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When I was in my early to mid 20s, I experienced my first serious relationship. It took me more than 2 years to notice I was being manipulated, gaslighted, and psychologically abused. I lost myself in that relationship, I felt like a different person, constantly depressed, and lacking self love. My firsts attempts in getting out of that relationship were useless, he manipulated me into believing I was the problem and that I was the one who needed to change. I was cheated on multiple times, he didn’t want to say end time sith me or my family. I always founf myself making up excuses for him. He made me think that everything was my fault and that I was asking for too much of him. When I decided to leave him, he made me feel like I was the problem and like I was a burden to him. It’s hard to identify when the abuse is psychological, you’re not crazy, you’re not wrong for asking for attention, for dates, for quality time, which I never had with him. Don’t let anyone, humiliate, control, gaslight, or diminish you! You deserve love, support, peace, attention, RESPECT! Try to identify the red flags on that questionable relationship, it’ll get better and it’s never too late.

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

In Mexico, it's estimated that at least two people are raped every hour. I didn't know this statistic until recently. When I was abused, I minimized what had happened to me. I thought, "There are girls who are raped and tortured, they die, or they're never found again, so why would my case matter? I'm a man, how can anyone believe that a man suffered sexual abuse?" You see, I'm 22 years old. It was just a regular day. I had recently broken up with a partner, and a "friend" from high school, who was once my ex, messaged me. She replied to one of my Instagram stories, and we started talking. It had been a long time since I'd seen her. She said, "What do you think about meeting up on Monday?" I agreed and said, "Sure, let's go for coffee." She lives alone, so the idea of going to her place and eating didn't seem bad to me, like two mature adults. She said, "Let's go to a coffee shop," and I said, "Okay." We were going to be at the coffee shop for two hours because she had to leave for an appointment afterward, and I had an errand to run. Halfway through coffee, her mother called and canceled her appointment, so she didn't have to leave. After that, we went to a nearby bar, had a couple of drinks, and played a game of pool. While we were playing, she seduced me and kissed me, which at first didn't seem unpleasant. After a while, we decided to go to her place. We arrived, and obviously, the idea was to kiss, make out, and leave. I didn't have condoms, and I didn't want to go any further because I had doubts. I still didn't know if I wanted to get back with my ex, so I was holding back or if I wanted to go further. We got to her room and started kissing, rubbing, and a little touching. We started to We started undressing, and I decided not to take my pants off. She insisted, and I awkwardly said, "Fine." I stayed in my underwear, and we continued kissing. After that, she climbed on top of me. This girl wasn't heavier than me, but she was still heavy. When she got on top, I felt something strange: she wasn't on my pelvis but on my stomach. She kept kissing me, and at some point, I ran out of breath. I could still breathe, but I felt too weak to move her. She said, "I want you to put it in," to which I replied, "No, I don't have any condoms, and honestly, I'd rather not do it that way." She told me she had the implant for health reasons, to prevent pregnancy. I immediately said, "It doesn't matter. Pregnancy isn't the only thing I'm worried about. I don't have any condoms, maybe another day." She didn't say anything and kept kissing me. After a while, she lowered her hand, pulled out my penis, and I tried to remove her hands. I said, "Stop, I don't want to." She didn't seem to hear what I said. "Wait, you're not going to like it. I recently had an infection, and it's better this way." So, she said, "Oh yeah, an infection?" I didn't know what to say at first, and she said, "That's a lie." She put it in, sat down completely, and after a few seconds, I ejaculated. Uncomfortably, I said, "Okay, I'm done, I can't do any more." Despite that, she stayed sitting on top of me, in the exact same position. I said, "Okay, we're finished, please move." She said no, that it had been too quick and that she wasn't satisfied yet. I said maybe another day. She noticed my discomfort and asked, "What's wrong?" I said, "I have a lot on my mind. Can you move?" She still ignored me and said, "I can't get pregnant, and if you're worried, it's been a year since I've been with anyone. I don't have anything." I said, "That's not it." Out of ideas, I said, "I'm running out of air." She shifted a little to the side, and when I could breathe again, I was able to move her. I started to get dressed, and she, still naked, grabbed my clothes, hugged them, and didn't want to give them to me. She started saying, "So you're going to abandon me?" You'll leave me here naked, come on, let me clean you with my mouth, wait a bit and let's continue, or sleep here. I told her it was late, that I had to go home and couldn't stay. Still holding my clothes in her arms and refusing to give them to me, I said, "Fine, I'll come back another day." She said, "Okay, but you'll stay that day." I said yes, that it was no problem. Only then did she let go of my clothes and give them to me. I got dressed and left, got in a taxi, and started texting my best friend. At that moment, I felt stupid and had never felt so vulnerable. I kept blaming myself and telling myself over and over, "If you hadn't gone, everything would be fine." I talked to my best friend and my therapist, and later to a support group, and they all said the same thing: it was rape. I stopped crying and started telling myself, "You can't be that stupid." I started minimizing it, and as I said at the beginning, I kept repeating to myself, "There are girls who don't come back, they're drugged, raped, and tortured. They're never..." We met, you went to her house, you drank with her, you agreed to make out, how can you call that abuse? Yet I still feel guilty, I feel empty, alone, and very scared—scared of an STD, scared to tell anyone, and even scared to admit it. I can't help but think that maybe I was the one to blame, that I shouldn't be complaining, and that if I tell anyone, they'll just say, "Why are you complaining about it?"

