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I was first abused by my stepfather in my early 20s, he took the opportunity while my Mom, sister and niece were away in theme park and molested me. I was taken aback, and had no idea what to do or how to process it. I was scared to tell my Mom and anybody else for fear I wouldn't be believed. I eventually admitted it to my Mom, and went to stay with friends, as I didn't want to be around him at all, and did not feel safe. I was afraid it would go further and that he would rape me. I was very clear with my Mom, I told her that I would not return to the house if he was there, she let him back, so I moved to stay with another relative and subsequently moved out altogether, I had very little contact and refused to return home while he was still there. My Mom found me a counsellor to help me talk about what had happened. I went to her for a number of years. I had issues with family members and friends believing me when I disclosed what happened to me, they insinuated that as it was only assault, it was not that serious. I found this very difficult to take, and it probably made me more reticent about talking about what had happened. About period of time later, the divorce referendum was successfully enacted and my Mom and stepfather were going to marry. My counsellor told me that if I didn't attend that day, I would never forgive myself. I attended, but felt uncomfortable and upset all day long. A number of years later I returned home as I needed somewhere to be as I changed jobs etc. I wasn't fully comfortable with this decision, however I thought I would be okay as my Mom was there too along with my stepfather and my sisters. My Mom got sick shortly after that, she was sick for period of time, and passed away in year. After that, I was living in the house with my stepfather alone. Over a period of time, he deliberately isolated me from my sisters and other family members. So much so, that I had very little support available to me. And then the molesting/assaults started up again, I really didn't know what to do or how to react. It got gradually worse, and for a period of period of time or longer, I was being assaulted/raped on a weekly and sometimes more regular basis. Towards the end of this period he was even talking about marrying me, which was very creepy and inappropriate. This was an excruciating and very difficult time, as I had zero support, and nobody to reach out to or help. Due to health reasons, my stepfather had to move and live with relations in another part of the country, and this finally ended this period of physical and emotional abuse. However I had suppressed and blocked it for so long, that I found it difficult to face or come to terms with. Now period of time later, I am finally seeking help to give me healing and help me come to terms with all that has happened to me. I am grateful that I am at last able to admit how bad things were, and also that I can try and rebuild my own life after years of sidelining myself to look after others. I hope my story will help others in similar situations reach out and seek help and support in the future, even though I cannot take legal action against my abuser, I still want to be able to heal and try and come to terms with all I endured.

10/10/18 My Daughter, These Things I Know Do not go to bed angry Make eye contact Offer a firm handshake Smile at people—stranger and friend alike No one will remember in one month Exercise your mind Go outside Studying does not count without a pen Focus on your lifestyle over your waistline Say yes to travel Say yes to long car rides Say yes to sharing one on one moments Pick up a book—the closest we have to time travel Take pictures Please and Thank you matter Raise your argument rather than your voice Time heals Your body is yours—to explore, to protect, to celebrate There is strength in vulnerability Know when you do not know Parents are just people too Never turn your back on the ocean You will make mistakes Forgive yourself—now try again It is alright to not be alright Write it down Practice loyalty A habit forms in seven days—stick with it Sing in the car—blame the voice on your mother Do not get on a motorcycle Be kind—stranger and friend alike Stay humble Stay curious Do not walk alone at night Do not pretend that is fair Stand your ground Know when to not stand your ground Find your people—love them fiercely and fully Trust your gut You are not alone

