Community

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.

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

I somehow got myself on Tinder at 16 years old. I know, not very smart of me but all my friends were on it at the time and I didn't think about it. I met someone who told me he was also underage, he claimed he was 17. He seemed perfect. We went on a date to a pumpkin patch, we got sushi at a restaurant, and after he came to my home to carve pumpkins. Everything was going so well. We were watching a movie and he asked us to move to my room. Honestly, I didn't really want to but I agreed and we went to my room. His demeanor changed immediately, suddenly he was cocky and dominant. We had sex which I had agreed to even if I felt pressured. Suddenly he put his penis in my anus, pulled it out after a few times, and put it back into my vagina. I was shocked, I was confused. Did that just happen? Is that normal? I am so grateful for the human survival instincts because I mostly checked out. But I remember him saying "You could at least act like you're enjoying it". Still, I didn't react. When he was done he got up and went to get a towel, I asked him to turn on the light and he said "Are you sure? You might not want to see the bed it's going to be graphic." I didn't understand and wanted the light on anyway. My white comforter was covered in blood and had feces stains on it. "wow" I felt embarrassed. He said it was normal. We went back into the living room and a few minutes later he left. Next, I threw out my comforter and went to my best friend's house. She had her older friend over. I told them what happened and they were shocked. Both of these girls were sexually experienced, and they told me that is not normal. You don't have anal sex by accident. You don't have anal sex without a discussion first. You don't "slip" into someone's anus which is the excuse I had thought up for him, "maybe he slipped?". They assured me it was not an accident that happens. I told the older girl his name, Name, it turns out she knows him and he is not 17. He told her he was 20. When he came over to her house before he was really pushy to have sex and her dog hated him so she kicked him out. My dog also hated him. Moving forward I reached out to him, he wasn't responding to my messages, then he said he was sorry but he's not looking for anything relationship-wise, he didn't want to see me again. At this point it started to become clearer "I might have been raped". I spent about 2 years going back and forth between did that really happen, was it rape, was it my fault, did I ask for it? A few days after the rape my vagina became swollen. I know, I'm sorry for the detail but it is crucial to the story. I went to the student based health center my school worked with because I did not want my parents to know I had sex. They did a test on me and I had bacterial vaginosis. The nurse said I had "bacteria that looked like a blooming flower inside of me.", this is because he went from my anus to my vagina a few times and I was bloody. Luckily it was an easy fix with some antibiotics. Another thing that confirmed something seriously wrong had happened. I spent 2 years of my life Junior and Senior years of high school in bed and I do not remember my high school time fully. I slept, I rotted, I removed my bed frame from my room in a mental breakdown, I rearranged my bed to different positions in my room, and I changed mattresses. Nothing was helping me. Eventually, I changed rooms. I began to resent my own home. I did not feel like I had a safe space. I started to be rude to my parents, I was mean when they would not let me go out, and I was snappy anytime. I skipped dinner, and avoided family time. In addition, I stopped going to school. I missed so many days of school, that they sent a letter that they might have a police officer come to our house to do a welfare check. My mom would drop me off at school, I would wait for her to drive away, and I would walk back home to go lay in bed. Until she started to wait until I got inside and then I would maybe go to one class and then walk home. My two best friends started to come to my window on school days and they would knock on my window to try and get me to come to class. One of them, my bestest friend in the world, would continuously knock on my window until I let her into my house. I also have barky dogs so they would be going crazy barking and I had to let her in, she also literally would not leave or stop knocking until I let her in. No matter how disgusting, and horribly messy my room was (I am talking can not see the floor, obstacles to the bed, garbage, huge piles of clothes, deep clothes on the floor) she would sit with me on my mattress on the floor. She would lay with me, she would cuddle me, she would make me watch videos with her on her phone. She would skip school for me. She would eventually coax me into leaving the house, going with her to get coffee, get food, go drive around, go to her house, go adventure outside in the woods together. I can't imagine what would have happened without her. She never made me feel like a victim, always let me talk about the gross details, and let me be my gross rotting self at this time, she made me laugh, she made me feel happy when I was so depressed, and didn't even really know why. As in I was still confused, still unsure if I was actually raped. Eventually, my school told me I would have to repeat my senior year. They never asked me what was wrong, they just told me I was failing bad. I had met a new guy at this time who became my boyfriend, he ended up cheating on me so I can't make him too nice in this story but at this time, he was really helpful, and beneficial, he taught me what real safe sex is and what it is supposed to be and feel like. It is communication, consent, mutual good feelings, and love. I want to add that when I did have sex with him for the first time after the rape my hands locked up. A physical result of trauma, I couldn't open up my hands, I was scared and not of him, but my body responded to this intimate act happening again. It was his first time having sex and I like to consider it my real first time too. He did not "slip" into my anus. Becuase that does not happen. After this, it clicked to me that I was anally raped. I had always searched on Google, Instagram, and anywhere I could for information on anal rape, and I could never find it. I wanted to be confirmed and validated. I wanted to find someone who had experienced the same thing I had and I still have not found it (4 years later). I only saw things