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

I feel anger toward my father. To me, my father is a monster. He's bound by patriarchy. He's been a very problematic person since I was a child. He was verbally and physically abusive toward my mother. He had a big attitude at home. He put on a good face. My father moved around a lot due to his job, but I ended up skipping school. I was sexually assaulted in high school and went to a mental health clinic, which led to him calling me weird. I loved creating, but he said that was weird too. My older sister was also a victim of my father, but she was always smiling, no matter what my father did to her. He was emotionally attached to her. He was like a lover or a mother to me. I was rebellious, so he ignored me. My father used me and sexually harassed me (he did the same to me), and even when I told others, I was only victimized. He sometimes spoke as if he were some kind of great person. He was abusive toward my mother. Weird women give birth to weird children. Women become weird when they get their period. I myself wondered why I created art, and at times considered getting tested for Asperger's syndrome. I quit, but... My older sister was exploited by another man, married him, and committed suicide on their wedding anniversary. As my father gets older, I feel nothing but anger toward him, and in Japan, there's a culture that makes it seem like we have to take care of our fathers. My father deserved it, and I want him to take his sins to the afterlife, but unfortunately, he has surprisingly not changed his behavioral principles. Perpetrators never change. My mother's cognitive function is declining slightly. I may be the one who survives in the end, even though I'm the only one who's completely devastated. I'm wondering whether I should be present at his end or go to his funeral, but at this stage, I don't have any plans to be present or go to the funeral. I also have some memory loss about where my father's hometown is. On exhausted nights, I sometimes wish I could die. My doctor recommended that I publish my creative work. I'm considering my interests (Western music, etc.), the fact that I've earned a certain number of credits from a correspondence university, and the fact that I took the Eiken exam a long time ago. Taking these factors into account, I'm pondering how I want to live the rest of my life. Part of me is social anxiety, so I'm a recluse. Is my life worth living? There is still no answer.

hi, i cant believe im writing this out but here goes TW:mentions of cocsa recently ive been dealing with a memory that has resurfaced when i committed cocsa on my little brother who is 3 years younger than me. I was abt 11 years old, maybe 12 and was exposed to adult sexual content at a very young age and experienced cocsa a few times throughout my childhood. i even vaguely remember being coerced as a 2-3 year old into doing oral on another kid (although i don't remember if i did it, i just remember bits and pieces). i ended up doing oral on my brother once bc i was curious and i regret it so much. i remember feeling shame a little bit after, almost like i realized it was wrong and feeling awful but really blocking it out for a while. i adore my brother so much and it makes me so sad that i did that to someone i should have protected. he is also on the spectrum which makes me feel so much worse because he truly must have been so confused and it makes it difficult for me to gauge if its affecting him and how to navigate it. we have a good relationship today but i was also mean to him as a kid due to the stress of having to be somewhat of a caregiver to him. ive only told my mom in hopes that she can look out for him and get him the help he needs but i feel so so terrible and its been eating me alive. after the event, i honestly became really uncomfortable with sex in general, stopped watching porn and now even as a young adult i feel stunted, ive never even had my first kiss. how can i move forward and do i even deserve to?

