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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.

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.

I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

Was it really that bad? Healing after getting out can be a rollercoaster of emotions and self doubt. You're not alone, sharing your story helps others to stop being silenced out of shame. Sometimes the healing process is hard because we remember more, or feel what we tried not to feel. You don't have to worry about being believable, focus on your own healing journey because you lived it, and need to trust the process. Your story, and what you lived, is testimony enough.

Men carry scars, too. Not the kind etched by shrapnel or branded by fire, but the silent ones woven from shadows and whispers. My own story is a tapestry of darkness, a narrative of violation etched not on flesh, but on the fabric of my being. Like a river swallowed by the earth, my abuse flowed underground, unseen, unheard, yet ever-present. For years, I choked on the silence, a prisoner in my own denial. The shame, a suffocating shroud, kept me locked in a cell of my own making. Every flinch, every nightmare, was a shard of the shattered me, glittering accusingly in the dim light of my self-deception. I built walls around the wound, hoping, in vain, to quarantine the pain, to pretend it wasn't real. But the truth, like a weed in concrete, cracks through the strongest defenses. Denial is a dam built on sand, eventually washed away by the tide of reality. The buried memories, like specters, began to haunt the edges of my awareness, whispers in the night, faces in the crowd. I could run, but I couldn't hide forever. Healing, I discovered, wasn't about forgetting. It was about facing the monster in the mirror, the one with eyes that mirrored my own fear and the shadows of a stolen innocence. It was about unearthing the buried truth, the raw, ugly scar tissue of my experience. It was about speaking the unspeakable, letting the words, like bitter medicine, cleanse the infection within. The journey is arduous, a climb through the wreckage of my own shattered self. But with each step, with each tear shed, with each vulnerable truth shared, the light grows a little brighter. The walls crumble, the silence surrenders, and the river, long hidden, begins to flow again, carrying not just the sediment of pain, but the seeds of hope and resilience. This is my story, not as a victim, but as a survivor. A testament to the strength that can bloom even in the darkest soil, a beacon for others who walk this path alone. You are not alone. We are here, a chorus of broken voices rising in unison, a testament to the unyielding human spirit. Let our stories be not warnings, but whispers of courage, urging each other towards the light, towards healing, towards the wholeness that lies beyond the scars.

I was bullied for months by a number of popular boys. I felt like my voice was not worthy of listening. I endured most days of repeated sexual harassment, I was afraid of walking in hallways and going to the bathroom alone where they often followed me. I felt completely alone and ashamed, I was often ridiculed by female teachers for "asking for it" or harassed further by older male teachers. this was many years ago, in junior high but, it has definitely taken its' tole in the way I see myself and others.

I'm being targeted by a group of men from various races who follow me everywhere I go, including doctors' appointments, banks, grocery stores, and churches. They invade my personal space, standing uncomfortably close behind me, and when I turn around, they respond with hostile gazes before walking away. I suspect they've installed hidden cameras in my home, as they always seem to know my whereabouts and arrive at my destinations simultaneously. They've hacked into my phone, sending messages about my personal life and deleting them afterwards. This ordeal began when a police officer, who I rejected romantically, threatened to tarnish my reputation and follow me everywhere as a form of revenge. He even claimed his police connections are worldwide and the only way out is to comply with his demands or consider suicide. With my family either passed away or forced to leave the state due to constant harassment, I'm left alone in City with my son. Despite fearing for our lives, especially during traffic stops that could turn deadly, I must find the courage to share my story and raise awareness about gang stalking.

