. And then one day this all progressed to her “practicing for boys” even further by touching me and further.. All the elements would mix and eventually whenever I hung out with her I knew watching the porn and being touched were just inevitable so I let it slide even though I never wanted it and felt gross because of it. I don’t really have many memories of the actual offenses just very short snippets. It went on for about 3 years until I was around 10. Eventually it just stopped, I have no memory of the specifics here. But I felt so guilty about it, and at the time I believed the guilt was because it was another girl and that was wrong (I am now gay). I didn’t realize I was guilty because of the consent, because I was taken advantage of. So I vowed to myself I would never tell anyone. And that went on for about 10 years, 7 in which I was still close friends with this girl. I was still close friends with my rapist while I pretended that she never did anything to me. I nearly forgot about it and from what I remembered I convinced myself that I liked it, which is so gross to me now. I definitely think it is a huge cause for my bad mental health now. Holding in a secret for so long and invalidating myself has set me up for so many toxic friendships and my self worth is pretty bad. I have trouble putting myself first and have a people pleasing problem. I also denied to myself that I was gay because I considered this experience as “skewing me”. Being self aware of this is helping me improve these things but it’s so hard to change the things that kept my brain together for 10 years of holding a secret. And at the same time, something in me still isn’t mad at her? It’s been 12 years now and I finally removed her from my instagram following after letting myself process how much she has destroyed me. Of course I wish this never happened to me, it has hurt me so much and I’m still not over it. I really am grateful to come across a platform like this to feel less alone. I felt alone and so shameful about this for so long.

sorry that this is super long😭😭😭 when I was younger I was best friends with this girl we met on the first day of kindergarten and were inseparable and when we were 7 she started touching me on the school bus and I told the school and instead of helping they put me and her in the school counselor's office and she showed us a video of keeping our hands to ourselves and not letting other people touch out bodies 3 weeks she raped me in her bedroom and I didn't know what to do so I just laid there and didn't speak I think it made it worse that she is a girl and its not typical for females to rape other females so I felt as no one would believe me so I stayed quiet because of what happened the first time after that stuff kept happening but then I got into the 5th grade and we didn't see each other because it was there first real year of COVID so it was all basically online and we were in different classes but then 6th grade started and I was back to seeing her every day and that was super hard and she started to do that stuff and it was really bad on my mental health then she decided to punch me in the face for no reason so I stopped talking to her I ended up admitting myself to a psych ward where I did end up getting help and was doing better and I went to my ex friends play performance and this friend was friends with the girl at the time and I still wanted to be his friend so I because friends with her again and told her that I stopped talking to her because my best friend told me to that night she raped me in my own bedroom after I let her borrow my clothes my shows by hairbrush my everything and she still decided to rape me and that hurt and again like the first time I sat there doing and saying nothing for some reason I couldn't no matter what no matter what I thought no matter what I said nothing I was frozen I always everyone talk about fight or flight and no one ever talks about freeze even tho its one of the most common ones every time she did something like that I would freeze I wouldn't talk I would barely move I just laid there helpless like God was gonna send someone to help me but he never did I was all alone I was like a helpless dog dying on the side of the road and I just let her do it I said no once and after she didn't stop I gave up I didn't know what do do anymore and I didn't wanna repeat myself for some reason so thus I didn't after that I stopped talking to her all together and in 8th grade after being out as transgender for about a year when kids would say stuff what I would correct them on my name she would stand up for me and I hated that I hated it so much it made me feel like I couldn't hate her for raping me and assaulting me because now shes standing up for me so if I hate her I would be a bad person even tho I know I am not a bad person for hating her because I have every right to because of what she did to me even if it was a long time anyways I think that's it sorry again that this is super long I don't know what others look like so I don't know if mines actually long or not compared to other peoples but if you read all of this thank you for reading my story and I hope all of you have an absolutely amazing 💗💗💗

How to listen to a family member reveal their sexual abuse and protect them from it. For many years I have been hiding, hiding in my denial that my father was a sexual abuser. One of my Nieces, an innocent child at the time of the assault, was sexually abused by my father, and I refused to believe her story. I did not accept her story. I believed my father when he stated that he had not abused her. My niece was so young, over 30 years ago, when this happened, and I still feel her pain. I hope that one day she will reach out to me, giving me the opportunity to apologize for not believing in her. To All who have loved ones, friends, and neighbors, believe in them, and assist them in finding the help they need. No person should be required to live with this type of pain for the rest of their lives. Sexual abuse can happen anywhere - in school, church, with friends, parents, relatives, and strangers. On this note, the same person who molested my niece; also molested me for over ten years, and I kept quiet until two years ago when I started speaking about my being molested to a group of men. Listen to your child. Not listening could result in a lifetime of trauma. This hidden story could haunt the child for the rest of their life. I am writing this to help victims of any age so that when ready, they can tell their stories and not go through what I have been going through all my life. As a survivor, I have been carrying a heavy load on my shoulders for many years. Still, I get flashbacks of what happened to me as a child. I do sometimes talk with a counselor when I get these flashbacks. When I was younger, there was no one I could speak with regarding these issues. I am writing to put the information in place to help those seeking assistance. Help all parents and children. We need to be there for them. Listen, and try to understand them. Most of all – Be their Angel.