about male prison rape. I am making a face right now that is not what I was looking for. Moving forward, one of my friends' sisters started dating the man who raped me a few days later. She messaged me and asked about him. I didn't tell her he raped me but I wish I did. Later on, I saw her at a party, a few drinks in, I went up to her and said I have a really personal question I need to ask. She said absolutely. I asked her if Name (the rapist) had tried to do anal with her. She whipped her head around and said "Yeah! He tried to during sex and I stopped him, I freaked out on him I was so upset.". Everything clicked for me in that moment and I am forever grateful for her and her honesty. She was a turning point in my healing. She confirmed what I had been questioning for years. My at the time boyfriend had gone to a high school that was inclusive, they had personalized education, and they really cared about their students. It was called School Name. He told me I should apply, they work with credit recovery and he thought it would be perfect to help me graduate. He was right. I applied to School Name, they asked me why I was failing high school. I told them I was raped at 16 and I stopped going to school. I told them I didn't want to repeat my senior year. I told them no one at my other high school asked about what was going on in my personal life. The woman on the phone said they could get me to graduate on time and that they could support me. My best friend who helped me through this time also transferred to this school. The two of us were in a new high school in our senior year. School Name changed my life. I enjoyed going to school again, I felt supported, and I was treated like I was smart and not like I was a delinquent who couldn't care less about their future. Every teacher in that building wanted me to succeed and I could feel it. I was in credit recovery programs, taking tests to prove I had the knowledge needed to graduate. My best friend and I finished high school early. It was a great feeling even though I graduated with a 2.3 GPA. Now I am sitting here writing this in a community college with my 21st birthday a few weeks away, and I have finally reached the point where I can think about the rape and not hit myself in the head until I stop thinking about it. I think about the rape and my rapist every day of my life since. I have always wanted to share my story and now I am looking for platforms to share it. I want someone else who was anally raped to be able to read my story, I want someone to be able to feel seen and heard like I wanted and needed. But for any rape survivor, I want you to know that eventually, you will be able to live with this new normal. I won't say "it gets better" because I am not sure that it does, frankly I do not think it does get better, it just becomes something you adapt to. I have gone to therapy and I am in therapy again now. I continue to try and put the work in to heal. I still think about it every day but I am finally less reactive. I still shudder and get angry every time I see his name somewhere. I will never be with someone named Name again. I shudder when I see someone who resembles him in any way. I am afraid of men. I don't like to go on dates, I don't like to be too close to a man, I don't want to be in a room alone with a man, I get angry or uncomfortable when a strange man on the street looks at me for too long, if they compliment me, if they try to have a conversation, or if they flirt. I have attachment and abandonment issues. I don't know if this will ever get better but it is a part of my new normal. Who I was before my rape is no longer me. I have accepted the fact that I am a new person and that I have to get to know myself again. I lost a lot of friends during my time of isolation, I have a hard time keeping a job, and I struggle to do well in school even though I really want to succeed. My depression is overwhelming most days. I want Name to be in a jail cell. I want him to be labeled as the rapist he is, I want him to suffer honestly. I want him to never be able to get a job. I hate him and I hate that he gets to live free and possibly enjoy his life. I hate that he probably still finds new victims. I did report him to the police, but nothing came of it. I also reported him to the Department of Human Services for abuse in my state, and nothing came of it. But I did my part, I can only hope that someone else reports him like I did and they see a flag in their system that he has done this before. I still see him on dating apps, he goes by his middle name now, and he is bisexual. I feel he used me as a test subject. When I was younger I would harass him online from fake accounts on Instagram. I told him that he was gay and that he should be a real man and find a guy to hook up with instead of torturing innocent girls. I told him I know everyone he has raped, even though I don't. I told him karma would catch up to him, and that someone will get you eventually. I told him he is a terrible person, but he never admitted what he did or owned up to it. I would like to think I can move on with my life but this is my story. It is a part of me now, it is why I act the way I do, and it is an explanation for most things in my life. I recently moved out on my own and got my own apartment. I thought I just didn't like having people over at my childhood home because it was the home I was raped in. My family moved out of that house and moved states. And now in my new house, my own personal space, I still can not invite anyone over. It is hard for me to have even just girlfriends, my friendly neighbor, or my best friend over. I do not allow guests to come over, and I never invite a date over. It is a huge step for me to have someone in my home and that is his fault. I only made this connection this year. I am afraid of having my space claimed by anyone else again. Wow, it felt good to get all of that out. It is hard to speak about and share my story when I do not have the justice I would like. It is hard to learn about the justice system when it is supposed to protect you and it does not. It is hard to think that so many people are raped so often. I am angry and I want change. I don't really know what kind of change but something. I wish I didn't have to live in so much anger and fear but that is also a part of my new normal. I am antsy, I can't help but look over my shoulder frequently when I am in public, and I can't help but worry about unlikely things. But I am adapting and you will too. Sending love to you.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

