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I don’t know where to begin but all these triggers come up so many And each one seems to lean back to the very first time that I can remember where my autonomy was taken from me I was 11. I can even remember what I was wearing. There was a man in his late 20s. He passed away last summer and I was glad that he wasn’t here anymore. I’m 47 now and it’s still bothers me just as much as it did back then and maybe it’s because I didn’t have support. I was in the backseat of the car and my two sisters were on either side of me. They were younger I’m the oldest my mom wasn’t in the car yet and the man he was drunk. He had a beer in his hand and he reached, he turned around and he he put his hand inside of me and I can remember it felt so heavy I couldn’t get it out. I had on white shorts a few minutes later my mom got in the car. I remember her sunglasses they’re so big. I always thought they were ugly to wear them all the time I called out Mama and she said what she didn’t even turn around to look and I think I said tell him to stop and she started to laugh and she looked at him and he looked at her and she said I hope you never get a boyfriend and they smiled at each other and he took his hand out. Although I was married for 30 years, which my mom introduced me to him when I was 14, I don’t believe I’ve ever been in a relationship not one where it was my choice. I’m 47 and I haven’t been in a Relationship. I suppose now it’s like nothing was ever my choice right so it’s almost like there’s a clean slate. And All these triggers like they go back to this one incident there’s so many other memories and so many other things that have happened to me honestly, there’s things that have happened to me that are worse but it’s like this one and I think it’s because I was only 11 and my mom was right there and shouldn’t help me And I became this person that would just figure it all out herself, but the thing is I can’t and I need help and I don’t even know how to accept it let alone get it and I’ve been going to therapy for over a year and this memory is just as active right now that as it was When I started going to therapy and it’s because I haven’t actually talked about it in therapy. The first therapist I had was an experienced and so I had to find a new therapist and although I’ve been to EMDR and we processed it all the way through where it felt like it wasn’t as intense and it still is, but it’s more than just what happened. There’s defined me. It literally made me who I became I got married when I was 17 and I didn’t wanna get married. My dad made me and I didn’t think I had a choice and I don’t even know why I got married Other than that. My whole life has been a series of what everybody else wanted or whatever everybody else was doing or needed or was pushing or forcing me to do not my choice And when I finally able to make my own choices, it’s like nothing is coming together in the way that I want it to because I’m afraid I’m so afraid that I’ll get hurt. This may be the first time that I have talked about this because I chose to.

Many times I've wondered how to begin narrating my story, whether I should start from the beginning or when "love had arrived." I could start by saying that I fell in love with the person I thought was my best friend. Wow, it’s supposed that when there’s a friendship of that magnitude, love should be great. Time passed, and years later, that friendship turned into a relationship, which, for my heart, was one of the most beautiful things that had ever happened to me. I flew 1,295 miles from my country to the United States for him, believing that finally, my true love story would become a reality. I knew he had a strong character and was a bit egocentric, something that bothered me, but I always tried to ignore those thoughts with the "sweet gestures" he could have with me. In the third year of our relationship, after discovering an online affair (they were only chatting because they were in different countries), he proposed to me. Shortly after we got married, we bought our first house together. Wow, if we weighed it all out, there were many wonderful moments that turned into sad endings because, according to him, I didn’t do something right, and many times I would repeat to myself, “I need to be better for myself and for him,” but for him, I was never good enough. Little by little, I started to fade. His words and actions took me to the darkest places—depression and anxiety. From there, it got even darker: a fight in the bathroom where he was the only one talking, and I had long ago decided to remain silent to avoid making the problem worse. I remember that night we were sitting on the bathroom floor arguing, and when it ended, we decided to leave the bathroom. I was walking behind him, continuing the argument, and that’s when he decided to push me, making me fall back several feet. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life. Among the physical pain I felt in my body, the pain in my soul was even stronger. He apologized and insisted that he thought I was coming after him to hit him. I insisted that I would be incapable of doing something like that, but once again, I was blamed. Shortly after, the problems in the relationship intensified, and there was more crying than laughing. I blamed the depression, but deep down, I knew it was everything that was happening there. I decided to seek professional help and started working with a psychiatrist. For more than a year, I was in therapy and on medication, and that’s when my awakening began. I’ll never forget the day my therapist said to me, "I want you to do an exercise that I know I shouldn’t ask of you." I forgot to mention that I earned my psychology degree in my home country. She continued, “We’re going to make a diagnosis, but it’s not for you. If I’m right, our therapy is going to change drastically because you’ll have only two options: divorce or couples therapy.” Although she didn’t say it, she was leaning more towards divorce. Her request was, "Let’s diagnose, based on observation, whether your husband is a narcissist. You’ve given me many examples that are raising red flags for me." She managed to get an interview with him, and in the end, we reached the diagnosis: I was married to a narcissist. I had been too ashamed to tell her that a week earlier, I was not only a victim of his physical aggression when he pushed me, but he had also pulled my hair. I had never felt so ashamed of myself until I had to talk about it with my therapist. Her only words were, “Run from there; there’s no turning back.” How grateful I am to her for those words. Today, almost a year after our legal divorce, although this path hasn’t been easy, I feel that I’ve become a much more resilient woman. No matter how difficult the situation is, no matter how much pain you may feel, love doesn’t have to be the excuse to push your limits. I knew for a long time that I needed to leave, and it’s not easy. Finding that strength is not easy, but today I can say that when your love for yourself grows every day, it’s that love that helps you move forward. Losing everything and losing myself to find myself has been the most beautiful experience life has given me. NO MORE. Only you have the power to break the cycle.