It was my freshman year of college. At the time, I had been struggling with two years of daily chronic migraines. My health was in a really bad place, my self-esteem was really low, I was scared to start college and be on my own. After about the first few weeks or so of college, I met this guy through one of my mutual friends. We were outside the dorms and he walked by, I thought he was super cute. I subtly asked him out to a school event and I got his number. The next day, he told me he couldn't make it to the event, and then later we hung out with some friends. I was instantly attracted to him - I was just kinda head over heals and not thinking. Later that night he asked me out on a date. The next day, we went out to lunch on campus and then later went back to my dorm to bake some cookies. Then later that night, he joined my friends and I for a movie night. While my friends were bickering about what movie to watch he put his hand on my leg. It was very unexpected because we hadn't even held hands yet. Then he asked me if I wanted to leave the movie (before we even started watching it). So I was like, okay we can leave. So we left my friends, he told them that he had to drive home this weekend. As we were walking back to my dorm, he asked if I wanted him to go. I said no, because I really liked him. Then, he said we could either take his car and go somewhere, or go out on the front lawn. I didn't trust him to drive me anywhere late at night, so I said we could hang out on the front lawn. So we were sitting on the front lawn, it was probably around midnight and he ended up kissing me. This part was consensual but for me this was a new experience, it was my first kiss actually and I was uncomfortable how we were out in the open, where anyone could walk by. When it was about 2am, the sprinklers started going on and so we got up and left. As we were leaving he said "I love you." This was technically our first day, third day of knowing him and I should have known that this was a red flag. That next week we went out on the lawn to hang out in the evening, however, it was still pretty light out, a lot of people around. He started kissing me and i told him i felt uncomfortable that there were so many people around. He told me not to worry and kept kissing me and getting more handsy. He then put his hands down my leggings and started touching me. I was terrified. I kept saying how I wasn't comfortable with how many people were around, but he didn't stop. The next day or so, I went over to his dorm room. He wanted to sit on the bed. And he started kissing me and even took my shirt off. He was playing music, and I knew the other roommates in the house he was living in were home too. Then his roommate walked in. I was so embarrassed and wrapped myself quickly up in covers. He was there for a good five minutes making conversation and then finally left. After he left the guy kept touching me and I didn't know how to say no - he did it without asking and I was afraid of him getting aggressive. He kept telling me how turned on he was and how much he wanted me to touch him. I felt so uncomfortable and finally left and made some excuse to leave. Later that week in my dorm, he came over and kept telling me how he wanted to have sex. I kept telling him how uncomfortable i was. And he even took off his pants and I could feel his dick on the inside of my leg and i kept telling him no, and how i was uncomfortable. He kept telling me how he wanted to go away for weekends in Joshua tree or go stay in this cabin for a weekend by ourselves. I felt like he kept pushing me to touch his dick or to have sex with him and when i kept saying no, he got so frustrated with me and would make me feel guilt. He would tell me things like how I was the most beautiful woman in the world and then would just treat me like shit. One night, he was in my room and kept pressuring me to stay the night. At the college I go to, we have strict visiting hours and are not allowed to have boys stay over in our dorm. I kept telling him it was time to leave and he didn't move. Once I heard the RA come in the hall of the dorm, I felt suffocated, and I knew now I was stuck with him for the next few hours or at least until i could sneak him out. That whole time all he kept telling me was how turned on he was and he would touch my and i was too scared to tell him to stop because I knew how angry he got when he didn't get his way. Finally, the next week or so he broke up with me and went onto trying to date my best gal friends at school. After our breakup, I felt like it was the end of the world. I didn't see how much damage he caused me and how toxic he was - I just felt like I wasn't good enough. I cried, I was suicidal, I had panic attacks, I could barely stay in my room because I would feel like he was there, I couldn't sleep and if I did sleep he was in my nightmares. I didn't tell any of my friends or family because I was too embarrassed. I felt ashamed like it was something wrong I did, like I shouldn't have ever fallen for him. I invested into him emotionally and physically and he just didn't even care. It has been a year, and I just recently realized that what he did was sexual harassment. He did not listen to me, I did not give him consent, I could not make him leave my room when I needed him to, he made me feel guilty if I didn't have sex or touch him, he manipulated my feelings and my body. He made me believe I wasn't good enough or pretty enough or thin enough. He made me think I was clingy for wanting support. He made me feel like a burden when I would tell him my problems. He made me feel like I was damaged. It has been a year and I still don't feel okay. I still get nightmares, I still get flashbacks. If I hear a song that he used to play or see the type of car he used to drive, it just takes me back. I only have told my current boyfriend this story and was too ashamed to tell my family or any of my friends. I felt like I would be judged if I opened up about my story. But I am glad I get to share it with you today. I don't know if I will ever be the same from this experience, but I am trying to turn things around now. By opening up, it has helped me try to find some sort of peace within the midst of everything. And has helped me understand that this isn't my fault and that even though this happened to me, it doesn't own me.