It’s been 9 years since I split up with my ex. I didn’t realise at the time fully what he had done to me because he was my world and I thought I could save him, his dad used to hit him and his mum turned a blind eye. I remember we were briefly on ‘a break’ and I wanted so bad to officially be back together I would of done anything. We went out for one of his friends birthdays and when we got back we wanted sex and a blow job, I hated giving blow jobs, the thought of it even now after all this time makes me feel sick but he said I obviously didn’t love him or wanted to make him happy if I didn’t do it so I did and we then had sex. After I said to him so where is this going, I don’t want to be ‘friends with benefits’ I love you and he said I love you but I don’t fancy you, I’m not attracted to you and this literally haunts me to this day like how can someone of basically forced you to do oral sex, have sex with you and then say they aren’t attracted to you. I felt completely used, I still do to this day. He would always say I was over reacting or making stuff up if I tried to talk to him about how I felt. One time his computer wouldn’t work and he flung his hand back and it hit me and I said to him you just hit me and he said don’t be stupid that didn’t happen I just flung my hand back and you were there. He used to tell me all the time I wouldn’t be able to handle university, it would be too hard for me. He took every ounce of confidence and belief I ever had in myself, every single piece. He used to self harm and told me there was nothing I could do to stop him, that I couldn’t make anything better, he went to natural healer and they told him he needs to cut negative people out of his life and that the women said that was me. He left me completely broken and then a few months after we split I found out for the last couple of months he cheated on me. When he did split up with me he told me we could still be friends but said we should kiss and have sex one last time and obviously because I was so desperate to be loved I did it but I can see now it was all bullshit, he just gaslighted the fuck out of me and I was too young and naive and then too inlove or so I thought to see it. We met when I was 14 and he was 16 I mean that should be a red flag in itself. I had sex with him the first time a week before my 15th birthday because I was scared he wouldn’t want to be with me if I didn’t. I spent 5 years being belittled, gaslighted and abused by this guy, I didn’t know what a relationship should be because I hadn’t had one before, I didn’t know what was and wasn’t normal. I was bullied at school mostly got my appearance so it was flattering that an older guy took and interest. I’m not even sure if he ever realised the damage he caused me. I’ve been on anti depressants since I was 17, I’ve self harmed, I’ve wanted to kill myself and I’m still broken. This story does end with hope though. I have had cbt therapy which had been a really big help, it hasn’t dealt with my trauma but it has helped me to work through my emotions and react in ways that isn’t so damaging to myself. I haven’t self harmed in about 3 years, I went and finished uni - did I nearly drop out in second year, yes, but did I stay strong and finish the course and graduate with a 2:1, yes I fucking did! I’ve been open with my best friend about what really happened in that relationship and this in itself has given so much healing because we drifted apart for years because my ex thought she didn’t like him and was constantly judging him so I cut her off but now we are closer than ever and she has two absolutely amazing kids I am ‘auntie’ to. I’m slowly starting to realise I don’t need to hate myself and I’m working on trying to love myself so healing has and is happening. He may of broken me but I’ve got plenty of superglue and I’m putting my pieces back together. After 7 years of living in denial of what he did to me and not dealing with my trauma and using extremely unhealthy ways of dealing with it, I am now coming on leaps and bounds and I’m feeling positive and I want to live and even one day love again.

Feel free to hate me I won't be mad if you did but don't try to set free all the things that you did you may not have known how much you effected my life my love for him was out shown by your selfishness, leading your cold, thoughtless knife for I never thought a fellow woman would hurt me in that way a way i thought that only a man could leave me broken and dismayed I know I can't just put all the blame on you It was his choice to leave yet know that still it remains true

I will not longer live in fear for my self and my sons life. I will no longer be told how ugly and fat I am. I will no longer have him put his hands on me. I will no longer allow bruises on my face. I will no longer let this happen to someone else. I was in a situation where I couldn't leave for a long time and couldn't ask for help. The most fear I have ever been in in my life. But I have a 3-year-old son and NO ONE will ever hurt him the way they hurt me. I am putting a stop to being the victim and taking back control in my own life. One thing that I learned that is the most important to me... Is that you're never alone, and you are beautiful!

I just filed a protection order in January. I have held on because I saw the hurt child within my partner and so it was easy to rationalize why he had negative behaviors. The last straw was when he apparently didn’t want me in the garage so he kicked over tools that were stored in totes and picked up an Axe and shattered a mirror. He looked at me while holding the Axe and I just retreated and created space because I didn’t want to create a reason for his anger to escalate any further. I am filing for divorce and am hoping to get sole custody as I want our son to have a safe and healthy childhood and my soon to be ex husband cannot provide that at this time. I pray he can heal but I cannot save an Adult as I cannot cause someone else to choose healing. Last I heard he is running around town looking to get high. I think he might just be reckless in his actions and emotions at this time. I have anxiety but I lock my doors and when he did violate the protection order he did go to jail so I hope that is motivation for him to not break it again but I’m not sure if it is or not. I was going through my google account and saw videos that he was putting cameras in our closet or bedroom which he did not notify me off. I also had to cut so much outside friends or people in general because he assumed the worst as others may be seeking inappropriate relationships with me, but that was never the case. I know he is most likely playing the victim but the patched holes in the wall the broken door frame and the shattered mirror tell a different story. If he wants to blame me that’s fine. My peace, safety and happiness is more important and my children deserve safe home.

