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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 used by my brother who has grown up a lot but I still carry scars. My brother is four years older than me and when I was going from elementary school to Junior high, that summer, he made me think that girls in junior high need to know how to give oral to boys. First he did oral to me to show me it was not a big deal. I thought it was a huge deal. But I did it and he got me trained and had me keep it a secret, except from by best friend. He had his friend over when I had a sleepover one night and had her do it to his friend. Then they would have us do contests where they wear blindfolds. At least I was not alone then. It changed me even though seventh grade itself had nothing to do with anything like that. It was a lie to get pleasure from me. My brother still had me doing it at home. And sometimes he would do it to me and I did climax. So I had this weird secret sex life and felt really messed up about it. Then in eight grade I had my first real boyfriend. My parents are so strict, even though they both worked and left me alone with my brother. To go to the movies with my boyfriend they made sure it was with a group and took me there and waited outside the theater. Well one time when we went to see Snow White and the Huntsman my same BFF and me went through with our plan to go down on our guys in the last row of the theater and we did it. It was only a month later I started having sex with him which never would have happened if not for what my brother had done. We snuck out from her place during a sleepover and met the boys outside and went to the nearby park and did it in the grass. That was my virginity. The really bad event, where my life got knocked off the tracks, is when we tried it from my house, sneaking out the window and going just out farther into my big back yard that opened into nothing but the side of a big hill and my dad caught us. It was awful. The world ended. I was treated like a huge betrayer and almost all my privileges were revoked and essentially I was grounded without any end date. And still by brother would make me do the oral. I was broken hearted because I was not allowed to have my boyfriend to the point my parents made me go to the school and talk to the principal and vice principal and they made sure I would not have any chance to ever see him alone. And my brother kept creeping in at night sometimes or when we were left alone expecting me to do what he had trained me to be used to. The next really bad part was two months into my new restricted life. My brother started doing his oral on me one afternoon after school and decided to take it farther and got up and started kissing me and had sex with me. I was in the moment and did not do anything to stop him and even participated. No condom. It was an afternoon when my parents were away and so we did not have to keep quiet or worry and he did it so much longer than my few times with my boyfriend, because he was older and knew more from being with other girls that I got sore for my first time and got a urine infection. I did not eat my dinner that night and pretended to be sick and cried myself to sleep. My brother really wanted to do it again, telling me it was the best sex he ever had, but I refused and one thing I could say for him back then was at least he was not a rapist. Even though he pressured me he never tried to force himself inside me. Four months after I had lost my incest virginity the school year ended and he graduated. I went to high school and he moved out to live in college dorms 120 miles from our home town. Public school was over for me, as was planned as soon as my dad caught me on the hill. I went to an all girl’s Catholic high school. My dad had to drive me a half hour every morning and my mom picked me up from my whole first year. Then they got me a car so I could drive myself but the mileage and my times were closely monitored. I did not have an intercourse throughout high school but seven times total I did oral on my brother during summer and winter breaks when we were both at home. That was the end of incest in my life. I went to college in Atlanta but not the same one as my brother. I rebelled against my parents and even though they tried to keep control, as a legal adult I did not let them. Turmoil and sadness lasted months until they finally got it. I separated from them financial and worked and took out student loans. I was very promiscuous in college. I drank, partied and used drugs recreationally and had several guys I was seeing on and off for mostly sex. That was my life and I thought I enjoyed it at the time. I became stronger and more assertive and when my brother first hinted during a Thanksgiving meeting at our relative’s house that we go for a drive I told him I never wanted to touch him again in such a powerful way that he knew I was off limits and even seemed like the scared one in our relationship. I didn’t enroll in classes for two nonconsecutive semester just because my party life was so much more fun. I traveled on and off. Sometimes with friends, sometimes with men, usually older, who invited me to exotic places. The Maldives, Portugal, The Virgin Islands. I let my married boss use me for a weekend in Key West. I had an affair with my Spanish teacher, who only took me as far as Panama City, Florida. So many risky one night stands. My identity was that I was not looking for anything permanent, a child of the universe. While I was used as a plaything so many times and believed I liked the game. I would tell them things about wanting to make their dick happy and stuff that would inflate their ego. I’m sure there are so many text messages out there that they saved about the size of their D fitting in my little P, about being a little girl wanting them to teach me to be woman and other depraved fantasies I thought they wanted to hear. Obviously directly related to what my brother did to me. I am almost positive I avoided being raped more than once by going with the flow when I did not expect to or probably want to. It may be good that some of them I probably don’t remember. Once was at one of the few fraternity parties I ever went to. It was three guys, not my usual style. Once was with my roommate's father who was visiting her at our rented house and found his way to my bed in the early morning. One of the more extreme traumatic events was with a police officer who pulled me over for driving when I had been drinking but was under the legal limit on his breathalyzer. He followed me home, like a mile away, “for my safety” and even followed me inside. I was in an apartment then and I thought my roomate was home and told him so. But when she wasn’t there he said I lied to a police officer and he had to do a more thorough search if I wanted to avoid being arrested. He was not attractive or nice. He had a gun thought he never took it out. You can guess what happened. I finally shed that wild life during my second to last semester when I saw the end of college coming. My G.P.A was 3.3. and my major was philosophy and it dawned on me that the future was not bright in terms of what I would do or how I would pay back my loans. I buckled down and decided to change. I had an offer to strip and ‘make a lot of money’ but thankfully not only did never considered myself like that, but when I went with a friend for her interview and they tried to recruit me they were so sleazy we both ran out of there disgusted. I reevaluated my whole life. I considered ending it, but some survival mechanism did not allow it. I did not want to be the person I had been for a few years. I looked ahead and saw it was not sustainable as I aged and had no real love or stability. I quit serving when I got an offer to work in a legal office. I slept with the manager who hired me as a receptionist but it was a drop in the bucket of things to be shameful of. He was the last one like that. I got all A’s and graduated cum laude. I got promoted in the firm mostly by title but used it to spring away and take a lower paying job in a nonprofit law firm where I had not slept with anyone. There I did sleep with a lawyer but I am married to him still and my life is back together. I love him and he loves me. He does not know the extent of my sluttiness in college or about my brother and I doubt he ever will. That darkness is fading and it is not part of my life now. It is not who I am. As for my brother, he has a family now and we are on good terms. We did talk about it once while I was studying like crazy my senior year, although it was not a big deep talk. I did mention that he used me, he apologized, we hugged, and that was it. Not the cathartic confrontation some might expect. My catharsis is my husband, and my life now that I am grateful for. We adopted two toddler brothers and I am their mom. Maybe we’ll have one of our own. Maybe we’ll adopt again. I was used and introduced to sex too young and early and it strained my relationship with my parents for a long time and I’ll never get that back. It derailed my life. I was set adrift for a while but God or the universe or random luck finally put me in a good place. Everything that happened led me what I have now. I can’t say I never contemplated suicide in darker times. But like in the move Cast Away, if I may quote, “I stayed alive. I kept breathing. And one day my logic was proven all wrong because the tide came in, and gave me a sail. And now, here I am.” Thousands of hours spent studying philosophy and I quote a movie that was not even based on a book. But it’s perfect.

