Community

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.

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

At a young age, I started therapy. I found through therapy I grew up with narcissistic parents, and my sister developed narcissistic traits. I was the scapegoat in the family. My parents taught my siblings and I that family comes first. My family took advantage of my sensitivity. They expected me to do everything for them. If I did anything for myself, I was told I am selfish. After years of therapy, I learned that explained a lot as to why the relationships I had felt similar to what I had with my family. I never knew my childhood trauma linked to my relationships. My daughter's father abused us emotionally, mentally, and physically. Hitting, slapping, belittling, name calling and more. A lot like how my family treated me, but minus the physical abuse. Eventually he left. Before he left, he pinned me to the wall and threatened to hit me. He left. I got a restraining order. He broke it by coming to my house. No one was home at the time, but he was there because he left a note on the gate of my house. That happened two more times. After awhile, it stopped. A few years later, I attempted another relationship. I ended the relationship last year. I had to. He was a combination of my dad and my daughter's father when it came to narcissistic abuse and domestic violence. After finding my current therapist, my therapist said she she is proud of me. She said I was able to break the generational chain of abuse. It was scary to break up with my now ex, but I wasn't happy. The healing is scary, emotional, but necessary. Both my Down Syndrome daughter, and I are blessed to have each other.

Warning this post could be triggering and very deep and hard to read. I am writing this post with the heaviest heart. I am tired and I don’t mean like getting in bed and sleeping tired. I mean, physically mentally emotionally and spiritually tired and drained. I am 28 years old. I will be 29 next month and my life has at least been full of over 20 years of immense, deep trauma. I grew up with no parents. My dad left my mom when I was one years old when my brother died and never came back, but maybe one time my whole life until he became a cold case when I was about 10. My mom had four other children all different fathers two of them who had the same dad who was sexually abusing me at the age of six and seven and once they split up my mom gave up everybody to their dad’s while dragging me through the worst things, a child should have ever endured. She nonstop, abandoned me, leaving me at houses with random people for weeks and even months at a time either being sexually abused or physically abused once again. Leaving me at her mother’s house to be physically abused to the point where I couldn’t handle it and would leave to my friend’s mom’s houses because if I didn’t, I would go days without being in school because of how badly I was being beaten. Still my mom never showed up and when she did, it was only because I have been gone at my friends for so long but once she found me there and someone’s parent would say she’s OK here all she would do is get back in the car and leave for weeks or months again. My mom has been on drugs since she was a teenager. Methamphetamines. A very bad alcoholic. Shooting up smoking. Inhaling whippet cans since she was young. Anything she can get her hands on that blurred her vision of being a mother or a protector. Luckily my siblings had their fathers and families to step up and take care of them all their lives because we are now all in our late 20s but that still doesn’t make up for the abandonment and pain that they went through not having a mother their whole life, but I’m extremely grateful they didn’t have to endure the trauma and pain that came with being stuck with her. I became pregnant at 15 1/2 almost 16 years old not knowing anything about motherhood, but hoping that means maybe I’ll have a family or somebody who my life will finally matter to but unfortunately, that was not the case. It just added more trauma and more pain on my heart. I had my oldest son. And by that time I had gotten myself into a little bit of juvenile trouble so the system finally stepped in realizing I had no parents or guardians around. One day I was just so tired. I just begged the judge to take me away from my mom and send me and my son to somewhere safe so I can have a roof over our head and have some type of structure or stability for me and him at only 17. That was one of the worst things I could’ve ever done or asked for. In the moment, I thought the system was going to save me, but all it did was fail me and my child. About a year later when I was staying in one of the foster homes I was human trafficked and left fighting for my life for two days trying to get back to my son. In the time being you’re not allowed to leave the property or the county so to the juvenile system, it looked like I violated the rules and they took me back into custody, not knowing that I was just traffic and forced to leave my son. By that time I was over 18 and they made me sit in juvenile hall until my 19th birthday when I was a legal adult so they can release me onto the streets because I was finally legally an adult. I still remember the day that I got released like it was yesterday. I still remember all of this like it was yesterday. They released me with nowhere to go. No one to call having to find where my son was staying at so I can take him back no food no money no resources. I’ve been so lost since I was a child. I didn’t even know how to function in the world I didn’t know how to get a job. I didn’t know how to ask for help. I didn’t know how to go back to school. I didn’t know the importance of my life or what I can make of it. All I knew is I was stuck being forced into survival mode once again. Fast forward to now knowing that maybe I can learn how to sell my body since I had been trafficked and maybe that would keep a roof or food over my head and keep me independent since all I had was myself at 19 . Still lost. Still hurting and still no protection or guidance. Still alone. Having another child once again at 21 thinking it would save me. But it didn’t all it did was give me a break out of survival mode for a couple years and then Life still whooped my ass for the following years down the line selling my body being raped over and over trying to just survive and save myself from the drowning deep pool of pain and trauma. It was up until about 3 years ago when I started to fight for my life back from all the hands of my abusers. I didn’t want to be a victim any more. I wanted to be a survivor. I decided to not traumatize and put that trauma onto my children that my parents had once put on myself. I decided to heal them instead of putting the pain that I have onto them. This was when I was around I don’t know maybe 27 when I decided to go back to school and try to fight so hard to figure out what I’m supposed to do with life, even though I was never showed or guided on how to do that. I gave up survival mode and got out of survival mode because it was the most traumatizing mode to be stuck in. I’m not perfect. I’m still healing but with two years of therapy going back to school to get my diploma so I can go to college and have a career and healing my children and showing them what fighting for your life looks like and showing them that you do not have to accept certain people or pain into your life showing them what a mother and protector is and showing them stability finally has been my everything the past 2 to 3 years. Around last year I gave up selling my body because I couldn’t do it anymore because it was just so draining and it just felt like it was keeping me stuck in a survival mode so once I released that and promised myself I would never go back no matter how hard it gets. It has been so much more healing. I wrote a letter to my mother just the other week and met up with her reading it and telling her everything, forgiving her and finally making a decision to keep her out of me and my children’s lives because of all the pain and trauma she has caused and will continue to cause because of her drug addictions and unhealthy choices. I have chose protection over me and my children. But some days while I’m sitting here, drowning in bills, drowning in keeping a place over our head, which I’ve done a good job at renting somewhere to keep over our head the past two years and keeping my car and keeping all the bills taken care of keeping us in school keeping us not bouncing from house to house giving us some stability. Still doesn’t take away from these really really hard mentally draining days that I have because of my severe PTSD and severe trauma replaying in my head over and over again feeling so helpless and empty because I’m all I have. I don’t know how to keep going, but somehow I do. I’m so strong it’s insane. Even on the hardest days that I really don’t think I will survive I still do. I don’t have a support system. I don’t have family. I don’t keep men around me. I don’t have friends because they were not healthy. It is me and my kids. The people we live with who are 100% separated no contact just room mating no family unless it’s my second son’s family helping which would be taking him from time to time like summer or something to help. Both of their fathers are 100% not in the picture and haven’t been for years also battling drug addictions. no calls no text no asking if they’re alive no money no child support no nothing. Grieving my father‘s mother so badly because I reconnected with her about five years ago and got so close to her took care of her helped her with every single thing you can think of just for her to pass a couple months ago when I was getting so close to her I finally felt like I had real blood family. Her and my boys were my motivation my grandma was my world. I finally had somebody just to watch her die right in front of me and now that I can’t even burry or cremate because I’m all the family or any one she had as well it kills me. I just don’t understand why God has punished me over and over again. I’m trying to figure out my purpose for life other than my two children. I am deeply wounded and I’m getting so far and doing so much better than I once was a few years ago but I’m just stuck at a standstill right now. I’m so confused and I don’t know what to do. And honestly, I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I just feel like maybe I’ll be heard. I want to just be HEARD! Or maybe you guys can send some positivity and it will snap me out of this dark place that I’m in when I’m all alone and my kids are at school and things hit me. I know this all seems like a lot, but unfortunately, this is just the surface level of the deepest things I’ve been through. This isn’t even everything. But I know if I keep going when I look back, it will all be worth it. I just wish I knew when that would be.