I want him to know how it feels. To feel like prey. To walk into a room and immediately search for an escape. Just in case a stranger, enemy, or friend has decided I am at their disposal. To look into a mirror, no matter what clothes you have on and still feel completely naked. How it feels when no one really wants you but everyone thinks they can have you. What it feels like when your quivering fear tangles your tongue and all you have left are water filled wandering eyes searching for rescue. What it feels like to lose your sense of self. I want him to know what it feels like to be trapped everywhere you are. What the weight of someone else’s body feels like laying on your lifeless one. The humiliation that heats your cheeks and pricks your pupils. The kind that triggers flight. Like being stuck in a game of hide and seek, except you never agreed to play. Trying to be hidden with no place to hide. That the feeling of breaking your silence and jumping out of a plane with no idea how to release your parachute are one in the same. Wondering if you even have one to slow your inevitable free fall. Or if a fast splat is better than a slow hell. Heavy tears. Swollen eyes. Tired tonsils. Never. Ending. Nightmares. I want him to know what it feels like to dread opening your eyes. To watch your hands uncontrollably rattle. For your ears to become numb to the sound of the no seatbelt signal blaring in the car. To feel ashamed just to exist. Most of all, I want him to know he took a blissfully ignorant girl and boiled her blood. And the fire that heats her veins will continue to flame. And burn. Until every alike him feels consumed by the sting of the spark they so carelessly started.

I grew up homeless and in foster care in two separate states and was trafficked for many years: I want to impress upon people that true equity begins with giving people the resources and space to share their lived experience. Redistributing power to the Survivors allows them to influence better evidence based practice forward, lets them know they are not alone, gives them places to heal, and the opportunity to take something negative and oftentimes, horrific: and shine a light on a new path for children who are currently struggling with their own victimization. Survivors have the expertise to provide solutions that work in real time to protect children.

back in may, 1991, i had recently came home from the Medical Center in City, State. after spend 4 months in the hospital, that night in may of 1991 my mother was supposed to go out with my stepfather but she was late getting home because she was a waitress, and like all good waitresses she didnt leave until the last person was gone. she no sooner got home home he hit her across the face because he was drunk, he was so angry that he picked up our pink chair that i would sit in and took it through the kitchen and into the garage and smashed it, then he took my mothers Item Name that she had and threw them one of them went skimming across the top of my head and i got right up in his face and told him you ever hit my mother ever again and i,ll make sure that your arrested, so mom and me wound up leaving the house for the night and went to a relatives house

I joined the army getting it drilled in my head and cursed at and belittled for months about INTEGRITY ARMY VALUES RESPECT all to just live with trauma and disappointment by leadership who failed me and soldiers who took advantage. From serving with two separate units, both were gut wrenching anytime I had to be present and oh did they make sure that I was. Joining the Army is my biggest disappointment and hardest anger from healing to overcome. Please pray for me.

