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Welcome to Our Wave.

This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

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Story
From a survivor
🇬🇧

.A Safe Life for My Children

My Story — I Just Want a Safe Life for My Children I am sharing my story anonymously because I am afraid that people from my past may recognise me. Some details have been changed or left out to protect me and my children. The experiences and feelings I describe are my own. For most of my life, I have kept my pain inside. I have carried things that I never told anyone because I was frightened, ashamed, or simply didn't know how to explain everything that had happened to me. Today, I am finally trying to tell my story. Not because I want revenge. Not because I want people to feel sorry for me. I just want someone to hear me. My childhood When I was a young child, I was expected to clean the house, wash clothes, iron and cook. If something wasn't done exactly the way my mother wanted, I would be punished. I remember being beaten with spoons and other objects. I would have bruises on my body and would try to hide them. I was frightened in my own home. Sometimes I was thrown outside without proper clothes or shoes, even when it was cold and getting dark. I remember hiding underneath a tree because I was scared. One of the few places where I felt safe was when my uncle would take me to his house. I looked forward to those visits because I knew I would have some peace. I also felt that my siblings were treated differently from me. I was made to feel that I was less wanted because my mother had wanted a boy when I was born. For years, I wondered what I had done wrong. I was only a child. I had done nothing wrong. A decision that was never mine When I was a teenager, my family told me we were going on holiday. I wanted to finish my education first. Instead, I was taken abroad and discovered that the real reason for the trip was that I was going to be married. I was still very young. I tried to convince myself that perhaps marriage would give me the loving family I had always wanted. Very quickly, I discovered that my new husband was not the person I had hoped he would be. When I told my family what was happening, I was told that things would become better. I didn't want him to come and live with me. My wishes were ignored. My first marriage When I returned home, I was expected to work and look after everything. My money was controlled. I was expected to work long hours and still cook, clean and look after my husband. When I couldn't meet all the expectations placed on me, I was shouted at, insulted and physically abused. I also experienced sexual violence. I did not consent, but my wishes were ignored. Eventually, I was thrown out. I managed to find somewhere safe to stay for a short time. I thought perhaps my life was finally going to change. But I was persuaded to return. Later, I was taken abroad again and left there for a long period because I would not agree to live with my husband. I was heartbroken and frightened. Eventually, under pressure, I agreed. My children I eventually became a mother. My children became my whole world. Their father was violent towards me, and there were times when I had to put myself between him and the children to stop him from hurting them. I was terrified, but I would never allow someone to hurt my children if I could protect them. After years of cheating, violence, shouting and fear, my husband eventually left. I felt relieved. Then he returned. People around me told me that he had changed and that I should give him another chance. I didn't want to. My children and I were frightened. Then came the night that I will never forget. While I was working, one of my children contacted me and warned me not to come home because they were afraid their father was going to kill me. When I returned home, I was attacked. I was hit, thrown against furniture and injured. At one point, a knife was held against my throat and I was threatened. My children were terrified. They helped me find a way to keep him distracted long enough for help to arrive. I remember praying that the police would come before something happened that could never be undone. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. The police arrived. He was arrested. I was shaking and crying. My body was hurting and I was terrified. I was taken to hospital. My children and I were then moved somewhere safe. For the first time in a long time, we had some distance from the danger. Starting again After many months away, we returned home. I hoped we could finally rebuild our lives. Instead, our belongings were removed. Furniture was thrown away. My children's belongings were sold. I was told that we did not deserve comfortable things and that we could sit and sleep on the floor. I was devastated. But the next morning, I got up and bought basic food for my children. That was when I decided I had to work. I found a job working nights. I arranged childcare and built my entire life around my children. I would work through the night, come home, get my children ready for school, take them to school, sleep for a few hours, wake up to cook and clean, collect them, feed them, take them to their activities, put them to bed and then go back to work. I was exhausted. But I did it because my children needed me. Losing our home While I was trying to rebuild our lives, I also suffered serious financial difficulties involving people close to me. I had worked hard to build a home for my children. I had invested years of work and money into making it a safe and happy place. Then I discovered that arrangements had been made for the house to be transferred to another family member without my agreement. I came home from work and was told that the house had been sold. I couldn't believe it. That house wasn't just a building. It was where my children had grown up. It was where I had tried to create the home and family I had never had as a child. I had spent years making it ours. Suddenly, it was gone. My children and I had nowhere to go. We stayed with family for a while, where we were made to sleep on the floor. Eventually, I went to the council for help. My children and I were placed in temporary accommodation. We had very little privacy and were struggling to cope. Eventually, we were given somewhere to live. I continued working wherever I could. I worked in care and took other jobs when I needed to. I did whatever I could to support my children. Trying to find love again My family continued to pressure me to marry again. I didn't want another marriage. I was frightened of going through the same things again. But people around me kept telling me that I should give someone else a chance. Eventually, I agreed to marry a man who had been described to me as kind and caring. At first, he seemed wonderful. I thought perhaps I had finally found the person I had spent my whole life waiting for. Then I became pregnant. Things changed. He began asking me for money. He became angry and verbally abusive. He wanted me to arrange for him to come and live with me. I was pregnant and unable to work normally. I couldn't understand why someone who had seemed so kind was treating me this way. I asked people for help and was told to keep him happy and do what he wanted. It felt like my past was repeating itself. When I gave birth by Caesarean section, I was still in hospital when he said something that broke my heart. I had just given birth to our son. Instead of feeling loved and supported, I was made to feel worthless. After that, he continued to be kind mainly when he wanted money. I was paying for things and trying to provide for my child. Eventually, I discovered evidence that he had been involved with another woman. Once again, my heart was broken. I had believed that this marriage would be different. Eventually, he left. Where I am today Today, I am raising four children. I have spent years working whenever I could to provide for them. But recently, everything changed again. I became seriously unwell and was diagnosed with blood clots affecting both lungs. Because of my health, I am currently unable to work. This has been frightening. Working has always been how I have tried to keep our lives going. Now I am unable to do what I have always done while still having the responsibility of caring for my children. Everyday life has become a struggle. After everything I have already survived, I never imagined that my health would become another battle. But I am still here. I am still trying to look after my children and find a way forward. For years, I blamed myself and wondered whether there was something wrong with me. I am beginning to understand that being mistreated did not mean I deserved to be mistreated. I was a child who deserved protection. I was a young woman who deserved a choice. I was a wife who deserved safety and respect. I am a mother who deserves a safe and stable home for her children. I don't want revenge. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want pity. I simply want my story to be heard. I want my children to grow up feeling safe, loved and protected. This is my story. For the first time, I am letting it be heard.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
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    #1982