You never think it would happen to her, but it did. Name was raped. She didn't tell us. When I learned about it, I was shocked. Who would rape a woman in intellectual/developmental disabilities? I write this narrative as my sister's co-conservator. I write this because justice has not been served and healing is a journey. Name has high support needs for her daily care. She relies on a tribe to keep her safe, healthy and happy. A man at her day program raped her when he was changing her adult underwear. The police report states that men were allowed to be alone her. One of them took advantage of her and gave her gonnorhea. She was in pain for months. We didn't know until an urgent care doctor did an STD panel. Other doctors didn't think to do this because "It doesn't happen in that populaiton." Little do they know that people with IDD have the highest rate of sexual asasult- 7x more than those without disabilities, per NPR's "Abused and Betrayed" investigative series. The facility still operates, the criminal case is still open and he is still out there- most likely caring for others. The family carries the trauma. As her sister, I have done so much over the past decade to raise the awareness, but I need help. We need more support. Link.

How does one even know what happened? It’s so far locked away. What if I’m making it all up. I’m so scared that I’ve painted a negative image of these people in my mind for nothing. But then again, I remember one thing clearly. Agony. Pure agony. As I felt helpless. And in the future when I felt unable to say no to any older or larger man, because it hadn’t worked in the past. Why would it start working now? As someone who believed that everything happens for a reason, I struggle to find any sort of comfort in that statement. It’s all messed up now. I know what happened. Maybe I doubt myself because I don’t want it to be true. After my dad died, there was no one left to protect me from these people. I was all alone. Living in a household full of young females. The only solace I’m able to find is that it was only me, not them. I was the one without a say. Whether I want to acknowledge it or not, I am a victim. Genuinely. Even if what I know physically happened didn’t, I’d be in the same boat. Harassed. I shouldn’t have met up with them. I should’ve trusted my gut, what my father taught me. But fear wrecked my common sense. Almost 3 years later and I am just now remembering what my brain tried so desperately to hide from me. I always knew there was something wrong with those experiences. But shied away from any sort of label. I am no longer scared of you. It is time to speak my truth. You. Raped. Me