I am female and I was sexually assaulted by a female friend when we were 9 years old. I want to share this because I cannot seem to find another story on female on female COCSA and it makes me feel like what happened to me wasn't "bad enough" because it was a girl and it was another child my age. I know that thought isn't true but it has taken me a while to realise what happened was assault and was "bad enough" and I think it would have helped if I had heard stories similar to mine, so I am hoping this could help someone who has been in the same situation as me. It happened when I was around 8 or 9 years old. I don't remember everything from start to finish or how many times it happened but then other parts of it (like surroundings and smells) are so vivid. I will just share what I remember. I don't know what led up to this point but the the first memory I have is just me laying on my back on my bed and she was on top of me pinning me down and I was scared and trying to wriggle away and get her off me. I remember the smirk on her face, it's like she found it funny and she was enjoying watching me squirm. I remember trying to hard to get her off me but at the same time not wanting to hurt her because she was my friend. So I wasn't hitting or being aggressive I was just trying to wriggle out from under her while she was sat on top of me on my stomach/chest. This friend was a nice friend who was not aggressive or nasty so I think this is what made it all even more confusing. I don't even think she knows she did something wrong? I have no idea. I feel so embarrassed to say the following but I am going to do it because its anonymous and it could maybe help someone feel better about what happened to them. I remember her pulling down her trousers while still straddling/hovering over me. As soon she she did this I was TERRYFIED. I was so scared. Next thing I remember is her bum coming towards me and sitting on my face. I feel so embarrassed saying this, it sounds so stupid but it was so scary and I didn't want it. The next thing I remember is her above me again and facing me (trousers were still down) with her vagina out for me to see and near my face. I remember her touching her vagina with her fingers and then trying to touch my mouth with her fingers/put her fingers in my mouth. I was so so so scared and doing everything I could to move my head away and make sure her fingers didn't touch me. I remember the smell of her vagina and I have imagine of it close to my face but I can't remember if it touched my face. I was so scared. I remember feeling so confused and also terrified my mum was going to walk in. I knew what was happening wasn't right. I don't remember much else except from those two flash backs and then I remember pretending to go to sleep after in a different bed. I don't know why I didn't hit her to get her off me or scream for my mum to hear, I don't know why i felt scared that my mum was going to come in, as is I was the one doing something wrong? I liked this friend, she was nice and not a bully so i think it made it more confusing because I didn't want to be mean or hurt her or anyone to think badly of her. Another memory I have after that is having a sleepover round her house and I just remember feeling uncomfortable and I remember she was wearing a night-dress with no underwear and we had to share a bed and I felt so uncomfortable and I didn't want to be close to her in bed. I have icky feeling about that night but I can't remember if anything happened. I am now 24 years old and finally now only realising that what happened to me was COCSA and realising how much it has effected me. I have suffered with depression for years and been on medication for the last 8 years. I've always wondered why my depression wouldn't go away. I have no reason to be sad, I have a good family, lots of friends, a job, a great boyfriend... yet I can't seem to shake the depression off. I have repressed the memories of what happened that day for 11 years and I have no idea why it has all come up to the front of my mind now but I now just can't seem to ignore it. It's all I've though about for 2 weeks and I can't believe its taken me this long to realise what happened and to realise that that situation has cause so many issue in my life. I was such a happy child and I was so innocent. She exposed me to things I didn't know about and shouldn't have known about. I was too young. It left me confused and ashamed. I then have memories of me masturbating and watching porn and even one time I showed another friend porn. I feel awful that I showed someone else my age porn when we were so young. None of us should have been exposed to that. I even feel sorry for the girl who assaulted me because I can't help but think she must have been getting abused herself because why else would she know the things she was doing? I don't hold any anger towards her because I don't think she meant to cause this harm to me. For years I have felt great shame. I have questioned my own sexuality for years because of it. I have questioned if I enjoyed it? I have had so many confusing feelings about it. I have tried to hard to forget about it and have managed to go years at a time without the memory resurfacing. I have felt so much hatred and shame towards myself. I haven't been able to pin-point why I felt that way until now that these memories have come back. I told my boyfriend but he didn't deal with it well. He cried, which made me feel worse about what happened. I feel the urge to speak to someone about it because I can't stop thinking about what happened. It makes me feel anxious like I'm going to have a panic attack. It feels like its so close to coming out of my mouth and I just NEED to tell someone. I want to tell my mum or sister but I am so scared they are going to judge me. I'm scared they will think I'm weird. Or that it's not a big deal. I don't think I actually could let the words come out of my mouth to tell my family. When I reflect my teenage/adult years, a lot more things make sense. My depression, self-loathing, shame, low self-esteem.. all makes more sense. I have been a people pleaser my whole life and have been awful at setting boundaries for myself. I have continuously let friends, boyfriends and people in power cross my boundaries. I feel like I haven't respected myself very much in some ways and I regret not sticking up for myself when I have been in uncomfortable situations. 1st example: When I was 17, my driving instructor (who was in his 40's or 50's, married and had a daughter my age) made a few inappropriate comments. One of those being about me giving him a blow job and another time about me kissing me. Which I awkwardly laughed and didn't say anything to which he seemed offended and then said "I'll take that as a no then". I still didn't say anything and just felt awkward and changed subject. I continued to have lessons with him. I should have told him he's a disgusting pervert and never got back in his car again. But I felt bad and didn't want to upset him. My brother also has the same driving instructor and really liked him and I didn't want to cause any issue or for people to think badly of the instructor. 2nd example: When I was 12 or 13, I sat next to a boy in English class. He put his had on my thigh. I told him no and pulled his hand away. He kept trying to do it again and I kept saying no and pulling his hand away. I was not sexually active yet, nor did I want to be and I didn't even fancy this boy. I thought he was disgusting. He didn't stop and ending up touching me through my knickers. I remember being scared and uncomfortable. I didn't want him to do it but I didn't want to get him in trouble or draw attention to it. I was scared the teacher would see and we would maybe both be in trouble. I can't remember how it ended but I think eventually he took no for an answer. Once again, I now regret not shouting "what are you doing? get off me!" I don't understand why i was so scared about making other people upset or making other look bad? I was choosing that over my own comfort/boundaries. 3rd example: From ages 18-21, I was in an emotionally abusive relationship (which also got physical on a few occasions). I let that boyfriend strip me of any self- confidence I had left. He constantly belittled me, made me question my own experiences, gas-lit me, scared me, pushed me to the ground/off the bed when he was angry, smash things around me when he was angry, tell me I'm dumb, disgusting, embarrassing, pathetic. I was so manipulated by him, I was just the shell of my former self by the end of that relationship. When I look back at the relationship, I realise how much it affected me and also how wrong some things were (including sexual things). After a couple of years in the relationship, I didn't often want to be sexual with him because he was horrible to me and made me feel like sh*t and I started to resent him eventually. I would never kiss him or go near him sexually. He would sometimes be nice to me and It was great and I felt loved and then we would have sex and INSTANTLY after he would stop making any effort or being affectionate to me at all. As soon as he got what he wanted he would just switch back to how he normally was. Towards the end of the relationship shit, when we would have sex, I was just doing it because he wanted to do it not because I wanted to. I would just lay there and hope he would hurry up and finish. I could tell he didn't care about me or my pleasure either. He would just f*ck me like a object until he was finished. It was all for him, not me. To add to that, most of these encounters were after he had convinced/persuaded me to have sex after I said I wasn't in the mood for sex. On several occasions he asked me to perform oral on him and I told him I didn't want to. He wouldn't stop asking until I gave in. He would beg for it until I caved and did it. He even offered to take me for dinner or give me money if I did it (which I obviously declined). It just shows how little respect he had for me, my own boyfriend of 3 years was trying to bribe me into sexual favours when he knows I didn't want to do it. I remember multiple times after he kept going on and on trying to persuade me to give him oral, I would finally say "okay fine but just so you know, I don't want to do it so it won't be very good/it probably won't be very enjoyable" and he still wanted me to do it. I'm literally saying I DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS and he still didn't care, he just wanted what he wanted. I feel as though I am getting better at boundaries and I think I am ready to go to therapy about what happened when I was 9 and my last relationship. I can't help by think what happened when I was 9 is the reason for why I am how I am. I never understood why I was so depressed. None of my family or friends could understand why because in there eyes "I had it all" and had a great life. I also think what happened when I was 9 is the reason why I ended up in an abusive relationship and ended up being such a people pleaser and not being good at setting boundaries and just letting people disrespect me. I really hope one day I can live a happy life. I hope sharing this helps someone else who experience COCSA and/or female on female sexual assault, realise it is just as wrong and just as valid.

