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When I was younger I had this friend, we’ll call her friend. She wasn’t always kind to me, in fact she was often rude to me. She was way more mature than me even though she was younger, and that included being sexually more educated than I was. We were 7 or 8 at this point I think, and at her house she had a hot tub that her mom would let us go in sometimes. I can’t remember if this happened during the same play date, but she tried to show me videos of wlw sexual activities. This included scissoring, etc. and she seemed very obsessed with it. I was weirded out and uninterested and left the room, but it was weird. Anyways, one time we were in the hot tub, she repeatedly tried to convince me to get out of the hot tub and try scissoring or whatever. I really didn’t want to and felt weird, but she eventually coerced me to. I remember feeling really uncomfortable and like it was just wrong. I feel like something else happened, either penetration or something oral, but my memory betrays me. I had another very sexually oriented friend at a young age who dared me to “pull my pants down and have sx with the wall” when I was around 7, in addition to her telling me lots of made up sex stories, to which again I was very disturbed. I think these repeated encounters as a child is part of what has led me to be a mostly sex repulsed asexual person, and I struggle deeply with my boundaries when it comes to physical touch. I recently had an experience where me and a friend were both drunk and she sort of pushed my boundaries after I said no over and over (I put this story in the q+a section.) I didn’t realize the childhood stories until recently and it’s been a bit over a decade. How can I feel safe and comfortable in my own body again and process this, as well as getting better at boundaries?

I learned from my partner that she was gang-raped. Rn we live in different cities. We had a stupid argument on the phone, after which she shared with me about what she's been through via text and she went silent completely. As soon as I read that she's been. My world shattered, I texted her that I have to cool off and I'll be back. It took me an hour to cool down and answer with words of support and love. I didn't ask any questions. I just said she can reach out whenever she's ready. I don't know who to talk to. I was so fkng furious, I felt so much pain and sadness. I couldn't sleep for 24 hrs and just got a 2-hour sleep at least. I feel broken and scared not knowing how can I be strong enough to support her and not fail myself. I want to make those men pay. I have never felt such rage in my life. I just don't know what to do now. I can't really talk to anyone about it. I try to focus on other things, but my mind just can't focus on anything. I keep thinking about it. And I wonder how she feels rn, I wanna support her and talk to her, but I don't want to push her. I hope she will reach out to me soon. I'm so afraid what's gonna happen next, I don't want her to see me so weak and broken and wonder for how long Id be able to look strong and not break. I don't wanna fail her. I love her so much. I never thought Id feel so much pain and anger. I know I shouldn't push her or ask her questions, but I wanna know the names of those pieces of shit. I hope she gains courage to stand up and fight some day, bcz I can't imagine living and knowing those monsters are still out there. I hate life so much rn and I was always the most positive person. I wish I could erase our memories, I can't imagine what she's been through. I love her so much, and I just hope I can be strong and we can push through this together.

This is my story. When I was younger than 5, I was raped. My memory blocked out the person who did it. So I don’t remember who did it. It makes me so angry, I don’t remember any of my childhood except for the sexual abuse parts. I remember at four years old, I only wanted to be involved with things if it regarded something sexual. There was never a time in my life where I’ve felt innocent. At the ripe age of four I knew all about kinks, positions, different kinds of sex, and looking back, the signs were screaming at everyone around me. I was very sexual, and I was very violent. The only things I wanted to watch was porn or gore. I was 5. I was scared of the bathroom, and I had accidents at school every day because I was scared of restrooms. Sometimes I’d cry when I’d have to go in there. Then, at 5 also, I had internet access. That’s when I had found out that the rape I endured was “normal” (it wasn't) because of the pornos I watched. It exposed me to way more things than the rape I experienced. And obviously, the rape that happened made me an angry child. So I took that anger and acted violent. I remember the only time I would play with my toys, like any child should, was if I was pretending they were having sex, being raped, or simply breaking the toys. Over my life, I have felt pissed. Pissed at the world, pissed at my family, why couldn’t anyone see this? Why did this happen? There has never been a time in my life where I was innocent. I feel filthy. I feel disgusting, I don’t feel like a girl, I feel like a wasted potential of a human. I know it wasn’t my fault. And nobody can sit in their pity forever. I have therapy now, I have been to mental health facilities, and I have gotten so much help from family and friends. The feeling of being rotten can’t go away. But I think I speak for every rape victim when I say, it sure is validating knowing that it’s not your fault. And the way I’m handling this such life changing situation, is just how any human would. You are not alone, and there is a huge difference between feeling filthy and being filthy. And I and many other survivors, are not filthy. Because of the abuse I endured, I’m scared of love. Many times, I don’t think love exists. I’m scared of sex, I’m scared of marriage, and I hate to say it, but sometimes I’m scared of guys. I’ve lost hope in true romance. The only time someone wanted me “romantically” was when I was 4. That’s a kind of lost hope, that I don’t know how to over come from. I feel like a baby, sometimes I get triggered by sex scenes, by beauty standards even. I feel like such a Debbie downer. Anything with lust, I get triggered. And I feel horrible for it. I want to joke around, I want to have fun, but that kind of topic is something I can never erase from my memory. Thank you for reading my story, you are not alone. And you are not filthy, or a burden. Be gentle with yourself, and give yourself time to recover.

