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

Hello! I don't know how to go about this at all, but I know I need to put it out there. I am a lesbian over 21 years of age, and I experienced rape and sexual assault by my last lesbian partner. I apologize if this is long, but if anyone reads this, it's greatly appreciated! I met my ex last January, and we texted for about a month before we had our first date. the first date went well, nothing concerning. The second date, which was 2-3 days after our first one, was where it all started. I didn't mind that she kissed me first, but I got nervous when she told me she wanted to take it to the backseat. She started to grope me and to palm me through my clothing before eventually trying to get her hand in my jeans. I stopped her and told her I wasn't comfortable doing any of that yet. Her response was "Oh, but eventually you will want to, right?" and to that I said "yes, but not right now." She continued anyway. That's the moment I look back on and wish I had left. I stayed. Maybe a date or two pass without her doing anything concerning again before there's another incident. We are in her car outside her workplace for an event we chose to go to. There are people on the street. She starts making out with me, to which I feel icky about bc people can probably see us and it's not appropriate. This time she starts to palm me through my skirt again, and at this point I kind of don't remember much other than me saying that I was scared and nervous, and it doesn't seem safe, and her coercing me. Before I know it, she has her hand down my underwear and is raping me. we didn't go to the event. we left and she told me next time she could find a secluded place. she never did. and that's where it all started. over the next 5 months she would rape me in her car every single chance she could. every single time I told her I wasn't comfortable. I would wear tight underwear, but she would still do everything to do it. if she didn't, she would get mad and stonewall me. but there was never once where it wasn't attempted. the worst night was maybe a month after it all started. again, in her backseat. it was in a fairly public parking lot, she tried to cover the windows with clothes, but it was still obviously visible. she made me lay down and take off all my bottoms and completely spread open. it was so humiliating. she then proceeded to violently rape me so bad and painful I was crying and holding on my screams bc I didn't want to bring attention to the situation or possibly get in trouble. I told her I was comfortable and that I wanted to scream but she just threw a cloth over my face so I wouldn't focus on it. after I had to put my clothes back on and I ruined them. I was in pain for maybe up to a weel after or a bit more. now I wish I had gotten evidence of that night, but I have none. In total I think it happened around 14 times. the same care situations in public that I hated. during the relationship I was blinded to an extent, and I didn't realize it counted as rape until after we broke up. At first, I had accepted what happened but now I have a new partner. my new partner coincidentally works with my rapist ex. ever since finding that out I feel completely distraught and suffocated by what she did to me. Not only that. before finding out they worked together they sat next to each other and were becoming friends. so my ex told my current gf how I am a terrible person and that she's afraid of me. they don't speak anymore. I don't know I just feel suffocated by it all. she also has a new gf. I wish I could tell her new gf to be careful, but I'm scared. in my community there's so much stigma around rape and homosexuality. I don't think I could ever safely publicly come out with my story as much as I want to. she completely changed my life. it's like I don't know how to be myself anymore and I feel like I'm going insane.

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

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

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

At the end of my freshman year of college, I was at a house party. Towards the end of the night, after I had already been drinking, I said I wanted to go smoke and a guy who had been interested in me asked if he could come with me. We were friends at the time so I agreed. We went to the area in the back, which was an enclosed greenhouse-type porch and no one was back there. After we finished smoking, he leaned in and kissed me. I was shocked but went along with it at first. He proceeded to kiss me more intensely and started to touch me. Feeling uncomfortable, I stopped and told him I wanted to go inside. I sat at a table inside and he was next to me. I started feeling the high from smoking as I was having a conversation with my friends who were right across from me. Suddenly I felt his hand move up my thigh and he proceeded to rub me over my shorts. I was in frozen in shock thinking, "what the fuck is happening right now? This is really weird and i'm not enjoying this. Am I too high to do something right now? There are so many people around me. and no one knows what is happening. What is going on?" After a what felt like forever I felt him try to go in my shorts and that's when I snapped out of it and just looked at him. I didn't know what to say, and I don't really remember what happened at this point. I was just. in shock. He said something to me, I probably said something back, and then he just walked away. The day after I cried and had breakdowns in the bathrooms of the student center. I was confused and conflicted with myself trying to process what had happened. I felt like it was my fault because I googled things like "what constitutes as sexual assault/harassment?" because I wasn't sure if what i had gone through had "counted." I thought that since it was only touching it wasn't a big deal. I thought that because I was under the influence it was my fault. That I shouldn't have been that fucked up. That I shouldn't have been leading him on and making him think that I was into him. That I should protect him because he was friends with so many of my friends. But at the end of it all, HE WAS IN THE WRONG. I WAS PUT IN A SITUATION WHERE I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE AND HE HAD VIOLATED ME IN A ROOM FULL OF PEOPLE. I'm here to say that no matter the action, no matter how small, if you were violated your feelings are VALID. If you did not give consent and you felt uncomfortable, it IS ASSAULT. It is still your story. YOUR trauma that you have to live with. Do not brush it off or belittle it because you don't feel like it's worthy of being labeled. You are worthy. You deserve to be heard.

