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The worst part was probably the fact that I knew him and trusted him. I have always been a party girl. I drank lots, had fun, it was a habitual routine each weekend. One of my friends was throwing a halloween party so my two best friends and I decided to go as Charlies Angels. I had been working all day so hardly had time to eat and I had been struggling mentally so I thought if I get super drunk I'll forget about my problems, just for one night. The ironic thing is that by doing this, it gave me the biggest problem I had ever had to face. My friend who was hosting the party had invited a few mutual friends from the all boys school in a town 15 minutes away from where we all lived. I knew most of these boys and felt safe enough with them to have a good time because I had drunk with them before and honestly I was so naive I never even considered that something like this could happen to me. I was drinking rapidly on an empty stomach and ended up being so drunk. This boy was standing with me and we were talking, he was helping me stand up so I wouldn't fall to the ground. We started making out until I felt like I was going to vomit when he offered to walk me to his car so I could sit down. He was sober driving but had parked his car down a small hill which was a small walk from the party. He helped me walk down when I automatically passed out in the back seat of his car. I don't know how long I was out for but I woke up and had to vomit straight away out of his car. I spewed up a significant amount then I closed the car door and he gave me another alcoholic drink to get the vomit taste out of my mouth. He started kissing me after I had the drink and that's the last I remember before passing out. I woke up and he was on top of me. I froze. I couldn't quite comprehend what was happening to me. It hurt so badly and then he pulls out and finishes on his car seat. I remember sitting back up and pulled up my underwear that was still on one leg. He left the car almost immediately and headed back to the party. I followed behind him and felt upset because I thought he was ignoring me. Now looking back I realise that he knew straight away that what he had just done was wrong. He got his friend and they left straight away. I saw them walking and I ran up to him and gave him a hug so stupidly having not yet comprehended what he had just done. I was shaking when I went up to my friends and asked if we could go home now as it was past midnight. The next morning I had asked if he would pay for my morning after pill (PlanB) as he didn't use a condom and although he pulled out I was scared of pre cum. He said he would but the following week so money had gone into my account and his messages were snarky and rude like he was taking the piss out of me. Now, every-time I see him I get a strong panic and fear that makes me shakes through my bones. He's out there still running around which breaks me to my core. Some people believe me. But his group of brain dead asshole friends think I am a lier. It's so hard for me to go over to their town as a huge cloud of fear always lays over my head. Fuck you for what you did to me. I hate you. So that's my story. Thank you for taking the time to read. :)

I don't remember the exact age I was when it happened. I(female at the time) was no older than 9 which would have made my sister(F) at the very least, 13 as she is 4 years older than me. She found out that I had been watching videos of girls kissing on youtube (back before there were harsher guidelines in place) and told me that she wanted to do that with me. I didn't really want to, i wasn't interested but didn't really even consider the entire 'we're sisters" part to be an issue. She told me if i didn't, she would tell our mom. My mom was a scary person, i never wanted her mad at me and she knew that when she threatened me with it. So for that entire Summer vacation, whenever we spent the weekends at our dads house, she would make me sit on her lap and make out with her. I told her multiple times i didn't like it, i wasn't having fun, i wanted to stop. She told me it was good practice for when we had boyfriends, which i also didn't really care about. She would tell me I wasn't putting enough energy into it and scold me, if I didn't use tongue she would get mad at me, she would give me the silent treatment the next day if I didn't do 'a good job' and she was only really nice to me if i *did* 'do a good job'. Her being nice to me was almost entirely foreign, especially when we were young. I am now 24 and i cut her out of my life several years ago when I fully registered the impact that her actions had on me and what they meant. I never felt comfortable alone with her again, i was constantly attacked with mental images of what happened and would feel sick to my stomach when i spoke to her. Neither of us ever spoke about it again and i didn't tell her why i blocked her after she left state. My mother asked relentlessly and i only ever told her "i'm sure she knows why." I sometimes feel guilty for what happened, i sometimes think that it never would've happened if i never looked up videos of girls kissing. I blame myself still even tho i'm sure my sister never thinks it's her fault- she has never been the type of person to take accountability for anything in her entire life. We were both minors but she was old enough to understand it was inappropriate, and i was young enough to believe anything my older sister told me. I've never told anyone the details of what happened until now. I'm too ashamed and too scared. Thank you to anyone who reads this and i hope anyone who experienced something similar is healing along with me.