Hello, my name is Name and this is my story... The abuse was rather physical, starting at a young age, as early as I can remember. EMDR has taken me back to memories around two-years-old where my dad was physical, large, and just scary. While he was a very abusive man physically, this is about what he did to me starting at 13. The sexual abuse started off simple when I was just a young woman, but it progressed to beyond a living nightmare. This man had not only asked me to marry him and be his wife over three times, he also didn't let me leave after the age of 18 when I tried to move out. The abuse was more than just inappropriate touches, he made me share a room with him after I turned 16, and I felt life was over then. When he started to make me sleep in his room, he then had full access to me and didn't have any boundaries - at all. Many days and nights I was stuck at the house for him because he would let others in the family go out and explore life, while I was grounded so he could keep an eye on me. I was not allowed to talk to boys my age, and if I did, it would make him jealous and angry. I had a constant phone check and had to prove where every text message went. I won't go into the detail of the things he did, but he did everything to me that a man should only do with his wife, not his daughter. I was very scared of this man as he spent every moment watching me and what I did. He even threatened to end both of our lives if I didn't comply, which is something all survivors feel or go through. When I turned 18, I left that night and walked from City, State, to the airport in City, State 2 in middle of the night. I was desperate to get out, and he wasn't going to let me go. When I arrived at the airport and started begging for money, shortly into the morning, I turned around, and there he was. Walking up to me, taking me back to the car. I was too scared to scream out. He was mad at me, and took me back to our home in Citywhere he locked me in his room for 2 weeks where I wasn't allowed to talk to family members, my phone was taken away, and food was served to me. At 19, I tried again. I begged my mom for help and she took me to the City Greyhound bus station and bought me a ticket. She told me to lay low and be careful and sent me off with a wifi capable phone. After 32 hours of travel on the bus, I got a call from my mom stating my dad found out and he was on his way. When the bus pulled into the City, State 3 station, he was there, again, to take me back. I tried to fight this time, after he broke a promise. He told me he wanted to make sure I was safe and promised to go take me to my grandparents. Tired, hungry and needing the ride, I believed him. Instead of going North, he started driving south. I started screaming and he turned up the music, eventually I passed out due to exhaustion and woke up back in NM. I finally escaped at 21 when we moved to TN and a friend, I met out there understood what I was going through. He helped sneak me out of that house one day, and I left with nothing. My father found out where I was again and came to kidnap me again. This time, cops were called, and I went in for protection. My father didn't let me take a single article of clothing at that time when he knew I was officially out of his hands. For the next few years, I didn't know how to navigate life or around my family. I held my story in, carrying shame and guilt for things that were out of my control. I wanted a family, so I tried to pretend things didn't happen and in 2015 I moved back to UT to be around my family again. When I did this, I couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort and ick. I eventually met a boy who let me move in (because I was broke and living with my family wasn't working) and started to help me out. We ended up dating and becoming a relationship and having a little boy. In this time frame, I started making boundaries with my family and telling them who my father was, no one believed me. In 2020 I woke up one day, it was national siblings' day, and I was feeling hurt. I was sad they all took his side and that my 5 brothers, mother, and little sister all believed him over me and called me really bad names. I posted on TikTok about my story, and it started to blow up as many others started to feel a similar way or went through similar things. This was the start of my healing journey. I said, I don't have to feel shame for my past, and I can take control of who I am today. The past doesn't have to define you, but who you are can be up to you. While it was and still is hard correcting bad or unwanted habits, I am grateful for who I am now because of the pain I've been through. Because of the suffering I endeared for the first 21 years of my life, it has made the 32-year-old woman bright and positive. I have spent years in therapy with EMDR, ART, Mindfulness, breathwork, and many other courses through the years have gotten me to the warrior I am today. I take pride in my story, and I own it. I can't change what I have been through, but I can make the changes to better my future and be a better mom for my son. After seeing my mother take the abuse from my father, I told myself I would never be like her. After 10 years of living with my child's father, I have become stronger and recognized the signs of domestic abuse that I too, was going through. After years of triggers, and realizing he is life my father, I gained the strength to go off like I needed. I am now a single mother who loves her son, works with a large corporation in their Behavioral Health division, and creating my own business pathways to help other survivors thrive. I know the healing journey is hard, and it can be hard to start, but you got this. We all do!