The first time I remember being touched inappropiately I was five years old. It was a friend of my parents during one of their weekend drinking and drug parties. He put his hands in my shorts. I wasn't scared so it was probably not the first time- but it was the first time I clearly remember. I told my mom. She said to stop being such a baby about it and he didn't put his penis inside me. It continued. I kept silent. More malre friends of theirs. I kept silent. When I was eight my dad moved out. For a while things were okay- but by that point neighbor kids were pretty hands on with my body as well. I thought it was normal. When I was ten my mom met a guy in an AA meeting and moved him in the next day. He was great at first. Love bombing his way into our hearts. We had spent two years with no electric or water- he turned both back on. He got my mom to slow down the drinking and stop the drugs. He got us a car. He taught me how to ride a bike. Then- a few months in- he got a computer and a webcam. In the mornings while my mom slept off the drinking from the night before he would sit me on his lap and show me videos of other kids with their adults at home and all the love they would receive. He had me call him daddy during these sessions. Told me all the nice stuff would stay if I would just love him like those kids in the videos. From 10 to 13 he made videos of me- did things to me. All the things. When I was 13 I told my mom he was trying to get me pregnant. I told her everything. She called me a liar. She told him what I said. He gave her all the reasons I was unstable. That night my mom used drugs. She sat in her chair in the living room and he "loved" me on the sofa in front of her. I reached out for her hand. She wouldn't take it. He was not gentle this night. He was violent. Rough. He did not video this session. I cried. I fought. He held me down. The next afternoon while he was at work I slit my wrist in front of my mom. She didn't even react. I survived it. The scar goes from my wrist to my inner elbow. I never saw a doctor. My mom told everyone I cut it on a can of soup. Two weeks later I remember hanging upside down from a tree. The neighbor asked me what I was doing. I told her I was trying to get the baby to come out my mouth. I knew I was in trouble. I ran away. I went to live with my dad and his wife. The love bombing was so intense. They were like a real television family. I felt safe. I was still depressed. I was still not okay. I told my dad of course- and instead of going to the police they told my mom they will keep it quiet and continue to pay her almony if her and her bf stay away from me. They did. I was worth 600 dollars a month. I felt worse. By the time I was fifteen my stepmother became extremely abusive. She beat me and her daughter daily. She took the door off my bedroom and replaced it with a cage door that locked from the outside. They nailed my windows shut. I never told a soul. I have no friends. No anything. Just that home. I went to school. Got straight As. I was so broken. Once I graduated high school it got so bad I didn't want to live anymore. By this point I had spent two years with locks on cabinets and the fridge. We were starved most days. I drank water out of the back of the toilet and stole our pets food to survive. One day she beat me with a gun. I was sure she would kill me. So... I ran. I didn't have a friend in the world but a guy i knew from high school that had graduated two years earlier so I called him. He answered and I said- shes got a gun. shes going to kill me. he was there in three minutes. as we drove away I saw her driving up the road- gun in her hand. I didn't want to stay with him. I didn't know him well and he had a house full of people staying with him. so I called my mom. she came six hours later. then her bf came home. I tried to avoid him for two weeks but eventually he cornered me and as soon as he put his hand down my pants I threw up. all the trauma I blocked out came back like a wave of memories. I had forgotten. all those years at my dads was so bad I forgot why I left my moms in the first place. I called the guy from high school again. he let me come stay with him for 400 bucks a week and sleep on the loveseat. I was prob there about two weeks when he asked me to be his girlfriend. this was the first relationship I had outside adults. I said yes. he made me look at disturbing pictures with him and then give him oral. one night I fell asleep and he locked me in his room from the outside. I really freaked out being trapped in a cage again so his roommates broke his bedroom window to get me out. one of the guys who rescued me told me he would take care of me. I got drugged up to cope. The guy whose house I was staying with found out I escaped and kicked me out. I went to stay with the new guy. He love bombed me so hard. six weeks later we got married. I spent the next 17 years married to him. he beat on me. raped me. lied. yelled. belittled. financially abused me. We had two kids together. He was awful to them too. Never hit them that I knew so I told myself it was okay. but none of it was okay. Then in 2022 my daughters friend approached me and told me he had raped her that morning. I turned him into the police. during the investigation I found out he had also done this to 30 other kids my daughters brought over to play over the years. I had friends call me to tell me of all the times they had been assaulted by him. no one ever told me. I never knew. I am a survivor. All that trauma- it does not go away on its own. I have a trauma therapist. I practice meditation and I am vigilant with self care and boundaries. My children survived. I survived. It does get better. I promise. Would I of ended up with my dad if my mom had protected me? no. Would I of ended up married to an abusive narcissist? doubtful. But today I have an amazing career, My children are happy healthy and free. I have my own place and there are no locked doors. I met a man last year and he is safe, kind, and treats me better than I ever expected. I promise- it does get better. I will always have CPTSD and will always wear my scars on the inside. But where some see a ruined canvas- I used it as my garden and use my experience and story to help others. You are never alone.

The hardest thing to come to terms with is that you are in an abusive relationship. It is humbling and embarrassing, but is the first step to moving forward in the healing journey. I never thought he was my abuser, I just thought he was a huge "a**hole" with anger problems. I did not (still do not) understand how the same person who will cuddle you, tell you "I got you baby, dont worry about it," the same person who will love on your animals, can be vulnerable (not emotionally of course) with you, and tell you he loves you. Can be the same person who gets so angry and defensive, that he calls you every name in the book. The same person can tell you he will "hit you if you don't shut the f**k up." That same person will look at you when you are crying so hard your eyes are swollen shut, and still tell you how ungrateful and unappreciative you are - even if you do everything for them. That person who holds finances over your head, to tell you he will handle it, then throw it in your face because you are a "financial burden." To scream at you, to say how he will "always be better than you and above you." That person will never change. I tried to help him, and change him. I thought after my father passed, he just did not understand grief. He did not understand why 6 months later, I would fall out on the kitchen floor and cry because of the kitchen knives my father got me were washed in the dishwasher. He did not understand why my life changed, or my perspective on the world was altered. He blamed me for my problems, and told me I was a burden to him and his life. All because of my father's passing. I left him, eventually. I had no more strength left, but had no choice but to leave. I wanted to heal, and grieve properly. If I had to do it alone, I would. I did. I believed after 6 months of me leaving, he changed right? He still showed signs, but I was convinced that he would do better. So, I decided to move states, hours away from the family I had left. Said yes when he asked me to marry him (in public). Moved into a house with my animals (leasing) and try to start over. Well, now I am here. It did not last long, that glamour disappeared the first night we had a disagreement. Nothing ever changed, in fact, it got worse. The threats to hit me, the name calling, the disrespect, the abuse. Never physical, but verbally, emotionally, and financially, yes. The embarrassing part is that I wish I stayed away the first time. I wish I would have never moved in with him the first time, I wish I left after only being together for a few months- and he yelled at me- for 30 minutes- because I was "so irresponsible" for leaving my keys in my car. I let myself fall more and more in love with the "good version" of him. The version where he was kind to me, and did love me. I held on to hope, but the hope dies when you realize you deserve real love. I would rather be alone, than stay with my abuser for 10 more years, regretting I didn't leave sooner. Regretting that I didn't leave before he laid his hands on me. I wish I could leave today, but financial wise I cannot. My lease needs bought out. Faking it until I make it. Apathy to avoid arguments. He senses something is different, I can see it in his eyes. I refuse to bring up the elephant in the room-- i no longer care to. Getting by until I can leave. Plans are still in place for the next few months... who knows what will pan out. Either way, I am leaving my abuser. Period.