I’ve been in a harmful relationship for almost two years, my abusive ex would shame me no matter what I did or do. He would imply that I’m someone I’m not. He would make fun of my body, even though I’m underweight, no matter what I said he thought of it as a joke and that I don’t “listen to him” all I’ve done was try to love someone who was toxic. I admit I wasn’t perfect, but he would act like he’s innocent and tried to rip me away from my family. I’ve lost friends, lost myself. I feel as if I’m not the person who I was before. I’ve sacrificed my life just to be loved by him but it wasnt worth it all. All I can do is grieve and go to therapy, he made fun of me for going to therapy, and thought it was a joke. He’s ruined my life and I grieve for the sweet girl I was before. He’s put things in my head that we’re never there before, and I’ve cried my eyes out multiple times with him not caring at all, my family worries about me a lot, the people that loved me has seen me break down multiple times. He wanted to break me down into his doll. He claimed that I never loved him but I’ve spent so much time on him, I’ve given more than I received, more than I needed to. He used power dynamics on me, every time I would stand up for myself, he always found a way to bring me down. No matter what.

I KNOW that right now there is someone who needs to hear this story (please see questions below). YOU wanted him. He was the most handsome boy in the neighbourhood and every girl wanted him - BUT - he raped you. It has taken 27 years for me to acknowledge the tipping point of my decent into sexual promiscuity and substance abuse. I always blamed myself for the choice to be in that room with him - I asked for it. Right? Wrong. I remember saying NO - at least 30 times!!! At least 30 times. He was the most handsome guy that I had ever seen. Every girl wanted him and I thought that I was good enough to have him. I wanted to talk to him and wanted to be alone with him for a chance to be in sight to be his girlfriend. Instead. I remember being pinned down and saying No - over and over and over again until I gave in. I even remember his words: "You are not leaving this room until I get what I want". I eventually gave in and did it and I always blamed myself for being in that position in the 1st place. I was not a virgin. I was not innocent. I was a naughty teenager - just like everyone else was at that stage - but I now know that I did not ask or deserve what I got in the room that day. I always thought that in order to be regarded as a victim of sexual abuse - that you needed to have bruises. Be bleeding. Have ripped or torn panties - SOMETHING!!!!!! To prove that this horrible thing had happened to me. I had to relocate to another city to run from my past but I could not escape my sense of worthlessness. I am not a psychologist - I only know that there are some of you reading this to even figure out if you were raped in the 1st place? I can only give you some questions, that it took me 27 years to find. I wish for you to heal faster than I did. 1. Did you say no? More than once - many times. He was not violent - you were just exhausted from saying NO and you needed to escape and so saying yes was the only way to get out of the room/car - whatever the place was. 2. Were you exposed to a sexually charged situation - without asking for it? e.g. pornography playing, without your consent to be exposed to this content. 3. Did the situation leave you feeling degraded? 4. Have you or are you using your sexuality (looks) as a a way of acceptance? 5. The opposite of the above is - do you feel uncomfortable looking pretty or drawing attention to your good looks? You dress in a manner that covers up your good looks. 6. You try to look different from the person at that stage when it happened. You have black hair - so you go blonde? You were thin and so you pick up weight. You lost weight. You changed something major about your looks. The movie "The accused" is a brutal example of this - whereby she shaves all of her hair off. Does this sound familiar? In some or other way - this brutal change of looks does manifest after abuse. 5. You have trouble looking at yourself in the mirror - or even taking pictures is hard for you. 5. Do you have trouble saying NO? To anyone.... 6. Do you allow verbal or psychological abuse? Deep down you know this is happening. It feels uncomfortable. A good place to dissect this is if you have a degrading boss/spouse but you have not reported him to HR/Police and you just keep on working/staying there. I hope that this is published. I know that I am not a professional BUT I am a survivor. AND finally I have the courage to say so. Name. YOU raped me. You changed the trajectory of my life. I made myself small since then. I allowed perpetual abuse into my life since then BUT today IT STOPS. I forgive you for a being a 17 year old boy - who raped a 15 year old girl. I know that in YOUR head - you know what you did that day was wrong and you have paid the price ever since, just as much as I have, ever since that day. MOST importantly. I want YOU - the victim to know, that you are RIGHT. It WAS rape and you are not stupid. Or fat, or ugly. Or not worthy. And no amount of "fake" compensation will ever fix the void in your soul until you are willing to admit - that you were indeed raped. From there - your healing will be begin. I wish you abundant self love and may you never ever again, doubt that you are worthy of the highest level of (self) love. I know that you wanted to him to validate your worth that day.......BUT only you can validate you. Know that he has no power over you anymore. Only you do and stop allowing this moment and the resulting degrading experiences, to define you any further. IT was not your fault. It will never be your fault. Forgive yourself. Love yourself. AMEN.

