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This is not really a story, but I wrote a letter to my rapist which I will never send. I don’t want to keep it in, not be alone with it. I want somebody to hear me even though it’s not him that will listen. I don’t know how I can miss and hate you so much, while still having so much love for you. You did the worst possible thing a best friend could do. You used the trust I had in you to benefit yourself and ignored my feelings along the way. I have so much love for you and I can’t show it, because you don’t deserve my love. You said you cared about me, then why didn’t you stop when I said no? How did you think I was just playing when I pushed you away, kept saying no and “I can’t”. I don’t understand how you played that role so well, everyone fell for it. Your actions never matched your words. When I told you I was raped and I don’t want to sleep with you, you said that’s okay, you’ll wait. The next thing I know, you come into the bathroom and ask me if I want to fuck. You said you never wanted to make me feel uncomfortable, yet when i clearly was, you didn’t give a fuck. You literally said “I know you can’t, but I’ll keep trying until you say yes.” Wtf man. I trusted you. I believed you when you told me you knew what I was feeling. It must be the truth, right? You were so sure about my feelings, that I started to believe they were real. When I realized that maybe I didn’t have those feelings and told you, you asked me how I could do something like that. Break your heart, lie to your face, that I’m a psychopath for playing with your feelings like that. And once again you talked me into what you wanted. I didn’t want to loose you, so I thought if this is what it takes to keep you in my life, I’ll try. But you kept pushing. You raped me. I know you don’t see it that way. I did play along. I made you believe I enjoyed it but all I could think about during it was, please just cum. In my core I knew I didn’t want this but it made you happy, so I played along. You ignored all the signs I gave you that I feel uncomfortable. I never kissed you first, I never initiated anything, I always said I can’t and no. You purposefully ignored it. You’re not that dumb. You can’t say you’re a good person. You think you are, but you’re most definitely not. I don’t know how a person can be so blind to who they really are. Maybe you’re not? Maybe you knew exactly what you were doing. I like to think that the real you was the person I trusted with my life, the person I ran to when I needed comfort, you were my safe place. But I know that’s not you. You’re the person that manipulated me into a “relationship” with you. You’re the person that raped me, followed me and made me have panic attacks. Even when I was trying to hide from you, you found a way to get to me and make me feel horrible. You deserve an explanation for why I stopped talking to you? That’s what you repeated endlessly. I tried to give you one, you started laughing. At that point I saw the real you. The manipulative you. The you that doesn’t want to hear anything except what you believe to be true. You don’t really want an explanation, you want to get an opportunity to manipulate me again. You’re the victim in your own story. I broke your heart. I hurt your feelings. But you know what, you took something from me that I’ll never get back. You made me feel horrible. Like I was wrong for not wanting to sleep with you. You made me doubt myself. Everytime you raped me you took a piece of my heart and I don’t know if I’ll ever get that back. I told you everything, sometimes I felt like you knew me better than I know myself. You made me feel excited about my future. You gave me so much hope about being able to choose my own path. I loved you. I loved the way you made me feel. Safe. Seen. Full of potential. Happy. Now I look at you and my chest starts to tighten, my heart beats faster, I want to run, get away from where ever you are. You made me feel fear when I saw you. Fear. And you knew that, you knew I didn’t want to see you and still you came over whenever there was a chance. Every time I saw you, I could feel all the love I still had for you. It hurt so much, that I can love a person this much and fear them at the same time. My mind can’t comprehend what you did. It was so out of character. The more I thought about it, the more it wasn’t though. You gave me hints to the person you really are and I just ignored them, thought they weren’t that important. Thank you for teaching me to never overlook and fall for that again. I was always told I am really grown up for my age. I never wanted to be, I just had to. Growing up I was the only person I could depend on. I learned to deal with stuff myself. But this, this didn’t make me stronger, this didn’t make me wiser. This shattered my world. I have to learn to trust people again. That has always been a big issue for me, but I got it under control. Now, I isolate myself. I have so much anxiety that I just can’t handle it. You gave me that anxiety. I hope I’ll be okay someday, I know I need to work hard for it. I know you’ll be okay in a week. You’re gonna tell people I’m a crazy bitch who broke your heart and you did nothing wrong. That’s what happened with M. You know he didn’t even ask me what happened or if I was okay. He just told me that it’s my job to go and check on you, because I broke your heart. I knew he was your best friend but I thought I was his friend as well. You probably felt good about the fact that he hurt me so much with that Facebook message. And how he hurt me, I can’t even put into words the betrayal I felt. I know that has nothing to do with you, but I just needed to let you know. I wish I could talk to you, I wish I could hug you, I wish you were the person I thought you were. I know that’s not possible and that’s okay. I will grief and I will miss you. I don’t know if that will ever stop, I hope it does. I just want you back, it’s like you died. You did die. The version of you I had in my head, my safe place, my best friend is dead. And I don’t know how to grief a person that is still alive. You’re still here and I know I could just call you or send you a message but that’s not the person I want to talk to. I want to go back in time and I want you to just accept my no. Why didn’t you accept my no??? I hate that I still love you this much. I love you so much. I can deal with the rape, I’m strong enough to not let that affect my worth. What I can’t deal with is that you were the one that raped me. You. Why did it have to be you?

I was only 7. So was he. He watched porn that his dad had his before his mom left him for my dad. He had a younger sister. One day he and I were outside and he asks me something, something my brain refuses to remember. I was so unsure, so confused on why he was suggesting us young kids to do adult activities. I visited my dad’s every other weekend, my mom was a terrible parent. I remember he suggested we started small since I was uncomfortable, I thought he was being sweet, but I was always uncomfortable. We started out just poking each other, then he fully went for it. I didn’t want it. I really didn’t. He was supposed to be like a brother to me. After he started to progress, he would do it any chance he got, any time we were alone. Years later, his mom and my dad broke up, our house caught fire so I had to live over there for a bit. He didn’t touch me. Not anymore, he wouldn’t look at me. But his sister began to touch me, I had to teach her that what her brother had done to me was not okay. I had to explain to a child that she was violating me. Now I’ve had many more troubling sexual encounters, I’m an adult and go to therapy, I still don’t like my body.

You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

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

I was conditioned to think catcalling was a compliment, that if someone held your waist a little too long at work it was just cause "ahh they're just a bit touchy", that it's easier to just "go with it" than to say no and risk their response. It took me years to identify that no matter the degree of your experiences it still is never ok. We often get told sexual violence is one way but it isn't, it comes in many forms and sometimes you can't identify it at first - and that's ok. I am only recently coming to terms with the varying degrees of experiences I've had. I didn't want to say anything because I was made to believe I'd "rock the boat". Well some boats are meant to sink. Let's rebuild the boat so everyone can stay afloat, included and safe.