I was so small and I still have flashbacks.

I was in my early 20's, moved to Long Island from an upstate town for college and graduated with honors. I was excited to land a job in NYC with a large financial/insurance company. My boss was a young fairly handsome married man with good manners and was so nice at first. I was warned by a few woman to watch out for him because he was a player. Well naive me fell for his attention. At first the things g's he did seemed innocent, like walking with me to Penn Station. That turned into stopping off for drinks which then turned into kissing and touching . I look back at how stupid I was as he reeled me in and wonder why I did this. I can only say that I had left home because I did not have a good relationship with my dad and I was attention starved and he pounced on that. One thing led to another and I met him at a hotel. I felt awful after and wanted to end it but he threatened my job that I really needed. People started suspecting things at work and before I knew it, this smart student had a reputation. This went on for months and he was very controlling. He also would do things to make me jealous and to undermine my confidence. I hated myself. I believe his higher ups talked him into transferring me to a different dept in a different building so he could advance in his career. He did advance, quickly. I, on the other hand, moved and so did my reputation and my low self esteem. I had a couple of other encounters in the new area and finally changed companies altogether, which was the best thing I ever did. At the new company I remade myself and became and was seen as the true professional I am. I went back to school for my masters, have a beautiful family and a great career. BUT... I still have bouts of shame and at times my self esteem p!unges. None of my family or friends know any of this. I still harbor resentment against this man who retired at a very high level and runs a consulting company now. I wonder how many other women and careers he affected.