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

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

I didn't know what I was being asked to do. I was 6 years old. I didn't realize what had happened to me until recently. I tried to walk out of the room but I was manipulated into staying. He was my cousin. I didn't think he would use me. I didn't know what he did was wrong until about 1 year ago. It disgusts me to be around him. I have always felt for SA survivors, without knowing that I was one myself. I have taken the path of healing silently. Knowing my experience I know that there are children that are affected by this every day. I hope that by sharing my story, I can help young children know what is happening to them.

When I was 18 I was raped and physically assaulted by a friend of mine at the time. He was 3 years older than me and it was his 21st birthday. It took me a year to accept what happened, and 4 years to get help through counseling. I used to feel a lot of guilt for not getting help sooner and the way my trauma affected other people in my life/people I was in relationships with. I also hated and still sometimes hate the way it affects me 6 years later, but I’m learning that things don’t always go away on their own and it’s okay to reach out for help, no matter what stage you’re in or how long has passed. You will find people who love and believe you, and you’re more than worthy of that. They say skin completely regenerates every 7 years, so by this time next year I’ll have a body you’ve never touched, and that’s comforting.

I work with survivors of sexual violence as a part of my job...and it can be really difficult to engage in my own healing while I am constantly hearing the trauma of others. Most days are fulfilling. It is special to connect with folks who have experienced something similar to what you have...but it can also be uniquely isolating. I long for the community of survivors I often refer my clients to, but for some reason I feel a barrier to engaging in these services myself. "Too many people know me there," I rationalize...would they have concerns about me working with survivors if they knew I was a survivor myself? I was sexually assaulted by a massage therapist....something that I have very rarely said out loud but still think about nearly every day. I can still feel his sweat dripping onto my body...and have a visceral reaction to even raindrops falling on my bare skin. God I hate that guy...I don't even know where he is now, but I always wonder if what I did was enough. Did his boss take my accusation seriously? Why did I insist that I not be contacted again? I really wish I knew the outcome of my complaint... Despite this unknowing, I really feel like I have came a long way. The anger is still there yes, but my hatred for myself has slowly been materializing. Day by day things get easier, as I try to find spaces that make me feel seen and find people who understand why I do what I do. I hope I can do enough to make this world a little easier for those, like me, who often feel like they are suffering in silence. But I also hope I can rest. And love. And feel peace. Because now I realize I deserve that too.

You don’t believe it when you’re told that your life can change in an instant—and then it does. This is my story, or what I can remember of it. On April 12th, 2022, I was raped at gunpoint, at home. In less than 10 minutes, I became another statistic, but a statistic that survived... It’s 6:15 AM, and I’m about to leave to check on a pet sitting client’s cat, then go to work—not an unusual routine for me. It was a way to bring in extra income, and an easy one at that. I’ve always loved animals, and if you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life. Apparently, my routine was known to more than just me and my animals. As I opened the door to leave, a man was on my porch, and he asked for William. Not knowing how this particular conversation would shape my future, I told him that William didn’t live here and closed the door–it wasn’t uncommon for strangers to come to the door. Before me, an elderly lady had lived here with her son, you see, and people came looking for them all the time, so I thought nothing of it. Figured he’d be gone by the time I opened the door again. I was wrong, and I’ve hated myself for opening that door the second time. I’ve never been face to face with death before that day, never faced an evil so potent that you could taste it in the air...but I can say with certainty I have now. I was pushed backward–not with a physical touch, but with the threat that now loomed in front of me. He checked the bedroom on his left, which adjoined the entrance of the house, looking for other inhabitants–there were none. I lived alone, aside from my animals, which didn’t phase him. Looking back, this tells me he had been watching me for some time, waiting. He pushed me back even further, to the kitchen. He “requested” my phone, and told me to unlock it–I didn’t have much choice, so I agreed. In an effort to get the upper hand, I desperately asked him if I could check on my fosters, since they were in the adjoining room–surprised, he agreed. He checked the room (again for other inhabitants), and while he was looking through my phone, I pressed a panic button that was on the wall he couldn’t see, underneath a lightswitch...1...2...3...and I let go. Praying to some deity that help would get there in time... It’s at this point he sat down at the kitchen table and tried to get me to join him...being a loud-mouthed woman, I started loudly asking him “WHY? I’m a good person! Why would you do this to me?!” Slow motion...he gets up from the table...tells me to face the wall... “Is this happening? Maybe he’ll just leave” I foolishly thought...he lifted my dress, and I spun around to stop him, not wanting what was about to happen. “Put him off just a few minutes more, help is coming, you can do this.” But I couldn’t. He backed me across the kitchen, against the counter...and I struggled. Of course I did. My parents raised a fighter, and I didn’t want to go down without a fight... But he was bigger, stronger, and he had a gun. I’ve never known fear, true fear, until I tasted steel, or whatever guns are even made of. All I know now is that pure fear must have a metallic taste. “Shut up, bitch, ya understand?” and all I could do was nod. I don’t put much stock in religion, not really, and if there is a god up there, I wonder how he could make it so easy to violate a person. Why there aren’t any safeguards to stop it—it’s not really a gate we have much control over. What kind of god could make us such easy targets? You can believe what you want to, and I may get some flack for this, and that’s okay. I’m allowed my thoughts, as is everyone else to theirs. My body had no control over who was inside of it. I had no control. While he pleasured himself, I had to sit there and take it, or die, and even then it was a slim chance I would come out of this alive. I knew my chances, and the possibility of him letting me see his face and me somehow surviving weren’t great. I knew that, even then. Then the doorbell rang. This pervert, this waste of space, leapt up and looked around the corner, to see who might be looking in the living room window and when he saw who it was...said “Get up, bitch,” pulled up his pants, grabbed his gun, and bolted out the back door. In shock, I did as I was told, and just stood there while he ran—but when my brain comprehended that the threat was gone, my body propelled itself towards the front door and ran outside—I didn’t appreciate just how beautiful it was. But there was no time to bask in safety–the threat wasn’t far away. I screamed to the cops to get him, that he ran out the back...they asked who. The guy who raped me. On April 12th, 2022, at around 6:30 AM, I became a statistic. Not long after, it felt like the whole city police were on scene–and I think they were. For an hour, I am not permitted to change my clothes. I can still smell him. I can still feel him. As I lay in the emergency room, I looked through my phone and discovered all of my security footage...gone. Just gone. Luckily for me, and unluckily for him, I paid a monthly subscription for cloud service. As I’m being violated, once again, I captured his face. You can’t hide from me, not for long. As my mom sits next to me, I send his face to the detective. I joke with the doctor, with the nurses, coping the only way I can, and the way I’ve seen my dad do in the past—build connections, and use them as a way back to shore. Keep yourself afloat, just a while longer. One second, one minute, one hour, one day–as long as you can. Afterwards, to the police station for my statement. No one is allowed to go back with me. Later that night, I get a call to come in to look at a lineup. Even just less than a day later, my brain is trying to protect me–block out his face, by any means possible. Blur it beyond recognition. But I have his face. My brain can’t fight me on this. On the way to the station, my parents in tow, I study it. Imagine it with different facial hair, different hairstyles. I still wasn’t ready. Again, no one was allowed to go back with me. When his photo came up, I didn’t know it was him. I wasn’t certain. But I did have what they call a “visceral reaction.” My hands shook, my voice trembled, and I felt so cold I couldn’t stop shivering. Something inside me knew. I struggled with that guilt for weeks after—what if I’d put the wrong person away? What if I was wrong? Then the message came from the detective, regarding my rape kit. “It was a match.” Thank you. Thank you so much. I was right. Dammit, I was right. On April 12th, 2022, at approximately 6:30 AM, I became a statistic. But a statistic that survived. A statistic that fought back, and a statistic that hasn’t given up, not yet. Not ever. I’m not ashamed. I am a part of a family larger than it should be, of survivors just like me. We are survivors. Lessons to take from this: Check outside before opening your door Invest in a security system Invest in a panic button Practice how you will stay alive long enough to come out the other side of a situation—rehearse every scenario you possibly can Keep your wits about you—you never know when they could save your life Nothing is a 100% failsafe–but even the smallest thing could keep you alive to see another day.