The mind is an interesting, beautiful and dangerous thing. I find my mind to be especially so. I have always been an overthinker, and my thoughts have led me into dark places in my life. At the time of writing this, I am studying psychology and trying to work on a better understanding and diagnosis of my own condition through therapy and my studies. My story, this story, begins in 2022, the year I graduated high school. For context though, we must go back much further. Was I always depressed? Was I always insecure? Shy? Did I always hide in the corner? No! As a child, I was quite outgoing. I may have always been somewhat of a shy introvert, but I managed to make friends everywhere I went, eager to get to know others and play with them. I have always been extremely trusting, to the extent of naivety and gullibility. All the way through elementary school, I always had a large friend group and following. I physically grew faster than most kids, I learned faster than most and began tutoring my peers in fifth grade. My friends and I ran the playground. I was a leader, one of the cool kids. It brought me a sense of power, but it also led to me being obsessive, a control freak at times. The transition to middle school was different. Though I was still athletic and wasn't obese, I had gained a bit of weight that I could stand to lose. When swimming one time, someone whose opinion I greatly valued, pointed out my body. "You have rolls," they said. From that moment, I never saw myself the same. At that moment, insecurity truly crept into my life for the first time. From then on, I never took my shirt off around other people, even my closest friends and family. I wore a shirt whenever I swam, and when we were given middle school locker rooms for athletics, I changed in the bathroom stall instead. The friend group I once ruled the playground with, started to break apart, even if I didn't realize it. Part of it was because I stopped being one of the "cool kids," but looking back now, I realize that with my control, I was also not a very good friend at times. At the end of middle school, I learned that I would be moving to a different town and school. Though it was only a 30 minute drive away, for a kid with no transportation, it was a world away. This gave my friends the out they needed. I stopped hearing back from them until they eventually cut me out completely. A small few stuck around, but out of them, only one has stayed by my side to this day as an adult. The summer before high school was a hard one. My grandpa and his brother died within weeks of each other. With hardly any friends, my second oldest sister became my best friend for the summer. However, with her being four years older than me, as I was starting high school, she was off to college, and I was alone. As the youngest, I was an only child for the first time in my life, and my relationship with my parents at the time was almost nonexistent. When I started high school in a new and unfamiliar place, I was scared to death. I sat alone at lunch and in the corner of every classroom. My stress manifested itself as a painful black hole in the center of my torso. I couldn't bring myself to eat. In the first week of school alone, I lost about 15 pounds! To speed up my story a bit, I grew into myself a bit more, thinned out, worked out, and gained a bit of muscle. After the end of my freshman year, some girls actually started to find me attractive. I had a couple dates with a girl or two, and by the second half of my sophomore year, I had my first real girlfriend. Looking back at that relationship, I still thank God for bringing her into my life. As soon as she asked to sit next to me on the band bus, I knew she liked me, even though at the time, I wanted nothing to do with her for some reason. That single bus ride changed everything though. With main topics of conversation being random things like sandwiches and Veggie Tales, by the end, I had a new best friend. After a couple months of getting to know each other, we confessed our feelings and she soon became my girlfriend. We had a lot in common, including hobbies as we were both in band and theater. It was because of her that Covid wasn't such a bad time for me, as it was for most others. Though we were both very close, we were also both very awkward, and never intimate. We never had any talks about physical intimacy, so for the most part, we never had physical intimacy. The most "cuddling" we ever did was my arm around her shoulder, or her head on my shoulder. When we finally had our first kiss, it was 10 days before our 2 year anniversary. It was also just a quick peck, we never made out or anything like that. Through the remainder of high school, I was constantly worried about what I looked like and my image, trying to work out more and get stronger. I joined a fire academy to train to be a firefighter during my last two years of high school. Eventually, our lives started to go in different directions, and after about 2 1/2 years, we broke up 4 days before our high school graduation. As you can imagine, that was a pretty rough first breakup for me. With the way my brain works, after something like this happens, it becomes all I can think about, constantly. I overthink and over analyze every thought, every memory. I put myself through the different possible scenarios and outcomes, sometimes to the point where I start to lose my grip on reality, and what the true memories are. The black hole of stress returned to my chest. At first, I was convinced that she was still "the one" and that I would get her back after a couple years. Then, as my thought process continued to shift and spiral, I began to think that because the relationship ended, that must mean that it was a bad thing to begin with, meaning that I needed to find the opposite of what we had. Unfortunately, I got what I asked for. Only about two months had passed before I met another girl at a church retreat that I was volunteering at. This girl was someone that I had always seen growing up, but never interacted with. I always viewed her as being extremely attractive, and I lusted after her more than any other girl. She was one of the popular kids, the head cheerleader at high school. We started talking and she took an interest in me. She knew that I had just gone through a breakup because of a testimony I gave during the retreat. The more we talked, the more I realized that she was different than I thought. The red flags showed up early on. At this point, she was 17 as I was 18. At 17 years old, she had a list of the 23 guys she had kissed, and the 5 guys that she had sex with, versus the one girl I had kissed. I was originally convinced that she was a virgin like me, but that quickly flew out the window. She assured me over and over that she had only gone through a "hoe phase" and that she was different now (I came to find out later that this "hoe phase" happened only a month or two before we got together. We got together in August, and she had sex with at least 3 guys over the summer). Part of me didn't want to judge her based on her past. Part of me wanted the affirmation of someone as attractive as her being interested in me. Part of me adopted an "I can fix her" mentality. All in all, a recipe for disaster. After talking for a while, I eventually, nervously confessed feelings for her via word vomit after walking her to her car one night. To my surprise, she reciprocated those feelings. She then hugged me. This was no normal hug, as it was different from any other hug I had ever experienced. There was full body contact as she pressed against me. Part of me instinctively retreated backward, but she continued forward so that I was then pinned between her and her car. There was more physical intimacy in that hug alone than anything I had ever experienced before. This feeling was new and admittedly exciting. In my vulnerable and desperate state, I thought, "this must be love." On our first date, after going to Starbucks, we went back to my place to watch a movie. She asked if I wanted to cuddle, and I told her that I honestly didn't really know how. She showed me a few different ways/positions for cuddling, and we ended up spooning for the majority of the movie. I could tell that she wanted to kiss, but I was awkward and uncomfortable, so I just didn't say anything. We did decide to become official boyfriend and girlfriend though, which was a big, fast step. Of course, that was only the beginning. On our second date, we did end up kissing, which led to making out for about an hour. Another new experience for me. By the end of that date, we were already saying "I love you" to each other. With my previous girlfriend, I told her I loved her at a couple different milestones within the relationship, but she never felt comfortable saying it back, so this was my first time hearing words of affirmation like that. Two weeks in, she started ramping things up. She started talking to me about her favorite sex positions and demonstrating them (with clothes on). She told me about all her kinks and the things she liked. She told me that she didn't have a gag reflex and then proceeded to take my hand and suck on one of my fingers while making strong eye contact with me. Looking back on it, I realize that I was never asked, nor did I tell about what I might be comfortable with. I was of the mindset that I never wanted to have sex or even see my significant other naked before marriage, but I don't think I ever conveyed that. Later on that same date, we were watching a movie and cuddling as usual. I still remember the movie being "Phantom of the Opera." At one point during the movie, she let out a loud sigh. I asked her what was wrong. "Oh nothing. I'm just having intrusive thoughts." I asked what she meant. "It's nothing. You probably wouldn't want to anyway." I told her she could tell me whatever it was. "Oh, I was just thinking about putting your hand under my shirt." I got silent. I wasn't expecting that, and I didn't know how to respond. A moment later, she continued, "Do you want to?" I replied, "I don't know." She continued, "yes or no?" My response remained the same "I don't know." We went back and forth a couple more times, her voice becoming more and more of a seductive whisper each time. My mind was racing with thoughts of "Should I do this? I don't know, it feels wrong. What happens if I say no? Will she leave me? I can't lose her. I can't be alone!" To this day, I can't clearly remember if I actually said yes or not, but regardless, I didn’t say no, and I did what she wanted. I know now that it was all part of her tests to see how far she could push me little by little. Soon after that came grinding, and then sexual touching (all with clothes on). Over time, these memories have become a bit unclear as to exactly what happened and when. She started asking me to take my shirt off to cuddle. I thought that was a really weird request, especially still being very self-conscious about my body image, when shirtless most of all. I asked her why, to which she responded, "I like skin to skin contact." Though it made me feel uncomfortable and a bit ashamed, I complied and took my shirt off. She would affirm me and say how attractive I was to her. She would then become more passionate and eager to cuddle and make out. With the sexual touches, there became less and less clothes, down to underwear. She always gave me high praise and told me how good I made her feel, how happy I made her, and how much she loved me. I wanted to do anything I could to make her happy so that she wouldn't leave me. After dating for about a month and a half, we had moved up to oral sex. At this point, I was still so naive and uneducated that I thought I had lost my virginity. In my mind, this meant that we were eventually going to get married for sure. It only kept ramping up. If she wasn't on her period, we were engaging in oral sex every day, sometimes multiple times. We were always together every day. The longest we were ever apart from each other was about a week. By some miracle, we never went all the way, even though she constantly wanted to, and I still have my virginity to this day. However, with her kinks, she wanted me to be rough with her: to choke her, spank her, pull her hair, talk dirty, etc. These were all things that I was greatly uncomfortable with. At my core, I've always been a very gentle person, a hopeless romantic who wants to always respect women and keep them from harm. The thought of doing these things was horrendous to me, but it was what she wanted. I originally thought that I was the one fixing her, but I realize that she was the one breaking me instead. Or rather, I was broken from my first breakup, and she rebuilt me in her image. I became what she wanted me to be, putty in her hands. After being together for about 10 months, she suddenly broke up with me over text. The best reason I can come up with is that she finally got tired of my refusal to go all the way, the one boundary that I kept in place. I heard later that she had already been cheating on me anyway. Soon after we broke up, immediately in fact, she started spreading rumors. The day after she broke up with me, she blocked me on social media and posted about our breakup (one of my friends showed me the post). From there, it was one rumor after another. She even went as far as to tell some people that I raped her. Thankfully, anyone that knew me, knew that something like that could never be true, so that rumor never got anywhere. Still, I became extremely paranoid from that moment, always looking over my shoulder, wondering what people thought of me or what they've heard. To this day, I still have a lot of trouble trusting people, and I often get paranoid that everyone is talking behind my back, conspiring against me, planning to leave me. The breakup broke me in a different way than any other. I had been going to church for my whole life, but it wasn't until after the breakup that my eyes were opened and I felt the weight of sin crushing down on me. I tried to turn myself around on my own, but I got nowhere. It took me reaching the point of almost taking my own life that I finally realized that I needed help and couldn't do it alone. I talked to my mom about almost everything I was going through. Though I was never close to my parents, and I was always afraid of them when I was growing up, they were very supportive of me, and helped me to find therapy and get the help I needed. Today, I have a much better relationship with them. After letting myself be rebuilt in her image, God allowed me to break again, so that I might finally be rebuilt in His. It wasn't until reading the book "unwanted" by Jay Stringer, and going through "safe environment" classes at my church that I started to realize that I was groomed, manipulated, and abused. To be honest, I still struggle with this concept to some extent to this day. I don't tell many people because of fear that I wouldn't be believed. Who would believe that a younger girl groomed an older guy? It certainly isn't a very common occurrence. Part of me still blames myself at times. I feel like I should've known better. Part of me wonders if it was what I wanted all along. Part of me wonders how consenting I was. Part of me hates myself for not being able to just say no. Regardless of if these are truths or lies, I know I can't let them control me. I have to leave the past where it belongs and continue to live. Healing is possible, though it may not be easy. I've started sharing my story more, and while I'm unsure of its effect on other people, I know that it at least helps me in some way. I wish to share my story. To educate others. I may feel like what I went through was part of God's plan, necessary for making me the man I am today, but I still want to try my best to protect others from the same fate. Though I tend to grow the most after each time I'm broken, this is not the way it needs to be. There is a better way! Let this be a message to everyone that you are never truly alone! There is no need to fear people leaving you. Some people may leave, others may not. It should never change who you are.

