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Welcome to Our Wave.

This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

What feels like the right place to start today?
Story
From a survivor
🇵🇪

Broken

I was a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 7 years old and my cousin's stepbrother was 9 or 10. He abused me for two years. I told my mother what happened, and his parents punished him. Most of my family didn't believe me. In a conversation with my mother, she told me I had probably made up the whole abuse and that I was a liar, and I cried a lot that day. My grandmother is proud of him because he's a doctor in Germany and has a good life, while I'm trapped. I can't stand being touched and I can't get over it, even though I've been to therapy. Yesterday I saw his Instagram and felt bad because he moved on and I didn't. He told me it was a secret and I trusted him (the three of us were alone because my uncle and his wife -who is the mother of my abuser- are doctors so they were always in the hospital). They would leave the food ready for us and he (A) would put it in the microwave. A pulled my pants down a little or lift my skirt (if i was wearing one). When A was on top of me he was kissing me- it was overwhelming and i couldn't focus on anything else but his breath and voice, he was grabbing his crotch, but I didn't understand what he was doing. We were playing normal with his little sister and then A exclude her from the game to be alone with me so A put her in front of the television so she wouldn't focus on us and was distracted. Then A guided me to the room, he close the door to the room he shared with his sister (my cousin's bed was near the door and his wasn't), so he would make me lie down on the floor next to his bed so no one could see us. At first, I would get on top of him, but then he said I was too heavy to be in that position (I guess it wasn't comfortable for him to abuse me). That led to an eating disorder that I still have; I even developed anemia last year. I remember once I ran to the bathroom because something didn't feel right, but he started banging on the door but then I realized there was nothing I could do, I mean where would I go? My uncles locked us out. I remember once, A didn't close the door properly because his sister came in, and he straightened his clothes and pushed me under his bed, but his sister saw me and asked me what I was doing there, and I stayed there for a long time. And her sister got under the bed to keep me company; she was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her, or maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think I'm broken, because his kisses and his voice in my ear were too much, and I never noticed if he ejaculated or if something else happened that I overlooked or never noticed because I never went to a doctor, my mom never reported him. And we couldn't count on my dad because he abandoned us and went off with the neighbor and treated her daughter as his own while the abuse was happening. That's why I lived in their house during that time; that's why the abuse continued because I was in the provinces and my mother traveled to the capital because of a false accusation my father made against her. A year later, my mother's half-brother baptized me with my abuser's mother, and I never said anything. I just smiled in the photos as if nothing was wrong while I hugged A. Now I´m 22 and I still feel sick and dirty.

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  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇦🇷

    If you are reading this and you are living through abuse, I want you to know that there is a way out. I know how it feels to believe that you are trapped. I know what it feels like to feel like there are no options, like nobody will believe you, like the obstacles in front of you are too big to overcome. For many years, I felt that way. I was isolated. I was afraid. I was living in a situation where I felt like I had lost control over my own life. I did not know how I would leave, how I would protect my children, or how I would rebuild everything that had been taken from me. But I want you to know something: The fact that you are still here means there is still hope. Your story is not over. You are not defined by what someone has done to you. You are not powerless. Even if you cannot see the path forward yet, that does not mean there is no path. For me, survival did not happen all at once. It happened one decision at a time. It was choosing to keep going for my children. It was documenting what happened. It was asking for help. It was taking one more step even when I was exhausted. There were times when I thought I could not continue. There were times when I felt like I had lost myself completely. But little by little, I started finding my way back. My faith has also carried me through this journey. I believe that God was with me even in the darkest moments, including the moments when I felt alone. I believe He gave me strength when I did not have strength of my own. If you are still in the middle of your battle, I want you to be patient and gentle with yourself. Healing takes time. Rebuilding takes time. Sometimes progress does not look like a big victory—it looks like making it through another day, protecting yourself, or taking one small step toward freedom. Please remember: You deserve safety. You deserve respect. You deserve to be believed. You deserve a life beyond survival. I am still fighting my own battles. I am still healing. I am still working toward the day my children and I can finally be completely safe. But I am proof that even after years of pain, a person can begin again. Do not give up. There is a future beyond what you are experiencing right now.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Halloween