When I was 12 years old, me and my cousin, who was a few months younger than me, had sex. It was my idea, but we were both willing. At the next sleepover we had, I asked her if she wanted to do it again, and she said no. We were very close for many years but that was the last sleepover we had. 6 years later, it continues to haunt me. When I was 13 or 14 I messaged her on Snapchat to apologise, and she said it was ok but it doesn’t feel ok. I fear it never will. I confessed to a priest and he said God forgave me. I told my best friend. I told my mother and she said it was normal. None of it could quell my burning guilt. On top of that, I’ve developed intrusive - inappropriate - thoughts that follow me like a dark cloud that I cannot shake off. There’s nothing in my life I regret more. I feel like I have completely sullied any opportunity of having positive sexual encounters in the future. Will I ever shake this burden? Do I even deserve to?

I Was about 10 she was 13 I think she stayed over and she asked me to sleep with her I remember her asking me to do things with her I can't remember exactly what she said or how it started I remember being late and parents had gone to bed she told me not to go to sleep later on she asked me to do things to her I remember I was uncomfortable and said something like I don't really want to she didn't say things like” if you loved me you would do it”” I will pay you don't be a boring sister” I also think she might have blackmailed me as well. I then gave in and did it. I remember her undressing herself and making me suck her nipple for a while she said to “suck till the milk comes out”. She was on her phone talking to someone, she was taking photos of me doing things to her and sending them to people. After a while she then made me lick her vagina, I think I might have said something like I have had enough because my mouth hurts. I don't remember what she said or anything I think it might have been more bribery, but I remember her saying only for five minutes and her setting a timer on her phone she removed her underwear, and I did it there were times I would stop to breathe, and she would nudge me with her leg and tell me to keep going it was hot under the blanket. I remember almost panicking because I thought I was going to pass out from the heat she wouldn't let me out till I was done the five minutes and if I did stop before the time had stopped, she would pause it. It felt like the longest 5 minutes of my life. After that she also did things to me but I'm not ready to go into that.

I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.