For me, my story entailed a male friend getting into my bed when i told him not to and forcing me to ‘cuddle’ with him, while he grabbed at me. He had been telling me all night how he missed his girlfriend, particularly her body & “that” part of their relationship. I felt horrible, i was uncomfortable and scared that he might do more. He didnt. But still even years later i feel uneasy when i think about it & how creepy he really was. He ignored me when i said no. He took away my autonomy that night. So dont feel like your story isnt worthy just because it “could have been worse”. Every experience is valid ❤️

There have been many flaws that have always been exposed throughout the legal system for a long time. Like child protection services, there are good ones out there who do help children. But there have been so many who go into really bad situations and happen to leave the children there no matter how many red-flagged calls they may receive or even see themselves. Instead, they go into other homes or places where they can't find any of those red flags and then start doing the jobs they were supposed to do the first time. One of these experiences happened when a few different calls were made about a family who lived in an old pink house. Even one of the kids themselves had borrowed a friend's phone for the call, hoping they would finally be placed somewhere else or at least be able to feel safe at home. The reason for this is that all of the children were being abused by their father and the mother, who was their thought it was better to stay than leave because she was afraid of leaving. However, the mother sometimes didn't really protect the children much either; instead would turn them over to their father to save herself from him. (The father would physically and verbally do all different types of abuse to all the kids, from throwing things, hitting them, saying weird comments to them. Making them fight against each other and many other things.) On top of this, the pink house had holes all over the wall and ceiling, and walls in the bedrooms that were sinking in and pipes that were broken and floors that were falling in, and would refuse to fix them instead blamed the kids for the house and how it looked regardless how hard they would try to please him. Nothing would work and after all the phone calls the children had have many threats by there father of what would happen if they said anything to child protection services. All of this really messed with their mental health. So when child protection services did come all they did was was walk through the house and the kids couldn't speak because her father sat there and was watching everything. Instead of pulling the kids to the side and asking them questions, they directly addressed the father, ask the kids questions right in front of him dismissed everything. After just taking in account what the father was saying and of course he denied all the accusations. Even with all physical environmental hazards they just left. They didn't even try to question the children on the side instead put them at risk by asking them in front of their abuser who they were afraid of being physically hurt by after being threatened into not talking. Children's services only was wiling to put them at risk and wanting to close the case quickly. ( this is my first time posting and there is so much more to this but was way to much to put into this post. Just wanted to finally be able to share and be open to see if anyone else might relate to this experience. Might share more details but not so sure. I just want to finally be more open about this experience I had in my life.) This is a brief over view of what happened but I really hate that we never got helped growing up but now he just walks free) I did have more struggles as a teen falling to an abusive relationship and later on another one but lucky a lot of things have gotten better. I do want to tell more but I am now starting to processes everything and wish I could have had a chance to be a kid.

I am Name years old single mom of two beautiful kids ages 10 and 12 years old. I was once a victim of abusement, harassment, assault, defamation, and rudeness of other people when I am just a simple, kind and silent person. Until now, they still look down on me and I don't know what have I done why they hate, angry and so rude to me. They are treating me like I am not an educated person when I am and they keep on look down on me because we are just simple and in a middle class person or family. And they think that they think better than me and I don't have any complain of it but they keep trying to argue with me that I am a better dumb person to them. And it's kind of abusing to think of that way that they think like that to me and that's insult me of my human being. I don't know what to do right now on how to express of this. My family I dont know if they doesn't know about this or they know about this or just hiding from me that they know everything but they really dont agree with me all the time or don't believe in me. What help should I seek for this matter of existence!?

I never realised I had to be wary of women, because I never expected one could take advantage of me. I had lots to drink and simply thought I had made a new friend. I was so drunk that I just went along with everything she suggested, even though I kept saying I had no interest in women. I still doubt myself and blame myself. I thought I was safe and never in my life expected a woman would sexually assault me. I feel nobody understands.