    I was in a relationship for 3 years. I love them, the good times were the best, the bad times were the worst. When I entered their life they were at an all time low, they had broken their leg on vacation and their best friend “their person” had moved states and cut them off. I took on a lot of responsibility from regulating their emotions, comforting them, bringing them everywhere they were going, and spending a lot of time with them, especially when they were down. I noticed that they had an issue with alcohol but figured it was a response to the terrible circumstances they were in. One night I wanted to treat them, they had been stuck in the house in a wheelchair, and were understandably miserable. So I was planning on bringing them to the beach, but they were a bit drunk and tended to lash out when drunk. So I was a bit put off about being trapped in a car with them if they were lashing out. But as the night went on going to the beachwas non negotiable and they were lashing out at me suggesting us do it another time. So we headed towards the beach, stopped to use the bathroom otw at store. I was helping them get into bathroom and they were getting pissed at me helping, which you know understandable I’d hate to have a broken leg and needing help. Otw the way out of the gas station they cursed out the staff. So my stress was high, but I was focused on the beach might make things better. Got to the beach, had a good time, listened to music, watched the sunrise. But they were drinking at the beach and didn’t want help getting into the passenger seat for otw home. They fell in the sand, they were so mad, they didn’t want help getting up. They got in the passenger seat and ripped the mirror flap off the car. I’m fully stressed just thinking get them home. They are yelling at me about where is their phone. I frantically search outside and it’s not outside so I say idk, but it’s not outside must be in the car. And pull out to drive home. They ask a couple more times about the phone and I respond the same focused on driving home. They grab me by the hair and punch me in the face while I’m driving. I pull over, I yell at them we are done, there is screaming about the phone. Eventually they find It in their pocket. I drop them off at a friends house and cut them off for a bit. I was devastated. Eventually they apologized and I agreed to be friends again if there was no alcohol involved . A few weeks later I’m meeting the same friend over at her house and they are drunk. I think I got called over cuz he needed help calming her down. I got her calmed down and was like time for bed. They asked to cuddle and I’m like sure. They ask for more and I’m like no. They keep pressing, I’m like no, you’re drunk, I already said no, your friend is like right their. They keep pressing, are pulling at my clothes, I get up to leave, they cry and start freaking out so I cuddle again. Repeat. I give in. Their friend hears it and gets really upset. I’m upset and embarrassed. I tell them the next day and they are really upset at themselves and I comfort them. It moves into a relationship again. Coercion happens a few more times, with one time them saying your no doesn’t matter, but eventually I start locking the door when they are drunk. No matter the banging on it, or the screaming, or the crying. This goes on with highs and lows for a couple years till yesterday. They asked me over to watch Halloween movies. I said sorry I can’t, I have to make some money, they offered to loan it to me cuz it was an important holiday to them. So we watch maybe 5 movies, have a good time, even go to sleep on a good note. However I guess they didn’t go to sleep. Cuz I get woken up to them pouring a soda on my face and punching me in my face. I punch back while laying down until I realize what’s going on. I’m so upset I just go Shower. I guess they wanted me up and I wasn’t getting up so they escalated. I smoke a cigarette, yell a bit, talk about calling the cops, and then leave leaving the keys to their house. I’ve blocked them on everything. I was hoping they could get help and the good times which were wonderful could be the normal. But I can’t put up with this. I’m so worried for their safety, but I told their friend to check in on them. Idk I think I’m having a hard time processing this

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  • I use it as compost to nurture the fertile garden of who I am now and who I am becoming.

    Shared by a survivor

    Message #1680

    Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇦🇷

    I do not consider myself completely healed yet. Healing, for me, is not a moment where everything that happened disappears or where the pain no longer exists. I am still living through the aftermath of years of abuse. I am still fighting for my children. I am still navigating the legal process that stands between us and the safe future I am working toward. I am still learning how to live with the effects of trauma and PTSD. But my understanding of healing has changed. I no longer believe healing means that I will never hurt again. I believe healing means that, even while I carry wounds, I continue moving forward. My faith has been a major part of that journey. As a Christian, I believe that God was with me even in the moments when I felt completely alone. There were times when I felt abandoned, when I did not understand why I was going through so much, and when I questioned how I could keep going. But looking back, I can see moments where I was given strength when I did not think I had any left. My healing has not been about pretending the pain did not happen. It has been about trusting that my story does not end with what was done to me. I believe God gave me the strength to protect my children, to keep fighting, and to continue standing when I felt like I was broken. I believe that my life still has purpose, and that the years I spent surviving do not define the rest of my story. Healing has meant learning that I am worthy of love, respect, and safety. It has meant allowing myself to accept help after years of believing I had to carry everything alone. It has meant rebuilding my confidence, rediscovering who I am, and understanding that I am not only a survivor of what happened—I am also a mother, a woman, a daughter, and a person with a future. I am still healing. I am still fighting. I am still learning. But I am not the same person I was when I was trapped in fear. My faith reminds me that God can bring beauty from broken places. It reminds me that suffering is not the end of the story. It reminds me that even in the hardest seasons, I am not walking alone. To me, healing is not forgetting the past. Healing is allowing God to use my story for something greater. Healing is choosing hope even while I am still in the middle of the battle. Healing is believing that what was meant to destroy me will not have the final word.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Major Sexual Harassment

    It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

  • Report

  • “Healing means forgiving myself for all the things I may have gotten wrong in the moment.”

    Welcome to Our Wave.