When I was a boy of about 6 years old, my cousin and I became good friends. He is 1.5 years older than me. When I was 6, we spent a holiday at our grandparents' place, and one morning when we were in bed (we shared a bedroom), he suggested we play game in which he would put his penis between my buttocks. I first said no, arguing that our grandparents may walk in. He argued they were still asleep. I let him do it, but felt uncomfortable, and told him to stop, which he did. We had a good time together the rest of the holiday, and remained friends for some years after this, and there was no more of such attempts from his side. We drifted apart, but would still see each other at family events. All the time, I remembered what had happened but wasn't affected by it. Later, in my early 20s, I saw a therapist because of anxiety, and we talked a great deal about things from my childhood that caused me more distress, particularly bullying which took place at school a bit later than the incident at my grandparents. I didn't bring up the incident, because it didn't matter that much to me. I don't think it was about denial, because we talked about a lot of things that were distressful and a I had the feeling of "cleaning out my closet". I am now 49 years old. Six months ago my cousin re-contacted because he and his family would be on holiday close to where we have our summer cottage. It was nice to see him, because I recalled our friendship, and our daughters (both are 11 years old) got on really well. We invited him back, and a month ago he and his daughter spent a weekend at our place. But a week ago, I started thinking a lot more about when he crossed my boundaries, and how to deal with it. I also worry that he may sexually abuse his own children or my daughter if she spends time alone with him, but don't know how to deal with or what to do.

Hi everyone, I am not really sure where and how to start. I am now 65 and have been a survivor (and I hate using that word as I feel weak) of sexual abuse by a neighbour when I was 12 years old up until 15 years old, so I should start at the beginning and move forward. I did not grow up in a poor family, I was not treated badly all the time and I did not want for many things (apart from the general things a kid wants at 12 growing up in 1968). I was the youngest of 5 boys and grew up in Melbourne Victoria Australia. At 8 my family consisted of two brothers at home and two brothers in the navy. We had the opportunity of going to the USA when my father was posted there for work. We stayed there for 3 years and we all loved it, from there we were headed to France but my mother kicked up such a racket with my father we headed home to Australia, at the time I was 11. When we got back my father started on the alcohol and become increasingly distant, angry and abusive. My brother above me was 16 months older and above him 24 months older. We all began to hate my dad (something I am not proud to say even now), he would come home and walk into the back of the house, if mum said nothing then he would mumble and go to bed, however, if mum said (which she usually did) something then it was on. Being 11-12 I was fairly tall and my only thought of my dad were him wailing on me for doing something wrong, he would start at the dinner table and on weekends force me to do stupid tasks like weeding between the bricks on the back patio, when it was not done to his satisfaction then he would usually drag me into the bedroom and hit me with a belt. My brothers did not help the situation by trying to make me laugh, just got him madder. At 12 I was starting to get into music and the neighbour across the road was a band manager and had a band that regularly came around so I started to spend some time with him and my best friend (also into music), I am not completely clear what date it happened but (let call him AM, who was a man) AM was over at my place on a day when I was home from school not feeling well, my mum and dad both new him so no problems, on his way out of our house he put his hands down my pants and fondled me, not an unhappy experience to a 12 year old, and said I should come over later to see him. I did this and that is when the sexual experiences started, first it was to fondle me and then he wanted me to fondly him, it was never nasty, hurtful or unpleasant, but it did screw with my head a little. I came over one day with my best friend and AM was all over both of us, I found out later that he was already playing with my best friend. He gradually started to play with both of us at the same time. This happened for a couple of years and the effect was (looking back now) different for both myself and my friend, I started to expose myself to girls and my friend started a risky life of going out with older men, they would pick him up (even when I was at his house) in flash cars and take him for a drive. I spoke to him one day and he told me he as the best c--k suc--r around, he never came onto me and he as gay for 10 years after that. I could go into more details but I wont, except for the impact on me, from 13-60 I was (when under stress) finding a control base by exposing myself to girls, my many psychologists all came to the conclusion that I was trying to control my surroundings by this action, somewhere along the way I started to enjoy it and it became a habit (a disgusting habit and a harmful one), I never really realised what harm I was doing to these girls until I read the 'impact statements' only then did it hit home really hard. I have been convicted on a number of occasions and recently put on the sex offender register. psychological help is ongoing but the ramifications even before being put on the register was depression, thoughts of suicide and dark dark places. The abuse had another affect also, I became a very good sports person, the reason is, I did not mind pain both on myself or inflicting it on others, I would hit contests hard all the time. I was prone to rage (and I still am), I still suffer from the long term affects even today, I have to work really hard to not get angry at my wife and kids (all grown up now and all know what has happened). What I did not do is tell anyone, that was a mistake, talking is good but extremely hard, my wife said to me "if you new it was wrong (talking about going over to AM) then why go", typical question from someone that does not realise that sexual abuse is not always unpleasant. What compounded the situation is that while AM was abusing me my next door neighbour (a women) was also getting me to do things to her, once again not an unpleasant experience, she was nice and kind to me and I lost my virginity to her at the age of 15, funny I hold no animosity towards her at all and I hate AM with a passion. This next part will interest some; So far I have told 9 police officers of the abuse in the interviews and the many court cases I have gone to and so far, 'guess how many have asked me to expand on it', ill give you 2 guesses but I think you will only need one. Police see me as a nothing more than a sex offender, plain and simple, put him in the box, that encapsulates you period, they don't see the many many things I have done right and I have not lost my identity, I can not longer be me, and maybe rightly so. Not sure if anyone want to comment or even care but this is only a snap shot of my lift.