My highschool boyfriend. When I walk by the parking spot I still see it, I feel his hands and it makes me want to rip off my own skin. I remember crying and him not caring, I remember how forceful and adamant he was when he took my head and forced it on his lap. I remember him undoing his belt and taking off his jeans in the front seat of his car and telling me that I “owed” him. I remember crying. I remember gagging, sobbing, and just wanting to leave. He looked me in the eye, called me a bitch and kicked me out of his car. I didn’t tell anyone because he loved me and that’s what our love was like. He told me I didn’t know what love was because it was my first time being in love. He told me it was normal and that he was older and more experienced so he knew best, he was doing me favours. I remember realizing that real love isn’t being screamed at in the front seat of a car after having your head pushed down into someone’s genitals. Of course I wasn't done. I allowed this cycle to control me. I was too afraid to leave because I thought that nobody would ever want me if they knew what I did. In retrospect, it is what I had gone through. It is what I have survived. I still walk by that parking spot.

My story with Name started when I was in high school. The summer after my junior year, I accidentally commented gibberish on one of his posts, which led to him eventually messaging me. One thing led to another, and we ended up hanging out at my house. He came in and immediately wooed both me and my parents before spending hours talking with me in the backyard. I think that’s what made me fall for him in the first place—how easily we could talk. Months went by before we hung out again. By that point, we had been talking for two months—mostly on the phone, as he rarely spoke to me in person. When he came over, I could tell he was nervous. I knew he was either going to ask me out or put an end to whatever we were. He did the former. I said yes. He was everything I had ever wanted. He took me on all sorts of fun dates, picked me flowers, danced with me, and basically became the man I always dreamed of. Our "Phase One" started almost immediately after we started dating. Though I didn't know it at the time. He would ask for all of my spare time, and because I was young, and he was what I thought to be my first love, I let him take all of it. My parents could see that this was problematic and approached me about it several times. I, being a sixteen year old girl with mild rebellion issues, ended up ignoring their pleas. That was my first mistake. Soon, he started to pull away, making promises he wouldn’t keep. One instance was around prom—I had asked for a promposal, even though we had been dating, and he promised he would give me one. I waited and waited—leaving my car each day, going to lunch, lingering after school—hoping he would surprise me like he promised. But it never happened. In another instance, that school year, I tried to have lunch with him on several occasions, but he turned me down every time, saying he had other plans. I couldn’t see it at the time, but looking back, I think this was him testing my limits—seeing what I would put up with. Soon summer came and went, and my parents started noticing how Name was treating me, how disrespectful he was. They made me promise that we would break up, or I would not be allowed to attend college that upcoming semester. I was seventeen so they still had the ability to take that away. Well, I didn't listen. Yet another mistake. Name, his parents, and I came up with a plan to lie to my parents and pretend we weren’t dating until we got to college, where they wouldn’t know either way. The plan worked for a while, but it was later exposed when my roommate decided to text my mom about it. This sparked a new tension with my parents, resulting in isolation from them too, but I still can't decide if it's his fault or mine. Later that semester, he and I started to approach phase two. I think the first time I really felt the emotional slap to the face was when he promised me that he would take me on a lunch date the next day because I had been feeling down, and when the time came, he never showed up. Hours went by and I began to worry. I called and texted, no response. Finally, several hours after our date was planned he texted me, telling me that he had too much homework and that I shouldn't nag him. I was mad, just not enough to leave. Another mistake. The last instance before things really started to escalate was when he was back in our hometown for his brother’s football game. On the day he was coming back, he promised to take me out since he had been gone—and because I had just spent the weekend with my mother, who could barely look at me. Once again the time came and went and he never showed up. I would later come to find out something that would inevitably send our relationship into hell and turn him into the monster that he became. I was in my dorm when he got a text on his phone. I went to hand it to him and saw that it was from a girl he had been friends with since before high school. The message was a bit flirtatious, and despite my better judgment, I opened it—only to discover that every lunch he hadn’t spent with me, he had been spending with her. He had been buying her things and taking cutesy pictures of the two of them, which I later found saved in his 'Favorites' folder. I also learned that the reason he never showed up for our date the night he came back to college was because he had been with her at her college, taking her to lunch. With a little more digging, I found that he had been exchanging nude pictures with women online and was active on several dating apps. To say I was infuriated would be an understatement. I told him to leave, that I never wanted to see him again. But just before I shut him out for good, he started crying, swearing he would never do it again—and I believed him. By that point, I had already moved past phase one. I was dependent on him, and I didn’t have any real support outside of the relationship at the time. So, I took him back. That was my biggest mistake. Tensions were high, and we were arguing regularly. One time, it got so loud and intense that someone in the dorm called the cops, and we had to talk to them. Things simmered down after that, but I was still pretty messed up. He had been my everything, and he broke my heart. Soon after, I once again decided I couldn’t handle the pain of knowing he couldn’t love me, but something stopped me from leaving—his house burned down. We dropped everything, packed some bags, and went to the remnants of his home. He was distressed, so I put my feelings aside and focused on taking care of him and his family. During this time, I formed a bond with his patrents—my first reprieve in months. Things really calmed down after that, and I thought we were finally going to be okay. That summer, I moved in with his family. But then my parents started texting and calling me, telling me how horrible and ungrateful I was. They reinforced my already fragile self-confidence, and Name saw the opportunity and stepped in to take care of me, which brought us even closer. Then he started drinking, and he hurt me. I don’t really remember how the argument started, but I do remember how mad he was. I said something he didn’t like, and suddenly, I found myself being kicked off the bed. Literally. When I tried to get back on, he pushed me so hard that I hit the wall, broke the corner, and ended up with a nasty cut on my leg. I slept on the floor that night. The first time he hurt me wasn’t physically severe, just a cut, but the fact that he was willing to hurt me in the first place cracked something inside of me. I just couldn’t believe it. That was the start of many. Soon, I was hiding black eyes and bruises on my arms and legs. And the worst part? I didn’t even know it was wrong. In my head, I probably deserved it for getting riled up over so many stupid things. I mean, I obviously stayed with him, so how was he to blame. One instance I remember, well, I don't actually remember what happened. That's the funny thing about all of this, is that even though it was probably the worst thing I have ever faced in my life, I can't remember. Anyway, I do remember getting him a promise ring. I had wanted one, but he hadn't gotten me one, so I decided to surprise him and give him one first. That night, I found him looking at other girls. We fought. Once again, I 'tried' to leave, but then he started crying, saying he had been doing so well and that I just needed to give him another chance—and I did. That next year at college the first few months were great. Then Valentine's Day came. We had gone to dinner