Post: I’m a survivor of an abusive experience with a man who confused me, argued with me, and manipulated me in ways that pulled me out of my own body. It left me with anger, nightmares, and a lot of scars. Since then I’ve felt disconnected from my body, especially sexually. I’ve spent years arguing with my body instead of listening to it. Part of my struggle has been sexuality. I’ve tried really hard to be straight because women are beautiful and interesting to me. But my body often didn’t feel safe or connected during sex. Sometimes it felt like I was forcing my body to perform a role rather than actually wanting it. Over time I started noticing something painful: I barely feel pleasure in my body anymore. Even in my penis, I feel maybe 1% of what I imagine people normally feel. It’s like I’ve trained myself to override my body instead of listening to it. For years I thought that meant I was broken. Or that I needed to make myself more straight. Or that I needed to become more gay. Or that I just needed to “fix” myself somehow. Recently I read a story from another survivor who realized her body was trying to tell her something. When she forced herself sexually, her body reacted with migraines and nausea. Her body was saying “no.” That made me wonder something about my own life. What if the problem isn’t that my body is broken? What if the problem is that I’ve been ignoring my body for years? I’m starting to think I may have treated my body like a machine that’s supposed to produce pleasure on command. I’ve pushed it, argued with it, tried to control it, and forced it into situations where it didn’t feel safe. So lately I’ve been trying something different. Instead of trying to force pleasure or force an identity, I’m trying to listen. I even wrote an apology to my body. I apologized for forcing sex when it didn’t feel safe. I apologized for ignoring its signals. I apologized for pushing through stress, loneliness, and shame by overriding what my body was telling me. Right now I’m trying to learn what it would be like to rebuild a relationship with my body instead of controlling it. Listening instead of forcing. Patience instead of pressure. Has anyone else here gone through something like this after abuse or trauma? How did you start rebuilding trust with your body again?