    I don't really want advice or anything. I just need to get this out somewhere because holy shit lol. Things with my boyfriend have gotten really bad lately. He'll wake up or come home and almost immediately start bitching at me. Just ranting, degrading me, telling me I've ruined his life and that everything is my fault. And he'll just keep going even when I'm not responding. So lately I've just been putting my headphones in and watching YouTube. Yesterday he was going on and on at me and getting more and more pissed because I wasn't reacting, so I literally just started singing along with whatever I was watching. He finally shut up and left. Then he came back later and tried it again. I put my headphones back in and ignored him. He got pissed and yanked my charger away from me and took off in the car. This morning, same shit. He woke up and immediately started bitching at me. I put my headphones in and listened to YouTube while he ranted. Then I started singing again and eventually he just left for work. It's honestly morbidly hilarious watching him get SO pissed that I can just sit there and be content while he's trying so hard to upset me. Like dude, I'm literally watching YouTube. But at the same time it's fucking exhausting. I'm at the point where I don't feel entirely safe around him anymore, and I'm probably going to call the shelter today and figure out what I can do. The part that scares me the most is my dogs. I have dog and dog and I don't want to be separated from them or have anything happen to them. I'm also terrified of losing my stuff, especially my PC. I don't even know. I just needed to tell somebody. I don't really want advice. I just want to throw this out into the universe and have somebody go "yeah, holy shit, that's fucked up" and then let me exist lol.