I was about 8 years old when I was getting molested by my older brother. He's about 4-5 years older than me. I'm an adult now and finished college. My brain had repressed the memories of it for years and I didn't really remember it well until I was in therapy while at university for stress and depression. I think talking about my upbringing in therapy and my relationship with my parents finally made the memories surface. I always knew something bad was going on, I just didn't understand it. I remember multiple instances. He'd have me lay face down on my bed and pull my pants down to "massage" me. I think he only ever groped on my ass cheeks, but I can't remember. He did that multiple times. He came into my room once and made me get naked and he got behind me and laid on the floor behind my bed, out of view if the door opened, and he told me to not look and just sit back. I felt his penis and began to freak out, so he stopped. I think he was trying to penetrate me. I don't think he ever actually did. The last major time I can remember, I went into his room because I liked watching him play video games. He made me get naked again and lay in bed next to him naked. I felt him rubbing his penis on me. My mom opened the door and saw we were naked and began yelling. I was so scared anytime my mom yelled at me. I got out of bed quickly and got dressed. I was shaking so bad it was difficult. I ran out of his room to my room down the hall as she continued to yell at him. I thought I was in trouble too, even though I never understood what was going on. I just felt weird and gross after. She never came to check on me. Not that I remember at least. We didn't talk about it, she didn't take me to get help, there was nothing. All these years later, my mom called one night and I confronted her about it. I have no contact with my brother now and she'd always ask if I talked to him or talked to dad (they're divorced). I finally told her what I remembered. She said everything I expected her to say. She said she was sorry, that she thought it was only once and didn't want to imagine it happened multiple times. She said she failed as a mother and she thought at the time that she had handled it after threatening my brother to never do it again. No report, no doctor visit, no therapy, no help for me. I don't think she ever even told my dad. Just that she's sorry and should have done more. She said everything I already assumed she would and had played out in my head a hundred times before I ever asked her about it. None of it made me feel better to hear. I know the type of person she is already. Emotionally stunted, self-centered, victim complex. She hadn't changed much at all since then. She got upset and cried and eventually we both hung up. For my brother, I just finally stopped talking to him. I blocked him and I don't go to my dad's in case he's there again. I think the last time I saw him was almost a year ago. We didn't talk anymore anyway. I'd try before I remembered what happened. I think he remembers too and can't face it either, so we were never close after we grew up. I'm still processing how it all affected me. I honestly hate my mother more than him sometimes since she was the adult and did nothing. I'm not sure what else to say.

being a COCSA survivor. It has been very confusing. It happened almost everytime i saw my cousin. He was only 1 year older than me. He would show me porn and would explain it to me. All in detail. Then he would tell me to do sexual acts infront of him or he do sexual acts infront of me. He would always say he liked my moans and my body... Always wanting to take a peak of me undressed. "I love you, it's our little secret". He would always say. I didn't really realise it was SA until i learned about COCSA. I was only 7-10 when these things happened. He made me dirty like him

my brother SA'd me multiple times. he never raped me, though. he once forced me to kiss him on the mouth as a "game" of some sorts. he would also smack my ass, call me a slut, and shame me for everything. before he got on medication, he would beat me up. he's on medication now, but he's still terrible. he got mad at me and said he would gangrape me. he never did, but it was still scary. i hate him, and he says i'm a bad person for hating him. he also denied ever SAing me. sometimes i feel like i'm delusional or something. i don't know, i'm just tired of living with him. i can't wait for him to move out.

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??