Part 2. I'm starting with the second because I can't go over the first yet because the first was reported. The first part started at the beginning of middle school and I was groomed by one of my male teachers from the very first week of middle school. It lasted all of middle school and led to more though can't go into it right now. I will hopefully later on be able to share that if I'm comfortable enough too. Anyways, part 2. It was my senior year of highschool and I went to this male teachers class. I had a weird feeling about him during open house but didn't think anything of it. The first week of school, he goes around asking what we want our nicknames to be if any. I said "just (my name)". He looks at me and says "ok, just (my name)" and smiles and looks at me and back down at his paper. I didn't understand and thought he was funny. He didn't do it to anyone else. Then, a few days later, we're having a fire drill and he looks at me from his desk in the back and tells me "We're going to have a fire drill. We'll just go out and stand and talk for a little." and shakes his head in the yes motion. I shake my head to match his. Another day, I'm walking in the hallway near his classroom and it's just me and him. I'm coming up like 3 stairs and he comes out of the hallway where his room is and we stare at each other. He goes into the middle of the bathrooms and turns the water fountain on, not even two seconds and turns around and stands there. He doesn't even have a water bottle with him, he has nothing in his hands. I stop and wait for him to come out and he doesn't. I continue to slowly walk because I don't want to be late to his class and as I go by him, he follows me with his eyes. Once I'm past him, he comes out between the bathrooms and follows me a short distance and then goes into a dark room with no one ever going in there and I turn and go to his room. I sit down and look at the clock and he doesn't come back for 5 minutes. I put my head down when he starts teaching and cry because I realize what he is but was what I had just seen really match the man who was teaching me? I couldn't trust myself. Throughout class he would look at me and shake his head while teaching us, always in the yes motion. I thought he was nice. During the beginning, he told me he wouldn't let me fail/fall. I was crying because I didn't want to fail his class. I wanted to try my best. He helped me several days throughout the year with the material and I appreciated it. There was a day that I was alone in his room with him before class started because I walked early to his class sometimes for a reason (I won't go into it). I was sitting against the wall like always and he got out a banana and he peeled it. He was back beside his desk and there was a wall he stood beside so if you looked in from any angle from the hallway, you wouldn't see him. He peels the banana back and looks at me and then the floor and then me again. He stares at me and takes one large bite into half the whole banana. I see this and so I turn and look at him and he stops chewing while staring at me. I then ask if I can finish a test because he would allow us to go into the hallway and he'd give us a clipboard and we could do it. He says "what?". So, I asked again and he said "no, I don't want you to miss this class.". Then, when class starts a girl a few rows up from me asks him and he says "yes" and hands her a clipboard and she goes out into the hallway. Again, I'm like 'did he tell me I couldn't but she can?" Then it went further and so I was alone after class with him finishing a test one day. He had a shirt and tie( and yes, he had everything else on)on which was unlike him and while I was doing the test there was a closet a few rows behind me. He goes and takes his shirt and tie off while I'm alone with him and I'm so scared he doesn't have a shirt on underneath and he has a small mirror on the side so I think he could watch me while he did it. He had a shirt underneath but not the point. Then he leaves the room. When he comes back in I look at him because I realized he wasn't wearing what he was earlier and I look at him. He looks at me and starts laughing at me. Then, the next day I'm in another class and a girl in that class told a friend out loud that my male teacher doesn't like changing in front of the students so he went next door to change. Again, I was like "that's not true! He did it when I was alone with him!" but couldn't trust what I had been through to tell anyone so I unfortunately let it go and held everything in.Then it goes further. I'm alone with him because I asked him if I could stay after school because I needed help with the material. He says yes and he only has 30 minutes. So it's just me and him again. I'm in my seat at the wall and he goes over what I'm struggling with. Then he asks if I need help with anything else, again saying he only has 30 minutes. I say "no, thank you though" and get up and start to walk to the door. He runs from the front of the classroom to the back, grabs his phone off his desk, and walks right up behind me and walks right behind me to the door. Once we get to the door, he stops and I feel his release and I keep walking. He watched me walk down the hallway and I felt ashamed and was trying to come up with an excuse to go back into his classroom. I wanted to go back to his class room. After I left school, I went out to eat with some family and all I thought about was "why didn't I go back into his room? What an idiot!". I honestly thought when he was behind me that we was going to rape me but he didn't, he let me go in that sense. Then there was prom and he told me one day before it during class, everyone's there and he looks at me and says "I'm not going to be at prom." He explains what he's doing with his family. Again, I shake my head in the yes motion like "Why do I need to know this?" He wasn't telling anyone, just me. Then we're practicing for graduation and walking through all the halls so the teachers can say congratulations and we get to my male teachers hallway and I'm on his side(we walked in 2 people a row and I was on his side). I start internally panicking and eventually I look up and he's smiling brightly and says "Congratulations" and I smile and say "thank you". When we get back to the room where we're practicing, the girl next to me who I didn't know at all told me there was a teacher who kept saying my name. I asked her who and she said she didn't know. I asked if it was my male teacher and she said yeah. I said something along the lines of "I'm not surprised.".Then we're going on a senior trip. He asks who all is going and I don't put my hand up because I'm talking to a friend. He finds out once we get there. I'm with my then boyfriend and he has the same class as the male teacher and wants to go say hi so we walk over and I say "I don't know if that's a good idea." The whole time being on edge and scared but not knowing why. Once we get over there I try to find an open bench and there are none! I stand uncomfortably in front of my male teacher I had all year as he's sitting on a bench next to another teacher who he worked with sometimes. They taught together sometimes. My boyfriend talks to them and I'm silent. My boyfriend wants my male teacher to sign something and so my male teacher digs in his bookbag and he gets out a pen and stares at me and says "I thought I couldn't find it." and holds the pen up a little and continues to stare at me. He also saw what I wrote for my boyfriend and looked between my then boyfriend and myself. It wasn't sexual but I didn't want him reading that and know I had a boyfriend. He didn't know until then. I don't understand what that was supposed to mean. Then the teacher