i just wrote this in my thirties about my experience with anal date rape as a teenager. i hope that if anyone sees themselves reflected here they feel less alone. i didn’t understand i was assaulted until later — as women we’re conditioned from birth to tolerate harm without even knowing that it is harmful. — blood-filled bowl, red bowl, every time ulcer-lined lips, sealed lips, shut tight bruise-laced neck, black & blue, souvenirs i woke up with the springs of my childhood mattress pressing my back and none of my clothes i’d delighted in picking out for the party. i was 19 and i kept the uncapped bottle of liquor he left behind because it was free i threw his sweatshirt in the trash and walked to work in my black suede h&m ballet flats i got home where i could finally lower my hands from my neck and i told no one the cracked screen of my iphone 4 glowed blue in the dark of my room with one new voice message: when can i see you again when i moved, i found the neon pink poly blend skirt i wore under our ikea couch you could sometimes hear mice in. dust bunnies clung to the nylon as i lifted it from the hardwood floor. it was blood-stained and $15 i was so mad i couldn’t wear it anymore. i loved how tan it made me look

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.

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

8M (me) 11F (cousin) 12M (cousin) were at a family function just playing house (it just dawned on me that 11-12 year olds don't play house and that the only reason we played house was for this) until it was night time in which we all got in the bed I lied at the bottom of their feet as their child as they had sex in front of me not even .5 foot away from me I just hid in fear 10M 13F 14M my older cousin led us into the woods and told my female cousin to strip she complied and then they started going at it with each other I just stood silently observing this horrible sight; seeing my female cousin in such a way felt so wrong to me my cousin then asked me to join him and I did, I was clueless just stood their as it happened; biggest regret of my life this one mistake started a snowball effect that still haunts me 12M 15F 16M yet another family function my cousins were drinking this time and came up to me hammered and asking me to come upstairs we end up smoking weed and my older cousin starts to tease my female cousin; by this time this ordeal had happened at pretty much every meeting of us I had even started pleasuring myself watching them (I never got involved because I wanted to keep myself) this time however my older cousin has fallen into a drunk slumber and my female cousin was already "ignited" she came up to me and said "lucky for you ive been ignited and all I need is for someone to come diminish me" (I remember those words 1:1) my female cousin then took my purity from me, I didn't even try to fight her or try to ask her to stop I was telling myself I didn't want to yet I pleaded for her to help me I still don't have it wrapped in my head if I was a victim or if I was just as predatory as them, I know that my older cousin started manipulating my female cousin and I didn't stop him because I enjoyed it, yet again I was 10 years old I couldn't grasp the gravity and severity of what we were doing I even viewed it as just complimentary and normal and that we were just helping each other, but the other part of me hates me for it.

I survived. I got out. You can too. Insidious and devious are the words I think of when I've wondered how I got trapped. My ex-spouse was so charming, everybody thought he was a great person and I did too. So much so that I decided to ignore the fact he raped me and chalked it up to us drinking. Then gradually as we dated and then married he tried to spin a web of control around me by being angry and violent when I would spend time with friends or go to the gym or go to the library to study. Telling me I was not allowed to go to the gym because there were men there. Being told I couldn't go to work events. Calling my work when I was working late and accusing me of having affairs, then being verbally and physically abusive. He was so successful at manipulating others even my dad, initially, didn't believe me when I told him about the monster and the horrible things I had endured. I finally told my dad what had been going on when he threatened to kill me and chased me with a baseball bat. I was able to get in my car and get away and called my dad crying and screaming. He thought I had lost my mind. Some of my friends also thought I had lost it, and told me oh he is so nice and scoffed when I said I was filing for divorce and a protective order. After the first two calls to the sheriff they believed me and were so kind, frequently driving by my house and making sure I was safe. There is power in being believed. There is strength in knowing that others have made it out both alive and eventually became whole. I still experience occasional flashbacks and certain situations will trigger my anxiety, but I am able to trust people again and no longer fear "being in trouble" if I spend time with friends. Even more, I have allowed myself to become emotionally vulnerable with other people again after all these years. That was a huge leap for me. And I genuinely feel like a good person again.