It was shortly after I had turned twenty when it happened. I had met him on a night out 1.5 years before while I was traveling and we had hit it off. He was the first guy I really really liked and to my 18 year old self it seemed like love at first sight. I had never experienced anything as intense before. We went on a date but nothing more than a goodnight kiss happened. After I went back home we periodically kept in touch. Come next year, and I flew back to visit a good friend of mine. He knew that I would be in town again and we made plans to catch up. As soon as we saw each other again all the butterflies came rushing back. We went to a bar, had some wine and a great conversation and everything seemed so easy and good. That night we slept together the first time. It also was my first time and I wanted it to be with him. He was gentle, caring and much more concerned about my wellbeing than his pleasure. He communicated constantly. He asked if I was okay. I fell asleep in his arms that night thinking how lucky I was. So I was completely blindsided for what happened the next time I slept at his place. He asked me if I wanted to come over to his apartment for a movie night and a sleepover. I was a bit hesitant to say yes. Not because I didn't want to see or be with him in general but because I had gotten my period a day or two before and I knew I didn't want to sleep with him during that time. But I didn't want to text him that, so I agreed and thought I would just let him know in person when it came to that point. (Did I mention I was super naive?) I was so sure that, even if a little disappointed, he would understand me. That it would be enough for him to just cuddle and be together. Especially after that first night it never even crossed my mind once that he might not respect my boundaries. But I was wrong. While watching the movie we had started kissing and making out a bit - all of which I was totally on board with. He had started to undress me and when I was just in my underwear I told him to pause. I explained to him that I was on my period and that I was sorry but I couldn't sleep with him that night because of that. He told me it didn't matter, that it wasn't weird or gross or anything like that. That it was normal. That it didn't bother him. Which was all nice and good but this wasn't about him. It was about me being uncomfortable and weirded out by the idea. Not to mention that I had just started being intimate with someone and period-sex was the absolute last thing on my mind I wanted to try out. So I kept saying "I don't know", "I'm not sure", "But it still feels weird..." and we dropped the conversation and went back to kissing. In my mind I had told him I didn't want to go further and that the matter was settled, even though I didn't outright say no again and I wasn't very firm in the way I was speaking. But maybe he thought I was reluctantly agreeing? Because just a few minutes later he was on top of me, asked me if I was "ready" and before I could even process what was happening he pushed himself inside of me. He didn't wait for an answer. I can't even recall him removing my slip or putting on a condom. I just froze. I couldn't move or speak. I didn't dare tell him that he had just pushed the tampon I was (obviously??) using inside of me and that I was in pain, because I was so ashamed. Somehow, I thought it was may responsibility to let him know beforehand and that I had neglected that responsibility. I prayed he didn't notice. My mind couldn't understand what was going on and how the situation could have taken such a turn in a matter of minutes. I couldn't for the life of me comprehend how that was the same person who had been so incredibly gentle and caring before. How was it possible that now he didn't look me in the eyes, kiss me or ask me if I was okay? How could he not notice that I wasn't making a sound or participating at all? Or was I just being overly sensitive? So I laid there and waited for it to be over, trying to hide my face from him because I wasn't sure what kind of emotion it was showing. After he was finished he threw away the condom and came back into bed. He gave me the same shirt to sleep in as he had done the last time. I was still in the same spot where he had left me. When he crawled under the blanket next to me I thought, no I hoped, that he would pull me close to him. That we would cuddle again until one of us fell asleep. I needed to feel some sense of normality. But instead, without saying a word, he turned me around so that I would face the wall instead of him. Then he went to sleep as if nothing had happened. I felt so used. So dirty. So empty. So hurt. Like a toy you could put back into its box after you were done playing with it. When he was asleep I tiptoed to the bathroom to clean myself up and quickly try to remove the tampon. Without the little string visible tho it was impossible to do that and I didn't want to take too much time in the bathroom as to not arise any suspicion. So I went back to bed and tried to fall asleep. The next morning I got back to my friends apartment and she asked me how it was. I smiled. I said it was a great night. I told her about my little tampon predicament without mentioning how exactly it came to that and made fun of myself. I joked about how awkward of a trip to an Obgyn that would be. We laughed about it. Eventually I got it out myself. Over the next weeks I saw him again a few times in group settings. We were super weird and awkward around each other. I hoped we would return back to normal. I still had feelings for him and I wanted him to like and want me too. But we never got back to how it was before and eventually our situationship faded out and left me feeling conflicted and confused. But still I told myself over and over again that what had happened that night wasn't that big of a deal and that it was just a bad experience, like everyone has from time to time. That it was a case of miscommunication. That he didn't mean to overstep my boundaries. It took me over two years to question this self-created narrative. Then it took another year to finally and truly admit to myself that that night wasn't consensual. He didn't need to use any force or threat for it to be wrong. Even if it didn't fit the descriptions of SA that I was taught, I knew that something happened that should't have. It was freaking painful to realise. And still I felt like somehow I didn't have the right to feel that affected by what had happened. It wasn't a clear cut situation. It was more like this grey area and I didn't know where to place my experience. But maybe it doesn't need a specific category to still count. It's been over 5 years since it happened and I only really started my healing journey about fifteen months ago. I'm still not completely over the feelings of shame, guilt, betrayal, confusion and anger. Often I still feel numb and detached. But there are good phases as well. I just need to get to a point where this event doesn't dictate my life anymore. Where the memory is only an interruption of the good times and not the other way around. A few months ago I told a friend of mine. Her understanding and support helped in more ways than I thought. It was frightening to open myself up to someone but now I'm glad I did. My next step will be to start therapy. I'll close that chapter and move on with my life. And then I'll see where to go from there.