beside him on the bench looks over between me and my male teacher and tells us we should go get in line because there were a lot of people. Then it's time to leave hours later and I'm standing with my then boyfriend. He points over to where my male teacher is and he's staring at me from way far in the distance. He notices that I notice and acts like he's on a phone call and walks away. I will never know if he actually had a call or not. Then somehow we're waiting for everyone in our group to come back so we can get on the buses. The male teacher is somehow across from me, my then boyfriend left to go see other students he knows, and my male teacher waves at me and is smiling brightly and says "hi". Then he says while rubbing his one arm with his other hand, "you look like your arms got some sun." very quietly so only I know because there are so many people around us but no one notices. I feel uncomfortable though try to tell him my sunscreen wasn't working and he looks at the ground with a straight face and nods his head. I get really uncomfortable so I turn and walk into a wall and turn around. He's staring at me from a distance! I stare back at him as I'm wearing a dress and holding a small bag and we stand like that for I don't know how long. We don't move. Some people eventually get in our way so I side step to my right and then he side steps to his left and we continue to stare at each other. I didn't want that time to end, I wanted to stay there forever. But at some point I started to dissociate because my body started floating into the sky as the sun was overhead us. At some point we stop and it's time to walk to the buses. A teacher I had a previous year tells me to not leave the group and asks if I'm ok to which I say "I'm ok, how about you?" because I didn't trust anyone enough to tell them what was going on. I couldn't process it or put it into words. I didn't know what it was. Then he says he has to use the restroom and to not leave the group. So I walk to the front of the group where one of the teachers who were on my bus ,who I didn't know, was talking to my male teacher! So I keep walking behind them and my male teacher is talking to another female student but she's trying to talk to him and he keeps his head down and just shakes his head... Like what he did to me earlier! But I don't think about this until I'm in therapy years later. Then he notices me and he falls back and puts his head down at the ground and turns his head to the left and stares into my eyes as we're walking. There's people behind us but no one notices anything somehow. I look over to my left and smile out of being uncomfortable and he goes back up next to the teacher on my bus. Then we get on the bus and the male teachers bus is next to my bus. I'm sitting at the window and I see my male teacher get on his bus and he sits at the window seat opposite of mine so we're next to each other even though on different buses. We stare at each other and then he gets his phone out and puts his head down. On the way back I try to tell my then boyfriend why I was scared during the trip but I can't describe or tell him. I don't know how or what to say. Once we get back to the school, everyone's getting off the bus and my male teacher gets off his bus as I am slowly walking. There's others around and he sees me coming towards him and he starts quickly searching in his bookbag for something while looking up at me and back into his bag. As I walk past him, I try to look straight ahead as he's staring at me and I try to believe that I was showing him that I didn't care about him anymore and I had power again. Years after I graduated from school, I am getting help, have been for more then a year, and feel I have a long ways to go. Being groomed for several years by two different men who were my teachers at different schools has turned my life upside down but I'm continuing to fight and not giving up hope that one day I won't be as triggered by anything as I am currently. I want to share my story of these two teachers I had because I want it to be aware that you don't have to be given gifts to be groomed. With these two men, it was staring and compliments and making me question my reality about what they were doing to me and trying to isolate me from everyone at school who I cared about, along with the sexual innuendos of the food items and the senior teacher taking off his shirt and tie while being alone with me and once when alone, him leaving me alone in his classroom after class to go get food for his break and me waiting for however long for him to come back in. There was another day he wanted me to go next door to hand him my test when I was done after class and he told me there was a pass on his desk for me. He left me alone in his classroom and I did as he said though when I went to get my pass off his desk I stood there and was really uncomfortable and confused why he let me do that. During senior year, I stopped eating, and my friends being the wonderful people they were tried to get me to eat, even telling another teacher I wasn't and who helped me eat even though at the time I was angry at everyone for trying to help me eat. I still struggle with wanting to eat, getting out of bed, feeling safe being around people and in buildings, feeling like I have control over my life, liking my body, dealing with feelings of not wanting to live, having self harm that I have gotten help with,feeling no one but them cares about me, the two teachers, wanting to go back to them because it would be "easier" to go back to them then deal with the aftermath of all they've put me through, dealing with sexual thoughts and getting help with all this and how to know that I should feel pleasure and happiness during intimacy if I ever find a partner when all I want to do is, if intimate, pleasure my partner because I don't want to be touched or feel any pleasure ever, in fact I'm afraid of touch and pleasure. I have issues with arousal and I just don't want it anymore. I can't hang out with friends because I can't trust them and men I just think if they're nice to me they want me romantically when that's not the case. Romance is disgusting to me. Overall though, with therapy and some support people, it is possible to heal. I'm not fully there yet though I'm on my way. Some days I lose hope though with the help of my support people, cats, planting and watering my flowers, watching them grow, and knowing that the small things I do each day that I achieve help me realize that there is hope. It's hard to do on your own but learning about your triggers and writing them down is very helpful. I dissociate if I have flashbacks or overwhelm myself with too many reminders of my trauma and become unable to speak or move though grounding techniques have helped with that and talking to my therapist. I have nightmares about the the two male teachers and most of the time they're about school and seeing them or missing them because I love them. I would say, if you're afraid to go to therapy that's completely normal. I told myself I was never going to open up to someone and now I can't stop opening up to my therapist. It takes time and you just have to trust that you'll be safe. I also found it helpful to have the same gender therapist as me because I couldn't handle being alone with a male therapist. In the end, I hope that everyone can find some peace and healthy coping and supportive people to help heal the trauma. Everyone here deserves to have a healthy and safe life. My goal is to eventually become a trauma therapist because I want to help others heal from their trauma and be supportive and know someone does care and believe them. I believe everyone deserves to be believed. Thank you.