When i was about 12-13 years old, me and my twinsister used to hang out a lot with the girl that lived next door. She was a few years older (she was 16 i believe) and i looked up to her a lot. I thought she was cool and loved that she wanted to play with us. She would sometimes babysit when our parents were away. So overall we had a pretty good relationship i guess. One time, we (me and my twinsister) were sleeping over at the neighbours and sleeping in the girl's room together. Normally that would just be the three of us, but this time for some reason her brother and his best friend were also sleeping in the same room. Both of the guys were about 17 years old. It started out alright but at some point (either the girl or the boys, i don't remember) suggested playing a game. I didn't really know much about sex at that time, but what they suggested as a game was to have oral sex with the guys. The neighbour girl took me and my sister to a seperate room for a bit, and explained what oral sex was and had us sort of "practice" that on a pencil for a bit. After that we returned to the girl's bedroom. At this point, i don't remember much of what happened (if anything more happened), i just remember at some point being upset and crying. I keep struggling to deal with this memory and often it doesn't even feel valid to call it abuse or even trauma. But i know i was very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. I don't know if what happened counts as COCSA. I recently just learned about this word so. It's all very confusing, but whenever i think about that memory now, i feel very uncomfortable and anxious.

Sexually assaulted at 17 Name and in 24 years old a bad fake family member came in life around 24 to 25 years old, he exploited my messages on phone and gave it to family health centers his name is Name but he was not allowed to come here legally anyway. I want justice and peace.

I live in Japan. I have been here for 7 years. I got married to a man that I felt I was in love with and had a daughter. I thought we were ok. We got divorced. He told me he stopped loving me when I wanted to hear about his day. He cheated on me with multiple women, getting very physical and most likely sexual. I am now alone with my daughter and have to work through all this on my own.

I’m writing to try and seek clarity over my childhood experiences. It was mostly with a cousin of mine (both f). Nearly every time we would meet from the age of about 4 we would secretly kiss and she taught me oral. Then it became reciprocal oral. I remember feeling sick and ashamed whenever I would leave her house but it continued about once a year or less until we were 12. She tried to initiate something even later with me in our early 20s. I’m confused because of all the mess of feelings I have about it. I felt terrible after. I remember saying to her I preferred the kissing and tried to make her the centre of what was happening so I could give more than receive. I knew it wasn’t right and couldn’t tell either of my parents who were separated for a lot of this time span.