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

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

At the age of four, my mom used to take me out to the trunk of her Jeep and beat me for 20-30 minutes at a time. She would hit me, pull my hair, and scream profanity at me. The physical abuse lasted until I was 11-years-old, and she only stopped once CPS got involved. My dad knew; he did nothing. At the age of 6, I got sexually molested at school by another female. My mother told me it was not molestation, and that I was just "playing around." At the age of 11, I was sexually abused by the neighborhood boys. They were in their mid-teens, and would touch me inappropriately, rub their penises against me, and tell me inappropriate jokes. At that same age, I was also dry humped on the face by multiple boys who I considered friends. At the age of 16, I was raped by a 26-year-old man. He groomed me beginning at the age of 14-years-old, and convinced me he was a safe person. At that same point in my life, I was raped by a 23-year-old that I had known for two years and considered safe. He took me to a room where we could "be alone" then proceeded to force himself on me. I was crying and telling him to stop, but he didn't stop. I dated him for three months after that, and he continued to pressure me into sex and emotionally abuse me. Starting at the age of 14-years-old, I began getting harassed online. I stupidly gave out my phone number and address to someone I had trusted, and they were posted on 4chan (a public image board). I was harassed daily: I received death threats; I received threatening phone calls; I would receive calls to my school. I then found out that the person I trusted killed a girl in his home city, and that they had proof I was going to be the next victim. At the age of 17, my step-dad physically assaulted me and almost broke my wrist. He put a cigarette out on my head, strangled me, and threatened me. My mom watched, holding the phone, and told me it was my fault for "not leaving when [she] told [me] to." The only help I got was from a neighbor who saw me run out of the house, covered in blood. That same year, I was kicked out because I refused to lift the restraining order off of my step-dad, and my mom gave me an ultimatum. I refused and went to live elsewhere. At the age of 18, I moved in with my first serious boyfriend. He was abusive and cheated on me multiple times. He would call me every name in the book and threaten to harm me and break my belongings. I did not get away until I was just turning 19. At the age of 20, I moved in with my dad. My step-mom was jealous of my dad and I's relationship and physically assaulted me and kicked me out on my 21st birthday. My dad did nothing again. At the age of 21, I developed life-threatening bulimia and anorexia and began drinking heavily to self-medicate. My fiance helped me through these disorders and saved my life. I am now 24-years-old and have many stable and healthy relationships--both in friendship and love. I am also receiving help via medication for C-PTSD, GAD, and major depressive disorder. I began therapy recently, too, and am learning to confront my traumas and move on. It's hard, and there are many things I remember each day that send me into a panic, but I want to heal and reclaim my innocence, power, and self-worth.

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

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.