I was used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

In my story, IT STARTED WITH MY BROTHER, I briefly mentioned 3 instances of avoiding being raped by letting men just have me when it seemed like they were going to do me whether or not I consented. I do think I avoided emotional and physical trauma at the time, but the anger, self resentment, and feelings of being wronged and about it did snowball after. I never shared or released those stories. Please read my original story for context. In this instance the sex was already happening when I awoke, and my reflex was to take the non-confrontational path. The easy way, not the right way. I had gotten home from work as a server at my bar and grill restaurant and my female roommate had her father staying with us for the weekend. I had already met him since they drove straight from the airport to the sports bar I worked at. That’s were he told me, “Just call me, ‘Dad’”. They sat in my section, ate, and left. No issues. Then, back at our 2 bedroom apartment there was a small party for his benefit with a couple of our friends. I had a couple hard ciders and chatted about college and my roommate and heard stores of when she was a kid from. I flirted and humored “Dad”’s sexual innuendos directed at me, and ignored his eyes all up and down me. I was used to it. I played the good hostess and waited until it was all dying down probably around 2 or 3 am, before I showered and went to bed. It had been a long day with both class and work. I was stirred out of my sleep a few hours later with "Dad" already inside of me, thrusting in and out between my legs! By the light streaming in through my dark blinds I could tell it was day. But WTF was happening?! My panties were off but my T-shirt was on. Underneath it the dark figure who I quickly was able to identify as "Dad" was caressing my breasts with one hand while holding me down with the other. Still dazed and confused, I guess I put my arms around him and responded like a willing partner. He soon finished and then it got awkward.  He told me "That really hit the spot". He started to make conversation! The longer I had to think, the more I realized what happened. That he had just helped himself as I lay sleeping. I was 19 and dating a hot university baseball player at the time and would not have gone for this fifty or so year old guy on purpose. He was sure drinking that night but I had only had a few ciders. So there I was, realizing I had been kind of raped but held hostage by a sense of politeness! Not to mention as I was 5'3'' 110 pounds, so there was the physical intimidation from a much taller man with a dad bod.  I always pee right after sex but felt captive by "Dad"'s ramblings as he propped himself up on one elbow hovering over me while he ran his fingers over me and stroked my hair sporadically.  I shared his cold can of beer with him that he must have opened right before he came in to rape me because I remember drinking deeply the cold liquid soothing my dry throat. I suffered through some dad jokes and stories I did not care about, as well as answering some personal questions about myself and my sexuality. I was looking for momentary pause to get up and away from “Dad” when he said, "I'm ready to go again, baby." NO! He moved on top of me! Instead of fighting him off me or even saying "no", I spread my legs to accommodate him! WTF! The second time did not have the desperate eagerness of the first, unfortunately. As he even said, he wanted to teach me a lesson this time. I guess about how good he was is bed. A definite case of ‘whiskey dick’. So I let this man I had never wanted or considered sex with jostle me into several positions. He was large man and so much stronger than me it was a joke. After the missionary he picked me up to prove some point and did me against the wall right next to my window. I remember seeing through cracks in the blinds and knowing it was early because the parking lot was full and nothing was moving. Then SLAM onto the bed. We did 69 with me lying on him where I sucked him with all my might wanting to END IT while he was licking me. I failed! He had me being on top riding him at one point. I was on my hands and knees with him ramming behind me when I collapsed under his weight to flat on my face. He enjoyed never letting up on the thrusts as I was completely pinned down by him. I let him give me two or more orgasms in hopes he would just finish. I was so loud I was embarrassed my roommate would come rushing in my room any second. She was passed out drunk. He finally left as soon as he finished. I am sure his ego was massively inflated and the terrible man still thinks of me today! I lie there in my bed catching my breath and getting more anxious. I got up, pulled on some sweats, and B-lined straight out the door to my gym. I wanted to get away so bad. I drank water like I had just walked out of a desert. I showered for so long at the empty Saturday morning gym without any products but hand soap. Then I started to work out like crazy, on three hours sleep and exhaustion. I was trying to sweat him out of my system, to scream and thrash through my exercise. I showered again then went out and fell asleep in my car in the back of the lot. The rest of the weekend I only went to my apartment for minutes at a time to pick up things I needed. I sure as Hell did not sleep there! When he was gone I answered my roommates questions that I had been blowing off with lies and short answers. I told her the truth. She shrugged and looked at me skeptically, like it was just one of those things. I was promiscuous in college and she knew it. We sort of made a joke out of it and moved on. The easy way, not the right way. I still have big time guilt at how I was back then. At the time my things was not that "I wish I had fought him." What I wished was that I had been too drunk to remember!!! So that was that. Something I kept inside, festering. Other things added to it and it got swept under the rug of my damaged psyche. Not one of the worst skeletons in my closet but what I was willing to share for now. I am working up to the others. My first story I shared helped a lot. I hope it helped somebody else too. I thank all of you and I empathize. I will read your stories and support you in my thoughts and prayers.

hi. i found out when i was 14 that what happened to me wasn’t okay. i have no idea how to deal with the fact that apparently im a victim of cocsa, so that’s why im here because i have no idea what to do. it started when i was 5, and she was 9. the first time, she asked what kind of princess underwear i was wearing, then asked to see. i showed her and she touched me, then asked if i liked it. i didnt know what i was supposed to like. this went on for some time, and eventually she got my sisters in on it too, they were her age. i didn’t know what it even was but i wanted her to keep hanging out with me alongside them so i didn’t complain. and the sister i shared a room with one night asked if we could “practice” so we could be good for her, then asked me to touch her. she called it her dog house, and i had to help the dog. me and my sister haven’t spoken about that night since it happened, and i cant get it out of my mind. but the girl never stopped with me, one day she came to my house and wanted to sleep over. i was so excited that she asked to sleep in my room with just me, and it got to bedtime, and she asked if i could help her, but i said i didn’t want to so she made me hold her phone that had porn on it, i sat there for however long while she did it, making me watch. i never knew it was wrong or anything, i just loved the idea of her thinking of me. the last time, i was 12. my family took her on our vacation, and she wanted to go back to the condo for whatever, she asked me to come back with her. i was downstairs eating pizza rolls, and she asked me to come upstairs. i walk in the room and her bottoms are off. she asked me to come and sit, and asked if i would help her. i said i didn’t want to, and she just asked me to take my top off and watch. i remember i just sat there staring at myself in the mirror. the whole time. for the first time, i was scared. we then left once she was done, and said nothing. when it was my 14th birthday, i talked abt it, and i was told that it wasn’t okay. 7 years of my life. i didn’t know. and i don’t know how to deal with any of this. any tips or help would be great.