and had a wonderful night and he had been drinking but was still being so nice. When we got home, I mentioned engagement, and how we had been together for so long that I was ready, I didn't know how delusional I was. He got extra mad at that, and stormed off into the other room. I decided then it was a good time to whip out my new 'outfit' and try to make some sort of reprieve. It didn't work, he got more mad. So I changed into pajamas and told him I would be sleeping in the guest room. Oops. He grabbed me before I could leave and threw me into the nightstand. I laid there for a minute, and the next thing I remember, I was standing up with a headache, but I didn’t know why yet. Then there was blood. Blood on the walls, blood on the bed, blood on the floor, and blood on the Valentine's Day stuffed animals he had gotten me. I ran to the bathroom, crying hysterically because I didn’t know what was happening. I checked, and sure enough, he had cracked my head open. He came in and got even more angry because I was crying. He kept yelling for hours. He wouldn’t even let me leave to get band-aids, let alone see a doctor, so I had to hold my cut closed that night. The next morning, I wouldn't talk. I was scared and hurt. Of course, he didn’t remember because he had been drunk—he never remembered, because he was always drunk. Despite this, he saw the blood, saw me, and remorse—whether genuine or not—spread across his face. After that, he was amazing again, sending me into another spiral of confusion. Another instance a few months after that, we had once again gotten into an argument about something, probably something stupid, and I remember the look that crossed his face. I knew it was going to be a rough night. I ran. I ran to the bedroom, because in my head that was the best option at the time. I tried to cross over the bed and hide behind it, but I didn't make it far before he had made it into the room and grabbed me by the ankles. He tried to hold me down, but I fought. The next thing I remember was him biting my back—yes, biting. He broke the skin through my thick crewneck, and I had a scar for over a year after. When he bit me, I screamed. I wanted anyone to hear me, to save me. He stood up, and I thought I had scared him off. He yanked me off the bed and onto the hard concrete floor. I don't remember the next few minutes after that. After that small snippet of time, stuff started coming back, and it took me a moment to realize he was absolutely pounding into my back—punch after punch after punch. For some reason, this time I couldn't even find it in myself to scream. My precious dog then came in to save me and was punched himself. I think this struck something in Name because he stopped. He stood up, kicked me, lifted me by the hair, and said, "You're just a worthless bitch," then slammed my face back into the floor before spitting on me. I stayed there that night. The next morning I woke up to McDonald's Breakfast and a bouquet of flowers waiting for me. The most excruciating instance was that March. I had come to find out I was pregnant. This, despite the horrible circumstances, gave me so much hope. I waited a while to tell Name, because at this point, he was plowing through twenty-plus beers a night, plus scotch, plus brandy, plus whatever else he could get his hands on. I waited a couple weeks and at some point, he had laid off the drinking and had been fine, so we were just talking before bed, and I thought that things were looking up, that we could make it work. Then I said something, and he punched me. I ran to the bathroom, locked myself in, and found blood waiting for me. I lost the baby. No, he took my baby away from me. I can't remember much after that. We soon scheduled an OB/GYN appointment because the pain from the 'miscarriage' wouldn't go away. When I went in, I should have known it was going to end poorly because the nurse didn’t even ask if I was sexually active. When the doctor came in, he asked what brought me in, and I froze. I came up with some story about MMA club, a club I hadn’t attended in months, and mentioned I was feeling pain and that I had bled and wanted him to check it out. He didn’t. He said it was just abdominal bruising and that it wasn’t his problem. At this point things with Name had been too difficult to argue let alone formulate a conversation, so tensions went away, and I went back to his family's house that summer. That summer I had gotten a phone call, my dad had been arrested. And my mother, as much as I love her, doesn't handle pain well. She shut down, which meant that I had to help move everything from the closest thing to a childhood home I would ever have, to my moms new house. This was difficult because I was also struggling, but Name, being the valiant person he always was, helped me move everything out. The night after we finished, I had been so mad. I went into the bathroom and I threw my straightening iron to the ground. It broke and that caught Name's attention. He came in and made a joke about why we couldn't have nice things. I was in tears, and mad, so I asked him why he could never be there for me. He then came in for a hug. Well I thought it was for a hug. He grabbed my head and slammed his forehead right into my face, breaking my nose. After that, things got progressively worse until the last major thing he did. I remember, like always, I did or said something he didn’t like. He decided that was a good enough reason to pick me up by the neck and slam me into the doorframe. My head hurt so badly; I remember that much. But I couldn’t scream because I couldn’t breathe. He was squeezing so hard. I can remember it all so vividly, except for his face. I started to pass out, but just when I thought I was finished, his mom knocked, and he dropped me. Then I started screaming. He opened the door, and his mom came in. They started fighting, and he hit her. Name's dad came in and pulled him away, trying to get him to talk. Name's mom instantly became the center of attention, but later, we all talked, and Name's dad had told him he shouldn't hit girls. His mom told me it was my fault he did what he did because I started so many arguments. That was really the last big hurt he caused me. Of course there are tens of times if not more in there that he threw things at me, broke locked doors to get to me, beat me, and yelled at me for hours, but the beatings ended there. What do I remember feeling during that time? Honestly, I don’t remember feeling much for a long time. I was so messed up about it all. I remember hours where I would just stare at my hands, usually after a beating. I remember taking long showers that, in my head, helped wash what I was going through away. I remember spending days and days wishing he would just end it so I didn’t have to deal with him anymore. But honestly the worst part was after I left him. In May of 2024, he left for home early and I saw that as the perfect opportunity to end things. When I got home myself I had been in such a dark place, I was so depressed that people around me began noticing. My parents mostly. They still don't know anything about this though so I tried to be better in order to keep them separated from that part of my life. I continued long showers, and hours upon hours of just grieving the person I was before. Grieving my baby. Grieving everything. What has my healing journey looked like? Well, at first horrible. Like I said I didn't really feel much when I was with Name, but when I left? It hit me all at once. I remember feeling so lost, and so alone. I was the only one who knew what happened at first, I remember feeling so bitter that Name had memory loss when he drank, because I was stuck with every memory, and he wasn't. Eventually things started getting better though. I stopped replaying his hands around my neck or his fists in my back every time I closed my eyes. I stopped freaking out when people went for high-fives. I stopped flinching when ever I heard loud slamming or when someone started to yell. I started seeing the light in things, I learned to smile again. Looking back, I see pictures where I have a black eye or am twitching excessively from the trauma, and I still struggle to process that that was me. But now, I’ve found so much more joy in my everyday life. I’ve rekindled hobbies I had lost interest in for so long, I have an amazing roommate and best friend, and most importantly, I am able to have and maintain a romantic relationship again—a milestone I never thought I would reach. Sometimes, I still panic. I still have nightmares and go through periods where I zone out and vividly relive him hurting me. But it’s not nearly as bad now—which means it can only get better.