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  • “To anyone facing something similar, you are not alone. You are worth so much and are loved by so many. You are so much stronger than you realize.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    I was 19. Now I’m 35 and finally trying to face the past. This is a moment from year one of a five year abusive relationship

    The controlling eventually became so severe that it finally came to a head on Halloween that year. Me, my ex, my roommate, and my best friend visited my best friends boyfriend at university and went to a big party in the woods called venue.  It was crazy because we had the best night ever. No fighting, lots of dancing, and just an overall fun time. We went back to stay at my best friends boyfriends place. We all stayed in his room. My best friend and her boyfriend in the bed, me, my ex, and my roommate on the floor. Everyone had just fallen asleep, and my ex tried to initiate having sex with me. I told him no, that I wasn’t going to hook up with him in the room full of people. He got so angry telling me I didn’t love him. He was, for lack of a better term, “whisper yelling” at me to come speak with him in the bathroom. After refusing several times, he finally grabbed me by my arm and dragged me on the floor from the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He picked me up, closed the door, grabbed my face and held it there while he proceeded to yell in my face about me not loving him. He then let go. It was surreal. I felt quite numb. From what I remember, I just walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and laid down. He laid down next to me and tried to put his arms around me, apologizing over and over again. I said several times do not touch me. Keep your hands off me. He said no, he loves me and he’s sorry and he’s going to touch me because he loves me and he’s sorry. The next day I was just in disbelief that that had happened to me. That it had truly gotten to that point and that I was truly in an abusive relationship.  It felt like an out of body experience. He showed up at my door with a bouquet of white roses. Exactly like the one he brought me the first time he acted weird towards me. The second I saw the roses; I felt physically sick in the pit of my stomach. It was like what happened had become a reality and he was admitting to it and thought flowers would make it okay. I knew I had to break up with him, but I was so scared to do it because I knew it would hurt him. It’s crazy to look back at it now, that I never considered my own safety being at risk, I just considered how much it would hurt him and that’s why it would be difficult to end it. I think it was about two weeks later that I ended things with him (the first time). This was year one of a five year relationship that eventually led to me uprooting my life

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  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    Healing has not been easy for me. For many years, I thought surviving meant simply getting through each day. I carried so much fear, hurt and sadness inside me that I didn't know how to begin talking about it. I am still healing, and I know that healing is not something that happens overnight. Some days are harder than others. There are memories and experiences that I still struggle with, and there are times when I feel overwhelmed by everything I have been through. But I am learning that healing can also mean recognising that what happened to me was not my fault. I am learning to be kinder to myself. I am learning that I deserved to be protected as a child, that I deserved to have a choice, and that I deserve to live without fear. My children are a huge part of my reason to keep going. I want to give them the safety, love and stability that I didn't always have growing up. I want them to know that they are valued and that they deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. Speaking about my experiences is also part of my healing. For so many years, I stayed silent because I was frightened and ashamed. Telling my story now is a way of taking back my voice. I am still facing challenges, including my health and the uncertainty that comes with not being able to work at the moment. But I am still here. I am still caring for my children. I am still trying to rebuild. I don't know exactly what the future will look like, but I am beginning to believe that it can be different from my past. For me, healing means finding my voice, learning that I matter, protecting my children, and allowing myself to hope again. I may not be healed from everything I have experienced, but I am healing. And I believe healing is possible.

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  • We believe in you. You are strong.

    Story
    From a survivor
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    bar city, state 2020

    Between dates, 2020, I (female) was on a work trip by myself to another site in city, state for a job interview. I had taken advantage of the long weekend due to MLK day, so I could experience the new place and see if it was a fit for me. After my interview, I was feeling pretty good. At some point, I had ended up at what was called “bar” for some drinks. This has since changed its name. I had been over-served, and there was no security. After $92.63 worth of alcohol (no food), and someone giving me weed (which I don’t like), the room was spinning. I hardly even knew how to walk at this point. A stranger with a guitar, who I believe had a gig at the bar, walked me back to my hotel. On the way back, I had fallen backwards onto the sidewalk cement and hit my head. We entered the wrong hotel. After finding the right hotel, hotel, he entered into the room with me, took my clothes off, and raped me. I could not move. Somehow I had also fallen off the bed during the act. I woke up the next day with him next to me in the bed. I immediately thought he was going to harm me or kill me, so I was nice to him. We went to “café” for some coffee. He left his guitar in my hotel room so he could be allowed back in to get it. I’m honestly surprised I survived this, and it could have gotten worse. I don’t remember how I eventually got away, but I only had the hotel room for so long. This could have been an even worse tragedy. I don’t believe that single females like myself are safe to go anywhere. I don’t go out anymore, even with friends. I stay home. It’s the only bit of safety I have. If you work at a bar or hotel, please please please SPEAK UP if you see something that’s not right. You could save a life.