I was so shocked. Being a single parent my career and professionalism means everything - including basic financial survival. I work for a small male dominated company. Part of my compensation includes a house on the property. I offered one of the rooms as a temporary conference room - 5 years later I had a growing side business and communicated with the appropriate 30 day notice that at the end of the year I would like to take this space in my home back. That set the owner off. He is emotionally unbalanced but I had no idea he would isolate me - came into the office barking for everyone to leave, he wanted to talk to me. Then he cornered me and after what seemed like very rehearsed rantings he talked about he and his wife’s $10k hobbies and in the same breath leaned forward leering and said “I bet your afraid some man is going to lock you in your basement and rape your ass”. I was speechless, and breathless - thinking he is having knee replacement surgery - if he moved closer I could kick that knee . . When he was done ranting at me - he wanted a hug. I was so throughly disgusted - but afraid - so with tears down my face gave him a hug - I just wanted it to end, for him to leave . . I had my first panic attack as soon as he left, I had my next one the next day. A week later I had stroke level HBP - and made sure to document this with my physician. When I finally told someone, I had such a physical reaction I was admitted to the CCU - Cardiac Care Unit for a few days. While I have not had a similar encounter since, I do have pepper spray and a knife in 6 places in and around where I work and live.

So I am currently in a gap year and it has given me a lot of time to think about my future but also my past. I was 9 when it happen, I remember quite a bit and it has been jarring to look at that memory 10 years later. My cousin she was 12 at the time. I was visiting like I normally did at the time but this visit was different as we were left alone in the house for a better part of the day. We were going to take a bath together like we would normally do but then she said she had something to show me while the water was running. She went into her parents room and came back with a magazine, it was a porn magazine. She closed the toilet seat and said that she wanted me to do what some of the men and women in the magazine were doing to her. We kissed, touched each other, and rubbed our genitals together. We then went on to bath and she didn't really say anything after we were done and I didn't really know how to feel because she was all smiles and happy and I was out of it and I think I have been out of it for most of my life because I have never told anybody what happened. It honestly feels like an out of body experience thinking back on it because it was basically buried in my subconscious and It has affected a lot of my life. I don't know if she remembers but I do, and she's meant to come over for Christmas and I don't know what to do because I basically cut off all communication once I remembered what happened. And we are meant to be super close but I don't know how I am meant to interact with her.