    This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

    What feels like the right place to start today?
    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Halloween

    I was in a relationship for 3 years. I love them, the good times were the best, the bad times were the worst. When I entered their life they were at an all time low, they had broken their leg on vacation and their best friend “their person” had moved states and cut them off. I took on a lot of responsibility from regulating their emotions, comforting them, bringing them everywhere they were going, and spending a lot of time with them, especially when they were down. I noticed that they had an issue with alcohol but figured it was a response to the terrible circumstances they were in. One night I wanted to treat them, they had been stuck in the house in a wheelchair, and were understandably miserable. So I was planning on bringing them to the beach, but they were a bit drunk and tended to lash out when drunk. So I was a bit put off about being trapped in a car with them if they were lashing out. But as the night went on going to the beachwas non negotiable and they were lashing out at me suggesting us do it another time. So we headed towards the beach, stopped to use the bathroom otw at store. I was helping them get into bathroom and they were getting pissed at me helping, which you know understandable I’d hate to have a broken leg and needing help. Otw the way out of the gas station they cursed out the staff. So my stress was high, but I was focused on the beach might make things better. Got to the beach, had a good time, listened to music, watched the sunrise. But they were drinking at the beach and didn’t want help getting into the passenger seat for otw home. They fell in the sand, they were so mad, they didn’t want help getting up. They got in the passenger seat and ripped the mirror flap off the car. I’m fully stressed just thinking get them home. They are yelling at me about where is their phone. I frantically search outside and it’s not outside so I say idk, but it’s not outside must be in the car. And pull out to drive home. They ask a couple more times about the phone and I respond the same focused on driving home. They grab me by the hair and punch me in the face while I’m driving. I pull over, I yell at them we are done, there is screaming about the phone. Eventually they find It in their pocket. I drop them off at a friends house and cut them off for a bit. I was devastated. Eventually they apologized and I agreed to be friends again if there was no alcohol involved . A few weeks later I’m meeting the same friend over at her house and they are drunk. I think I got called over cuz he needed help calming her down. I got her calmed down and was like time for bed. They asked to cuddle and I’m like sure. They ask for more and I’m like no. They keep pressing, I’m like no, you’re drunk, I already said no, your friend is like right their. They keep pressing, are pulling at my clothes, I get up to leave, they cry and start freaking out so I cuddle again. Repeat. I give in. Their friend hears it and gets really upset. I’m upset and embarrassed. I tell them the next day and they are really upset at themselves and I comfort them. It moves into a relationship again. Coercion happens a few more times, with one time them saying your no doesn’t matter, but eventually I start locking the door when they are drunk. No matter the banging on it, or the screaming, or the crying. This goes on with highs and lows for a couple years till yesterday. They asked me over to watch Halloween movies. I said sorry I can’t, I have to make some money, they offered to loan it to me cuz it was an important holiday to them. So we watch maybe 5 movies, have a good time, even go to sleep on a good note. However I guess they didn’t go to sleep. Cuz I get woken up to them pouring a soda on my face and punching me in my face. I punch back while laying down until I realize what’s going on. I’m so upset I just go Shower. I guess they wanted me up and I wasn’t getting up so they escalated. I smoke a cigarette, yell a bit, talk about calling the cops, and then leave leaving the keys to their house. I’ve blocked them on everything. I was hoping they could get help and the good times which were wonderful could be the normal. But I can’t put up with this. I’m so worried for their safety, but I told their friend to check in on them. Idk I think I’m having a hard time processing this

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇵🇪

    Broken

    I was a victim of child sexual abuse when I was 7 years old and my cousin's stepbrother was 9 or 10. He abused me for two years. I told my mother what happened, and his parents punished him. Most of my family didn't believe me. In a conversation with my mother, she told me I had probably made up the whole abuse and that I was a liar, and I cried a lot that day. My grandmother is proud of him because he's a doctor in Germany and has a good life, while I'm trapped. I can't stand being touched and I can't get over it, even though I've been to therapy. Yesterday I saw his Instagram and felt bad because he moved on and I didn't. He told me it was a secret and I trusted him (the three of us were alone because my uncle and his wife -who is the mother of my abuser- are doctors so they were always in the hospital). They would leave the food ready for us and he (A) would put it in the microwave. A pulled my pants down a little or lift my skirt (if i was wearing one). When A was on top of me he was kissing me- it was overwhelming and i couldn't focus on anything else but his breath and voice, he was grabbing his crotch, but I didn't understand what he was doing. We were playing normal with his little sister and then A exclude her from the game to be alone with me so A put her in front of the television so she wouldn't focus on us and was distracted. Then A guided me to the room, he close the door to the room he shared with his sister (my cousin's bed was near the door and his wasn't), so he would make me lie down on the floor next to his bed so no one could see us. At first, I would get on top of him, but then he said I was too heavy to be in that position (I guess it wasn't comfortable for him to abuse me). That led to an eating disorder that I still have; I even developed anemia last year. I remember once I ran to the bathroom because something didn't feel right, but he started banging on the door but then I realized there was nothing I could do, I mean where would I go? My uncles locked us out. I remember once, A didn't close the door properly because his sister came in, and he straightened his clothes and pushed me under his bed, but his sister saw me and asked me what I was doing there, and I stayed there for a long time. And her sister got under the bed to keep me company; she was saying something to me, but I couldn't hear her, or maybe I wasn't paying attention. I think I'm broken, because his kisses and his voice in my ear were too much, and I never noticed if he ejaculated or if something else happened that I overlooked or never noticed because I never went to a doctor, my mom never reported him. And we couldn't count on my dad because he abandoned us and went off with the neighbor and treated her daughter as his own while the abuse was happening. That's why I lived in their house during that time; that's why the abuse continued because I was in the provinces and my mother traveled to the capital because of a false accusation my father made against her. A year later, my mother's half-brother baptized me with my abuser's mother, and I never said anything. I just smiled in the photos as if nothing was wrong while I hugged A. Now I´m 22 and I still feel sick and dirty.