Women CANNOT physically harm men to anywhere NEAR the same severity tht men can women. Full stop. Before I experienced abuse, I nvr used to be afraid of men. I used to think I could reasonably defend myself against all but the biggest, most muscular guys, tht I'd be able to put up a good fight if ever necessary. Turns out, I had no fucking idea what I was talking about. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW EASILY HE CAN KILL YOU, SIS. Or cause a traumatic brain injury or rupture ur spleen or break out ur teeth or... You cannot imagine how quickly & effortlessly he can permanently. change. your. life. Do NOT fuck around, sis. RUN. Get. Out. NOW. .... countless women before you miscalculated their risk & many paid with their lives. Please PLEASE act with the urgency tht your LIFE deserves. I love you.

Date’ I’m 16 years old. I went to a private school in region. There was a post grad following me around the party. I knew him so I wasn’t alarmed(even though he was 19 6’5” and 200 lbs a basketball player) He was my best friends ex. I needed to use the restroom. My first red flag. The guy tried to come in the bathroom. I said oh here you can go I’ll go somewhere else. Smooth move. I went upstairs and when I came out he was standing there waiting for me. He brought me into plunketts room and asked me to go on the roof and hook up. I said no I have a bf. He tried to kiss me I pushed him away. The fireworks were starting. We went on the roof after he apologized and said let’s just go smoke a cigarette. I agreed and we went out. This is when he forced me down and started kissing me. I was helpless 120, 5’8”. I cried and replied no stop pls stop. I can still feel the the rocky shingles on my back while he defiled me. Not even the worst part. I could hear ppl right under us but I was so embarrassed and scared I didn’t scream. That’s my worst regret I could have just screamed. When he was about to finish he gave me a choice. “I won’t come in you if you let me cum in your mouth”. I’m 40 and have never been the same since that incident