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

At the age of twenty-six I was raped by a stranger. It took me many years to name what had happened to me as rape. Although, distressed when it happened, I blocked it from my mind for a number of years before going to a therapist for support. I decided to attend therapy as I was struggling with a deep depression. I didn't attend a Rape Crisis Centre. It took me a number of years before I disclosed to my then therapist that I had been raped. I had buried what took place deep within myself and I had never disclosed to anyone what happened that night. The person who raped me was a friend of some friends of mine. I was away for the weekend and thankfully, I never saw him again. While my healing journey has been long. It has been deeply supportive and has allowed me to heal from many different issues within my childhood and to heal from sexual violence. I no longer carry guilt or shame for what took place that night and would encourage any man or woman who is a survivor or sexual violence to go to a therapist who specialises in sexual violence and allow an experienced professional to support you on your healing journey. I have no regrets and am grateful to a number of wonderful women who have supported me to heal from a deeply traumatic experience. Healing can and does happen. Don't give up on you, as I have never given up on me. I have learned that I like so many survivors of abuse am a very resilient woman. I live life today, from a very grounded place and although, I remember what happened to me in the rape I have emotionally healed from the hurt and the pain of that traumatic experience.

I saw the movie tonight with my little sister. We grew up together in an abusive home, everything that Lily’s father did to her mom, our father did to ours (and even worse). He sometimes did those things to us too. From the fact that he’s still portrayed as a beloved father to many, I found consolation in the movie tonight. I realised that I’m not that child anymore, I’m safe now and most importantly, I can stop swimming now. And you also, my little sister, we can both stop swimming now. I love you.

I live in Japan. I have been here for 7 years. I got married to a man that I felt I was in love with and had a daughter. I thought we were ok. We got divorced. He told me he stopped loving me when I wanted to hear about his day. He cheated on me with multiple women, getting very physical and most likely sexual. I am now alone with my daughter and have to work through all this on my own.

When I was six( possibly younger) there was this neighbor that often came to our house together with his parents. The adults always stayed in the living room and my siblings, he and I went to another room where we would play this game witch involved running so I would get tired and lay on the bed, he would lay right next to me at and ask things like " Are you tired? I can give you a massage" I would always refuse and be super uncomfortable but he persisted. I also remember laying on his arm and him laying on my shoulder and to this day I can't stand it when someone tries to lay on my shoulder. We would also play this other game involved me and him being together in one bed and him standing on top of me to "protect" me. I hate myself for doing this and allowing it to happen to me continually. I also can't remember saying no exactly so I wonder if it means I enjoyed this games? He was also really good at origami but he didn't like doing it so if I wanted origami I had to kiss him. I can't believe I let him use me like that I feel so ashamed. I know my story isn't as bad as others but it still change me as a person. I hope that one day the world will be free from any type of sexual abuse ❤️