This story, my story, started 25 or 24 years ago, when I was 7 or 8 years of age. I was sexually abused (once only but enough to make an impact) by my dad, the first person that's meant to protect you. I never told a soul about it, no one but myself knew it during those 25 years, and even I did not want to think about it. As the years went I learnt to put it at the back of my mind, it was to painful, disgusting and worst of all, I was ashamed, ashamed for something I didn't do, but something that someone too close to me did instead. I learnt to push back if that memory ever came back to me. I grew (somehow) very closed to my dad, and pretended that never happened; only last year I learnt that very action has a name, and it's called compartimentalising. It was only last year, when I started to have issues with anxiety to another level that I finally, when I was about to have a nervous break down, decided that it was time to say it out loud. Weirdly enough, I never had considered myself a victim of sexual abuse... and the words 'sexual abuse' were really difficult for me to mention when talking about what happened to me, although, over time I grew used them and more comfortable (it still hurts though). I was on therapy for over 10 months, followed by a 3 months of CTB course, I still have catch up calls with my therapist every now and then. The worst part of my therapy was, what my own body needed, and that was to seek my dad's accountability, the one which, after confronting him, still hasn't acknowledge, and let's be honest, he won't ever do it. But I learnt to move on not expecting that to happened and at least, my dad knows the big impact that one action that happened that one time, has badly affected my throughout these past years, and my present. I discovered that most people that has suffered this type of abuse tend to develop any sort of chronic pain condition, which I did at the age of 13, mostly from what it felt like, was eating me alive from the inside of my body. Discovering the condition I have had for more than half of my life, is there because of my dad, was no easy discovery and that's where the panic attacks started. As you can imagine, and like all of you, it's been a long healing process. My 4 most important things that really helped me through my healing process (unfinished healing process) were: - My support network (my friends as family only found out after and they still don't know who did it). - Exercising, the best thing I have done for my mental health. - An incredible manager at work who supported me throughout my journey - And (unfortunately) antidepressants to manage better anxiety, as it got really bad at some points. I know, my healing isn't over, I know I might never get what I really want which is that accountability, but at least I know that what ever I decide to do, I'm now (mostly) in control, not my dad or my fears. We all still have bad days, but at least now I know, I'm not alone.

My story is very weird because my abuser was my own sister i was about 5 0r 6 when this was happening i only remember parts/vivd memories but i know this had to have gone on for a while because she would sometimes do things with the door open all 2 of my other sisters knew at that time she was 12/13 she tell me to go in her closet to take my clothes off and come out she would then get on top of me we would play a game like cops and robbers and she would ve the cop and id be the robber she would say things moan and i would sit there speechless after i would pretend nothing happened and go about my day one time she put toothpaste on her vagina and made me lick it off my sister oldest one knew and she asked me if i can do it to her to i said no i dont remember what happened after that i never really realized it was wrong until i started to watch shows and stuff but then i felt maybe i was imagining it but i wasnt i kept thinking about it and would cry i remeberd what the closet looked like how normal it felt and thats what disgusts me i never cried because i was so young and didnt realize ik you may think maybe it was house but no she made up a game thats how you know she knew what she was doing was wrong she disguised it so i wouldnt tell after i became hypersexual yes at 6/7 i would take pictures on my leap frog tablet of my butt i would do things with this girl i lived near (ps when we moved it stopped)but when i would go to my friend m house we wouldd ✂️ and it didnt feel wrong i know she approached me and i didn't feel bad or weird so i said yea ik another girl named t taught her t was also sexual for her age she was like 8 but me and my friend m only did it once and a year or 2 later when i started watching crime shows remembering it i tried to asked about it out of curiosity and she denied so i left it alone. I have a toxic mother so i will most likely never tell her me and my sister talk/communicate like nothing never happened she just had a baby but now when i see my sister i don't feel angry thats what makee me feel nasty like did i like it? I didnt but its hard to remember i think simce it happened so long ago i just dont feel for it but one day i will tell my story thank you for listening.