Help me please I found out i was assaulted when i was ten or so by my older half brother. I woke up to him in my bed, and i was a child so i didnt think much of it, but i always had this rule where i didnt want anyone in my bed because it was mine and blah blah, so i told him i was gonna tell on him later and he ran back to my brother bunk bed where he originally slept and didnt say anything. I ran over to tell my parents, and in the morning yhey obviously knew something was wrong so they asked him why he was in my bed and he admitted that he been using my ass to masturbate for months. And i got memories to when i would wake up in the middle of the night where he’d be walkong back and forgh with paper tissues and my butt would feel wet and i always thiught i was just seeaty and stuff but it then clicked and i remembered all the tomes he would grind against me randomly but again i didnt think anything of it and he got beat for three days and he had to applogize to me and i saw him pleading for forgiveness cause they forced him too and i was so scared but i always thiught it wasnt that deep cause it wasnt actually rape and i was jever conscious for him doing that and now im much older now but this week has been really hard and even to this day it turns me on so much to think of me being assaulted like i hate it when i hear of of others getting hurt in that way but it arouses me so much and i thiught it made progress but during this period it turned me on so much and its terrible and i dont know what to do its still haunting me when i didnt even really go theough anyrhing and ive been telling myself that im fine for the longest time and that everything is okay but this is jsut revealing that in not okay and that im judt some sicko who gets off to other people hypothetically assaulting me whats wrong with me i dont know what to do please help me llease validate me please do something i dont like feeling like this what should i do

I’m not sure if this counts but according to online it is considered as COCSA child on child sexual assault. When I was a kid in 1st grade I believe or kindergarten I was stuck at a table in between 2 or 3 boys on either end with another girl next to me. We were sitting at a circle table used for group learning and the teacher stepped away. While the teacher was gone the boys proceeded to try to twist our nipples and give us like a nurple…it felt really uncomfortable and I hated it and I remember as a child just trying to push the boys away. I also remember that it wasn’t for that long ig but I didn’t tell anyone…idk why. I told my parents recently and they kinda brushed past it like it was kids being kids but it really wasn’t. A couple years ago I was around 13 or 14 I was identifying and acknowledging myself sexually if…I come to realize that the situation left me feeling very uncomfortable with how I felt with my body specifically with my chest.