Most of the abuse and neglect I grew up with was verbal abuse and emotional neglect. It was a lot of being yelled at by a parent. A lot of violence on objects in our presence - fists pounding on the dinner table, milk pitchers getting thrown off the table while we were all seated, banished to my room when I was angry and upset, a telephone getting violently torn from the wall while a sister and I stood inches away. The phone incident occurred at night. My memory is my sister and I were in bed. We were called out of our bedroom and yelled at for going to bed without doing the dishes. We were told we were lucky because our parent was so mad at us for not doing the dishes that they wanted to hit us but they didn’t hit us, instead they violently tore the phone out of the wall in front of us. I didn’t feel lucky. I was very upset, angry and scared and walked out of the house at night in my nightgown crying. I was then told I was overreacting and crying in order to get attention and sympathy. Another night as a younger child, I was having nightmares and crying. I was really scared and upset and couldn’t sleep. A parent came to my room and slapped me repeatedly every few seconds on my cheek. As they slapped me, they told me I would continue to get slapped until I stopped crying. I was slapped on the face every few seconds until my crying stopped. I am learning that as a result of the verbal abuse and emotional neglect I grew up with, I have thought and acted as though I was to blame for how I was treated as a child. I have lived a life plagued with guilt and self-reproach. My brain interpreted how I was treated as how I deserved to be treated and that I, not my parents, were at fault. If I hadn’t been scared and crying, I wouldn’t have gotten slapped. If I had done the dishes, the phone wouldn’t have been torn out of the wall in front of me. It’s pretty messed up thinking but not uncommon in people who were treated the way I was as a child. I am working hard to unlearn that way of thinking. The effects of the abuse and neglect endure to the present day. I have come to understand that a lot of my current overwhelming emotions like rage, anger, depression and passive suicide ideation are throwbacks to my childhood when no one helped me contain, process and move through big, strong, volatile feelings. As a result, I have had bouts of profound and debilitating depression. I have been passively suicidal, wishing I was dead or at least in a hospital. All my siblings have suffered. I have a sister who has been hospitalized over fifty times for mental health issues and is also on disability for those issues. I have pretty constant low grade anxiety that has been around so long I wasn't aware of it until recently, such a part of my being it is. I am hyper-vigilant and routinely react to present day situations in ways that don't match the present day issue. Something minor can happen and instead of being slightly bothered by it and quickly returning to calm, my nervous system interprets it as an unsafe situation, I unconsciously go on high alert and have an overblown reaction. I also frequently interpret a benign situation as dangerous. For example, I hear a certain tone in someone's voice and suddenly I think I'm about to get yelled at, hit, or have something thrown at me when someone is merely telling me I dropped a dollar bill on the floor. Learning about complex ptsd (cptsd) has been extremely helpful as has Internal Family Systems (IFS) and my therapy which is in part traditional therapy but also trauma informed with a lot of body based, bottom up (as opposed to brain based, head down) concepts and work. I was 56 when I realized I am dealing with cptsd and now feel, in many ways, like a new person. It’s never too late!