I was waiting at a city bus stop. I saw a man across the street, he was very dirty and obviously not in his right mind. I tried to avoid eye contact but he already saw me. He crossed the street and started shouting at me. Asking for my name and where I lived. I tried to hide in a convenience store until he left. My phone was on 5 percent so I couldn’t call anyone to help me. At one point I thought he had left so I walked back out. He was actually hiding behind a sign and came back out once he saw I had come back. I ran back inside the store. Eventually the bus came and I left. Normally I’m not scared of this sort of thing. But because of the state of mind this man was in I didn’t know what he would do if I confronted him. When I ran to the bus he started screaming obscenities at me.

I grew up in a sheltered, conservative Christian home. I grew up Baptist and extremely sheltered. I grew up in a domestic violence household, where my parents were constantly fighting, throwing things, leaving in the middle of the night, and so much more. I followed the unspoken rule as a child to be quiet and not let anyone know what was going on. When I was 10, we moved to Location to attend Church- a mega-evangelical church. We become super involved- serving the homeless, being at church for every event, and joining church activities. I wasn't taught anything about relationships outside of what I witnessed in my parent's relationship and the good old purity culture of "don't ruin yourself before marriage". The summer I was going into my senior year of high school, I was asked to come and work for the summer at our local overnight camp. It was a faith-based camp and I was excited to spend the summer with my friends. I had never had a boyfriend, never kissed, and had no sexual experiences. At camp, I met a guy who was hot, cute, and a year older than me. We connected and I would give him rides from camp on the weekends and we would talk. One day, when I was working in the kitchen cutting fruit, he came up behind me and pressed his dick against my ass. He grabbed me by the hips and commented on how nice my ass was. I was shocked and froze. I just stood there until he left, and waited to unfreeze. I was so confused. That wasn't what my first sexual experience was supposed to be like. But also, was that the only way to get a guy to like me? By having a nice body? I felt ashamed that part of me didn't hate it either. I moved on with the summer but kept a distance from him. Partially out of being anxious about him, but also because I didn't know how to approach him after what happened. Maybe I was overreacting? But I might- could have liked it? In the last two weeks of the summer, a new guy joined our kitchen team. We spent a lot of time in there prepping for meals, cleaning up, and hanging out, so we began to talk a lot. We would hang together after our shifts and sneak off to go look at the rivers and streams around the camp. One weekend, he needed a ride home and I offered to drive him since he only lived a few streets away. On the drive down, he was asking if I had ever had a boyfriend, kissed someone, and had sex. I said that I hadn't experienced any of that and he was shocked. He said that if we had met sooner, he would have asked to date me sooner. He called me beautiful. He said I was his favorite person. We pulled into town and I said I needed to stop by the house to use the restroom. He came into the house- my parents were out of town for the weekend for my little brother's birthday. When I got out of the bathroom, I found him in my room looking at my photos, my quote wall, and my bed. I said that I should probably take him home and he said he read his schedule wrong and had plenty of time. He hopped on my bed and patted it for me to sit next to him. I had a pit in my stomach but pushed through because I didn't want to seem cool or interested. We sat on the bed and he brought up how we should cuddle and take a nap. I said okay, and I lay on his chest. It was nice and I remember thinking, this is how I dreamed it being. He smelled like Irish Spring and boy, which was the best to me then. I heard my phone buzz, so I turned over. I clicked it, and when I turned back, he kissed me. He stuck his tongue in my mouth and kissed me. When he pulled back I said, "What did you do that for?" I was pissed. He said that he wanted my first kiss to be special. I was shocked and said okay because what else do you say when a boy kisses you and is in your bed? He wanted me to practice so we made out for a while. In the middle of that, he said it would be hot to have me on top. I didn't think that would do anything other than get it over faster, so I sat on him while he kissed me. He began grinding into me, touching me, and trying to get his hands in my pants. When he began trying to take my shirt off, I said no. I said it 3 more times before he stopped. We ended up laying down and "sleeping"- he slept, and I lay with my eyes wide open. When I took him home, he kissed me. I got to my house and felt shell shocked shame, embarrassment, and confusion. This was supposed to happen? This is how it was supposed to go. Why was this the first kiss I got, God? My parents found out a few weeks later that he came over and harassed me about it to no end. They accused me of sleeping with him, of being a disappointment to the family, and of ruining myself for my husband. I shut down. I tried to see him again, but after 10 minutes with him, I made an excuse and never talked to him again. I worked with a person who knew what happened and knew the guy who assaulted me. I picked him up to go to church with me one Sunday and he told me that he talked to the guy the night before about me and what happened. He said that the guy told him that he would have gone all the way with me if I hadn't bitched so much. That was his goal, and all he said was that I had a great ass and tits. 2 years ago, I began working for a domestic violence/ sexual assault agency. I got my SA Advocate certificate to accompany victims while they got their rape kits done. I had not realized until after my training that what happened to me was sexual assault. I convinced myself that because I wasn't raped meant that I wasn't a victim of that. Then I went to the Conference for work. And every workshop and seminar I went in was so triggering. I was driving home from the conference and it hit me- the severity of what happened and how bad it was. I told a friend who had been assaulted and she told me that I had been. That it wasn't my fault. I was a sheltered 17-year-old who had no clue or education about any of it. A few months ago, I sat in on a rape kit exam for a 17-year-old. For 6 hours I watched this kid have exams no 17-year-old should have. I played Taylor Swift while a nurse collected DNA on their body. I sang Billie Eilish and held their hand as they got a pap smear. I lied and said that I had had a pap smear before to make them more comfortable. And when it was done, and I dropped them off, I broke. I sobbed because that should have never happened. I sobbed because if my attempted rape had gone through to completion, my parents would have never taken me to get a kit done. I would have never had access to resources like this kid would. And no one believed me and everyone believed this kid. My therapist has diagnosed me with C-PTSD and it has changed my life. I had to pull out of advocacy because every moment was a flashback. I had to go on stress leave for 2 weeks because I couldn't stop crying at work. It has been one of the hardest and most unexplainable experiences of my life. I flinch when people yell, or there is a sudden noise. It is insane. I know that some good has to come from all of this. I have met and worked with children and adults who have experienced worse than me and they survived. My advice would be to reach out and get help. You are truly not alone. This should never have happened to you. And you don't know how sorry and heartbroken I am that it did. Thank you for being here and reading my story. I don't know what the rest of my healing looks like, but I am fighting for it.