He was my boyfriend. We had just had sex and he wanted to go again. I said “no”, he said “but I want to”, and he did. Those words ring in my mind so clearly. It wasn’t violent or aggressive, but it felt like something broke in me then. I carried that with me for a long time, and still do. Part of my shame was that I didn’t leave. Months later, I confronted him about it and he was so angry and not open to hearing me. That is not how someone who loves you, cares for you, or respects you acts. That is not how someone who respects women acts. It took me a long time to see that. Years later, I am seeing someone who is kind and safe. He doesn’t know this story but he cares for me and wants me to feel safe regardless. He has never been angry or upset when I didn’t want to have sex, if I wanted to stop or pause or talk about it or if there was something I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. He listens when I explain a boundary and is always open to changing his behaviour to make me feel as comfortable and safe as possible. That is someone who cares, who inherently respects other people and wants to be a safe space. That is normal and the bare minimum. Abusers, perpetrators, and predators can warp your sense of reality but I promise you, people who are kind and good exist and there are so many more than you would think. You deserve to be treated with respect, kindness, and gentleness. That is never too much to ask for, that is the bare minimum.

When I was 12/13 and my brother was 9ish, he started to grope me. At first it was just quick grabs of my breasts or ass. But he started to get more confident and began groping and squeezing for longer and longer periods of time and doing it more frequently. Eventually he started grabbing/cupping my vulva through my clothes. I was a bit bigger than him and could successfully fight him off, but I was not allowed to. My parents knew what was happening and he often did stuff like this in front of them. They ignored it and acted like it wasn't happening. He never got in trouble for it. They would only tell him to stop in the moment if there was a guest over or I was begging them to momentarily intervene. But if I pushed him, hit him, or even just yelled at him to stop, I got in trouble with my parents. I cried and begged my parents for months to talk to him and make him stop, but they never did. I was constantly choosing between letting my own brother touch me and getting punished by my parents for self-defense. It was agony. This probably went on for 9 months. I don't know if I'm really a victim of abuse or anything. My brother was younger than me and smaller than me. In COCSA cases, it's almost always an older abuser and a younger victim. That's not my situation. He knew touching me was wrong, but he didn't have a complete understanding of consent and sex. But, he was old enough to understand "no" and me crying. As his older sister, I feel like I also have a responsibility towards him and that I should have done more in that situation. But how could I? My parents didn't help me and I was punished for protecting myself.

As I write this story to you, please note that this sexual harassment case is still in progress. It began in December of 2022 when I worked as a contractor for a company named Contractor. I do IT work for Company. The first week I was there, I was touched sexually by a coworker named Name. I froze and I didn't know what to do, Name positioned his hand onto my waist and began to slide his hand upward, fondling my breast and, It made me feel violated, it made me feel disgusted. I informed my recruiter Recruiter about what had happened that day. I typed him and email and of course he informed me that he believed me and that Contractor did not tolerate sexual harassment. They told me that they would "talk" with this co-worker. A few months went by but, Name was still making sexual comments to me, and now in September of this year, he began to blow me kisses and winked at me two times. I finally informed a female coworker privately about what was going on and she informed me that this male coworker has gotten away with sexual harassment many times now. I am the third person who has come to HR and has reported what has gone on. My female coworker informed me that she had been sexually abused since July 2022 and no action has still been taken. That is when I decided to take matters into my own hands, I decided to contact a sexual harassment attorney and has recently filed a case with EEOC for sexual harassment and discrimination. When I go to work now, I instantly feel nauseous and full of anxiety. I have decided to contact a psychologists to help me cope with the high anxiety and not being able to sleep at night. You might be asking yourself, "Why didn't you just leave?" well, because It was a job and I have bills to pay. I asked myself the same question many times. Luckily my contract will be with Contractor in December of 2023. It was not myself, who went to HR the second time. It was my female coworker who sent an email with me and she had a conversation about what was going on between Name and I in the workplace. That Name was still sexually harassing me, blowing kisses at me and winking at me, along with other sexual comments. There was one time I was in my cubicle and I was organizing it before going home and Name came up to me and asked me what I was doing. I told him that I was organizing my cubicle, I didn't want seem like a slob and he replied with "Yes but, you would be a cute slob." He would intentionally come over to my cubicle and place each of his hands on each side of the cubical and ask me what I was doing. He would intentionally make me feel uncomfortable and afraid. Luckily I have had enough sick leave saved up, so I have taken sick leave for myself periodically. Once my female coworker reached out to the HR department of both Company, both HR departments tried to call me and email me multiple times. I refused to answer them because I knew in the back of my mind, they weren't on my side. They didn't believe my story about Name the first time so, what would make them believe me the second time? On October 2, 2023, Person of Companycalled me and asked me "Well, what do you think we should do about Name?" and I said out of pure honesty. "Fire him, he needs to be held accountable." and Person laughed at me on the phone, and he said to me "Okay, well. We will talk to Name." and I knew right then and there, they didn't believe me. What they didn't know, is that I had already typed up everything for documentation and was one step ahead of HR because I knew, they weren't going to take me seriously once again so, that is when I took action to contact a sexual harassment attorney. Ever since I have taken this action, HR of both Contractor and, Company have been trying to email me and call me to try and negociant. They didn't believe me two times now, and they laughed at me when I was telling them what should be done about Name. This experience for me, has been frightening and very emotional. I have cried a lot, I haven't slept and for almost a year I have not told my family about the ongoing sexual harassment. I have reminded myself that I am strong and that I will get through this, and that there are resources out there to help me. To this current day, I am still waiting to hear back from the EECO, and hopefully hold Contractor accountable for Name and what he has done to multiple women. I am sharing this story because I need other victims out there to know, YOU! have a voice and you ARE! capable of taking back your self dignity. I took this situation into my own hands because I know, that I am not helpless and that I am able to speak up and not tolerate sexual harassment in the workplace. You deserve respect, you deserve to take back your dignity and you deserve to be heard. Stand up, for what is right and what you believe in. I didn't want to take action but I am thankful that I gathered up enough courage to reach out and take back my self respect for myself and to prove to these two companies that I am NOT! a "play toy" I am a young woman who deserves to be treated with respect. I am not sure if I have touched anyone emotionally by revealing my true story to you. Sexual harassment in the workplace can feel very intimidating and that you feel you won't be believed but sometimes, you need to step up and take action for yourself, and to speak out and share your story so that others don't fall victim to sexual harassment in the workplace like I did and my female coworker. You have a voice and there are resources and that is what men forget. Ladies, we more capable and powerful than what men take us for and it is time we take back our self-respect. Thank you, for taking the time to read my story. A Survivor Of Sexual Harassment In The Workplace - Survivor