When I was 8 I was molested by my older 13 year old “friend.” It was a typical grooming situation with secrets we can’t tell others that weren’t playing our “game”. This time was very confusing and I felt like I couldn’t talk to my parents or sister about it. It lasted for months- touching, hiding spots, secrets, oral sex, and vaginal sex. She ended up telling her friends at school - my mom was a school counselor that worked there. She overheard and reacted. She came to my elementary school and said that the girl said that I started it. I felt completely unsupported by my mom- unloved, unheard, not trusted, hurt, broken. I shut down from then emotionally. My parents didn’t hug me or tell me it wasn’t my fault or anything it was just pure fear and chaos and their disbelief that they didn’t know it happened even though it would happen in the same room as them sometimes. I told them this and they still couldn’t validate me or take responsibility- they never even cried for me- for the devastation I went through. We went on like all was normal. When I was 11 I started trying drinking. When I was 13 I basically wanted to die but didn’t know why. I went to a different school when I was 14 and it was all people that were upper class- I didn’t quite fit it but it was very important to my parents that we did. I was stealing to have the clothes the other girls wore- I didn’t want to depend on my parents. I then got into my first relationship at 15 and lost my virginity in the back of his car- it was abusive- verbally, sexually, emotionally and psychologically. He would intimidate me by throwing boxes, raging, screaming in my face for hours, calling me every name in the book and not letting me leave the house- he isolated me from my friends- and cheated on me whenever he wanted. That lasted for 2 years. Then I went to college, broken. I was raped 10 times when I was in college at parties or in their dorm room or mine. I woke up with a condom inside me one time… bruises on my vagina another… with no recollection of how or who did it. I was over drinking so I felt like they were my fault. I told the dean of students about one time I got roofied and nothing happened- he was a D2 football player so got a slap on the wrist. He then harassed and followed me for months intimidating me saying I was lying and ruined my reputation. I felt the same every time I woke up- confused, shocked, embarrassed, sick, alone, empty, raw, and scared to death- how did it happen again. I got sober thinking that would stop the assaults- I have since been assaulted and taken advantage of on multiple dates. Most recently, at work, I was sexually harassed for months and raped at my coworkers house. I reported it after he was reported to HR by another colleague and the state police didn’t do a thorough investigation and didn’t seem to believe me or care. He violated the restraining order and has faced no ramifications- he is a nurse. I have undergone trauma treatment for 6 months now. Healing means waking up in the morning free to do what I want, when I want, where I want, with who I want. I am learning how to voice myself and say no, set boundaries and speak up when I am uncomfortable. I have come a long way from the chaos and trauma that I reenacted without a solution. I go to sex and love addicts anonymous meetings- I went no contact, went through a painful withdrawal and am starting to see things differently. I see that the lies were not love. Love bombing isn’t love. I was chasing a fantasy of someone I wanted him to be but he never was. I live in mental health housing and I’m looking for a job. I have peace now because I spoke up. I am grateful to be alive. I pray anyone in an unsafe situation trusts the smallest voice inside you that knows what is happening isn’t right. I pray you get out safely with a plan. Don’t think “I should have” or “I was smarter than this” we are smart and we may have known better, but abusers are good at what they do - mine was when I was 15 and I recreated that traumatic hell for 15 more years. It needs to end now. I deserve a good life with a healthy person. I deserve to be treated with respect and love. I am loveable, and I am worthwhile. I say affirmations each day to move toward the life I want and not look back to a life where I was suffering in silence. I thank God everyday that I get the chance to heal, pray, laugh and have the chance to know what real love looks like, starting with my friendships. I hope to find and participate in therapy groups so I can continue to be vulnerable and heal. I hold on to the hope that I will feel safe in my body as I did when I did to prepare for EMDR. I had never felt safe in my body before. I will feel this again- I wake up every day with hope. Things are getting better slowly, healing is possible, and I am grateful for the start of a new life.

I visited this site very recently. I am taken aback by the shared incidents, I never knew there exists a community that shares some very much relatable ,personal and difficult to even acknowledge incidents. I know what it takes for oneself to even accept the happening and lest sharing it with so many people. I'm proud of the survivors and wish them more power & strength, I would also like to thank the person and the team behind this initiative. The stories I read made me realise that I owe myself a favour and let myself out of the shame & suffering that I have been going for almost 10years now. So here I go. I have always been very fond of a brother sister duo, the care the love the fun the protection they have for each other is unmatchable. I being having no brother, always had a longing for it. I have a cousin who is 8 years older to me, we have had few family trips and he used to visit our house whenever he could, he is/was loved by everyone, in short our families are close enough. Some ten years ago when I was 14-15 years old , he was on a long vacation we used to meet very frequently and we developed a bonding that I always aspired for. I loved him as a sister and was very much caring. He was too. He started giving attention to me, whenever he would need any help he would ask nobody but only me and I was more than happy to provide 'anything he would ask for' being his little sister. We visited a relative's house for few days. We were all sleeping together and shared blankets. It was then that he touched me inappropriately, he pulled my top under the blanket and had his chilled hand over my bare stomach , though I felt uncomfortable but I thought it's really cold outside and it's nobody but my dear brother, so I didn't reacted and acted as if I'm asleep. New day new memories and everything about the previous night was gone. That night everyone slept in the same order, we were all slept and in the midst of sleep I felt a hand unbuttoning my shirt from the cleavage, he rested a portion of his hands on my bare chest, I did not know what to do so deliberately changed my sleeping posture turning my back towards him and pretending to be asleep as if nothing was noticed. I knew it then that it was not appropriate but I did not stop it. The next day I remember I prepared myself better ( wore an extra layer of sweater and buttoned it all the way up to the neck) so as to not let him make any advances while I was sleeping , that day I do not remember very clearly but probably he had made unsuccessful attempts and out of the desperation he had tried to insert his hands inside my clothing from elsewhere and I had resisted it becoming rigid in my posture and then he had tried to apply presurre to which I had given in and he might have been successful.I do not remember much of that night but it was not sober of him. He crossed his limits the other day when I was asleep with my head outside the blanket and I felt something going inside the blanket I saw him being inside the blanket with my top pulled up and him being very close towards my chest. I do not know whether I'm making up but I think I saw him checking out my bare body with his phone's screenlight. I became very afraid , since others were also sleeping in the same room just beside us. I hastly tried changing my posture and adjusting myself and my blanket as a result of which he got scared and turned his back towards me and showed as if he is asleep. I was up for that whole night. I was scared. I was ashamed. I was embarrassed. I wanted to cry. I couldn't make sense of anything. I couldn't make eye contact with him.I was not myself for the next 2-3 days , I felt as if he was ashamed too of his deed. Within a week everything was back to normal between us and we were back to our house sharing the same earlier sibling kind bond. As days passed he started asking me adorably to sleep beside him when none of the elders were around and though I knew what he meant by that but everytime I shamelessly followed his words and ended up having his both hands clasping my clothed unguarded breasts under the blanket while I pretended to sleep. He used to lick my face, my ears while I was actually sleeping. During cousin sleepovers, if at all I was sleeping at night distances away from him, he used to pull me closer or change his place beside me so as to have his hands over me. I stopped feeling guilty or ashamed in those days. I don't know why I let him do everything then. Why I didn't resisted instead gave way to get exploited by his hands. I used to love him even after everything he did to me, I longed for his visits. Then after 2 years his visits became rare and I was afraid now of his deeds in presence of others ,so once I resisted sternly and did not let him pull me closer to him, from that day his acts stopped, he never made any advances after that as far as I remember. But still I had no ill feelings for him. Then after a gap of 3 years or so, we all attended a family function where we spent time together . Though I was hesitant of him in the begining but in few days I got closer to him for another time. We shared same dinner platter, cared for each other, helped each other, became a team, joked ,laughed , clicked pictures and made memories , it was for me the perfect brother-sister bond. The next day when everyone of us was badly tired after the function we were resting in a room with him being inches away from me. This time it was me who searched for him and reached for him with his feet in my hand's reach. Though I instantly put my hands back to me but I remember him checking whose hands it was and finding me at the nearest. Neither of us said anything then as we were tired as hell. After that incident I was in a loop of flashbacks for months, my mental state was badly hit, I started analysing every act of him replaying in my head, I could feel his hands over my chest, his clasp over my breast, his wet kisses over my ears. I used to cry all day long, I started staying by myself all day long, I limited my interactions saved for the necessary ones, all along without being getting noticed by parents and sister. I used to pull a fake face for the world, rinsed my face all day long to not get caught of crying. I couldn't make any sense, I felt all alone. I felt something hollowing me from inside. Everything was going to fall if I didn't do anything for myself, may be standing for self. I decided confronting him through a text. I wasn't angry over him on the text, I wrote that -I wanted to tell him that few of his touches were not appropriate so being his sister it is to make him aware of the good and bad touches. To which he replied with a guilty emoji. I thought I was done, atleast he knows that he was not right. At that instance I wanted everything to end and we being the same old us with me still loving him. But as days passed there was turn of emotions I cannot count, from love to care to forgiveness, to anger to hatred, to what not. I texted him again with all the ill feelings for him, he apologized for his deeds and asked me to text him( couldn't have ever talked all this over phone) whenever I wanted. I thought okay, I can atleast share with him what I could not with anybody. With each passing day I started hating him even more,I tried to not let myself alone with those thoughts for long. I started avoiding him, I stopped calling him or texting. I met him in all these years at few instances and I make sure I'm never in his vicinity,I maintain my safe distance and do not stay in his presence for long alone. I might be talking to him over call in everyone's presence but I know I hate him. I won't ever forgive him nor I will ever forgive myself. Yes, I hate him but I hate myself more. It makes me think I was involved too. I was at fault too. I am guilty. I must have derived pleasure out of his acts and so I did not sternly opposed him at the very first encounter . Everything now is seeming very apparent, how could I not see and understand his intentions I was not a small kid. Why did I let him continue with his acts for so long? I have no clear answer to any of these questions. I'm fed up with all this. I am trying to have peace and live with these dull flashbacks which makes me remorse everytime the pages of the past are turned.