If you are reading this please know you are not alone. When I was 15 years old and had just gotten back from eating disorder treatment, I was lonely, lost, and vulnerable. I had zero sexual experience, in fact I had never had my first kiss yet. One night I went to a small party, and drank a lot without knowing my limits because I had never drank before. Long story short, I blacked out and only remember bits and pieces of the night. Unfortunately I have a few memories that I can never forget. A completely sober boy came to the party and ended up taking advantage of me. I remember waking up the next day in pain and I found blood all over my shorts. I convinced myself I asked for that to happen and it was my fault. As much as it disgust me to say, I even felt somewhat special that anybody would even find me attractive enough to have sex with. I was confused and didn’t understand. A lot happened after that night and I ultimately felt like a used piece of trash that had already been thrown out. It took me awhile to understand what had really happened to me. I’ve been working on my healing journey for years since that night, but still find myself struggling constantly. I still sometimes question if maybe I’m just being dramatic and im the only one to blame for what happened. I know deep down that’s not true, but it’a a difficult thing to process. Honestly, I am angry. I’m angry that this boy has never and will never take accountability and that he gets to live a life without the trauma and pain I feel everyday. I feel heartbroken for myself and all other victims who have experienced SA. My ultimate goal in sharing my story is that at least one person can relate and feel less lonely. I want them to realize that what happened to them is not their fault and I believe them. I hope you all know how important you are.