My mother had a lot of mental health issues and still does. I haven't had any contact with her for two years. Beginning when I was 3 or 4 up until I was 10 or 12, she would regularly say she had to "check your bottom." She would have me strip, lay down on a towel with my knee up and legs spread, and she would touch me. I can still feel her fingers on me and inside of my vagina, scraping with her fingernails: I can feel this on a visceral level as I type this. She would always take my temperature rectally. And then clean me with cotton balls and cotton swabs. I don't know why she stopped and I don't know why she did what she did. For years I struggled with this and with memories of her touching me. I have spent most of my adult life dealing with anxiety, trust issues, sexual dysfunction, and shame. I finally told my therapist a few years ago and it was like a weight was lifted. I still feel alone and unable to talk about this with people. It doesn't seem like anyone talks about or has much research on maternal sexual abuse especially towards female children. It has affected my sex life, my body image, and my ability to trust other people. I am starting up with a new therapist soon and I know this is something I want to, that I need to talk about but it is stirring up so much anxiety. For other daughters out there, you are not alone. Mothers do this and likely with a higher frequency than we'll ever know.

So it’s been 20 years and I’m still having issues. I am a MST survivor, and I’ve only recent not called myself a victim. I have been able to hide my issues with my trauma, but I got through times where I go numb. I had other trauma at the time that triggered my ptsd, but I wasn’t in an emotionally safe environment and my trauma wasn’t as important as the other trauma that was going on. I wasn’t the one that needed the support, so I suffered in silence as my symptoms got worse. As my symptoms got worse I pushed everyone away. When I talk to my husband about it he’s co loses to tell me I need to get over it I can’t change it. He will tell me that my trauma shouldn’t get pushed onto him because he didn’t do it. I know that is true, but I can’t help what triggers me. So fast forward to now, I am still not receiving the support I need from him, I know his way of healing me is to push for me to accept it, but I just need an ear to listen. He tries but it’s not the way I need. And he believes that after 20 years I should have no triggers, but I don’t know what triggers it anymore. So my story is this. I was 19 years old in the army. I was a new mom, a single mom, to a premie and she just got out of the hospital a few weeks prior. I had a roommate, and she didn’t have a key to the apartment so the door was open waiting for her to come home. I was in my room with my daughter sleeping and the next thing I know he was there. He choked me until I passed out. I came to and he was raping me. Then when he was bored with that, he tried to force me to do oral on him and I bit down and he started hitting me and kept going. I was focused on my daughter, I didn’t want him to hurt her. I tried fighting back but it didn’t work. He finally was finished tormenting me and left before my roommate got home. I remember the exact song that was playing, the smell of the candle, it was snowing, it was cold, but I can’t remember his last name. I sometimes think Name was not his first name. I remembered everyone’s name I worked with, but his is not coming through anymore. After he left I locked my door and held my daughter all weekend. I didn’t come out of my room, I had everything I needed for my baby in my room so I didn’t have to leave. Monday came and I had to use so much makeup to cover up the hand marks and the bruises, the black eye, the busted lip, it was hard to hide it all. I was walking into work and my NCO saw me and saw my neck and said what did I do. I told her and she told me I couldn’t tell anyone that, no one would believe me because I was a single mom, a female that was obviously not smart since I was so young and had a baby by a guy no one knew and I wanted to keep it that way because it was no one’s business. So after she rejected me I went to my first sergeant. She basically told me the same thing. She added that he was a respected NCO, no one would ever believe me, I was someone who had a baby, was unmarried, was a junior enlisted, hung out with the wrong people, and so on. After that I just let it be, decided that it would not help to continue to tell anyone. When people asked my happened to me, I just told them I had a hell of a weekend. I turned to alcohol and drugs afterwards. I would go partying in excess regardless of how much I worked. I was drinking and using drugs to the point I knew my daughter would be safer with my mom until I could get back state side. I did get a little promiscuous, but I mainly just partied until I couldn’t remember. Side note, this is something my husband doesn’t understand and adds how he would have handled it. I did get pregnant in December of that same year, I did marry him and he was my safe place for a little while. I went back home and had my child and realized I wouldn’t be able to deal with my trauma with two babies, so I learned how to push it out of the way. I went back into the military to get deployed, i needed to earn money for my babies since I was getting divorced. I pushed him so far away and I know it was my fault it ended. Well I went to Iraq and met my current husband. He is the first person that I told everything I could pull out of that box in my head. At that time he seemed to understand that I was broken and damaged goods. He listened and understand why I couldn’t be the same person I was before my trauma. Over the years he has seen issues with how I am and doesn’t understand that I don’t know what triggers my issues, he just says get over it, you can’t change it, you need to find something that gets your mind off of that. He gets mad because being intimate comes and goes, but I can’t help it, I don’t really understand my triggers, especially since I and all alone now, my husband works out of the state, all of my kids are grown, so I am literally alone with my thoughts. I know I am not learning how to heal, but I am neglecting him and not caring about him, which is far from the truth. I went through something with one of kids that triggered a very long time of being numb and not caring about much. I decided to get help because I was being triggered by things that I didn’t know or see for years and my husband had had enough and convinced me it was time to get over it. So I started this program for MST survivors and I was doing so good, but then something triggered me and I don’t fully know what it was. I have back slid so much that I fear someone is coming to get me at very odd times. I have nightmares of someone choking me and beating me and then I wake up. I have panic attacks while walking a trail in a populated park. I am getting paranoid in public. I don’t sleep. I’m up for 48+ hours at a time. And when I do sleep it’s for maybe 2 hours. My husband said it’s not normal for it to be going on this long. I feel like it’s hopeless for me to not get triggered so bad out of the blue. I am a work in progress but I have went back to a dark place again and it scares me. I don’t want to go back to after it happened. I don’t want to deal with it by abusing substances I am not suicidal, I’m just in a spot whereby I’m alone in every way again. I don’t want to discourage anyone by reading this, we all deal in different ways, and sometimes there is something that throws a fork in your progress. We can’t give up or accept defeat. If I didn’t already say his name is Name, and he has damaged my life to the point I might end up losing my marriage, my safety, my happiness once again. He will not win this time, I will defeat this with the strength I have left. Thank you for letting me express my thoughts. I very much appreciate it.