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  • “It can be really difficult to ask for help when you are struggling. Healing is a huge weight to bear, but you do not need to bear it on your own.”

    You are wonderful, strong, and worthy. From one survivor to another.

    Story
    From a survivor

    Digging up the past is not always a bad idea

    I woke up a morning after a night at the bar, in a room I had never seen before, without my pants, and next to a boy I knew only in passing. My last clear memory was receiving and drinking about half of my second drink of the night: a vodka redbull. From there, I recall walking to the door of the bar around 10 PM, and then everything else was completely blank. My mouth was dry and my head was pounding - my vision was so blurry that when I stood up, it felt like I had stepped onto a rotating carnival ride. The boy in the bed rolled over, hungover, and when I panickly asked if anything happened last night, he smiled and said we fooled around for a while until I passed out. I felt so sick to my stomach at that moment that I almost puked. I stumbled down the stairs and out of the house, shivering the whole walk home as I tried desperately to see straight. The hangover was like nothing I have ever experienced before, throwing up for hours into the evening and hoping for death. I am sure that sounds like an exaggeration, but having experienced many, many hangovers before, this one felt like something different. I contacted friends at the second bar I apparently arrived at, and they told me how concerned they were for me, how I could barely stand, how when they asked me to drink some water and sit on a stool, I complied but had no life in my eyes. It was then, that "the boy from the bed" stepped in and offered to take me home. Since my friends were working, they agreed, believing the boy and I were friends. For so long, I felt so much shame about that night. I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there because the anxiety was so overwhelming. My long-distance boyfriend at the time was understanding, but I could not even bring myself to talk to him about it. In truth, because I had no memory of the night, and it only made the panic and shame bubble up inside me more to think about it. So I locked the event away and decided to move on. But now 5 years later, that night has come back to haunt me. A few months ago, I kept closing my eyes and seeing him smiling in his bed and my lungs felt like they were constricting. I would sit in bed and feel paralyzed, trying desperately to remember a clue. Now, I write about it and talk about the night with friends and other victims. I still feel a lot of anxiety from it, but I no longer feel like a stupid drunk girl.

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    From a survivor
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    We all have broken places, but we are not broken

    In 2007, my ex-husband drove over my foot. He did it out of rage. What followed was something I’ll never forget: ➤ I called the police. ➤ They issued a temporary restraining order. ➤ I went to court, determined to protect myself and my toddler. ➤ He stood before the judge, pleaded, and promised he’d never do it again. ➤ The court believed him. They let him go. The restraining order wasn’t extended. And just like that, I was left to pick up the pieces on my own. I’ve shared parts of my story about surviving domestic violence before. But this part? I’ve kept it to myself. For years, I was ashamed of this story. Not because of what happened to me—but because the world taught me to be ashamed. To be quiet. To “move on” as though resilience meant silence. But here’s the truth: Resilience doesn’t come from silence. 𝐈𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. This experience, as painful as it was, taught me lessons I couldn’t learn any other way: ➤ I learned how to find my voice, even when no one wanted to hear it. ➤ I learned how to advocate for myself, even when the system failed me. ➤ I learned that survival isn’t the end goal—thriving is. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about my story. It’s about a culture that protects abusers, excuses toxic behavior, and leaves survivors to fend for themselves. The same culture that let him walk away is the one that: ➤ Enables toxic leadership in workplaces. ➤ Silences survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. ➤ Ignores the mental health toll of these experiences. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 “𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.” Leadership isn’t just about titles or decisions—it’s about creating a world where: ➤ Survivors feel safe to speak up. ➤ Toxicity is called out, not tolerated. ➤ Resilience is celebrated, not silence. Some stories stay with you until you’re ready—today, I’m ready. Let it end with us. NO MORE Week 2025 hashtag#nomoreweek2025 hashtag#SayNoMore, hashtag#EndTheSilence hashtag#nomoreweek from LinkedIn post: link

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    From a survivor
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    Lifting Fog: The Story of an Ex-Pastor's Wife who escaped, survived, and thrived.