For years I questioned what I was doing wrong and how someone who loved me could be so comfortable hurting me. But they didn’t hit me so I never looked at it as DV or myself as a victim. Through different type of relationships, it was a revolving door, but they didn’t hit me so I wasn’t a victim. Until my last relationship. In 3 1/2 years, he put his hands on me once, but if I had just let him leave, he wouldn’t have done it. For the longest time, he was planting it into my head that I was the issue. The good times were really good so I overlooked the bad cause I loved him more than I loved myself in that moment. The way he loved my kids (who were not his) also kept me around for a lot longer than I should have. I planned a life with him in my head cause he was helping raise kids that weren’t his so he must be an amazing man to step up, until he started lacking. Then I realizing me being unhappy with him, was hurting my kids more than I knew. He made me believe that I was so “mentally unstable” no one would ever love me & that being 6ft down in a grave was the only way I was going to be able to get away from him. Then I left & I was so proud of myself. I started doing intensive therapy & working on myself & then the thoughts he planted in my head came back. “No one could ever love you the way I do because I was there for you in your lowest” & I broke the no contact & let him back in. Things were good at first, and then he would shove the past in my face & tell me how much he hated me & the verbal & mental abuse cycle began again. But this time, I knew better. I found out about mental & physical abuse, I did research, I was in groups & I was learning to love myself again. I had boundaries for the first time in a long time. And then I found out about the cheating a year prior while he was living at my house & the summer of the downward spiral had begun. I blocked him again & was so depressed, I began drowning it with alcohol. I felt my heart just break as this man had spent so much time accusing me of cheating while I was working to support my kids, just for him to turn around & do it to me. I almost lost everything & it took me losing 1 of my jobs to finally get back on track. I stopped drinking for a while, I found a better job, I spent more time with my kids & began re-evaluating what made me happy in life. I re-discovered my healthy boundaries, I was working more, I was laughing again & generally meaning it. I started talking to my friends about my feelings & where I was in life. For a year, things were going better (there’s always going to be the ups & downs but it was better). And then the 1 year of me blocking had come up & I caved & unblocked him on his birthday. At first it was to be petty, and then I found out he was seeing someone. I played it like I didn’t know anything, we hung out a few times & then the old him came out again but this time, I was in a better place & I knew what to accept & what to correct. I finally seen him being in my life was not good for me mentally & as much as I miss the him he pretended to be when we first met, I am learning to mourn the person who never existed. I don’t want to call him for every little thing anymore (good or bad). He doesn’t get access to me or my kids life anymore & I love the strong, independent female I am becoming. I’m so proud of the scars I’m healing & acknowledging that I’m human & I am going to have weak days that I might want to message him & I’m taking it 1 day at a time. Going from planning a future & a life with someone you thought was them to mourning someone who never actually existed is something most people will never understand (& I hope they never have too). Some days are easier than others & it’s ok to get lost as long as you find your way back to the track. I am strong because I have no other choice but I’m learning it’s ok to have weak days & I don’t always have to be so strong. Cry, scream, punching a pillow is healthy ways to let all of that out. I’m not perfect & I don’t have to be but I will be there for others going through this & let them know they’re not alone, it’s not their fault & they are very so much loved

This isn’t my story but something I wrote that I feel would help and resonate with a lot of readers. Someone asked, “ what exactly is a narcissist?” to a different group I’m on and this was my reply: They are the most manipulative, gaslighting, liars. They tear you down to bring them up. They don’t have empathy or remorse. Your feelings will never be validated. No matter how hard you love them, no matter how much you do for them, and no matter how hard you fight and try to make the relationship work… it won’t. Your effort will never be good enough and you’ll go unappreciated. They only care about themselves. They are charming and will fool everyone into thinking they’re someone they’re not. They will ruin you and make you question your reality, sanity, and even your own memory. After a relationship with a narc, it’s so F’ING hard to move on because you end up losing yourself in that relationship. It’s the most hurtful type of relationship to be in. There are different types of narcs. Some are harder to spot. They will make you fall so madly in love within weeks (at least I did). They are the best during the honeymoon stage. You’ll think it’ll never end.. but it will. You become blind. You either don’t see the red flags or you ignore them. You’ll beg for them to give you back the love you give them… but they won’t. And yet, you’d do anything for them. But, you’ll wake up and you’ll realize what he’s doing to you. He’s making you not even recognize yourself anymore. He’s emotionally abusing you every single day. You are losing your happiness and your self-respect. He’s making you question everything. And also, that person you once knew and loved will be gone. You’ll heal, it’s going to take time but you will. And days will become brighter again. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to be so mad at him/her and probably yourself. Another thing, you will never be the same person you were after being with a narcissist.