I could never remember my childhood well, even as a kid. But I started to be hypersexual at 3, and so thats when I believe me and my brother started touching (hes 3 and a half years older). When I was 12 I remembered and told my parents, my mom freaked out and screamed at me. She said it was my fault and that it wasn't too bad if I didn't tell anyone. I fear thats she's right. When I was 14 and in deep psychosis, I felt like there was more to remember. I started to feel my brother's hands over my body and mouth. I remembered us having sex 3 times. The first time when I was 6 and the last when I was 8. One of those times he was hitting me and pinning me. I dont know how real those memories are because I recovered them in psychosis. I started doing really bad cus all I could think about was me and my brother fucking. A couple of months ago I remembered my brother fucking me with his hands around my neck (which was painful). Im so scared that really happened because I see my brother daily and hes my best friend. Im worried ill remember more.

I don't know if what my brother did to me can be classified as sexual abuse. I was staying over at his house. It was late at night, and we were watching a movie. At some point, he asked if he could initiate some cuddling. I actually agreed, since we are really close and both enjoy physical affection. While we were spooning, he snuck his hand under my shirt. He didn't say anything, and I didn't say anything. As the night went on, he alternated between different caresses, kisses on my head or the side of my face, and words of affection. I idly stroked his arm back because I felt awkward just lying there. He eventually asked "is this okay?" in reference to his hand inching up my stomach. I was giving him the benefit of the doubt and still thought the action was platonic, plus it felt nice, plus I am a timid person and have a hard time with confrontation, so my brain thinks saying "no" to people is provoking them, so I said "yes". I didn't really want to say it I, though. I don't think I wanted to say "no", wither. I don't think I wanted to say anything at all. I was tired. We both were. His caresses smoothly progressed to the point he was caressing the underside of my breasts. That's when I started really questioning his intentions. He asked "is this okay?" again. I said "yes" again. When the movie ended, I got scared. I had been using it to distract myself from what was happening, and I was afraid that now that there was no distraction, he would shift his whole attention to me and try to initiate something; so I sat up. He lightly squeezed the underside of my breast as I did so, maybe on purpose, or maybe as a reflex. When he realized I was genuinely pulling away, he took back his hands, said: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep", and got up to take a shower. I think that's the moment I started freaking out. It's what confirmed my suspicions that his touches really had sexual intent behind them. I had been trying to gaslight myself into believing they were innocent affection, but those words were forcing me to face the reality of my situation. I remember running my mouth non-stop about random topics when we were having breakfast because I was afraid he was going to bring up what just happened and would want to have a conversation about it. I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to pretend it never happened. I still try to. But it haunts me. He and his wife (who had been sleeping peacefully in their bedroom through the whole night) left early in the morning for their honeymoon (I was there to house-sit, and had come the night before to hang out with them before they left). Once I was alone, I quietly went to their bed to sleep (with their permission and insistance, since there were no other beds in the apartment). As I tried to fall asleep, I still could feel his hands on me, like a phantom touch. I broke down right there. I felt guilty, and disgusting, for not having stopped it and for having enjoyed it too. I felt like maybe I was the creep, and maybe I was the one turning this interaction into something inappropriate. The following weeks, I tried to suppress my feelings. Some days before Christmas, I was on a plane with my mother, about to start our holiday vacation. I was close to my period and my breasts felt sensitive. That triggered something in me and I suddenly teared up right there, in public. That vague ache reminded me of the feeling of that one squeeze he gave to my breast. My mother noticed me about to cry, but I lied and said that's just because I'm close to my period and feeling gloomy (I had been struggling with depression for a while, which she knew.) During the trip, I would get random flashbacks to that