we'd been on and off for months and i went to an event as his date. it was college and i was young and stupid. we went drink for drink and i blacked out. he told me a month later that we'd had sex that night, even though he knew i didn't want to. after that, whenever i'd tell him no, he would beg and plead and take my clothes off one at a time until i gave in. it took me three months and a failed attempt to take my own life before i left him. that was more than a year ago and every time i see him it feels like being shot.

I was sexually assaulted while living abroad for college. I did not accept what had happened to me for some months and allowed my life to spin out of control. I am doing better for myself now and picking up the pieces after having accepted the reality. But I am finding it harder and harder to process and work though the thought of memories of the incident. It feels like im taking one step forward and two steps back. Luckily I have people who I confided in but I feel like asking to talk about it is too much to ask. I can still feel everything, it hurts in my body and I hate that this happened to me and I want so badly to move on.

I was raped several times in college by my then-boyfriend. I was incredibly in love with him, and it was my first relationship. I remember thinking maybe what was happening was "normal" because I had never dated before and didn't know any better. It caused me to spiral deep into alcohol use and I ended up being hospitalized several times as a result. He would always get angry at me for bringing up that I wanted to report him or seek help, and kept telling me if I sought help, he'd be raped in prison and we'd never have a future together. He would also threaten to kill himself when I wanted to call the police. That was 9 years ago and it still hurts every day. He tried to make me believe I was a monster and that I was the one who abused him. I wish I knew what he thought today. If he still refuses to acknowledge what he did and still is able to convince himself I was the monster. It hurts a lot, and even now sometimes I still think of our good times together. I worry I won't ever find a love like the "good love" we had together again. I miss the sweet moments with him. He was the person I "lost" my virginity too and it hurts so bad knowing I'll never get that back. It was supposed to be special for me. I don't hate him. But I hate what he did, and I hate that he didn't take accountability. I think maybe he was scared. But I was scared too, and I still tried to protect him. It hurts a lot. I think about it nearly every day nearly a decade later and still struggle because of it. I often wish I were "normal" and wonder about the life I could have had if I had never met him.

I went through this kind of thing twice in my lifetime. Once as a child and once as an adult too. I know I'm not alone. There are many who have had this twice sometimes more in a lifetime mine the first one happened when I was 6 to 8 years old. The second one I was much older in my late thirties. Having been through it twice in a lifetime takes allot out of you but somehow you persevere even if you don't think you can. My adult one happened in my last foster home.Tt happened over 4 years I was trying to keep the peace in my home. And he took advantage. I want everyone to know I'm ok now I live in a better place now. Just sometimes it overshadows me. And I know it's not my fault. Thanks for listening.