    Lifting Fog Dec 29 Written By Name View my blog for more at Link (Rewind to June 2019) I could sense my husband was growing more stressed with his work. I understood that leading a youth ministry could be stressful, so I chalked up his strange behavior to his workload. It was a summer afternoon and I was sitting in the office next to him, working on the children’s ministry curriculum and volunteer schedules. Upon finishing my work, I noticed that I was not working in the children’s ministry on Sunday, July 7th. I’m free! Maybe he can take the weekend off too. I texted a close friend who lives up north and asked if we could crash at their place for the weekend. She and her husband were very dear friends of ours. We consider them as family. My girlfriend was excited to open their home to us and spend some time with them before they left for the weekend. They both had obligations to volunteer at a camp that weekend and had to leave Friday afternoon, but she said we could stay at their place while they were gone. A free place to stay on a fourth of July weekend? I’ll take it! I asked permission from my father-in-law, who was also the lead pastor. He was completely on board and thought it was a great idea for the both of us to have a spontaneous getaway weekend. I even found a house sitter to watch our pup. All of the plans were falling into place. I was so excited to get away and spend some one-on-one time with my husband exploring the Location 1 together. I grew up in State 1 and taking summer trips to the mountains was one of my favorite things to do. I knew that being in the beauty of the mountains can just cause the stress of life to melt away. The greenery, the crispy mountain air, and the slower pace were calling my name. I wanted that for him. I imagined his stress levels falling. I wanted to see him laugh again. He stopped laughing months ago. He stopped coming to bed with me. He stopped asking me how I was doing. He stopped engaging with me altogether. More and more of his time was spent on his phone, computer, or in front of the television. It’s the stress of his job, I kept telling myself. We had many fights about how much time he was spending on electronics. They never ended well. He talked about running away from everything. It’s the stress of his job, I justified. He stopped caring altogether. I thought it was because of the miscarriage and the stress of adjusting to a more demanding job. He started to talk with me more and more about choking me out for fun. I thought he was just being silly and I always laughed it off. He wrapped his arm around my neck at times while I was making dinner or laying in bed. I justified it all. I tried to make sense of it but in the meantime, I shut down too. My stress levels were through the roof. I thought I had to keep it all together to keep up with appearances. Don’t let them see your weakness, name. When I had the miscarriage in May, I kept that emotional valve shut tight. The stress inside of me was so pressed down, the levels were rising. I could feel it in my chest. I could taste it in my mouth. Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what. We needed this vacation. So, after finishing my schedule, I walked over to his office and knocked on his door. “Come in,” he said. I opened his door and leaning on its frame, I announced with a smile, “Hey! Mark your calendar. I’m taking you away on the first weekend of July for a trip. Your dad said it was okay. We can make it back just in time on Sunday night for youth group!” He turned his chair toward me and smiled. There it is, I thought. Relieved to finally see a smile on his face. “Okay!” He said quickly. I turned around to begin the plans and his voice called from afar, “Hey, I’d like to go on a hike when we’re there,” he remarked. I slowly walked back to him in disbelief… A hike?? He never wants to hike! “I’d love to go on a mountain with a cliff face,” He said. “Sounds like fun!!” I replied. Maybe he just needs some exercise and an adrenaline rush, I thought. I was shocked that he suggested going for a hike because throughout all the years that I’ve known him, he never once expressed an interest in doing anything remotely close to hiking. I shut his door to continue to let him work and finished up mine. It was then that I started the countdown for our vacation. I was so excited and ready to get away from it all. I was ready to breathe. I know where your mind is going, it’s clear to see, isn’t it? But when you are in the middle of the mess, your mind doesn’t go there. Your mind always assumes the best. Especially when it comes to someone you love the most. (fast forward) On Date, I called 9-1-1 on my husband. That very morning after I finished reading and taking my last sip of coffee, I breathed in that beautiful fresh mountain air. I remembered it was going to rain at some point during this vacation, so I looked at the weather radar that morning. Oh, no. There was going to be a torrential downpour and thunderstorm right where we wanted to hike. We only had 3 hours before it hit. He woke up shortly after me and made his way out to the back porch where I was reading. Leaning on the