when i was 14 i dated this girl. we had our birthdays one day apart, so we said we were soulmates. she let me know that she had been raped by another kid when she was younger. we both thought that meant she couldn't make someone else a victim too. we were wrong. emotional abuse aside, she had reoccurring dreams where she would see my boobs and stated that she wanted to see them one day, she drew porn of us without my consent (but then i thought it was okay, because we were dating. its not.), she was constantly sexual in her actions and conversation topics to where she even attempted to touch herself to something she wanted me to say. i went along with it because i loved her. well thanks, you made me a child sexual abuse survivour.

i’m a victim of cocsa by my older brother at the age of 8 he was 13. i don’t remember when it first started because i blocked it out but i remember it happening all the time we could be in the car and my mom would be running in the store for a few things leaving me with him for no longer than 15 minutes and he would force me to please him. it was whenever he felt those desires and i never said anything i would just sit there and let it happen. i was frozen every time from the physical and mental pain and the betrayal i felt. he would babysit me everyday after school because our mom worked long hours and couldn’t afford an actual babysitter. she trusted him to protect me and keep me safe. one night she left to do some errands and put him in charge. i fell asleep on the couch waiting for her and then i was still afraid of the dark so i kept the kitchen light on he got angry and turned it off and i cried when i realized i was in the dark alone. he yelled at me for crying and dragged me by my hair to his room and undressed me i sobbed but let it happen couple minutes later we heard the door unlock he told me to fake sleep and our mom open the door to his room she looked at us and knew we were fake sleeping and told my brother to get up and do something and he said no she started to get suspicious and told him to get up again and saw he had no pants on. she beat him. and then after she was done she came after me i ran and fell to the ground and my princess nightgown went up and she hit and kicked me everywhere calling me names. it was a different side of her i never seen she didn’t even look like my mom anymore. by her screams and cries i knew nothing would be the same anymore. our dad picked up my brother and a police man came to our house and i had to tell him everything. i said “my older brother was raping me” it was my first time ever saying it out loud.

I am a Survivor. My story is unfortunately like many others and in 2019 was was sexually assaulted by someone I knew, trusted and at one point, loved. I had just moved to a new city to peruse a graduate degree in criminology. He was in town for a concert with friends and I was excited to show him my new life, new apartment, new friends. Later that night the intimacy was different, things quickly escalated and when I expressed that this was not okay and that he needed to stop- well, that is where my story of survival began. But I made it, I drove myself to the ER the next day and I wish I could say I remember the days and weeks after but I don't. A part of me died that night and some days I worry I wont ever get it back. I was so afraid that going to the police would ruin my hopes of a career in criminal justice so I did my best to push on with my life. I decided to focus my education on survivors of violence, managed to get an internship with domestic violence survivors and started my career researching police response to intimate partner violence. 3 years later and I write to you from my new office, in a new city as an advocate for sexual assault survivors. Helping others just like me, being that support I so desperately needed when I thought I was alone. We are not what happened to us, we are not just another statistic, we are not alone in this. I hope that my experience can help me be the best for others because I refuse to let what he did dictate the rest of my life.