My mom was Lily Bloom and I’m her Emerson but sadly it did not end there . I wish I could have not fallen for the charm or been blinded by the red flags but like my mom nobody saw the signs . My mom wasn’t able to leave and she wasn’t able to tell her story. But after sharing with her the trauma I endured from these past two insanely manipulating, toxic , abusive relationships . She was finally able to tell me I wasn’t alone , and my father was her Ryle , and like all Ryles they say they can change . But they won’t . Thankfully my mom and I both left our Ryles and found comfort in being each others safe place .

A Broken Trust He was someone I thought I could trust—a friend who made me laugh, someone I was starting to like. When he invited me out that evening, I didn’t sense the storm ahead. Car troubles forced us to change plans, and instead of heading out, we stayed in. It felt comfortable at first, sitting together, sharing drinks, and laughing about life. We kissed a little—it was lighthearted, a step toward something new. But that was as far as I wanted to go. I wasn’t sure if something had been slipped into my drink. I hadn’t had much, yet I felt strange, like my body wasn’t my own. I told him I needed to lay down, just for a moment, to collect myself. I must have dozed off, but when I opened my eyes, everything changed. He was there, naked, on top of me, kissing me. My body froze as fear took over. I begged him to stop with the voice I could manage, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t stop. He stripped me of my clothes, my power, and my voice, ignoring every plea. The pain was searing, my body rejecting him in every way it could, but he didn’t care. He pushed on, each thrust a betrayal, each moment an erasure of who I was before that night. I cried beneath him, and when he finished, he looked me in the eyes—cold, unfeeling—as if what he’d done was nothing at all. I wanted to leave, to escape the horror of that room, but he wouldn’t even give me my clothes. Humiliated and broken, I sat there, trembling and sick to my stomach. Questions flooded my mind: What if I get pregnant? What if he gave me an STD? I’d barely begun to understand my own feelings about sex, and now they were shattered. When I tried to confront him later, hoping for some clarity, his response was a second betrayal. “You consented,” he said casually, as though rewriting the truth. His half-hearted apology meant nothing. It wasn’t enough, and it would never be enough. Years passed, but the memory of that night stayed with me, haunting me in ways I couldn’t explain. I felt trapped in a cycle of pain and anger, desperate for control over something that had taken so much from me. I thought meeting him again, facing him on my terms, might give me closure. Maybe if I reenacted that night, this time with me in control, the wound would start to heal. But even in that plan, I knew I was trying to make sense of something senseless. No action could undo what he had done. No reenactment could erase the trauma he inflicted or give me back the person I was before.

I never liked yoga. It was hard, it hurt, and I especially hated the woman who forced me to do it. Ah, stepmothers. As if my own father wasn’t shitty enough. As if he hadn’t already tried to kill me when I was 7. As if he hadn’t done enough to traumatise me, he goes ahead and marries her. She was obsessed with natural healing. She came from old money, and was an ‘earth healer’ as a full time job. She believed in meditation, yoga, essential oils. So when I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and a few other things at age 9, she decided she was going to fix me. Thus began the weekly yoga classes. I went to each of them. I only faked being sick once or twice… or seven times. I hated it. It hurt, my body would pop and hurt and do everything it wasn’t supposed to. So she decided to start yoga classes at home. She decided to train me to be good at yoga. Meaning, she decided to get me in tights and no shirt, despite my eating disorder and gender dysphoria, and she decided to get her hands on as much of my body as she could. No one believed me, of course. No, I was just an attention seeking little ‘girl’, who hated his stepmom and was being brainwashed into thinking he was mentally ill (yes, they actually said this). I gained my father’s attention for it one time, and one time only. I must have been 12 or 13. This had been going on for years. At the time, they had implemented a strict diet and exercise regime, meaning I was severely underweight and couldn’t stand up without feeling faint. I’m currently in the process of being diagnosed with EDS. Just to give you an idea of how particularly bad that is. Anyway, I finally gained my father’s attention, because I kicked her. In the stomach. She was pregnant. “Why did you do that?” He asked. He was being surprisingly calm. I should have noticed. “Because she was trying to touch me, and I didn’t want her to.” I replied. Not long after, they dumped me on my mother’s doorstep and told everyone else in the family that my mother was a psycho bitch who tried to keep me from them. I feel disgusting.