Tears fall from my face when I have flashbacks. The amount of times I’ve ran to the washroom and cried remembering those nights. Frozen in fear, unable to move. Feeling his hands on my skin. And hearing his voice as he tries to make sure I’m not awake. The excuses I’ve heard and the disbelief I’ve been through, that I still go through. Most dont believe my story, they believe his because “how could he do that?” They act like he never added the second part of his side; he admitted to touching me without consent. People don’t realize that I check that the doors are locked before I go to bed. They dont realize that I always have an eye on him making sure he’s not about to pull another stunt. The excuses they use. They believe his excuses and act like nothing happened. Sexual assault has been normalized but they forgot about me who’s still drowning in grief. The little girl inside of me was forced to grow up that night. That part of me that I will never get back. The fear that I will never lose. And the memories that can’t be erased. Most blame it on the clothes I was wearing. Those nights I was wearing pajamas. Shorts and a tank top. Considering it was 40° outside I believe I had the right to be wearing those clothes. When I think about that night my heart gets heavy. It’s like my heart gets bigger and it’s pushing against my chest. Every time I have a flashback I relive the experience. I feel his hands on me and remember the pain I felt. Most survivors say that they were almost broken, but I dont think I qualify for almost broken. I am broken. And I surprise myself everyday that I don’t cry in front of him. People think I need words of encouragement but in reality I need a hug. That's all I want, a hug from the right person. A hug.

I, Name was sexually molested by my Mother's boyfriend for years 1969-1974... when she found this out she was so Angry but WITH ME !! Because " I did NOT TELL HER. " She'd beat me up 2 times that month already.. but on MY 8TH GRADE GRADUATION night was WORST in my life. I had HER permission to go to graduation parties. (but HER boyfriend did not want her to let me go and HE is still angry for telling on him.) so SHE ripped off my beautiful 100% COTTON white dress tearing it to shreds, I'm full of bruises and scratches. .next day I show her my 8th grade grad photo book PROVING whole group of us were ALL 8th grade STUDENTS walking home from party and THE MALES were in fact 8th grade graduates and NOT MEN like HE SAID. All MONTH she questioned me for details But when HE came home .mother ACTED like all was fine because she did not want him to know she's still questioning me. Finally, I'M awakened to come to mother's bedroom to see what "SHE' wants....Name pulls my pajama bottoms down..I pull them back up..HE pulls them down again..I pull them up again..he jerks my LEFT ARM landing me into mother's bed *WITH MOTHER ALSO..I'm pulling away from him and I SAY NO !! He calls on mother " Mother', I can't get it in..she won't be still. " Mother( MY BIOLOGICAL MOTHER ) got up, turned around on her knees in her bed while leaning