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

I went out with friends but left early as I was drunk and tired and I asked someone for directions to find my Uber when another guy asked if I was going to uni and said I was pretty which was fine but he then asked if he could have a kiss. I didn't know what to do so I stepped towards him and then he put his arm round me and I felt like I had to kiss him but I didn't want to. I tried to face away from him hoping he would just kiss my cheek but he didn't so I turned my head and he kissed me and I feel gross and want to throw up every time I think of it.

This story is not easy to read but it's harder to live. I am a survivor of narcissistic abuse, sexual assault, and systemic failure. I share this not for pity, but for truth. For every woman who's been silenced, dismissed, or retraumatized by the very systems meant to protect her. I write this to reclaim my voice and to help others find theirs. It took me until my fifties to realize my worth. I’d spent decades carrying the weight of a childhood that stripped me of confidence and self-worth. That was heavily influenced by a nefarious dictator who called himself Dad. The physical abuse was bad enough but he managed to see to it that his children sailed into adulthood without knowing our own value, and no self-esteem whatsoever. I still managed to marry, raise children, and hold good jobs. I’m intelligent, I carry myself well. But until recently, no one knew how little I thought of myself—even me. Then came the man who would nearly destroy me. He was younger, persistent, and now I understand: he was conditioning me for narcissistic abuse. What followed was three years of daily trauma. I ugly-cried every single day. That’s over 1,095 days of emotional devastation. By the end, my energy, my vivaciousness, and my tenacity were barely hanging on. He did the most heinous things. He killed my cat. He threatened my life and my children’s lives. He kept me tethered with fear. He destroyed everything I owned—including my 2009 Tahoe, which I used for work and to care for my kids. He blew it up shortly after he sent me to the ICU, fighting for my life. I had refused to give him the name of the hospital or my doctors. I was there for 18 days. It was touch and go every single day. A chaplain visited me daily. Because it was a very Merry Covid Christmas, my teenage sons weren’t allowed to say goodbye. Looking back, I realize that was a blessing—no one spoke death into my children’s lives. God is good. The infection that nearly killed me, and almost costed me my right leg, came from a sexual assault. I went home on a PICC line, receiving grapefruit-sized balls of antibiotics daily, for 6 weeks. My kids administered them. I had four surgeries in three months and a blood transfusion. Two days after I got home, my truck exploded. I was one of those cars you see on the freeway engulfed in flames. After I got out of the hospital and my truck blew up, I knew I had to fight for justice. I had proof—medical records, pictures, witnesses. I had been choked, stabbed, assaulted, and received death threats in writing and on video. I waited a year to file because I was mentally and physically broken. I had nothing left in me. But when I finally did, I thought someone would help me. I thought the system would protect me. It didn’t. The DA never contacted me. Not once. I had to rely on VINE alerts just to know when he was in court. No one told me anything. A judge denied my protective order and called him “honey” and “baby” in the courtroom. I had a strong legal team from a nonprofit, and even they were shocked. They wanted to move the case to another county, but I was scared. I didn’t want to poke the bear. He was still stalking me. Still watching. I was re-victimized by the very people who were supposed to help me. The police ignored my reports. The advocates mocked me. One even made fun of me for asking about a Christmas meal after I had all my teeth pulled from the damage he caused. I had a minor child at home and no food. And they laughed. The Attorney General’s Victims Compensation Office helped with the hospital bill for my teeth removal, but not with replacing them. They wouldn’t relocate me because we didn’t live together—even though he saw me almost every day. They had help, but not for me. He got six days in the county jail. That’s it. No restitution. No accountability. He still knows where I am. He still stalks me on social media as a way of eminding me that someday he will make good on his threat to come after me when I least expect it. I don’t know where he is. And I live with that fear every single day. After the justice system failed me, I had nowhere to turn but inward. I went through three different women’s centers and maxed out every therapy program they offered. I showed up for every session, I showed up for me, and for my two sons who had seen the whole drama play out—even when I could barely speak through the grief. I wasn’t just healing from physical trauma. I was healing from being ignored, dismissed, and re-victimized by the very institutions that were supposed to protect me. And when the therapy ran out, I didn’t stop. I found free entrepreneurship training through Memorial Assistance Ministries, and I poured myself into it—not because I had a business plan, but because I needed something to remind me I still had value. I enrolled in the Navigator program and just being at a feedback meeting at United Way I was able to tap into some education through some of the country's most prestigious universities. I earned certificates from the University of Maryland, the University of Valencia, and even Harvard. I got my graphic design certification and used it to create empowerment products, journals, and visual storytelling pieces that spoke to the pain I couldn’t always say out loud. I earned 17 certificates through the Texas Advocacy Project, becoming a trauma-informed, lived experience advocate. I did all of this while still healing, still growing and approaching my 60th birthday. Now here I am, still unable to find a job. I have all this knowledge, all this training, and nowhere to apply it. I’m still standing. Still creating. Still trying. But the silence from the world around me is deafening. I didn’t just survive—I transformed. And yet, I’m still waiting for a door to open. I’m going to keep writing. Keep pushing. Keep showing up for my health, even when the systems around me make it feel like survival is a full-time job. I haven’t been able to resolve the dental issues yet, and that alone has impacted my confidence, my comfort, and my ability to fully engage in the world. There’s a very real possibility that I’ll be facing a housing crisis in the coming months. Living on disability isn’t sustainable, and the math doesn’t add up no matter how many ways I try to stretch it. But I’m not giving up. I’ve come too far, learned too much, and built too many bridges to stop now. I’m looking for a miracle—not because I’m helpless, but because I’ve done everything I can on my own. I’m ready for a door to open. Ready for someone to see the value in what I’ve built, in what I know, in who I am. I’m not asking for charity. I’m asking for a chance to turn all this lived experience into impact. Into legacy. Into something that finally feels like justice.