There have only ever been two people in my life that have ever known the details of my two sexual assaults, my husband and my mother. The few siblings and friends that do know that I have been raped only know that fact-that I have been raped. I have always feared the look on a person’s face when they are told that something like that has happened to you. I fear that I will be seen as less than or that I won’t be believed. These fears are just as strong today as they were when the rapes took place 17 and 16 years ago respectively. Now that my mother has passed, there is only one person who knows about the brutality that I endured and the scares I still live with today. I was a normal 16 year old working in a smoothie shop when I met a cute boy who had come in for a drink. He asked for my number, but I told him that I didn’t give my number out to people I don’t know. He assured me that he would be back as many times as it took for me to know him. He was true to his word and we began dating about two months later. He played for a local junior sports team that players from all over the US and some other countries played in that lead to countless former players going on to being drafted by professional teams. I had never been to a game before meet my then boyfriend. After dating for several months, I lost my virginity to him. I was completely in love. Not long after that he and I went to a party at the house of one of the “host” families that players lived with while they played in the league. We were talking in a bedroom when he told me he was going to go get us drinks and he would be back. The next time the door opened, I was not my boyfriend who entered, it was the Captain of the team that I had had very few interactions with. I will refer to him as L. L asked where my boyfriend was and said he would just wait for him to come back. L sat down on the bed while we made polite small talk about things like what schools we went to, where he was from originally, etc. I told L I was going to go look for my boyfriend because he had been gone for a strange amount of time. As I got up, L grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down on the bed. Before I could even think he was on top of me. He pinned my hands above my head then pulled my tank top down exposing my breast. I begged him to stop, I yelled hoping someone would hear me over the music, and fought as hard as I could. Even when he only had one hand grasping my wrists while he used the other to undo his pants and remove the underwear I was wearing under my skirt, I still wasn’t strong enough to get free. I begged him not to do this to me. He told him that I would be happy he did once it was over because he was “amazing.” I screamed at him to get to f**k off of me so he slapped me so hard that my ears were ringing. He used his knees to keep my legs apart as he violently raped me. This was only the second time that I had ever had sex. When he was done, he got up from the bed and said something about me being a dirty girl and that I would be begging him for more. My boyfriend came in the room seconds after L had walked out. I expected him to comfort me or go do something to L or just ANYTHING at all. Instead he told me that I was slut who cheated on him. Apparently it was common practice for the captain to get to sleep with any of the rookie’s girlfriends. My boyfriend said that I wouldn’t have “let” it happen if I didn’t really want it. He said things like that so many times that I actually started to question it myself. I stayed with my boyfriend because I felt like damaged goods. I took the blame whenever he cheated on me because “I cheated on him first.” I put up with being beaten by my boyfriend because he “wouldn’t be so angry if I hadn’t been a slut.” This relationship was on and off for several years and was my first experience of love. I have since been able to see that nothing about that relationship was love, but it shaped the relationships I had and partners I chose for years. I never reported my rape. I used long sleeves, pants, and makeup to cover the deep bruising that seemed to be on my body forever. After months of not being able to sleep without nightmares or going a single day without a flashback of the assault, I began abusing drugs and alcohol along with cutting myself. Around a year after my rape and the start of my substance abuse struggles, my parents went out of town for a weekend so I decided that was a perfect time to have a party with some friends from my school. I attended a pretty small school with about 80 kids per grade, most of which I had been in school with since preschool. There were probably 10 or 15 of us hanging out, drinking, and having fun. It was probably around 2 or 3 AM when people started passing out. I went to my room and passed out fully clothed on my bed. At some point I woke up somewhat to see a very good guy friend of mine on top of me. I was in and out a lot because of how intoxicated I was so I was barely able to move let alone fight him off of me. I remember telling him no and stop. The next thing I remember is my best friend coming into my room in the morning to tell me we were going to go to McDonald’s for some “hangover food”. I was under my covers but only had my shirt on. I got dressed, got in the car, and went to get food. As we were driving I got a text from the male “friend” that had been on top of me. He was asking me not to tell anyone about what happened the night before. I never responded because I still hadn’t fully wrapped my head around what happened. This situation was different from the first time. He was my friend. It wasn’t a violent assault like before and HE WAS MY FRIEND. I knew that doing anything about it would make me an outcast, which was terrifying to me at 17 years old. I understand how unbelievably stupid that was now at 33 years old. I told myself that I had invited him over. I have gotten drunk. I had gone to bed after telling everyone they could stay the night. It was my fault. Again, my perspective is different now. I spiraled into drug and alcohol addiction to a degree that should have killed me. I made several attempts to end my life, but still never told a soul what had happened to me. I ended up being sent to a rehabilitation center and was exiled from my family as soon as I turned 18 because they didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I was fortunate to grow up in a family of wealth but unfortunately that wealth was viewed as being enough to make my siblings and I happy. That meant that quality time and conversation were nonexistent. We were given new cars and credit cards to do whatever we wanted while my parents spent most of their time abroad or in homes they owned in other states. It took nearly a decade for me to develop a relationship with my mom again. One day she finally asked me the question that I had unknowingly wanted to be asked by my family which was-Why did you do all of the things you were doing back then? What happened? I broke down in tears and assure my mom that she didn’t need to live with the knowledge of what had happened to her daughter. I had a daughter of my own at that point. My mom told me that she did need to know because she had carried so much shame for not having made any attempts to find out what was really going on. I started by simply saying that I had been raped twice. She tried to come over to hug me but I said I was ok. She then asked things like when, where, who. I was very vague about it and left out the names of the people. She sat me down and told me that I had to tell her e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g because I had suffered through it alone long enough. I’m a lot of ways telling her was harder than enduring the rapes because I had a daughter and knew how devastated I would be if this had happened to her. I also feared that she wouldn’t believe me. She listened, we cried, and she apologized for making me think I wouldn’t have been believed. I apologized for the way I handled my pain from it by abusing substances. I have hope that the country is making strides when it comes to the way sexual assault is handled, however, I live every day with fear that my daughter may be violated in the way that I was and I will be powerless to stop it.