I don't know, I don't know who to go to. I don't know if l'm being overdramatic because l've been taken advantage of before. And I really hope nobody I know finds this because they'll know it's me. I don't know if I'm just convincing myself he's a bad person because I finally have something good. I haven't been able to eat good without nausea and it's been 2 days since | drunk and hang overs don't usually last that long. I haven't eaten today at all and what happened has been keeping me up at night. God, I feel like a little kid again writing this about my ex. Me and my boyfriend decided to drink and smoke weed together. I'm a fast drinker sometimes and unfortunately l am a very low weight. He brought something that had only a 14% alcohol level or whatever. I must've drunk around half of the bottle and I can't remember him drinking that much, because he was talking a lot but he was holding the bottle for most of the time. I got really drunk while we were outside and I couldn't walk anymore AT ALL. I fell into a tree and he had to walk me to his house because I had to use the bathroom. We get in there and I use the bathroom and trip in his shower. After he helps me to his room because he said we should go up I think. And later on, I start to record so I could know what happened. In the video I'm repeatedly asking him if he was sober or as drunk as me. And I told him I wasn't in control at all. I was confused on where I was and I kept asking him where I was. I spilled water on me and a couple minutes later I asked why I was wet because I totally had forgotten that happened. I also could not see at all and I'm staring right into the phone camera asking if I was recording him or me. I don't remember a lot from this point, just what I have from like the 40 minutes of recording. We played my favorite artist. I was singing really bad lol and I was asking him if I could smoke his pen and he gave it to me a couple of times and never said no (imo he should have, I couldn't walk by myself and could only crawl) I started to become really touchy, like laying my head in his lap, caressing his arms, putting my hand on his upper thigh, and once I accidentally moved my hand against his crouch or something. Hard to explain. He was caressing my neck or wrapping his hand around it. He was also putting his fingers sort of in my mouth or on my mouth. One time when a finger did go in my mouth, I moved my head back. Another time, I did move his hand from my neck onto my mouth because it felt warm. Either he was laying right next to me or my head was in his lap most of the time. I'm sorry this is so confusing I'm doing it all out of order. And just talking about what he did. In one clip, which made me uncomfortable maybe the most, as I was laying close to him and our faces were facing eachother, I asked him "did we kiss?" (I asked him if we kissed earlier, in none of the videos it shows us kissing at all) and he must have thought I asked him to kiss me. He didn't say anything and just leaned in to kiss me, then I started repeating "no, no,no". And I started squirming. He grabs my arm and maybe pulls me a little closer but I can't tell, it looks like he's grabbing something behind me a bit but he's saying "sorry, I'm sorry" and then I asked if he was playing my favorite music artist. In other clips, it looks like he's trying to kiss me. Like when I'm under him and he's grabbing my chin and he's getting closer but then I realize then I start to move away. I was really drunk, but I remember being so scared he was going to do something bad to me that I recorded to know what happened, I told him don't let me do anything bad, that I trusted him, and that I was scared and not in control. He was drunk as well but he didn't really seem very drunk. He said he wasn't as drunk as me while I kept asking and asking. I remember that in 2 hours I started crying and asking for my dad and I was really scared and I was gonna ask him for a pregnancy test. I know we didn't do anything super sexual like that, because I would've felt pain. There are some gaps in the recording of time, and I do not know what happened between those minutes. I don't think I would have kissed him but I cant remember at all. He told me we kissed 3 times and that they were about 4 seconds. I don't think he had any bad intentions and I feel bad for posting this, I don't think he's a bad guy. I still love him and I don't think I'll break up with him. I don't know if I see a boner or not in the videos, idk what one rily looks like lol. I do know that he has a enc kink from what he's talked to me about over text while I was on drugs. (Such as sleeping and me falling

I was raped by my uncle when I was 11 years old. Most of my family didn't believe me. That was really painful and prevented me from getting the support and help I needed at the time. I developed an eating disorder and started self-harming as a trauma response. I had no other way of coping. I wish I had known more about SA when I was younger. Not to prevent it because I believe that it's the perpetrator that makes the choice to harm. But to understand that it wasn't my fault, that I was a victim and to report it when I still had time.

Last year I disclosed information to my counselor about my husband abusing our son and my daughter, as well me for 20 years. She had to contact DCF and I had no idea. So she did, and they contacted me. I told them in great detail about the horrible abuse and fear we lived under. I gave them video proof and explained that both of my children were trauma bonded and I wanted them to be in counseling. Location DCF assured me they wouldn't let him know that I spoke to my counselor because it was putting me at risk of more domestic violence. They came to our home and they asked everyone but me questions separately. They then told my husband that I was the one who told my counselor. I heard one caseworker say it to him on the front porch. He began to use his narcissistic skills to persuade them to think differently and they got duped. They couldn't even spot that my children were traumatized and trying to protect their abuser by lying about the abuse. I have 0 faith in Location dept of Children and Families, and I never will. Yesterday, we were held in our home and once again were hurt. I tried to film it and my teenage daughter told her father he was being filmed.. She's so trauma bonded that she didn't care if her own mother was trying to protect the family from the monster in our home. He knows the police due to his involvement at the church but no one knows what goes on behind our doors. He tells us that if we try to come against him he will end us. After so much pain, we can't help but believe him. Please pray if you pray. Don't judge me because if you knew how much I've reached out only to have him narcissist his way out of being held accountable you would be here still trying to protect your children too.