It gets better. It might never go away, but it gets better. His memory, grip on me gets looser and looser every passing day. It gets better. Little by little, it gets better. When it happened, I couldn’t imagine the life after. That I will always be tormented by him. But. It got better. It’s still there, but. There is less of it now

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

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

I'm a woman from a middle class background living in a small town in Ireland. I work full time just as I have for most of my life. Abuse of any sort was to me something that happened to others. I guess I lived a protected life going from my daddy's house in to my first marriage. The end of the marriage started my road of abuse. Which I now tell in a conversation to my abuser : “Ha ha you got me at a vulnerable time in life. Do you remember the party we met at, the one in the country hall? I pretended that my colleague was my husband to try and get rid of you. But you were so persistent that eventually you wore me down with your sweet funny chat and smile. I was captured by the spell of a promise, a promise of a different life. So we moved in together. Everything was fine for a while but now looking back I see how you monitored me. I used to wonder at request texts for money always came when I was at the pass machine across from the taxi rank. Later much later I discovered your spy, the taxi driver. I avoided that place and walked further in all weathers. You began to text if I was later coming home from work, never asking if I was ok but demanding to know where I was, demanding to know what was keeping me. Now I know you timed my walk home from work, and questioned me if I left for work early. But I covered my tracks at times because I left my work rota lying around with the hours adjusted to give myself some me time. Boy, little did I know that the texts and time monitoring were to be mild forms of abuse compared to what you were going to put me through. Do you remember the night you wanted burger and chips but we had no money and you threatened to cut me up and put me in the boot or the night you beat me with the steel lamp because I used to light it to sleep as I was afraid of the dark. I was so lucky you didn't kill me. Flying plates of dinner became the norm because the food was either to hot/cold or not what you wanted. No matter how hard I worked outside the home to keep a roof over our heads you got worse. Trying to intimidate me and my manager by coming to the shop where I worked, insisting that we celebrate your birthday by going to mass. You even abused me with the readings from the bible. I got to the stage that I tore random pages from your bible. It was my secret pleasure when you searched for passages to quote from and couldn't find them. The public abuse happened very little but it was embarrassing. But it also was my saving because at your nephews holy communion your lovely display gave me the courage to tell your family that I had a safety order against you. Do you know that even with all of your following of me I still managed to keep most of my appointments with the lovely lady from Organisation. She gave me the courage to go to the Gardai and complain about you. But I learned from them that you'd complained about me being a bad wife. What a massive mistake it was to marry you but that was before your abuse got physical and I didn't see anything abusive in your behaviour. I made enough notes about what you did to me for court. Boy was I naïve going in to that court room. Looking back now I should have taken the barring order when the judge was giving it to me. BUT no, I was going to change the world and us, everything was going to work out fine and we would all live happy ever after. Fairy tales ha ha. I settled for a safety order which the Gardai explained to you when they came to our house later that day. Nothing really worked because you though you could still follow me around on your bike. I could write a book on the ways you abused me, locking me out of the bathroom when I needed to use the toilet but then I rented a house with 3 bathrooms. Things grew so bad that when I got the courage to throw you out that didn't even work. Wisdom hit you and you'd get the Gardai around to tell me that because your name was on the lease I'd have to let you in. The night you raped me was one of those times and it was the last time ever you touched me. I thought I'd jammed my bedroom door tight enough to keep you out but when I was sleeping you got in. You pinned me to the bed and told me you loved me as you forced yourself inside of me. The pain and fear still live with me. The DPP decide the evidence was not enough for a court case so I moved to an apartment behind coded gates for my safety. Yes you were gone but the impact of what you did to me changed my life for years. Walking and singing as I walked kept me sane at times. I threw myself in to my job and even got a new job in the city. But the city meant more loud noises to make me jump a mile off the ground. If anyone shouted not even at me I shook and had to try not to cry. I witnessed a row one day and it brought everything back. The emotional and physiological damage done by you left me a shell of my former self. Yes in work I used to be a power lady but not anymore. YOU changed me. BUT you know what, with the help of the Organisation, Organisation and my social worker I have found myself again. I have a great job, a great life and wonderful supportive friends who are here for me. YOU did not destroy me. I am a victor over your abuse because I walked away and stayed away. Today I live in a happy home where the food is eaten and not thrown around. I am not beaten but loved and respected. I work full time at my day job, while I blog and have gotten my confidence back so that I am now a public speaker. To anyone reading this and suffering abuse I say to you "Please contact Organisation. You deserve to be loved and respected" Darkness only lasts for a short time and then the sun shines forever