It’s very hard for me to process this so I will try my best to write. Growing up in Asian family where sex education was absent completely I hadn’t realised I was sexually groomed and assaulted when I was between 8-14. I didn’t have my memory back only until very lately. It was when I was 19 I started to experience flash back and it didn’t talk long for me to recall everything. It was a random night when I was 9 , my second brother was telling we would do something different than watch Tv . He said if I hadn’t follow him to do what he ask me to do he would not let me continue to watch Tv. He drag me behind the couch , it was late night no one was around downstairs of the house . He asked me to lie down and then took away my pants , I didn’t understand what he was doing back then , but he open my legs and lick my private area . He also touches my “boobs”. Ever since puberty , 2 of my brothers would hit my butt , or touch my boobs out of nowhere , I would said no and they still do . It was just annoying for me as a kid I don’t like the way they touch me but I didn’t know what happened. My mother was very depressed to notice anything going on and my dad is rarely home. At 19 when I flashback come back , I felt so dirty , I felt so shameful , I would scratch myself because I think I need to be wash clean . I repressed it , I was struggle with depression with a lot going on with my life . Between 20-21 , I talked to a college counsellor about this giving I was at my lowest struggling with suicide thoughts. My counsellor did not give any response to the matter that i raise up , I was really struggling to voice and with feeling so much shame in my body . I felt like a slut . It must have been my wrong for this to happen , why didn’t I stop him . This goes unresolved with my grandfather passed away and counselling still did not help in any sense , I stopped it. At 22, I got verbally harassed during my internship . I was asked to be a sugar baby , jokingly . He said he would pair me with someone and he can get 20% commission . I go to my internship coordinator , she judged me and asked if this is how I dress ( I was wearing long sleeves and a shirt skit ) to work at the very first eye she saw me. My internship coordinator didn’t do anything knowing what have happened , she asked why can’t I stay for the last month and get it over with. I can’t stand it knowing not only my colleague is weird and my boss also talks to me in a flirting way . I quit , without doing anything about it , I was afraid I would get revenged ( I worked at an autistic center , my boss got bipolar and some other criminal offense). My told my second brother about this , he proceed to glimpse and and says fair . ( I felt like I’m being view by another predator , validating that I am a slut and because I have a curvy body and big boobs I’m asking for it ) . I told my others female relatives , and they justify the whole thing by you have a big boobs and good look of course men is coming after you. (again I felt like a sex object , worse that it was validated by another woman) . Soon after I defer my internship I was spiralling . This time , at the cost of nearly ending my life , my flashback was back , worse that this time I was forcing myself though it because I just wouldn’t want to run away from it or drink my life away to cope . I wasn’t capable back then . It broke me to a point of deep believe that I don’t deserve to be a human and be here. Because of all the stigma and slut shaming patriarchy words and things that runs in my family, I thought I was a walking sin to be alive. I couldn’t tell anybody , because I fear I would get another round of slut shaming . Maybe I am overthinking idk. I was lucky to have something to hold on to be alive , and here I am now . I wanted to write not only to relief this big stones of mine in my heart but also to address something else. I don’t know what to do now . I was swinging between hyper sexualised and ick about sex . I am well aware I was degrading myself and slut shaming myself to cope. Because if only I am a slut all this make sense. I knew it wasn’t true , but to not cope in this way means brutal truth that is the fact that my brother is a predator and uses my innocence and naive when I was young to hurt me . I still have to live under the same roof with them sometimes . I still did not voice anything out with anyone , no one in my family knows but some of my close friends . With my dad and grandparents passing away , and my mom still depressed , and my first brother betrayal’s (he lied to me and used the money my dad left for me) I just don’t know how is it going to be anymore if I had to admit it to myself my second brother is a complete ass. I don’t have “ family “ left anymore. One last concerns I have is that , I am well aware I am using erotic audio of extreme kinks to cope . I felt very powerless and overwhelming with the whole situations , it was only when I listen to audio where degradation involve I found relieves. I have some awareness that I am still suppressing the whole thing to a certain extent, I was very worried I would not able to cope if I let everything out , the pain of betrayal and hurt obviously isn’t something I wanted to encountered . But I don’t want this to linger at the back of my mind anymore , I don’t want to hurt myself to justify this . I really don’t know what to do , and I can’t talk . Everytime I tried to disclose verbally to a counsellor I freeze up and I have problems trusting a counsellor hence making it harder to work with . It was just very frustrating , I read a lot of stories on Reddit to realise I was not alone . But I guess I still hadn’t find my circle of support groups .

So I was sexually assaulted last night and I feel nothing today. Nothing at all. I was grateful when the guy let me go this morning. He didn't care that I was crying, or how I was feeling or that he was causing me a lot of physical pain. There was no way to get away. He was a foot taller than me and so much stronger and he had his hand around my throat. I was afraid he would snap my neck or choke me out because of how his hand was gripping my neck and how much of my neck his hand covered. He told me he was glad I was very small, and how size matters when it comes to strength. I felt like a mouse in the jaws of a lion. I struggled to breathe. I was afraid I was going to die. He was upset with me last night because I started bleed a lot while he was assaulting me. He was fucking mad at me for bleeding on him. He was mad at me this morning because I was trying to sneak away when he fell asleep. He started assaulting me all over again and for some reason decided to stop and let me go. Maybe because he was tired. As soon as I got away I was walking and walking and called an Uber to take me home. I felt so numb. All I knew was I had to get home. I had to go celebrate my friend’s birthday with her this morning and smile and pretend I was ok. Then I had to go to work. I'm home now, and I just feel so numb and like I don't care about anything. I just don't care anymore. I don't care about me. I don't matter at all. That's how I feel. I just feel like I'm nothing. And I don't want to see my friends or anyone. I just want to lay in my bed forever and sleep. I have to go to work tomorrow. I have to keep going about my life like everything is ok. I have to be normal and not fall apart. I haven't told anyone apart from here right now. I won't tell anyone. No point. People will be like it's your fault. So I'm just going to pretend I'm fine. I'm not fine. I hate myself so much for having put myself in the situation where that could happen. It was a date. I should know better than to trust any man or ever try to find love. It doesn't exist. I am not a person, I'm just an object. I'm going to ask doctor tomorrow (they aren't open today) for meds to prevent pregnancy and treat any possible stds. I won't tell him what happened because I don't want to talk about it with anyone I know personally. I just want to forget about it.