door frame, I showed him the radar on my phone. “Hey, I’m not sure today would be a good day to hike. We don’t have much time before the storm hits. Maybe we can go tomorrow morning before we head home?” I asked. “No, we need to go today,” he insisted. I knew that this may be the only time he would ever want to hike again and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity since it’s something that I love. We searched frantically for a hike that was close enough, yet fit his qualifications. We planned to go to Location 2. He didn’t care to pack food nor did he care to eat beforehand. He said a Gatorade would be enough. He wore a tank top, shorts, and flat Adidas slide-in shoes. I wore workout pants, a tank top, a bandana, and running shoes. We loaded up in the truck and headed toward the mountain. The GPS kept rerouting us, we lost reception more times than I can count, and we could not find the trailhead. We were running out of time and I was growing frustrated. I wanted to be able to enjoy the hike and not rush it, but he insisted. “Let’s drive along the Location 3 and find something there. I remember seeing a trail when we came yesterday,” he said. We swam in the Location 4 the day before. It was one of the best days we had together in months. We laughed a lot, talked, rested, and enjoyed the day exploring. All was well. I was at ease because I felt like taking this mini-vacation was exactly what he needed. There was one point on that day when he was physically aggressive with me while we were swimming. I look back now and have the mental clarity to realize that it was not okay. His hands that were meant to show love treated me as an object and I numbly complied. As I always did. I tried to fight it but that nagging voice in the back of my head told me to stop… don’t disappoint him, name. So, we drove along the Location 3 since we could not find Location 2. We drove and drove and drove and connected to the Location 5. My anxiety began to build as time passed. Something is not right. We turned the corner and arrived at the spot he told me about previously and were welcomed with a large, wooden sign. The sign read, “Location 6.” This is where my life forever changed. We pulled in, paid for parking, and began our ascent. He has a bad knee, so he took Advil before heading up. We stopped to look at the map before climbing. I looked for the total distance, the route, and the scenic points. He searched for all the lookout points at the top. He huffed and puffed his entire way up. He had to take many breaks for a breath and a drink. It is a 1.5-mile trail up and back, totaling only at 3 miles. I talked most of the way up, pointed out silly “scenic” points. One scenic point was literally just a little village of mushrooms. All I honestly cared about was seeing a moose. I’ve lived 28 years in State 1 and have never seen a moose. It's one of my life’s goals and remains it still today. I laughed and talked about my family, and eventually, he asked if we could stop talking altogether. He wanted silence. Strange… I thought. Finally, we made it to the top. He kept searching around the top of the mountain for more cliffs almost as if he was searching for the perfect one. I thought nothing of it. I spent most of that time taking pictures of the scenery and taking in the beauty of the mountainous landscape that seemed to stretch on forever. I looked over to my right and he was walking closer and closer to the edge. I continued to tell him to be careful and to stop going so close. He had an intense and thrilling look in his eyes. He stood on a rock that protruded out of the cliff and looked down for a minute. “Come over here and stand on this,” he asked. “Uhm, no thank you. I don’t want to slip and die..” I sarcastically said back. He continued to plead with me, and I didn’t want to let him down despite how scared I was. So, against my every instinct, I complied. I stood on the edge and he was behind me. “Just trust me,” he said, with his hands on my lower back. My shaking knees straightened as I held onto a long, dead tree branch on my right. I could feel the wind cool on my legs and I glimpsed downward for a split second into the abyss of pine trees hundreds of feet down right below my feet. And in an instant, I heard... Get off. Instinct.. fear...intuition...the voice of God? I am not sure. But I knew I needed to get away quickly. I instantly backed off and scooted off, stood up, and walked to a safe place. Breathe, name. He was frustrated with me but I didn’t care. Something was wrong; I could sense it. I thought I was nervous about the impending storm, but my subconscious knew that I wasn’t safe for more reasons than one. He kept making comments that if I were to fall off the small drop-offs, I would only break a leg and I’d survive. Not that cliff… that one was a 250-foot drop into pine trees. I couldn’t see what was happening right in front of me. I told him to stop making those jokes, and he pointed the finger back at me and said that it was me who was making them. Always playing mind games. After I backed away from the ledge that he wanted me to stand on, I found a comfortable spot farther