This girl who did this to me, everyone thought we were sisters we were so close but here’s my story… Throughout being 9-13 I was molested by my cousin who is a year younger than me I know it sounds weird but we knew from a young age that she had things wrong with her. Her mum is a drug addict who’s been in and out her life for as long as I can remember I grew up with her and we were always so close. I never saw anything wrong with what she was doing because she made it into games so I didn’t see that there was anything wrong with it. I also have mental issues but when I started to realise what she was doing was more than “games” I didn’t stay at my grandads for a while because we used to spend every weekend there together. But then the last 6 months of lockdown she had to come live with me and I had never told anyone what she had been doing to me but nothing happens threw out the 6 months because we didn’t have to share a bed thankfully I had a cabin bed which is like a bunk bed and she was in a mattress on the floor and one night I heard making weird noises and I looked over to see her masterbating but never said a word. Then afterwords she went to live with her sister which she still does now and my grandad told us he bought two beds so we didn’t have to share whenever we came over anymore and he got me a cabin bed so I was fine so I stayed there a couple times and nothing happened so I started trusting her again and then one night she made us make a den like we used to when she was. Younger I didn’t want to but she said “well I’m already having a bad day your just making it worse” so I just did make it then I woke up and she was raping me but I couldn’t move all I could do was cry but she didn’t notice then we she stopped all I could hear was her finishing herself off and then she kissed me on the top of my back which to this day makes me feel so dirty but then I could move I grabbed my shorts put them on grabbed my phone ran out side and called my dad and he came and got me and he asked her what she was doing and she just sat there saying she didn’t do anything to this day j haven’t spoke to her and she’s tried to get in touch with me multiple times. Also she told her sister that she doesn’t get why she doesnt talk to me anymore I hate her I hate her I could never tel my family the details and how long she actually did it for all they know about is that one night.

The first time I remember being abused I believe I was 7 year old. My first abuser was my father. He sexually assaulted me while I pretended to be sleeping. I told my younger brother who told my mother. My mother made me tell her what happened and no one ever talked about it again. I didn't see my father for 7 years. It wasn't until he passed away that I found out he sexually abuse my step sister most of her life. Up until I knew he abused someone else I thought I did something to cause him to do what he did to me. It was early in the morning, maybe my stretching caused him to get on top of me. It seems ridiculous now, but in a 7 years old mind it made sense to me. As an adult, it makes me sad for that little girl to believe she did something to cause it to happen. My next abuser was my Uncle. I don't remember how old I was, possibly younger than 7, but I cannot remember. I remember being at my grandmother's home and my uncles were taking us on motorcycle rides through the woods. On my first ride, one of my uncles decided to put his hands down my pants and play with my vagina, but never quite put his fingers all the way inside my vagina. I remember it feeling good. I wasn't scared, in fact, I wanted to keep going with him on motorcycle rides. The next ride with him, I waited until the same place he first unbuttoned my pants and instead of him doing it, I unbuttoned my pants. I don't know how to feel about that, but right now I feel shame for that little girl so desperate for love and attention. I told my mother and she said, "oh, he was only experimenting" or something like that...kind of like, boys will be boys. I remember feeling hurt by my mother's response and feeling all alone. I don't believe I've ever been the same. I became a very angry little girl. So much so, my mother didn't feel it necessary to tell a man who was 11 years older than me to leave me alone after he made it known he was in love with me. He was her drug dealer so he continued to come around the house and lived what would be a city block away from us but we lived in the country so about 500 yards or less. I was 10 left to tell a grown man to leave me alone while he told me "you love me, you just don't know it yet". What the f*ck is wrong with people?! My mother's second husband was also a very terrifying man. I don't remember much about him, but I remember being afraid all that time. I was 4 and I remember seeing him throw my mother across the room and she hit her head on a radiator and began bleeding. Another time I remember being drug by my hair because I had accidently made noise upstairs. He used a belt on us but I don't remember being hit. I just remember him snapping the belt and hiding. As an adult before my healing journey began I was sexually harassed at work. I did finally speak up to my supervisor, but the man continued. I never spoke up again because clearly that guy wasn't going anywhere and what else could I say or do to make it stop?! Other bosses took advantage of their position of power. I had sex with two men who had say in whether I could keep my job. Afraid if I rejected their advances I would no longer have a position on the team. I felt helpless. All this though...could have been so much worse. So. much. worse. I've heard stories of worse, but this is mine. F*ck people who come to this earth to hurt others. F*ck them. They will never hurt me again.