It was the mid-90's. I am not sure of the exact year or date, yet I am trying hard to figure this out. I have recently been trying to go back a fit the pieces together - I am told this is part of the healing, although I would prefer to just keep it tucked away - way back - in my head, so that I do not have to process it. Yet I want to move on from it. For years, I kept this to myself. I am a strong woman. I survived cancer at the age of 23. I traveled the world by myself - I moved to Australia by myself, I put myself through grad school - by myself. I got married, got divorced and then adopted and am now raising my daughter - by myself. But I am not someone who likes being alone. I am an extrovert. I love people. I love being n partnership with a man. I always thought I would build a family together with someone. But, here I am. It happened right after grad school. It was the early 90's and the job market was tight. I tried so hard to find a good job. I believed n myself. I had a Masters degree in international business from the top business school in the world. I came back to my hometown of Location and joined the international business committee at the Chamber of Commerce. It was there that I met Name. He offered to help me find a job in my field. He was a powerful man. He had been one of the founders of Organization. I was in my early 30's and he would have been probably in his 60's or 70's. He offered to meet for lunch, and said to meet him at his office near Street Address. I was excited to have someone of his caliber believing in in me and in my court. I wore my business suit and drove to his office. It seemed strange that it was a small older building. I parked and went inside the building. There was no one at the reception deck. In fact, the building seemed really quite - there seemed to be no one there. I say "Hello" and Name said to come on back to his office. I walked down a short hall to his office - which was a big office with his desk at the far end and in the middle of the room. I said hello, and we made some small talk, before we were going to head out to lunch. I was sitting in the guest chair on the other side of his desk. He got up to get his coat (I thought) but then I realized he had actually closed the door. I felt trapped. I was trapped. WTF! He came back towards me and told me he wanted to have sex with me. I was stunned. I did not know what to do. I was so confused. He walked towards me and started to touch me and leaned in to kiss me. I pushed him away and was able to somehow get around him. I ran for the door. I ran outside. I ran to my car and drove a block or two away. And I sat in my car for hours and cried - too paralyzed to move. I did not know what to do or who to tell. It would be my word against his. He was rich and super powerful. I was just starting my career. He could ruin me. No one would believe me. I told one or two friends at the time, yet I cannot recall which ones. I carried it with me, and stuffed the experience further down as time went on. Or so I thought - but I had a hard time trusting men. Then the Me Too movement happened and it all started to come back to me. I have struggled to fit the pieces of that day and time back together. Certain that he must have died by now, why speak up? Because it was so premeditated, so calculating, so intentional - I am certain I am not the only one who was the victim of his abuse - his sexual abuse, his manipulation, his abuse of power, abuse of trust, abuse of authority, etc. I want to expose him because the world needs to know what kind of man he was. And because my voice could give rise to other voices - it could empower other to come forward. It makes me so angry that this mans abuse has affected my life so much. Yet by sharing my story, I am further along in the healing process. And I hope that by speaking up - I help to create a slightly safer place for my daughter to grow up.

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

Being in a relationship with the person who took advantage of you does not invalidate what happened. I'm still learning to come to terms with this but it's the fact that's helping me to heal. I was in a relationship with an emotionally and physically manipulative partner for over a year and could not have told anyone how toxic it was for me until looking back on it afterwards. I still think about that one night that made the difference, the one that I like to think woke me up. It certainly wasn't the first time I had been pressured into rough sex I didn't want or enjoy, and it certainly wasn't the worst situation he had put me in to have it, but it was the very first time I found the courage to say "no, stop", and yet it still didn't make a difference. I remember having to lay next to him the rest of the night, crying silently while he was there smiling like nothing had happened. I went through a lot of personal changes after finally getting out of that relationship. I still have trouble with trust, in romantic relationships and within myself. But I want to share my story because I wish I could've heard then that I was not as alone as I felt. I wish someone had told me that just because I cared so much about him didn't mean that I was the one at fault, that I wasn't crazy or weak for thinking things might change, and that I needed to put myself and my well-being first for a change. I'm here to say, to anyone facing something similar, you are not alone. You are worth so much and are loved by so many. You are so much stronger than you realize.

My story .... What haven't I been through. Is the question? I'm in the bathroom . Trying to figure out how the hell did I get so fucked up . Literally. I don't know whether to blame myself . Ballz up . Or to hit up my vice . Or live in the real world . Or hit autopilot again and again and again? Life is too much to bare . Recently I'm so severe into my DOC . That Iam numb all the time .. because even with that numbing agent it's still too hard to face life . I'm I a coward?? For saying this . 6 days ago my baby daddy of my daughter died of a OD. And before that almost 1 year ago was my adopted father. Then 1 1/2 years ago was my best friend closer then what me and my dad were . And before that 2 1/2 years ago was my biological mother . So death has a funny way of saying hello . And I fight everyday all day a toxic vice of a best friend . I had a baby almost 2 years ago . Child welfare took him from birth . The pain is no where near done . The clip of the momma elephant and baby elephant in disney dumbo . Baby of mine . Is the way to describe it . I also deal with a nightmare cycle of perfect love life at home . Sometimes loves amazing other time love hurts and I mean really hurts . My 1 st black eye ever from a man I idolized and had loved from 17 years old . I'm now turning 37. I can't stand him but I love him Soo much if that makes sense . Life is crazy . Almost unbearably crazy . In a sense of awww. Or more like ummmmmmm....?????

My name is Survivor and I live in Huntsville, TX. In 2004, at the age of 15 I was introduced to a man who was a pedophile. This was just after my parents divorced and after growing up with a severely abusive father, I was desperate from male leadership in my life. Needless to say, I was an easy victim. This man began grooming me and would eventually begin molesting me. This happened once or twice a month for the rest of my high school. Little did I know, this man was working alongside a college ministry called Chi Alpha and the Assemblies of God for at least 2 decades and had already molested other boys. For which he served a mere 90 days in Alaska jail. Pastors in our ministry tried to convince students, many of whom who were victims, to write letters of lienance on behalf of the abuser. You would think after high school and turning 18 I would have moved on and left him. After all, why would anyone continue to let themselves get abused? Unfortunately, that’s not how grooming or the mind of a victim works. So, I’m sad to say, the abuse continued. When I was abused in 2005, the statute of limitations in Texas at that time were until the age of 23. At the age of 23, I was still being molested by this man. For a significant amount of time the leadership in the Assemblies of God, which was the denomination I had been apart of my whole life, knew that this man was a registered sex offender and did not take needed steps to rid our ministries of him. I was one of the first victims to publicly come forward in 2023. For nearly 20 years I told no one, not even my wife. Myself and 5 friends, some even pastors in the Assemblies of God, started making calls to friends figuring other men had been abused heard dozens of stories of abuse because we were trying to help over 40 victims get help, seek justice, and heal. We all watched in horror as NDAs were used to insulate organizational leadership to cover themselves, using the NDAs as a fog of ignorance and hiding behind it. Because of this, Justice has not been served. Since then the Assemblies of God has tried to dismiss valid civil claims of negligence, has sidelined victims in the investigation process, and has sneakily tried to get victims to sign NDA’s. I’ll also add that I am a high school teacher here in Texas, and every year I hear stories from students who have been sexually harassed or abused in all kinds of scenarios. The happy side of my story is the abuser is currently in jail and awaiting trial. My wife and I have a rule in our house with our kids - no secrets. Last night I talked to my 8 year old daughter (in kid language) how NDA’s are used. And she said “but if you keep it secret doesn’t that bad person keep hurting children?” I had the privilege of working with Elizabeth and everyone involved with Trey’s Law. It helped my healing so much to be able to meet and talk with other survivors. To hear their struggles and to know I wasn’t crazy or alone. Through that legislative process I found my voice and gained confidence in sharing my story. Thank you Elizabeth for helping me tag along!