up and sat down. I tried to shake off this nervous feeling that I had and focused on the scenery in front of me. I took in the hundreds of shades of green spotted across the landscape, the eagle soaring through the trees, and the blue sunny skies welcoming me. He made his way over to me and sat down. With a deep breath, he said “I could get used to this.” “It truly is beautiful here,” I responded. We quietly enjoyed the view together. There was a large rainstorm approaching and the clouds from behind the mountain were growing darker by the minute. “I think it’s time we start heading back, we don’t want to get caught in the rain,” I said. He insisted that we waited longer. Everyone at this point was cleared from the top. It was just him and I. Anxiety continued to grow inside me. I waited long enough, it was now growing darker as the clouds covered the sun. “I’m sorry, but we have to go now,” I said as I stood up, brushing off my dusty legs. I stood up to walk away and he followed frustratingly with a huff. We entered the wooded path down the mountain, and only about one hundred feet in, he shouted at me from behind, “You have been the biggest source of stress in my life!” I turned around to him in shock. He was about 30 feet away from me, stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched… I was completely thrown off as this was coming out of the blue… “what?” I responded. His face looked different. He then went on to tell me that he doesn’t think we were meant to be together. That maybe that’s why I had the miscarriage. That all he ever does is try with me, and I give him nothing in return. He said he didn’t know if he wanted to try anymore with me. Blame shifting. Guilt giving. Life-sucking words. I begged, “I want to fix this. I’m willing to fight, but you need to be, too. Are you?” “I don’t know,” he said. “The only way we couldn’t possibly work this out is if you cheated on me,” I said. Stone cold face, hands-on-hips, head pointed away from me and toward the ground, he said the two most shocking words… “I did.” My feet instantly left the ground. My breath escaped me. I can only hear the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. No, no. This isn’t real. I am dreaming. “It was when you went away to that children’s ministry conference. It was with some random girl in a hotel,” he said. Still no eye contact. “What? This isn’t real,” I said. “Some random girl? At a hotel?” I begged him to tell me who and where. But all my heart wanted to know was why. He crouched down, giving off a tearless cry. “This isn’t real, this isn’t happening, this isn’t real…” I continued to chant to myself. I kept touching my chest and my head and my face to make sure I was still there. The first raindrops were beginning to fall on my skin, but I couldn’t feel it. I looked at the tree bark. Noticed the details, the moss, the bugs. This. Is. Real. Panic is setting in. “The rain is coming. We will work this out. We NEED to get off this mountain!” I shouted. The wind was beginning to pick up. He didn’t move, still crouched in the dirt refusing to look at me. I was about 15 feet away from him. I turned to walk away, and just when I thought I couldn’t be any more heartbroken.... his voice sounded relieved and terrified as he shouted her name. My best friend. I stopped in my tracks. My mind flooded with all of the time we spent together. Betrayal of the deepest sense… my best friend and my husband? I could no longer feel my entire body. Her? No. It couldn’t be. I moved toward him as he began to tell me how many times they slept together, when, and where. “I’ve always loved her and she has always loved me. When we found out you were pregnant, it was the only thing that stopped us from running away together because we thought she was pregnant too,” he said. I looked at my hands. I examined my skin. I felt my chest. I am real. This is real. Breathe. “Are you lying?” I breathlessly asked. He looked down at my feet, smirked, and said, “What if I am?” “Come ON, tell me... are you lying!?” I asked, louder. I was about 10 feet down the path, away from him. “Yes,” he said, with a relieved smile. My heart rate slowed. I ran up the rocky, steep trail to him. I touched his shoulders, his face, and asked why he would do that to me. “Did you want to see how much I love you? Why would you lie about this? LOOK AT ME!” He didn’t look at me. “You’re not lying, are you?” I whispered. “No,” he said sternly. Anger grew inside of me unlike any other. I screamed in his face and he did not look at me. Instead, he stared blankly at my feet. “You broke a COVENANT with me! LOOK AT ME!” I yelled. But he refused to look. Refused to fight. Refused to try. “We need to go home and work this out, we can get help!” He then looked up at me for the first time and stated with a strangely calm yet loud voice… “What, do you think we can just go home now after this!? We can’t just go home now. I can’t tell my parents about this.” I turned to walk away. And then, seconds later, I felt the blow. I woke up on the ground. Flashes of pictures of leaves and trees and sky and his fists filled my mind. My ears were ringing and all I could hear was