I was 16 at the time. I had been with my boyfriend for 1 year. He was my very first boyfriend, very first everything. For the whole first year he love bombed me. Bought me tons of presents, wrote me paragraphs, and told me he loved me after the first date. When I turned 16 we decided to have sex for the first time. We were both virgins at the time. The first time was consensual we both agreed that we had waited long enough. However, I didn’t enjoy it (I later have figured out I like women). I had a very low libido and he would get into arguments with me about it. Saying that I owe him sex because of everything he did for me and my family. Every time I ended up giving in. I ended up having sex that I didn’t want to have. One day after a big argument we had he said to me “tomorrow we are going to have sex because the intimacy will solve our problems”. I agreed with him because I thought maybe it would. The next day came and I was not in the mood. I told him no countless times. He told me I have to because I agreed to yesterday. We ended up on the floor me on all fours silently crying while he pounded inside me. I sat in the bathroom for 20 minutes crying afterwards. I had no idea what was happening until I broke it off 2 months later.

PART ONE: I started to date someone, we i met on a dating app. We video called every day for a month before we met. During that time, i fall for his charms and believed everything he said about himself, although looking back now there was already red flags... for example a couple of lies and not telling me certain details many people wouldn't hesitate to answer in normal situations. When we arranged meeting up, he didn't give me a choice, asking me to go to him. At the time i understood as someone close to him had a personal situation and he needed to be near by. There is a little language barrier because he is from another country, but apart from that the date went really well. He paid for everything and made me feel special. However, things just got weirder... He had told me he was looking for a job, so he was short on money- so i told him i would support when needed, even though i am on apprentice wage myself. At first it started off okay, just little bits of money here and there for little bits he couldn't quite afford. But he started to ask for bigger amounts. i would ask him why he needs that much or if i challenge it because it doesn't seem right, he would manipulate me and use coercion to get to me. Once it worked once, it became and often event, leaving me with no money. It got to the point when it was my time to go to him, i wasn't able to pay for my train. When I told him I was struggling to pay for my trains, he turned on me, gas-lighting and guilt tripping me. This led to me feeling bad and I having to dig into my savings to be able to go and visit him. This became a regular occurrence. (To be continued if possible, the most painful bits I am not ready to share just yet 💔)

Almost three years ago to this day I was sexually assaulted. I was a senior in high school pursuing a relationship with a freshman frat boy at university. We’d been in a sort of relationship for about a month, including regularly hooking up. He claimed to be a “feminist” and an ally, my dream man. I was hopeful this would be THE relationship. To this day I still regret idealizing him so much. I won’t get into the details but one night i woke up to my pants off and my underwear at my knees. I had nowhere to go at 2am and didn’t want to cause a scene so there I lay, next to my rapist, for hours. I never had thought anything like that would happen to me. I had been a strong ally and activist and thought i knew exactly what a survivor is supposed to do. However i didn’t define myself as a survivor for months to come. I told a few of my friends who were immediately supportive. I even confronted my rapist the very next day, feeling extremely in charge of my own body and empowered. However, within a few days word got around to his friends and brothers that I had accused him of rape. I started getting harassed on all my social media accounts: calling me a liar, an attention whore, you get the idea. It was only then that I decided to report. Nothing happened. Like many others here I threw myself into empowerment and activism work, thinking helping others would help myself or at least distract me. I went to college thousand miles away, thinking if I don’t have to see him it won’t have happened. Except I did see him everywhere, instagram, facebooks “people you may know” and somehow every-time I went home for breaks. Even tho every time I saw him I felt like i was dying, I claimed to be healed and the role model survivor, because no one could see my struggle. However, despite all this I neglected to acknowledge and help myself in the first place. When I got involved in sexual assault programs on my campus is when I decided to empower myself in my recovery. I contacted everyone who had taken my report or was involved in my reporting process until they gave me a reason as to why nothing had came from my report. I reported almost three ago and only within the last year has he faced any repercussion by being forced to voluntarily resign from his fraternity. I am no where near the culmination of my recovery, as the case is still open but just still being active, alive, and being able to do the work I do has empowered me to put my recovery in the spotlight. I am forever thankful for a community that allowed me to empower myself.