I don't know how to start, it's just I am having pms rn and I can't help but feel disgusted. It was my cousin brother. We have been close since childhood. We used to do all kinds of things that you would usually do with your brother. I used to live far, I with my fam used to visit their fam. I still remember the last conversation we had when I last visited him before covid, we were talking about him getting a gf and Me getting a bf just normal conversation. After covid, in 2022 I moved. It was near where he lived. He came to stay naturally, just like we would hang out daily and eat out and had fun. One day, I was laying down with him. All the days, he stayed with us. I used to sleep with him in the same bed. But that it was a nightmare. Out of nowhere he started putting his hand on my stomach. He started touching me over my underwear and in between my thighs. I froze on place. I couldn't think anything I was begging God please don't let him go further. He was trying to open my underwear and touching around it. I pulled away his hand. He still brought it again in between my thighs. Then after sometime he stopped. I continued sleeping there..ik it was the dumbest thing but yk how it is, you freeze in a place, you can't think right. I didn't shout or anything. I was just stunned and didn't know anything that I could do then. Next day, I woke up I literally felt it was a dream but I had a clear memory. Very clear memory Long time, it felt like I was at fault.. for sleeping in bed with him, for not shouting, for not reacting enough, for never speaking up about it to me. I was just disgusted and decided to talk to my friends. They made me understand it's not me, it was him. It was not something he could do without any intention. Its been 3 years, only my closest friends know, my parents don't know. I don't know whether he remembers it or not. It doesn't matter. It was something so disgusting and it stays with till today. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I stay away from him and made sure to never have a good connection with him ever after that. He once blackmailed me with something I didn't know. He just randomly started telling me he knows what I did. And called one of his friend saying that I will give 500 rupees and you give me that thing. I don't even know what it was about. But he is the most disgusting person to ever exist. His idea about woman disgusts me and how he keeps his gf too. I wish the old me would have done something then But I am so glad I understand myself more than anything and bring that up will only cause harm in my slowly healing life

I was 16 I just started college when I met my ex he was 17 We talked for a week and then started dating he would manipulate me in to doing things and tell he things and gaslighted me And he would SA me every time I saw him Multiple times I dated him for almost 4 months when I broke up with him On the Date I when to is house and he SA I took my phone from me and when I went to get it he would pull me , drag me and push me away from it buy my arms and legs I broke up with him 2 day later This was almost 2 years old I reported it to the police He also SA 2 other people in the same class Who also reported him