As a domestic abuse survivor, I can tell you that our scars are not always visible. I think the emotional, verbal, and sexual abuse is sometimes worse….. because it takes longer to heal from. My ex had me so turned around, backwards, and upside down. I didn’t know whether he was coming or going and often found myself desperately wanting him to stay, like it was all my fault and I had done something wrong….., the sad part is…. I am my healthiest and happiest self every single time he left. Then just when I thought I would be, could be ok…… he’d be back agreeing to counseling or being a better dad or whatever it took . This time I hope to have the strength to not let him back in .

Six years have passed, since fleeing the abuse. No one prepares you for the struggles your mind goes through consciously and subconsciously. Almost everyone you meet along your healing journey does not understand, nor know how to navigate your emotions and actions. Expected to just move forward and put all psychological abuse in the past. Folks who knew you before the abuse, expect you to snap back to reality. For many like myself, snapping back to reality was a sense of being stuck in auto pilot. On the outside, working to please those around me. Not knowing who I was, hobbies or interests. I began my journey an empty shell. My emotions and actions scrambled. Struggled with mind numbing substance, became evident to me, that was not a solution. A couple years after, still struggling with waking night sweats and the same nightmare playing over and over. I set out on a mission to help myself help others. I discovered I was not alone through the different platforms. I began writing out all the difficult memories, using just a notebook, and any writing utensil available. Some years have since passed. Beginning my personal journey, has liberated me and I discovered how beautiful I truly am and how complex the healing journey truly can be. I do not have the nightmares anymore and I am the strongest I have ever been in my adult life. I have been empowered through self awareness. While documenting my experiences, I have learned how to write more than just my name. I am still learning how to speak to people. And everyday since, I set out to help others overcome their nightmares as well. It took some time to realize the grass on this side is breath taking and in a positive way.

When I was 14 years old I was with a boy who was mean to me. The first time we hung out he grabbed my hand and stuck it down his pants without asking and I was scared. We stayed together. One day he really wanted to come to my house after school because he knew nobody was home. He asked me over and over again to come over and just kept telling him no because I didn’t want him too. He got on my bus and refused to leave. I didn’t want to look like a “bitch” so I didn’t make a big deal. Just laughed it off. Then when he followed me home I kept telling him to go away and he just said he was coming over. I didn’t know what to do because I did not want him to come over because I knew he would try to have sex and I didn’t want to. When I get nervous I laugh a lot so when I tried close the door on him and he just pushed through i was laughing but I wanted to cry. I blame myself a lot because of that. Because maybe he just didn’t take me serious. We then moved to the couch and he wouldn’t stop asking why I was paranoid. I told him it was because my mom was going to be home soon. He told me I worry too much. When he got on top of me and started kissing me and started to try to put his hands in my pants I will never forget the fear and panic I felt. I got up and told him I had to go to the bathroom. I tried to get myself together I didn’t know what to do. When I opened the door he was standing there with his dick out and told me I had to do something for him. I told him to put it away and kept laughing because I was so scared. He actually listened this time and moved on to his next goal. in the hallway I told him I didn’t want to do anything and he fingered me anyways. I told him no. I didn’t really do anything I just stood there. I didn’t fight or scream. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to make a big deal. I just gave him what he wanted. I vaguely remember giving him head after. I don’t remember anything about that day until I reread a journal entry about it 5 years later and all the memories came back. A couple weeks after this incident almost the same exact thing happened with him and we broke up it a little while later. 5 years later I still deal with this almost every single day. I cannot stop believing that I made it all up or that it wasn’t even that bad or that it was my fault Even posting on here is hard because I feel like people will think my story is dumb and it was my fault. But i really hope this helps. I want to move past this.