When I was four years old, my cousin X groped me. The first time: I was playing with my cousins, who were close to my age. It suddenly started raining, so we all hid under a tree, but one by one, we went home to use the bathroom. Finally, it was me and my cousin X's younger brother who stayed behind. The younger brother went home because he was cold, and I, being close to the younger boy, tried to go home with him. At that moment, he grabbed me by the arm and told me to stay. I was really scared. He suddenly grabbed me from behind, put his hand under my skirt, and groped me. He held my mouth, so I couldn't call for help from anyone he could see through the trees. I don't know if it was because of the age difference, but he only groped me. The second time, it was at my cousin X's house. I was close to his younger brother (A), and his parents liked him. I was four years old the second time too. We went to play games. Cousin X put me on his lap and groped me so our parents wouldn't see. I didn't want A, who was sitting next to me, to find out. I tried my best not to make a sound. Even though there were people around, I thought he was doing something wrong, so I couldn't say anything. I was too scared to run away. There was no way I could win by force, and I didn't know what he was doing. All I could think about was that he was doing something wrong. I still meet up with that person. But only twice. But it drove me crazy. I've been interested in sexual things since I was little, and sometimes I feel disgusted by myself as a woman. Not being able to talk to anyone about it makes it even harder, and I wonder why he seems to be living a happy life. But even so, I can't tell my parents about him. Even though I really hate him to death.

PART 2 The emotional abuse was the worst. I started to feel i was a bad girlfriend. I started to think that all our arguments was because of me and i started to submit to everything we wanted, even if i didn't want to. It was particularly difficult when he proposed loosing our virginity together. I initially said no and that we needed to wait a little bit longer, but through out a few weeks he kept pressuring, subtly but enough for me to feel like i have to say yes. And when we did i tried to stop him because i got cold feet and i didn't like it, but he ignored me💔 After this, I felt annoyed and upset, and i wouldn't speak to him about it. He would just laugh and act like nothing happened. Things got harder when he told me he wanted to marry me. He told me because of his culture he needs to marry me fast otherwise his parents will arrange a marriage with someone else. he told me it would be good because he wants to spend his life with me and he doesn't want anyone else. I shrugged this off as much as I could before it got too intense for me to ignore it. I tried to tell him we need to wait for at least a year but he started panicking about his VISA! Looking back now, he could have been using me, which breaks my heart entirely. When we were talking about marriage, he made me promise not to tell anyone about this (and he did this with the money too). After a lot of wood pecking (my way of saying a lot of nagging, coercion and manipulation) i gave in and said yes. He was very happy and we eager to get married as soon as possible in his home town. I tried to persuade him that we married quietly near where i lived or where he lived, but he seemed too keen to get married where he was from, which now scares me... what could he have been planning? Not too long after i agreed to the marriage, he tried to get £500 pounds because a family member needed it for a medical reason. i refused and told him the most i could give him was 200 (i didn't even have enough for the rest of the month, which i had told him) He agreed with this and left me alone... for the whole of 2 days before trying to manipulate me for £300 more. I refused and things got heated. I found out after that the money i sent for the family member, only a little bit was sent to them and the rest was for his phone data which was only £17!. I was really annoyed about this and when he sense this, he told me he will send the rest over soon. I don't think he ever had. Not too long after, i saw the app i met him on still on his phone. I asked him why he had which he replied by just deleting it. So many difficult things happened, things i am not ready to talk about. But one day, my boss got in touch with someone close to me , because she was worried about me. That person then talked to me, I disregarded all of the concerns before calling him... he went straight into blaming me, refusing to talk on call and texting me. we were still on call but chatting on text because he didn't want to risk anyone hearing the conversation. He started to manipulate me and guilt trip me, turning things on me and being dismissive. As i was reading the messages and trying to get him to talk on the video call not on text, my mum came into my room asking if i was okay. I hung up on him and told her EVERYTHING. It was then i realized i was abused, manipulated, coerced and hurt. As i heard all of this coming out of my mouth, i burst into tears and my mum just had to hold me for ages. It was then that i broke up him, and after a week of crying and having to block him every time he messaged me, i haven't heard from since. Its been 4 months and i have my days where i don't want to get out of bed because i feel like i dont know if my feelings are real or not and i feel my mind isn't my mind. But i also have days where i feel free and i can do what i want, i can talk to who i want and i can hand around with who i want. Its okay to have ups and downs, we'll get there together xx