My body remembers. 6 years ago my oldest sister disclosed to me that she was molested by a family member. Ever since then, I felt out of control and disembodied. I would cry almost every day. I would have panic attacks that lasted hours. I became more and more isolated, and more and more depressed. I was no longer the person I had been and I didn't understand why. A friend gently suggested to me that I seek professional counseling. Therapy wasn't new to me and I had some experience with it as a kid and young adult. But I think I misunderstood the purpose of therapy. I thought therapy could finally answer the question that tormented me my whole life: what's wrong with me? If we could figure that out, then my therapist could fix me. I didn't realize that therapy would actually help throw away that question and ask a new one: what happened to me? I felt confused and even embarrassed that while I didn't have a cognitive memory of being abused, my body seemed to be screaming at me that something happened. I think when my sister shared her experience, these signals in my body started to wake up from hibernation. As I began processing all of this in therapy, things started to make sense. I started forming a vocabulary for my experiences, like shame, addiction, trauma, and somatic memory. Last Fall, I started seeing a new therapist who changed the trajectory of my healing. When I told her that I think I was sexually abused as a kid, she actually believed me. Unlike my other therapists, she didn't go on a rant about how "repressed memories" are a myth. She didn't tell me to "not worry about it" because we'll never know what happened to me. My therapist listened to and affirmed my experiences. Because of this gained trust, I've shared things with her that I've never told anyone. Instead of saying "we'll never know so let's just move on", she says "we may never really know but based on my expertise and your experiences, it's very likely something happened to you, so let's keep talking about it." I felt a suffocating weight release from my shoulders when I realized that somebody believes me. My body has started to heal from years of severe anxiety and depression. I've started pelvic therapy--something I thought I'd never do because I was too scared. I'm more connected and authentic with my friends than I ever have been. I've started gaining traction with sobriety from addictive behaviors. I've even started gaining back some childhood memories. One of the most pivotal moments in my healing so far happened just a few weeks ago. My sister and I have only ever talked about her abuse one other time in the last 6 years. I finally told her "I think something happened to me, too." Despite all the fear and shame that held me back from saying those words to her, she believed me. We talked for over an hour about the abusive behaviors and patterns in my family. I've had a really difficult relationship with my family; so to grow close with my sister is a big deal. I am so grateful to have gained a friend and ally. Perhaps I really will never know what happened to me as a kid, but I'm learning to trust my body. I'm slowly releasing the trauma that's been stored there for so long. And I finally feel confident in sharing my story: Hi, I grew up with multiple predators who abused the women in my family. Though I don't have a cognitive memory, it is very likely I experienced childhood sexual abuse. The trauma in my body is a huge indictor of that abuse and I trust my body. I'm doing my best to heal and to end the generational abuse in my family. Thanks for listening.

I was a freshman at a frat party. I had one drink, which I made myself, but still became incoherent suddenly after about an hour. I don't remember exactly what happened, but I woke up the next morning without my underwear and covered in bruises. I shrugged it off as a crazy, messy night of college drinking and my friends did too, but secretly I was terrified.