I have completely lost hope. I had some yesterday. The church was referring my case to the DA. Great news right? Except there is no criminal case. There is no chance for a criminal case. How do I know? It took the DA less than 4 hours to let me know. I called a couple attorneys. They won't take my case because there isn't one. Now I have to deal with the realization that the past 57 years of torment and pain was for nothing. My new realization of what happened to me all those years ago was for nothing. No legal recourse, just added PAIN. This was my only path to get the mental health help I need. What do I have to be for someone to notice me? What do I have to do to get justice? How the hell d I ever get passed this? Not knowing was so much better. Not knowing and being miserable was tolerable. This is not. YES I am alone. Writing anonymous here is my ONLY avenue to vent. There has to be a reason why I have endured all this for so long. If someone says god has a plan I will literally lose my shit. It's religion that put me in this mess. And my family. I won't leave that bunch of abusing Aholes out. So tell me. Where do I go? Who can help? What tangible avenues do I have left?

HE picked me up the first day in the shiniest white Toyota I’d ever seen. Hallucinating halos of light around him, I knew in my heart: this was the man I would marry. Almost 15 years older, but so handsome, so experienced. We seemed to have everything in common—intellectual passions (both personal and professional), unbreakable bonds with our widowed mothers, and a shared dream of building an all-American family home. Cruising through the crisp mid-October air, we swapped thoughts and expectations before arriving at Orlando’s downtown library. I’d never even dated before. He, meanwhile, had recently lost out on a girl named Name. After attending a free 3D modeling class, we drove home through the area. Admiring the street art and neighborhood history, Name 2grinned widely. He talked endlessly about books, so our biweekly “dates” shifted to Barnes & Noble. Marriage dreams swirled through my mind; I thought I was in heaven, Ignorance is bliss. Or in this case—a kiss. Her name was Name 3 Emphasis on the DIE. At first, she didn’t look harmful. A government employee and the grandmother of my future children, Provider Name seemed overjoyed when Name 2 told her I’d proposed. She served me huge slices of homemade pistachio cake during what should have been one of our cozy courtship nights at home. On weekends, we both did laundry and cleaning. Even after I returned from an emergency psychiatric stay, she hugged me. Told me she loved me. Promised I was safe. “What’s mine is yours,” she said. Food, water, shelter, family, a bed—even help looking for work. She was like… a mother-in-law to me. Somewhere in that 4 month bloody scuffle - my hymen snapped, and someone forced me to fellate them repeatedly. I thought it was my fiancé on top of me when it happened. But he wasn’t my fiancé. Which means she wasn’t my mother in law either…

I had a date over to my house. When he had got there I had already had a bottle of wine. He brought a bottle of wine for me with him. I continued to drink until I blacked out and all I can remember is him showering my own vomit off me and eventually him raping me. I went to therapy that week and laughed off the question “can you consent after two bottles of wine?” I told everyone at the time I had had sex with him. I completely blocked it out for two years. However during this time it really impacted me. Due to a multitude of factors I attempted suicide 4 times while I was in denial about the fact that I was raped. 2 years after the rape I was getting ready to go play a sport I was well versed in with some new people which would include men. I got incredibly angry at the thought of men telling me how to play a sport I knew so much about. When I asked myself why I was so angry. It finally hit me that what had happened 2 years prior was rape. I contacted the local sexual violence centre. Who have now been able to offer me counselling. Since I admitted to myself that it was rape and it happened to me I’ve been better able to deal with the emotions that come with it. The first week after realising what happened I used to walk down the street with clenched fists terrified of every man I saw. Thankfully through talking to friends and sharing my story this is not the case anymore. I found it so bizzare that I had essentially blocked out the fact that I was raped for two years. But on reading up on trauma it made me feel more normal for my response. In terms of legal action I have no evidence the man was even in my house so unfortunately I cannot defend myself in this way. It would be my word against his. This is upsetting to me but I am ready to move on with my life. I am studying in college now and have a fantastic understanding, caring boyfriend who respects me to his core.