  • Report

  • I use it as compost to nurture the fertile garden of who I am now and who I am becoming.

    Shared by a survivor

    Message #1680

    “Healing means forgiving myself for all the things I may have gotten wrong in the moment.”

    Message of Hope
    From a survivor
    🇦🇷

    If you are reading this and you are living through abuse, I want you to know that there is a way out. I know how it feels to believe that you are trapped. I know what it feels like to feel like there are no options, like nobody will believe you, like the obstacles in front of you are too big to overcome. For many years, I felt that way. I was isolated. I was afraid. I was living in a situation where I felt like I had lost control over my own life. I did not know how I would leave, how I would protect my children, or how I would rebuild everything that had been taken from me. But I want you to know something: The fact that you are still here means there is still hope. Your story is not over. You are not defined by what someone has done to you. You are not powerless. Even if you cannot see the path forward yet, that does not mean there is no path. For me, survival did not happen all at once. It happened one decision at a time. It was choosing to keep going for my children. It was documenting what happened. It was asking for help. It was taking one more step even when I was exhausted. There were times when I thought I could not continue. There were times when I felt like I had lost myself completely. But little by little, I started finding my way back. My faith has also carried me through this journey. I believe that God was with me even in the darkest moments, including the moments when I felt alone. I believe He gave me strength when I did not have strength of my own. If you are still in the middle of your battle, I want you to be patient and gentle with yourself. Healing takes time. Rebuilding takes time. Sometimes progress does not look like a big victory—it looks like making it through another day, protecting yourself, or taking one small step toward freedom. Please remember: You deserve safety. You deserve respect. You deserve to be believed. You deserve a life beyond survival. I am still fighting my own battles. I am still healing. I am still working toward the day my children and I can finally be completely safe. But I am proof that even after years of pain, a person can begin again. Do not give up. There is a future beyond what you are experiencing right now.

  • Report

  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇦🇷

    I do not consider myself completely healed yet. Healing, for me, is not a moment where everything that happened disappears or where the pain no longer exists. I am still living through the aftermath of years of abuse. I am still fighting for my children. I am still navigating the legal process that stands between us and the safe future I am working toward. I am still learning how to live with the effects of trauma and PTSD. But my understanding of healing has changed. I no longer believe healing means that I will never hurt again. I believe healing means that, even while I carry wounds, I continue moving forward. My faith has been a major part of that journey. As a Christian, I believe that God was with me even in the moments when I felt completely alone. There were times when I felt abandoned, when I did not understand why I was going through so much, and when I questioned how I could keep going. But looking back, I can see moments where I was given strength when I did not think I had any left. My healing has not been about pretending the pain did not happen. It has been about trusting that my story does not end with what was done to me. I believe God gave me the strength to protect my children, to keep fighting, and to continue standing when I felt like I was broken. I believe that my life still has purpose, and that the years I spent surviving do not define the rest of my story. Healing has meant learning that I am worthy of love, respect, and safety. It has meant allowing myself to accept help after years of believing I had to carry everything alone. It has meant rebuilding my confidence, rediscovering who I am, and understanding that I am not only a survivor of what happened—I am also a mother, a woman, a daughter, and a person with a future. I am still healing. I am still fighting. I am still learning. But I am not the same person I was when I was trapped in fear. My faith reminds me that God can bring beauty from broken places. It reminds me that suffering is not the end of the story. It reminds me that even in the hardest seasons, I am not walking alone. To me, healing is not forgetting the past. Healing is allowing God to use my story for something greater. Healing is choosing hope even while I am still in the middle of the battle. Healing is believing that what was meant to destroy me will not have the final word.

  • Report

  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Major Sexual Harassment

    It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

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