My mother had me very young and she has always used that against me. She was only 15 when she had me and I am the oldest of four children. I have always been her punching bag I was taught to abide listen obey never disagree to always be truthful and honest with her, but her to never be truthful and honest with herself nor other others Anytime she did something wrong or anytime she made a mistake. She blamed me. She would become aggressive, both physically and verbally when I would not agree her form of punishment prior to intervention was to use a belt that had metal G’s all the way across it. One time she had this belt buckle that had a metal dragon as the belt buckle itself, and it was fairly large and she used that to hit me very hard with as an adult the abuse continued, and the family always made excuses for her and ignoring my heart, ignoring my pain and taught me that we’re just supposed to allow her behavior because she had such a bad childhood or I would say that my childhood wasn’t as bad as hers down playing my emotions down playing my feelings and downplaying the abuse that she in fact did to me and specifically me more so than anyone else. And because I grew up making excuses for her behavior, her actions her words because I grew up believing every hard horse thing she said about me was true, even though I knew in my heart it wasn’t but because she would get other people in the family to believe her and listen to her or she would cut me off so that I could not speak or she would say no one wants to hear all of that But what she really meant when she said no one wants to hear all of that is you won’t get the chance to tell your truth now is a 33-year-old mother I have decided I can no longer make excuses for her. I can no longer allow her to get away with her behavior. I can no longer allow my kids to be around her. Because though they may be safe around her, her physical, emotional and mental abuse on me in front of them is not acceptable and I know that as they get older, the abuse will begin on them too. I have found myself in multiple different relationships, where the dynamic is exactly the same because that’s what I was used to. That’s what I was taught was acceptable. That’s what I was taught to think is OK or to make excuses . Whenever I disagreed whenever I pointed out something she was wrong about even as an adult she would hit me kick me out. Throw my things call other family members and tell them her side because only her side can be truthful and never give me the chance to say mine or hope that like I usually did I would just say nothing and allow her her peace so that no judgment would be passed on to her. Because after all her childhood was in fact worse than mine, her abuse was in fact worse than mine and I just can’t allow it anymore. I’ve had to block my entire family because as I am struggling with the same dynamic with my children’s dad, I could no longer take it from her. Who’s home I had fled to to get away from the same dynamic in abuse For the kids and I and had no job so I had nowhere else to go even though my psychiatrist therapist told me to go to a shelter I did not listen because my mother told me that I would for sure lose my kids if I did that, but now I’ve had to do that Because even though their dad and his controlling manipulative, gaslighting and financial control was awful. It wasn’t physical so now I’m fighting two demons at the same time while knowing in my heart that this is not my fault this is not me. I am not the problem in these relationships. The problem is that I have been taught to accept this since the very beginning my mother tried to get me hospitalized saying that I’m crazy and that I need help even though that’s already worked before and I’ve gone and all I have been diagnosed with his anxiety and depression. My children’s father tries to say the same thing, but my therapist and my psychiatrist has assured me multiple times time and time again if that is not the case that saying that sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me is not true for me. Words hurt the most because I don’t know whether to believe them or not And without the physical, it’s almost like I’ve been taught to make excuses and trust everyone or anything that they anyone says because at least they didn’t hit me right but then when she does hit me and she lies and says I hit her first when I made that decision at a very young age to never have the same type of relationship she and her mother had to never hit her and I never had until yesterday at 33 years old, but she did in fact hit me first as she always has. She did in fact a tip to get me to fight her, but rather than fight her after I shoved her off of me and slapped her one good time which she had coming rapped her all these years of abuse torture manipulation, telling me that she’s going to cancel my Lawyer fee and tell the credit card company that it was me who took her phone and made the payment that she never authorized It That she’s going to help my kids. Dad take the kids away from me that I need more help because I wouldn’t agree with her and try to rationalize with her yet again about how it’s not fair that someone could not possibly be lying about me because I’m always the liar in her scenario, but that same person can be lying about her but then say that that person is in fact, not a liar so that person couldn’t be a liar about me, but can be about you. She shoved me to the ground. I hit my back on the staircase. She was on top of me swinging and hitting. I slapped her and pushed her off of me. When I stood up she got in a fighting position like a boxing fighting position and said you wanna fight come on let’s fight so I ran to the living room. I grabbed her cell phone. I turned around as she was running behind me she shoved me. I hit my head on the fireplace mantle. I held her phone up above her as I am taller than her and I dial 911 as I dial 911 and was hitting send she tried to get the phone for me and couldn’t so she yanked a chunk of my hair out of my head And when the officers finally answered, and I was explaining everything, she instantly lied and said that I framed her and I took my hair out of a brush to tell them that she pulled my hair, but she didn’t touch me. I did not use my own personal phone to make this call because she had thrown my phone out the front door at this point already. I’m just so sick of all of this and the flying monkeys that are involved and I just want better for myself and the kids and did not continue this repeat cycle, where I lose myself where my kids have to witness things that they should never have to see or where my kids are taught to accept things and people for who and how they are because oh well they had it worse than you.

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.

No matter what your abuser says, it isn't your fault. You are braver than you think and stronger than you know. Your truth is THE truth, and your voice matters. My abuser would gaslight me constantly to where I was no longer certain of what had actually happened in a given situation. He emotionally, verbally and psychologically abused me yet claimed it was all my fault. After I ended our engagement and finally left him for good, he put an AirTag on my car and used it to track my location and stalk me. According to him, this was also my fault. He was convinced I was cheating on him - something I never did and would never do. I got an Order of Protection against him, and we went to court multiple times. It was the worst time in my entire life, but I survived. Two years later, I've moved across the country, started my own business and rebuilt my life. You aren't alone. Even if you feel like it, you have the strength of the survivors who've gone before you that will carry you through your darkest days. We stand by you and with you. It ends with us.