My story is long and sad as most abusive relationship stories. I will start with a little background info. I was born to teenage parents (babies themselves) having babies. I was the middle child. My mother was 16 when she had me. My older sister was 1 year older which puts my mother at 15 with her birth. Well my parents got married and both parents worked hard and played hard. Babies raising babies. My father went to work and never missed a day of work. You could say the same for my mother. Well I was raised in one town with one home and we did have a family setting in a beautiful coastal town. You could say it didn't prepare me for the real world which is filled with so much darkness. I had alot of difficulties with my older sister who played alot of games with me while growing up. She was to pick me up from work as we shared the only car as teenagers and she would make me walk home from work in the dark alot. I got engaged early into going to college and married my first husband at 20. No I wasn't pregnant. I was head over in love with what I thought was everything to me. He was handsome and smart. Unfortunately when your husband is good looking other women notice too. In this case it was the older sister who I never got along with. This time it turned out very traumatic because in a small town with everyone knowing your business this older sister had a five year affair with my husband and even came up pregnant with his child while married herself at the time. This husband told me he married the wrong sister. I was in alot of emotional pain with this huge family drama which my mother who was Catholic wanted noone to know our family secret. My sister was having my husband's child and they had a 5 year affair. I was heartbroken, made to be silenced given this was my sister, and this was the beginning of me shutting down and taking the abuse. So you could say I was taking emotional abuse at this point. Abandonment soon came from my parents because I divorced that husband which my parents didn't want to happen for fear I would tell our deep dark family secret. Oh did I mention we were living in a small town and drinking was big in my family. Without getting counseling for this emotional time and traumatic event I moved away from my less than supportive family and found my second mistake. How could I top my sister having my husband's child but I did. I dated alittle and then a man at work asked me out. I was numb and not looking for any relationship. This man drank and that was familiar to my family settings. But I didn't know he had a dark side very dark past. I started dating him steady and within a year I was engaged again. I thought he was going to be everything I wanted and needed. Love, a happy home, beautiful family with children and trust! I got engaged in Date in Oct we were married. The following March we had twin girls. Well in Date 2 we went to Location and everything with my second husband was always a plan because he lived a double life one I didn't unpeel until the 25th year of being married. This marriage was filled with physical, emotional and verbal abuse. I told you I topped the first disaster. My second husband liked the fact I had no family around and that would allow him to live his double life he had. One using me as a cover wife with cover kids and the second which is revealed when we moved to State as a gang member trafficking drugs and women. I know unbelievable. I never knew I was married to a gang member but in Date we went to Location and that was my first meeting you could say with his double life as he would use me as he met with his drug connections. I had no idea. In State I caught him with Nationalityoften which turned out to be Cartel. I couldn't believe it but then I caught him drug trafficking and then I caught the women which he was trafficking as well. This double life comes with alot of dangers you see they drug the girls and this I also experienced. As I was unpeeling this whole side to a man I obviously didn't know he would beat me up as I was started to go to the proper authorities for help. I even told the local police my husband was trafficking drugs with Nationalityand I was scared. I was calling so many times for help. The authorities are not well trained with Domestic Violence, because when they called back on my same cell phone all that did was put me in more danger and I couldn't speak up for help because he was sitting 5 feet from me at the time. I was beat up for going to the police. He knew my every move and I was sure I was going to die. He said he would burn the house down. As he was trafficking girls underage at local High Schools he felt no fear. He said he had power and could do what ever he wanted. Bragging it was the oldest profession. You see these traffickers/pimps don't fear the outdated laws or even the police. They are making billions with this now. The FBI told me it's a huge problem and they can't stop it frm growing. The women, girls and young kids involved in this aren't going to take the stand against the gangs and cartel. That's crazy then comes the actually threats I endured after the beatings. I was being poisoned by my own husband which I could feel right away as I started to vomit and my cancer doctor said I had leukemia. I was given cancer as my spouse was bragging he could do. He said some people get cancer some are given cancer. These gang members have chemicals and toxins that are unthinkable. Now living in paradise I was running down the street for help after being choked out and noone would help. Why would they get involved too dangerous. I called 13 times for the police. The more trafficking I witnessed and pieced together the more my danger to myself increased. Now he said of I didn't leave then he could traffic me. His exact words were I was sitting on a million dollars. You see these pimps/ traffickers only look at women and girls average age is 12 as money. SO many are doing it in State it's crazy. I watched cars - ubers driving young girls around the neighborhood stopping and dropping girls off for the sex buyers either at their private residence or in a private residence used as a brothel. Oh yeah a year earlier I was going to the cancer doctor from work running home and changing my clothes before the appointment to see my bed remade and shower wet midday. I thought it was for an affair. He was having an affair which is why he was poisoning me but he was using our own home as a private residence brothel. Big business. Millions made for all involved. The woman coming out of my home spoke no english and she said she was a realtor and had shown my house that day. I caught her coming out of my own home. I thought she was the mistress. She was a sex worker meeting the John at my house using my bed. I told you it was worse much worse. But abuse is never good no matter what degree it is. I was so broken I moved from State to State with this same husband thinking I was saving my marriage from that affair. Not until State did I learn that wasn't an affair but a huge trafficking multistate Jeffrey Epstein situation and now my life was in real danger because I was piecing human trafficking, sex trafficking and drug trafficking together. I didn't know the correct words for all this until I found myself getting into my first safehouse. Yes my first one. One of five! I was saved by myself because my own husband started to pimp me after drugging me and I was feeling so sick everyday. I went to the doctors and told my new doctor my spouse was hurting me and I didn't know why except he had a girlfriend. I saw my husband driving a brand new car past our house within a month of us moving to State. No withdrawal from our joint checking. How did he buy the car? I started intense detective work. I found the 12 girls names encrypted on his cell phone, saw the addresses he was sending them too, saw ads for Plenty of fish, FB, Craigslist and such. Still I didn't understand this all. Trafficking ?? Why would a man in his 60's which is what my husband was have so much to do with 12 girls. OMG not until 6 months later when I was saved with a safehouse in State, SPARCC did I really understand what was happening all around me. The Cartel threats to my car and children. The gang retaliation to my 4 cars, 5 safehouses and 8 cell phones. So anyone who says sex trafficking is no big deal a harmless profession didn't know my story because for that volume of money they will kill you making it look like an accident. I've had more vandalism to my car which goes undocumented by the police. You know there were years of abuse to the young girls for Jeffrey Epstein getting away with it. I called 13 times for help. I was beat up. Choked out which I was told in State was a felony 10 years. Restraining Order denied in State. I detailed the trafficking in State and Sate and left to survive this horrific story which I couldn't believe I wasn't protected more. The take away from this is that powerful men are sex trafficking and human trafficking all across America without any legal problems. Just as my husband bragged he had power and could do what he wanted. I overheard my husband telling strange men in State what I looked like naked and my bedroom habits. Horrified I called him into the house which we just purchased together for our third Chapter! I asked him what was he doing ? He said my cancer was in my brain now and I didn't hear him right . Gaslighting! So cleaver I started to second guess everything I was seeing and hearing. My leukemia was in my blood and not in my brain. I started to record my own home and such because I needed to know I wasn't loosing my mind. He told me I was but I didn't think I was. Then I heard tapes with his voice - why isn't she dead yet ? I know Name but she isn't- I did do that. OMG his girlfriend was now down here in State and they wanted me dead. OMG I wasn't saving my married I was being eliminated. Oh my how does he have all these other assets. I was an profession so I needed to know how he aquirred the new car- Red Cadillac with his Girlfriend on his lap. State Plates License Plate Number FL. Well that was the beginning of unpeeling a huge trafficking gang situation which started in City, State 1, then too City, State 2, then down to City, State 3. OMG I saw the shell companied encrypted on my husband's cell phone. Then I saw the addresses and names of the sex workers. I already witnessed the worker coming out of my own home back in State. Then I was whirling with OMG momemts. Piecing together so much. My husband had 3 boats all which he had unexplained situations happening. OMG then I remembered he cut the deck of the boat which on TV said was for drug mule smugling activity. OMG. I was seeing it too in State as I followed my husband without his knowing. As I explained I thought I was trying to unpeel an affair but now it was worse so much. I was vomiting again in State like State and I knew at this point it was from my bath products which were moved within the shower area letting me know someone was harming me. Why did my husband move me toState along with his GF ? Why not just divorce me in State ? OMG I was to be dead by now. The Leukemia I have isn't by chance and I could see the girl fiend he had. SO my detective mode increased and now I knew he was a drug mule for Cartel but the young girls I saw him with at a local high school that I didn't know what it was. Not until the sex workers at the first safehouse told me what I was married too ! OMG I was seeing it right! I was right! I called for help told the police I needed help and noone really did anything. I was seeing srug, sex and human trafficking. Why didn't I piece this sooner I asked myself. So I looked hard at all the State activity there it was. My husband was leaving work on half days and trafficking women and drugs in City, State 2 and City, State 4. I turned on the family locator and saw the City, State 4 activity. OMG. I was right with the degree of danger and how could my restraining order be denied I told the courts how he was harming me! I saw my husband meeting teachers who aere part of the underground network offering up kids from their school. Big money big business in State. You know I told 5 detectives up and down the East Coast as I ran and tried to hide from the Cartel and Gang who were chasing me in Various States. I needed help real help. I was run off the road. Vandalism to 4 cars. 2 flat tires in two months. 8 Cell phones compromised. Forced from my only home I owned leaving me homeless to sleep in my car. After 2 college degrees and seeing trafficking up close I was left to hide and sleep in Walmart parking lots just to survive. Five years of torture as these gang members continue to make billions from wealthy sex buyers. Men in communities hiding in plain site. Teachers, Lawyers, Judges, Doctors, Businessmen, Politicians, and yes even men in authority positions like policemen. I witnessed a policeman as a John in my own home in State. They came hard after me all, Cartel, Gangs, and Sex buyers. Judge in State, County Name denied my RO. WTH. I thought no I prayed to die. Please GOD take me now. I went to college to tell the twins what I was trying to live with in State and survive it. They didn't believe me, why should they I couldn't believe it was real and as big as it was. The underage girls I caught living in my boat in State were about 16 years old. Average age in State is 12. I went into a safe house my first one and the sex workers who were there taking refuge from an angry pimp/trafficker told me all about my husband. These women told me because they were sick of me talking about his Girlfriend. They researched his name with their connections and came back to the safehouse and we went for a ride to a park to discuss what was happening. They said I was clueless married to a dangerous man who was a gang member, Big Fish - trafficking drugs and women. OMG. I knew as sad as that was it was true because I was seeing that too. I was piecing it together with the same results. OMG. Now what I asked. They said I would be dead soon. Trafficking is so big in State it's everywhere. I went into a safehouse but soon they came for my adult children just as the sex workers warned me was going to happen. I left by their advise and went back to the worst human being on the planet. The man I married who was living a double life as a horrific trafficker selling women and girls. OMG then came all the memories of the unanswered events thru out the marriage. We went to Location and my husband went to the box seats, now I see why he supplied the girls and such. OMG. He made millions just as he bragged he would in 1997 but I thought he was drunk again. That's why I was seeing cars, houses and so much near my husband around him etc. Wow how this crime isn't stopped it beyond me. Big Business and many many involved. Fake Realtors using houses as brothels too, House cleaning service in State which isn't really house cleaning but brothel service. All around my husband was his gang team. No cell usuage and they lived near each other. Clever. Very Organized. Well I tell my story so everyone understands human and sex trafficking isn't done by nice men just having sex. They will kill for this greed. 150 Billion. Human Trafficking should be on everyone's mind to stop because it leads to poisoning, drugging, raping, trafficking, murder, unexplained accidents to your car. Like the day I was to have the wrong size brakes put on my car but they were in the right size box! Yes I know crazy story but it's true and every person in America should be very upset about just sex which isn't what this is! It's selling people and slavery which after a short time these victims can't get out of the life. It's a one way road. The need for public awareness with trafficking is needed now because it's as bad as the television shows it to be and worse. My husband now my ex got the house in State and really he got the millions too because he's not in jail. These pimps/traffickers don't go to jail. The laws need reform and the men writing the laws are the ones involved or know of a buddy who's involved. As my ex husband bragged man cannot govern man. He made millions as he said he would and never went to jail. Big Fish from City, State ....WOW. Many more details I discovered with this huge multistate operation.