night, sometimes even accompanied with feelings of nausea. I felt like I was making my brain overreact somehow, since I hadn't been raped and I shouldn't be traumatized for touching that can barely even be considered intimate. When we got back home, I did something I'm not sure whether I regret it: I talked to him about it. I sent him a long text (he lives in another city, which actually made me feel safer about confronting him) which I barely remember anything about, except that it mentioned "that night" and how I had been upset by it. I broke down while typing it, and it probably wasn't very coherent. My brother sent me many short replies in quick bursts when he saw it. He apologized profusely. He said "I don't know what's wrong with me", "I'll get psychological help", alongside many things I don't remember. That had me freaking out a bit. What did he need psychological help for? Was he admitting he's got urges he can't control? But I didn't say anything related to that. I was afraid of accusing him, and I made sure to clarify I was also to blame for not setting down any boundaries. We were both replying to each other without thinking. We were panicking, and full of adrenaline. I was scared of losing him. He was the only connection I had in the city we both lived in (very far from our hometown, where our parents and my friends all live). I didn't want to upset him, because he's a very sensitive person and I already felt guilty for how I was reacting to it. We somewhat resolved the issue over text. Except we didn't. At all. I pretended we did, but I was still plagued by doubts and paranoia. More than the touching, what haunted me were his words: "I'm sorry. Your brother's a creep." They shook me to my core. All I had wanted was to be in denial about what happened, but those words wouldn't let me. The story goes on to this day, but I don't want to write too much about the aftermath of "that night", since I'd be writing for too long and I want to focus on whether it was an instance of abuse. At this point, I feel a little more grounded and able to accept that what happened had sexual undertones. I am still full of shame and guilt. I did consent to some of the touching. I'm not certain I wanted to, but it is something I did. That would usually make me think this is a consensual encounter and that I simply regret it now, but there are many factors that also contribute to my belief that this could potentially be an instance of abuse too. First of all, my brother was 38 at the time. I was 20, which yes, is an adult, but still; he is my much older brother. He was already nearly an adult by the time I was born. He's been a figure of authority my whole life, even though he likes to pretend he's not. He's a little clueless when it comes to what's appropriate or not in social contexts, but I do think someone his age should know better than to sneak his hand under his little sister's shirt and go up her body so much his fingers actually brush against her areola. Secondly, I am neurodivergent, though I hadn't told him at the time. However, when I did tell him, he said he already had suspicions. Regardless of that, I've always been quiet and withdrawn, so it upsets that he initiated touching under the guise of innocent affection and then expected me to be able to express my discomfort when it escalated without him specifying it was going to. I don't think his form of seeking consent was productive at all either. He only asked me if two specific touches were okay, and only after starting to do them. He didn't ask for explicit permission for anything but the cuddling at the start. What I want to say is that I was vulnerable. I am young, inexperienced, autistic, and he has always been an emotional support and almost parental figure to me. I don't know how he can be so naive as to think he doesn't have any power over me. Maybe he does know that, but wasn't thinking at the time. I still don't get why he would touch me like that. I find a little solace in thinking that maybe I didn't have any control over it after all. But I don't know. Maybe I did. I am an adult after all. And I do believe he would have stopped if I had told him to. But I definitely never gave any enthusiastic consent. I feel betrayed. I feel lost. I feel angry. I feel sad. I've been avoiding thinking about it for months. Tonight, it all came back to me once more and I broke down again. I truly don't know what to do. I don't want to tell anyone close to me what happened because I am ashamed. I certainly don't want to tell my parents. I kind of want to cut ties with him, but at the same time I don't because I truly believe he is remorseful about it and I don't want to make him sad. I can't help being naive. I don't know if that's comforting, or embarrassing.