Hey, I'm survivor. I'm 18 and I live in India. I went through child sexual abuse from when I was 10 to 17. The abuser is a very close family member (not my parents), and when he first assaulted me, I had no idea that he was doing something wrong, considering I was only 10. I later realised it when I was 12, and tried to stop and avoid him which worked most of the time but not all the time. The problem is only 2 of my close friends know about this. I can't tell my parents because I'm afraid they'll never see me the same again, I'm to embarrassed even if I'm aware that it's not my fault, it would create a lot of family problems, I don't think my parents would even believe me in the first place because this situation from their perspective is unreal. This man did go as far as penetrating his fingers in my vagina and rubbing his penis on it, but the penis never penetrated. I still feel disgusted and in shock, all the time. Lately, I have been thinking about this during the night, like I have all of these explicit flashbacks. I also get nightmares, so I force myself not to sleep at night. It feels so much better sleeping in the afternoon. I'm afraid that I might have PTSD. I usually don't cry about it, I've only had 3 breakdowns in 8 years. But I think it's because I'm still in shock, and I try to distract myself as much as possible. The PTSD signs have only got this worse since the past few months. They were never this bad. My third breakdown happened today, which is why I'm here. He did not sexually assault me since I turned 18, which was this October, because I just avoided him. We often go to their house, which just does not help me at all, mentally and physically. Also, when I told my 2 friends about this, I was laughing, but that is because humour is my coping mechanism, and that's how I tell people the things that have negatively affected me.

On Date I was sexually assaulted by a man I thought I loved. At first, I blamed myself. I thought if I reported him I would ruin his life, no realizing he had already ruined mine. My sense of safety is gone, my security is gone, my power is gone. I finally had the courage to " stand up for myself and it backfired on me. On Date 2, Name victim shamed me to my lowest point. Her words hurt me deeper than the actual assault. I felt so powerless and defenseless again! She called me a liar, because his lies sound better than my truth. She accused me of making up a story, as if she was there when he put a gun to my head! I had never first hand experienced victim blaming but this is definitely the most horrifying experience I have ever experienced.

It's been 7 years almost to this day since I was raped. Seven years of denial, acceptance, denial again. Seven years of hiding how I am feeling from everyone I know and love because I feel like I should be 'over it' by now. Seven years of wanting so badly to talk about it, to share my story, to take away the guilt that I feel for something I was never guilty of. But always being too afraid. Too afraid of how I'll be seen. Too afraid of if I'll be judged. Too afraid of not being believed. But finally I am on the journey to understanding that for me talking is taking back my power, sharing is taking back control and connecting with people with this shared experience is giving so much power to our voices. Every healing journey is different, and I hope sharing mine will help someone else in theirs, because I know reading everyones experiences and sharing my own is extremely helpful for me. Xo In my third year of college I decided to go to Peru during the summer to volunteer in a home for children who had suffered through childhood SA and violence. I lived in this home for 6weeks and helped with daily activities, cleaning, afterschool fun etc. While there myself and my friend decided we would leave for a week or so to see Machu Picchu. We headed for Cusco and found a travel agency which offered a 5 day adventure trek to Machu Picchu which involved white water rafting, hiking and ziplining...every 22year olds dream trip. The trip started off amazing. Our local guide seemed so kind and interesting. He shared so much of his culture with us and our group was getting on amazingly. Then 3days into the trip we stopped in a small town with a bar. We all had dinner together and decided we would go out to the bar for a beer. We were all dancing salsa and having a good time. My friend and a few others decided to go home and I was left alone with our guide and some people from another group. I felt safe. I felt like we had all built a connection over the previous three days and a trust had been built. Our guide offered me a glass of beer from his bottle and told me he would teach me how to say cheers in Quechua. We shared a drink, chatted a bit and Then everything went black. From that moment on all I have are flashbacks. Nightmarish glimpses of what was happening to me, to my body, while I was helpless. The next morning I woke up in his bed with him next to me as he spun some story about him needing to protect me the night before because I got too drunk. And telling me how nothing had happened. I was groggy and confussed and sore and had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach but no real idea of what had happened or what was going on. I looked for my things and tried to get out of the room as quickly as possible....we had to leave for the next destination in 10minutes. As i left his room my friend found me, she was so worried but I still hadnt processed what had happened and I dont fully remember any of that morning. As the day went on the memories became stronger and the sinking feeling became more and more intense. I finally confided in my friend about what had happened. Thankfully she believed me, but the other girls in the group did not. I warned them to keep away from the guide but they said that it must have just been my imagination. We continued the two day trek. I acted as if nothing had happened. I even remembering trying to get the guides attention, not knowing how or what I was feeling. He ignored me. When we arrived back in Cusco we got the first possible bus back to Lima, back to the home, earlier than planned. A few weeks later I started final year of college and things finally began to sink in. Thats when the panic attacks began. The crossing the road if a man walked behind me. The need to be clean. The self isolation. Crying in the car, crying on the bus, crying at work, crying in college. Then soon after this I began to pretend. Pretend like I was fine and nothing had happened. I began to hide from it all, and in doing this hide who I am as well. Thankfully I am finally on the road to accepting my story and feel strong enough to share how I truly feel so that I can continue to heal. I can acknowlege when I feel down but also am beginning to feel true happiness again. I can think about what happened to me and share my story without being filled with a feeling of dread of how people will percieve me. I have accepted my story, and although I obviosuly still wish it hadnt happened, I am beginning to truly love the strong, resilient, empathetic person it has helped me become! xx