My story started back when I was 16/17 years old. I was working in a restaurant, and had a crush on my older boss. When I say older, I mean 35. I thought I was all grown up even though I was just a baby, and he had no problem taking advantage. What happened to me over the course of approximately a year and a half haunts and horrified me. It all culminated in me attempting suicide right after I turned 18. Then I got help, and went away to college. This was supposed to be my fresh start. Sadly it did not turn out that way. I met a monster, a person that follows me around in my nightmares and wakes me from a deep sleep every night when I dream of his face. I was still innocent, and I thought that he loved me. Instead, he put a baby in me and beat and raped me so viciously when he found out that I thought I was going to die from the amount of blood. I miscarried, and fell apart once again. I was just 18 still. I attempted suicide once more, landing me in a hellish mental hospital. I was stripped of all my clothing, and all of my choices. I was in pain that whole summer, and had severe panic attacks that were so bad I got fired from my job and needed medical attention every time they would happen. I was unable to attend classes for a year and a half. My monster kept showing up, now in the form of triggers. A white hat, the scent of cologne, even a particular tone of voice. In all this, the campus police made me feel like it was my fault. I know that no one on earth would ask for this. If it was my fault, and I asked for it, why am I still dying in pain every day three years later?

Thank you for allowing me to have a platform to share my story. It’s not an easy task, I have rewritten this story over and over multiple times. Please note names and locations have been removed and replaced to protect the privacy of all involved. When I was 21, I was sexually assaulted by a man more than twice my age. At the time, my boyfriend of 5 years and I were headed across country. I was both in love and happy. July 3rd 2007, was a beautiful day weather wise which was good because we had planned a three hour drive that day to a small town on the west coast. As we had been travelling for a while, and I had spent a lot of time sitting and sleeping in the car I started having pain in my neck. My boyfriend and I decided to stop somewhere so I could get a massage. We came across a massage clinic and I got out and went into the building to check for availability. The man that was working there said 5 pm was available so I booked the appointment and left. My boyfriend dropped me back off at the clinic at 5 PM as scheduled. He did not come in with me as we decided he would come back and pick me up when I was done. It was a small building, there was a waiting area and only two other rooms; one was an office and the other was the massage room. The man, who I assumed owned the establishment, came out of the massage room. He told me he was just finishing up with a client and asked for me to fill out a form about my health history. I wrote about the neck pain I was experiencing and listed the medication I was prescribed. I included that when I was 12, I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. As I was finishing up the form the client before me had come out into the waiting area. Having been pleased with the treatment they were thanking the massage therapist. It was now my turn for a massage. A half an hour was all I had booked. When I got into the room, I noticed a drape was being used as the door. The man told me to undress and lie face down on the table. As he had instructed me to do I was laying on my stomach, that’s when he started between my legs and proceeded towards my private area. At first, it felt like his hands had slipped, that he simply forgot the anatomy of the figure. Then, when he inserted his finger inside my body, I felt my muscles tense and holding my breath I told myself not to make a sound. This became the beginning of my assault which lasted an hour and a half in total. I still struggle to write or share about this experience. 16 years later it’s still difficult for me to share where he touched, or how it felt. He told me I was damaged and that he was healing me. He touched me consistently, throughout the hour and a half, and as he touched me he told me that I had years of damage in my body because of the antidepressants I had been prescribed. He said he was healing me naturally; he told me he was removing the toxins out of my body but he was really sexually assaulting and emotionally abusing me. I was frozen and I could not speak. No words would come but I also thought in that moment that staying silent; it was the safest thing I could do. I had no one with me. My boyfriend was skateboarding at the local park, he was nowhere in sight. Laying on my stomach, I stared through the head hole at the ground, trying to keep mind on anything but this moment. After awhile he told me to flip over on my back and continued his assault. He massaged my breasts and despite my refusal he continued telling me how damaged I was. When he held my left hand in his own hand, that was when I began to cry. I couldn’t hold in the tears any more. When he held my hand with his and laced our fingers together, he took away that innocent act of love; I was never going to be okay again. I had only booked the massage for 30 minutes, so as time passed my boyfriend began wondering where I was and entered the building. The man was startled when he heard my boyfriend enter the building, he asked if I was expecting anyone but I still had no voice. The man left the room and I took the opportunity to get up off the table and get dressed. I heard the bell go off in the lobby as my boyfriend exited the building. The man came back into the massage room and saw that I was up and dressing myself. He left the drape open and watched me finish putting my clothes on, and then walked with me to the front desk for payment. I am no longer hiding that I am crying. Using my credit card, I pay for my assault, hoping that by paying by credit card I can trace this payment back to this horrible place. Once outside, knowing I was finally free and it was over, I ran to my boyfriend for safety. I told him to get into the vehicle and to drive away as fast as he could. I didn’t want the man to see our license plate and to know where we were from. I had provided an old address on the health form. My boyfriend began questioning me on why I was upset as we drove away. Out of frustration, confusion and anger an altercation soon developed as I frantically explained what happened in that room. Let me explain, the only thing that I learned, and really understand about all of this is there is no handbook to follow when you are sexually assaulted. At 21, my boyfriend and I, had no idea what to do. We were scared and upset. I really do understand that now. My boyfriend wanted to go to the police and he wanted to go back to yell at the man. He then looked at me and in that moment I saw his face begin to change. Once the loving look I received from my Highschool sweetheart was now replaced with something I still struggle to put into words. He no longer looked at me the same way he had since we were 16. He asked a simple question: why had I just laid there? The way he looked at me made me feel as if he was accusing me of letting it happen. I thought to myself: if my boyfriend someone I loved more than anyone was questioning me on why I lay there then would anyone else believe me? It was my word against this man’s. We drove away and as that small town was left behind us I said to myself: I will never tell anyone what happened because no one will ever believe me. In that moment I believed that if the person I loved could question me and not understand then no one would. My boyfriend and I never spoke of the assault again. The months and years that followed were by far the hardest times of my life. My boyfriend and I ended our relationship almost immediately. I couldn’t be touched without crying, the thought of the man’s hands had left an imprint on me. Just like the man had said, my boyfriend looked at me differently and it wasn’t his fault. It felt like I was hearing the man’s words still in my head that I was damaged and my boyfriend had now believed him. My boyfriend was the only person who knew about the assault and now was gone. I felt so very alone and was in a new city starting college. For the first five years I didn’t tell anyone. I used alcohol and substances to forget and numb the pain. I blocked the man out of my mind for as long as I could. The nightmares and flashbacks became a recurring reality and by the time I had reached 26 years I was very sick. I found myself in the hospital weighing only 84 pounds and needing help. It was at this time I decided to contact the police. I told myself that I would be ok with whatever the outcome was. Even if no one believed me I had done everything I could to try and forget. In order to strengthen my case I needed to contact my old boyfriend and ask him for help. Without hesitation he provided his statement to the police. To me, he apologized for what had happened years ago. Although thankful for his words I was still very upset. I was holding onto a lot of resentment towards him. At the police station I was sworn in and provided a video statement of my assault. Describing and explaining the assault on video was difficult. I had thought I could make it through without crying, but I didn’t, I broke down. The officer asked, what my boyfriend at the time thought about this and why had we never told the police? I found myself afraid thinking once again no one would believe me. I learned through law enforcement that there were 2 other females sexually assaulted by this man. Both provided statements five years prior. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough evidence until I came forward. The small tourist town in which this assault took place was aware of the rumours surrounding this man and what he had been doing. Now the police had similar fact evidence and that was enough for an arrest and a warrant was issued. Months after my first contact with the police, the man who had assaulted me was arrested and plead guilty to the charges. Victims service told me that the judge put on my case was hard on my attacker. His conditions were 6 months in jail, 3 years probation and the man has to register as a sex offender for 20 years. DNA would also be provided and he was no longer allowed to practice massage therapy. It’s been almost 16 years since the attack my life has completely changed from that day. I have had time to heal. I learned that with sexual assault the victim doesn’t always fight back. According to the Police officer most victims freeze because they are scared and don’t fight back because that’s the safest thing to do at the time. It’s not just fight or flight, there’s another option. I have also learned to understand that my boyfriends reaction was him trying to make sense of the moment. That despite saying the wrong thing he meant well and didn’t intentionally say it to hurt me. I know how much I was loved and I also know he believed me. I still can’t seem to forget the look on his face. His thoughts and the way he looked at me still run through my head 15 years later, no matter how much therapy one attends. This journey has definitely impacted my life in many different ways. I lost my best friend the person I cared for most in the world. I couldn’t attend school, I dropped my classes. I lost weight instantly and became sick. Childbirth as a survivor of sexual assault is devastating and makes you feel like your reliving the attack. But I’ve survived and will continue to survive. I have prevented others from being assaulted but doing this and that means so much to me. I also am thankful that my attacker went to prison. Even though I know this is a lifelong process to continue to move forward and to heal; I am stronger than ever. I don’t refer to myself as a victim but a survivor. The flashbacks are not as often and my last nightmare was over 5 years ago but the thought of the man touching me is still fresh in my mind. I’m still healing. Thank you for reading my story <3