When I was 13 years old, I was molested in a vacant home 1 block from my childhood home. I was crying for help & no one listened. This was a (relationship)of mine who is currently incarcerated. He was 14 years old at the time. My mother contacted police when I came back home. When police arrived, I released some information as much to my ability from my knowledgeable standpoint. I was taken to the hospital for treatment. Children at this age aren't in the correct state of mind that these encounters are illegal whether the assailant is an adult or a minor. The next day, when I caught my school bus for school, my mother reported the incident to my school bus driver in front of all of my school bus riding mates. Then, as soon as I arrived at school, one of my classmates was asking me questions about the incident but, I refused to answer. I went to my teacher & social worker grieving. Quite some days later, my father was on the phone asking me questions about the incident but, I refused to answer. Then my grandmother confronted me about an allegation that I mentioned to someone which was not true. A week later, I reported to the school social worker of this. Later on that evening, the school social worker contacted my grandmother & confirmed that the rumor is not true. Being molested is the worst encounter that no one deserves to even live with. This is what changed me as an individual person. I will never in my days of my life victimize another person because, I was a victim myself. The only fear that you have to live with is, once someone speaks of it around the wrong people, it's out there & there's no taking it back.

I really see no point in talking about anything when law enforcement does nothing with this information. I’ve been waiting many years now. I leave my Apple phone in lockdown mode because of repeated Pegasus hacks on my cell phones over the years. There is no private and safe way I can report crime like this when my phones are repeatedly hacked. Organizations like this aren’t reporting anything to law enforcement to protect rape victims still experiencing crimes from a rapist stalking them to death their whole lives into isolation and inevitable suicide because of no help ever being given by anyone.