over my head..SHE PUT HER HANDS on BOTH MY SHOULDERS and I felt her mattress springs from her heavy weight..SHE SAID to him "GO AHEAD, GIT IT, GIT IT..BUT DON'T NUT IN HUH"...I still remember looking into my mother's eyes for MY MOM.. My MOTHER. AND HE TOOK MY VIRGINITY. She NEVER SPOKE TO ME THAT NIGHT. Next morning : "YOU BETTER NOT TELL NOBODY or else"..I stayed SILENT. GAVE HER NO ANSWER. ** I NEVER AGREED TO KEEP HER DIRTY SECRET, but did so..because IF I told on HIM..HE could teel on HER and I would LOOSE MY Mother/My siblings and we would ALL be seperated and put into THE FOSTER CARE system !! I KNEW that as an 8th Grader. I was THEIR THIRD 'party' in their bed until I waited for Christmas presents and for SCHOOL TO REOPEN in JANUARY 1975 that's when I REFUSED TO DO IT ANYMORE. She told him to leave me alone. He bagan showing me his penis and touching himself and asking me "don't I want it?' I rolled my eyes only..soon I SEE him with his penis in my sister Sisters mouth (THEIR CHILD) and she is only 4 years old !! I TELL MOTHER on HIM..SHE IGNORED ME, does Not speak to me. I SCREAM AT HER REPEATING IT..nothing not one word. I was BLAMED for NOT TELLING HER...RIGHT? Next morning He DOES SAME to Sister while laughing at me. MOTHER MARRIES HIM on Date. She asks for a wedding ring..39 years later HE CHEATS on her with Name and brings her to Location Courthouse for his DIVORCE. Motherpresent at his DEATH BED and FUNERAL. HE gets CREMATED by HIS children. Note 1: sibling sister Name told me few years ago that he was doing same to her in 1969. Note 2: youngest sibling brother Name was ONLY 2 Years old and HAS NEVER heard MY STORY..but went to other siblings saying what HE MADE UP on Date as mother's excuse.and SHE STAYED SILENT letting him DEFEND HER..knowing she was NOT AFRAID SCARED AND WEAK of Name..BOTH OF THEM "DOUBLED TEAMED ME AND RAPED ME ..TOGETHER!!! Name interrupted Mother and I arguing because I asked her for HER APOLOGY FOR WHAT SHE DID TO ME..she always had said "HE was wrong..but never herself. Name was angry with me for LAND DEEDS & stealing HIS LAND.' IF my 7 siblings don't want to BELEIVE this factual account of MY LIFE EXPERIENCES..I CHALLENGE OUR MOTHER TO A LIE DETECTOR TEST. SHE will FAIL THE TEST. I am NOT A LIAR..BROTHERS Name and Name..YOU SAID I GAVE YOU NOTHING..I let YOU & other siblings KEEP PARENTS.. & TO KNOW EACH OTHER & NOT GET PLACED INTO THE FOSTER CARE SYSTEM OF NEW JERSEY by NOT TELLING/REPORTING 2 RAPES BY TWO STEED MEN as a MINOR..you got a FAMILY ! AND Name.. YOU THREATENNED MY LIFE IF I TOLD THIS..YOU SAID "I WILL KILL YOU" FOUR TIMES TO ME and Right in front of OUR MOTHER eating the salad you brought her and SHE SAID NOTHING !! JUST 5 days later you say YOU are an 'OFFICER of Location Courts and a NOTARY PUBLIC. ps: and Name wanted 'NO DETAILS. & wife Name said "Name, Name is YOUR SISTER" ...FALSE !! OUR Mother did NOT give BIRTH to Name..who remains JUST YOUR STEPSISTER. & ATTEMPTED TO STEAL $!k from OUR FATHER'S BANK ACCOUNT **after he had died....but the BANK caught it. Today is Monday, Date END.