All the memories that my mind seems to easily access day after day, are so much more difficult to verbalize. I have never shared my story, but thought this may help and maybe help others too. It's seems so selfish sharing it so I am glad this is anonymous so I don't carry guilt or worry of people's opinions. Due to my past, I have had a hard time separating myself from being the sexual tool and being normal. My parents separated when I was 3. My mom used heroine and married an abusive man shortly after. There's was extreme physical abuse in the home. (he beat us, locked us up, beat a dog to death infront of us, even shot my mom in the leg and made us care for it) When they ran short of money for their drugs, they would offer their friends to sexually assaulting me. I was 4 to 5 years old. They also encouraged my younger brother and I to act things out with each other. He would have to pee on me or I would have to play with his privates. I was once taken to a party at a house. It was a mansion with an elevator that I thought was so neat. I was taken up to a room and different men were allowed to touch me. Only one man actually had intercourse that day. I still have nightmares about him. All if this was soon found out and I was sent to live with my dad. He was an alcoholic so we stayed at my grandma's often. My brother, my younger cousin, and I played "doctor" all the time. It was all we knew. One Christmas when I was 8, I was told to go get my cousins. They were 16 and 18 and their friend. When I knocked on the door they told me to come in. They raped me in every way possible. No one even noticed I was gone. I went to the bathroom after and I was bleeding. I thought I was going to die that day. I thought I would bleed to death. That night my 16 year old cousin apologized and promised to keep me safe. For 3 years every time I was at my grandma's, I would sleep with him and he would rape me but gently. He told me I would be his wife. He told me he loved me and would always keep me safe. Whem he turned 21, he got another girl pregnant. He told me he had to marry her. Then he went home and shot himself in the head. I felt heartbroken. I slit my wrist to end the pain, but failed. My mom came back into my life with a new husband. He started wanting me to try in clothes for him. Then he started coming into my room and night and pleasing himself over me while touching me. I told my mom and she said no, he was abusing only her. She kicked him out. He hung himself shortly after. I had started acting out. I was giving 12th graders hard jobs in 7th grade on the bus. I thought my job was to please men. I was 15 before I realized that I was wrong. This realization came from people at school starting to call me a hoe and making fun of me. I changed my behaviors with lots of work. I had to watch other adults to figure out what normal was. People would ask when I lost my virginity and I didn't know what to tell them. I struggled mostly in relationships because I put all my value as a wife as how I could perform in bed. I carried so much guilt for the people I abused as a young child when I didn't know any better. Especially my younger cousin. I was only 5 or 6, but he was 3 or 4. He now is sitting in prison for drugs for a long long time. I wonder if what I did changed him like it changed me. I hold so much guilt for that. My brother is a drug addict and I wonder if what we did had a play in that. I feel guilt, like I was a year older and should have been protecting him. As an adult I can protect myself more. My dad did grab my butt and tell me I was sexy about 10 years ago, but I dont see him any more. My mom starvation from doing drugs 5 years ago. It is just me and I think about the toll it all has had on me. I feel different than everyone else. I feel damaged. I disassociate often. I have to ground myself. I domt trust people. I see the bad people can do, even people that seem normal. I grow every day though. I try to be the woman and mother I needed. I push myself to be better every day. I now have a great husband. Although I am unable to feel love, he still loves me daily. I have the most amazing kids. They do good in school and are great little people. I am proud of how far I have came. I still hold so much guilt, but every day is a new one.