When I came forward about my sexual assault I was 18 and still in high school. It’s been almost 7 years now since I first came forward. I was assaulted multiple times for almost a year by a person of authority, a teacher of mine and he was also a member of the local fire department that I was in a program for. This person took my virginity and for months this person abused me. I will never ever forget how scared I felt when this man who was so much older and so much bigger then me forced himself onto me. I will never forget the look on his face. I will never forget the fight I put up. I will never forget the tears that rolled down my face. I will never forget going to the bathroom with blood running down my legs. I will ever forget when I got back home sitting in the scolding hot water in the shower looking down at myself who was now so damaged. I will never ever forget hoping that each time would be the last time. This was a person that I was supposed to have trust in and felt safe around but he used his power to abuse me and control me. He often made remarks saying no one would ever believe me and threatened things that meant a lot to me, my family, future career, and worst of all my life. For almost a year I did what I had to to stay alive and safe. When he first raped me I fought so hard. I screamed but he silenced me, I would bite him but he would bite me harder, I hit him he held me down tighter and hit me back. Eventually with each time that he raped me I just laid there thinking of being somewhere else. Hoping he would just stop. I felt like a zombie stuck there most times. When I came forward I thought things would finally stop and I’d be free. That was not the case even though I wasnt being raped, beat up, and verbally abused and threatend a new pain came from coming forward. When a survivor comes forward their world often comes crashing down with having to give statements, having doctors appointments, people bullying and judging, and in some cases having to go through the legal system for justice which can oftentimes be very traumatic. I had to continually relive my worst days over and over again. I had to encounter years of threats, bullying, and accusations that he was a “good guy” and would never do something like that. I was having to give multiple statements to the police and the school board and was oftentimes questioned on if I had my story correct. This made me feel so terrible knowing they were trying to protect him and doubting me. This was a pain no person should ever endure. Going through almost a year of being sexually assaulted and fighting for my life and then having remarks and actions made like this made me feel so small, weak, and hopeless. For so long I felt so alone and I wish I had known then that sadly I wasn’t and many others have endured similar pain. I share my story today because for so long I was silenced and lonely. Tackling this battle alone was scary and painful. I often regretted coming forward and often times thought of the life I had before. I share my story and my voice for those who are scared, alone, and confused because those feelings I felt I don’t want others to feel. I share my story in hopes to help maybe just one person know that there not alone, know that I see them, I hear them, and I believe them. I will never ever understand why I was raped but I do believe I fought so hard and was strong enough to overcome it because my purpose is to speak out and help others and help change the way rape is viewed when a victim comes forward. I share my story because I want others to see that they too can make it out and that things do get better.

This is not my first SA story but this is the one that caused me to remember… Growing up I had these weird dreams of a close family member of mine, they’re two years older than me but the dreams that I had of us we were kids. These dreams felt like out of body experiences, it was like I was floating above my younger self, maybe I was 3, 4, or even 5 years old. I was laying down in my parents bed crying with my legs opened up while my family member was touching my private areas. I remember waking up hurt or crying but always thought of them as dreams until a couple years ago… at the age of 18 that same close family friend of mine was trying to grab my chest while I slept and I had no idea of it. I had woken up in the middle of it scared and shocked at what was happening but I didn’t move a muscle. My eyes still shut like I was asleep. (Mind you I was laying on my stomach but what he was doing was putting his hand in the gap between my armpit to slide his hand over my boob to grab my nipple.) When he finally grabbed it I snapped out of it. He was in complete shock (shocking) that I had got up and asked what the heck he was doing. He then started to cry saying he was sorry and that he didn’t know what had come over him to do that. I just sat there with no emotion and no recollection of everything he was saying besides the “I’m sorries.”, “I’m horrible.”, “I don’t know why I did it.”, rambles. I just remember him going on and on but then he started to apologize for doing more stuff to me. Then I started to listen. He had started to apologize for the first time he SA me as a little girl. He went into detail of everything he had done to me and it was almost as close to the dream I had but more. He then apologized for two more incidents of when he would grab my chest both when I was 16 while I slept. I still have no recollection of those days besides the dreams I guess that was a way for my mind to tell me it happened but it blocked it out. Everything he told me I could not remember there’s even more stories of some other family members that I’ve dreamt doing stuff to me but now I’m to scared to even approach it. I’m no longer sure if they are reality or dreams. My innocence was taken and I don’t even remember it. Now I just have to live with these nightmares that came true and the pain in my heart. Now this story will forever be here but lost with the rest.