Hi - After 67 years of living, I realized that I need counseling or therapy to process my life. After 25 years of being married to a malignant narcissist/psychopath, I have PTSD or complex PTSD What contributed greatly to my situation was that my mom was also narcissist/psychopath and my ex used her and my whole extended family (5 brothers and sisters) to gaslight, demean, degrade, and humiliate me. It was hard for me to recognize that not only did my ex not love me, but my family did not either. This is why I need therapy to recover from my PTSD symptoms. Often I think I was in a literal war defending myself persistently from 1993 to 1999, even earlier than 1993. I am still defending myself to my two older sons (44 & 30) and my extended family. My mom died in 2018 and it is time for me to get better.

I was told that it's not my fault, but I have experienced a traumatic form of sexual violence. I thought I had friends who shared a similar interest with myself but I was wrong. It was only about forming a personal relationship and starting families. I was only faced with rejection until I was faced with a stalker who touched me without my consent.

I had accepted my fate, until one day a friend witnessed the aftermath of the abuse. That friend saved my life, and I found my will to live. It's been ten years since I said no more, and I've built a life for myself that I never thought I'd live to see. You are not alone. You are worthy. You are loved. You deserve the world. There is a reason you are here, and the world is so much better with you in it.

i was 14, this was 6 years ago, and it completely altered my life route, who i am, and where i’m going. i was dating a guy. within the first month he had assaulted me several times, hit me, etc. he used to tell me we fought because that’s what people do when they love each other. he used to come up behind me and grab me sexually without me knowing he was there. this all happened at school, it was incredibly dehumanizing and embarrassing. it got even worse from there. i tried to leave him, he would then send me videos of him burning himself, messaging me going into detail how he would kill someone and get away with it, sending me pictures of dead wild bunnies (my favourite animal that he killed), then he raped me. i ended up pregnant at 14 and was finally ready to officially leave. this baby was going to be my way out even if i didn’t keep it. he didn’t like that. next thing i know is he tries to kill me so violently that i had a miscarriage soon after. i couldn’t leave, i couldn’t live in that relationship. at one point months after he tried to kill me i told him he’s abusive. that’s when he left me. not sure how that made sense, especially that he cried over me saying that. but if it worked it works. i tried everything, he said if i started smoking he’d leave me, he just burned me with a lighter instead, he said if i cheated hed leave me, i just got beat, i tried to leave him and he tried to kill me, but me saying he’s abusive was too far i guess. i survived for a year. there are so many times i wonder if i made it all up, that’s what he said i did at least. sometimes i don’t believe i’m a victim. i have been diagnosed with CPTSD and have struggled with my self image, addiction, and relationships sense. i quit smoking this year, i’m very proud of myself. i graduated, have a good job, i’m in university and am so far away from him now. i’m happier. i’m in a happy relationship with a man who would never hurt, threaten, or even yell at me. i no longer receive anonymous death threats. i find myself very paranoid a lot, like someone’s watching me or going to hurt me, sometimes i have to remind myself it’s just him forcing his way into my head again. it still hurts, i lost a big part of my innocence during such a crucial time for my development. i was isolated, he had control over my social medias and even my phone, he cut off my friends and almost my family. but, i’m not her anymore. and i never will be again. i pity 14 year old me. i’ve always looked at her with such hatred and shame. but she was in pain. she was scared. i was scared. every day of my life, for a year and then up until the harassment stopped, which was another while after. but i lived, not only did i live but i thrived and came out on top. i hope this helps any other victims of extreme abuse. once you find a way out it’s so much better, even if you question yourself, want to go back, think you deserve it, etc. the way out will save your life. it’s so hard, and the work to even get better after can be even harder. but it’s worth it. i’m still fighting CPTSD, i will for the rest of my life, but it got better.

We danced at a bar, I wasn't sure about him but I gave him my number. After the bar I was at a friends party and he asked me where I was; I told him that I wouldn't say but if he found me I would dance with him. He came and danced for a bit, I was drinking and when he pulled me upstairs from the basement where the party was I thought he wanted to chat away from the music. Until he pulled me outside into the snow. I didnt have my shoes and I was cold so when he directed me to the car I got in to at least relieve my cold feet. He started driving and I told him I didn't want to do anything with him, I was tired and wanted to go home. He said I could stay over and it would be fine. I believed him and I went in his room. When he started kissing me I went along with it thinking of course it's expected I at least do that. But as things progressed I told him I just wanted to sleep. He is a proffesional body builder and athlete so when he pinned me down fighting was useless. He raped me anally first and my screams were so loud I thought that his neighbors in the duplex must hear but I also knew they were fellow basketball players at the university and boys will be boys. After that I just stayed limp as he continued using my body, even at one point giving himself a hand job, my hand nothing but a sock or something to wrap around. I had to beg him for a ride home after because I couldnt walk, my phone was dead and I didn't want to call anyone even if it wasn't. I didn't want to have to explain why I was there or what happened. Even through the echos of my screams and after the blood that wouldn't stop, I could hear the blame, that I went along with all these things leading up to it, what did I think would happen? The next time I saw him was at a smaller get-together for a birthday, no one knew what happened to me, I had not told my friends yett. When he came over I was literally in a corner. He introduced himself to all my friends, and then introduced himself to me. As if he had no idea who I was. As if he was not too drunk that night to drive but was too drunk to remember what he did to me.

he was a few years older than me. i thought i loved him and i let him do things because i didn’t want him to leave me. i didn’t want to do the things he told me to do, and i told him that. but he manipulated me into doing them anyways. so from then on i just let it happen because he “liked” me. i was so so young and he was on the verge of being an adult. i didn’t realize what had happened until years afterwards. there’s no proof that would hold in court so he can’t even be held accountable. it makes me sick.