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

The day I ran from my abuser, I felt an intense urge to turn the car around. My sister’s voice kept replaying through my head. “Catherine, keep your eyes on the road. Don’t look at your phone. Don’t stop.” For five years, I had been raped, beaten, brainwashed, stripped of my identity and isolated from my family and friends. I knew if I turned that car around, I wouldn’t survive. At first, I couldn’t do anything for myself. My sister had to remind me to brush my teeth, bathe and eat. My abuser had controlled everything, and I mean everything. From what and how much I ate to what I wore, how I spoke, and who I spoke to. I didn’t know how to live outside of him and his needs. For years, I had been operating in survival mode. Everything had centered around him, what he expected from me and what would set him off. I was constantly walking on eggshells. The day I escaped, he told me I was pregnant. The only birth control allowed was the pull-out method. Rape is a hard word for me, because I think of it as being physically held down. But he had psychological control over me. I had no agency or choice. I was to abide by his rules or there would be repercussions. Although pregnancy may have been physically impossible because my weight was around 90 pounds, I was still terrified. I was in the South. If I were pregnant, there would be little to no abortion access. Luckily, I was able to get the Plan B pill within 72 hours. In my mid-20s, I was diagnosed with HPV. My abuser had prohibited me from getting health insurance and health care. The domestic violence hotline gave me resources for health care in my sister’s area, a small town in Georgia. None of these resources would take me because I didn’t have health insurance. The only one who agreed to see me was the health department; they only tested for certain STDs and did not perform gynecological exams. Like many women who have been in my situation, I felt lost. I knew I would be going back home to New Orleans for the holidays. Fortunately, I was able to schedule an exam with Planned Parenthood. They were sensitive to my situation and provided me with information and options. Most importantly, the staff treated me like a person. Since I left, my life has gotten much better, but I’m still on edge. Daily, I have traumatic flashbacks and second-guess and dissect most things.. With holistic therapeutic modalities, I’m healing. The only time the police were called was for me to escape. I had told my abuser I was leaving. He held me hostage in a hotel room for a couple of hours to keep me from leaving. I was able to get out once the police arrived. A year and half after my escape, I called to look into pressing charges. The police had never written a report. There was only documentation of the phone call and the time they arrived and left. They told me to file my own report, which at the time of the incident I didn't know about. So, I filed my report. When I spoke to an investigator, he questioned me on why I was looking at filing charges over a year later. I told him that I had dealt with intense trauma where I couldn't even eat and bathe without being told to do so. He said that it was too late, I. didn't have enough evidence, and it would go no where. And when I called back to at least get the report I filed, the woman was dismissive. And they had NO REPORT. Why would I go through a system that enables, ridicules, and disempowers victims? I am still healing and getting back on my feet, and because of this treatment from the very department that is suppose to have my back, I have decided to put it to bed. For now, my focus is on speaking up and helping other survivors.