his muffled animal-like scream mixed with my heavy breathing and helpless cry. My husband hit me in the back of the head with a rock. I woke up on the ground with him fighting me. I miraculously landed on my left side and did not fall face-down into the steep trail under my feet. I was able to come to consciousness just in time to fight. I didn’t realize I was fighting him. I didn’t realize he was trying to kill me. I didn’t realize anything except that I needed to protect my neck as he reached for it. I breathlessly screamed, kicked, punched…fought like hell. I remember tasting blood. He then began to hyperventilate and sat up with his hands in his face. “I’m a piece of shit,” he wailed. Over and over again. “You deserve better.” That was the first true statement I heard from his mouth in years. I picked myself up and tried to help him breathe as I regained my breath. I attempted to lift up his hands to help him and they flopped on the ground the moment I let go and then… Then I felt it... Pain, throbbing pain, in my head and neck. I touched the back of my head. I remembered the noise of the rock hitting my head. It was like sticking my head inside a bass drum. Then a faint ringing sound. And then black. I felt my head. It was the lower left part of my head where he struck me with the rock. It was swelling fast. My vision was blurred and I could hear my breath as if I was inside of a tight bubble. “You hit me in the back of the head with a rock,” I quietly muttered while holding my head. “You tried to kill me. I might die. My head is swelling. I might die” I chanted. I began to panic as I knelt in the dirt and rocked my body back and forth as my mind raced through scenarios. What do I do? He continued to wail on the ground like a child. His cry was different this time. It was real, but it was only for himself. “I have to call 9-1-1,” I announced. I stood up with shaky legs and retrieved my phone from my backpack. My shaking hands began to dial 9-1-1. He then begged me not to, but I knew that we both weren’t safe and I didn’t think that I was going to survive if I waited longer. He wailed and begged me not to… “Please, please, please don’t. Don’t, name!” “If you don’t want me to call 9-1-1, then you’re going to follow me down this mountain and if I faint… you’re going to carry me if it’s the last thing you do for me,” I demanded as if speaking to a child. He then went very still. His breathing slowed and his eyes stared into the dirt. No response. He just doesn’t want to get caught, name. He doesn’t care for me, he only cares for himself. As my thoughts began to see reality for what it was, then my adrenaline kicked in. I could feel my veins spark and my vision cleared. I was very present. I was breathing smoothly, my knees stopped shaking, and I felt more alert than ever. He is going to try to kill me again, I realized. Once I ran out of his sight, I stopped and called 9-1-1. Instant connection. The dispatcher connected me to the Location 7 Deputies Office. “We are on our way,” are the last words I heard before I lost connection. And then... I ran. Run, name. Run like hell. It was a good thing I began training for a half marathon months before. I had tunnel vision as I zeroed in on the trail. Follow the yellow dots. Lord, don’t let him jump. Don’t trip. Light feet. Lord, don’t let me die. Please get me to the bottom. I WILL survive this. Don’t trip. Stay on your toes. Follow the yellow dots. Please, God, don’t let him jump. I ran for 20 minutes down a steep, rocky trail filled with boulders and thick pine roots. It was pouring rain. I didn’t feel a drop. I could not feel my feet touch the ground. I could not feel my head pain or my weak knee. Adrenaline surged through my veins. As I ran for my life, I thought of my mom and dad. I thought of a man that would be on the bottom of the mountain to rescue me. I thought of Hawaii. I thought of my husband and prayed for his safety. I thought of my dog, my church, my brothers. I thought of my sisters and my nieces. I thought of my family. My entire life and all that I loved came to the forefront of my mind. It was my people that mattered. The ones I loved. I fought and I ran for them. I dreamt of being held by my mom and dad. I didn’t trip. I didn’t slip. I didn’t stop. I heard the laughter of a woman up high in the hill to the right of me as I ran. I paused and looked up… Should I yell for help? I decided not to. It’s not worth the risk. I turned around and could not see him behind but heard the crunching of leaves far up the trail and they were getting louder. RUN, name! I ran as silently and quickly as I could. I didn’t want him to hear me and find me. I remember swallowing my stinging breaths and letting the air slowly out my nostrils. I didn’t even want to breathe loudly. I held my backpack straps tightly to my chest to keep my backpack from making noise. He kept calling me. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t break this silent sprint. I had to focus. In what felt like only minutes, I made it to the bottom of the trail. As the ground became flatter, I ran as fast as I could. I could begin to see the flashing blue lights through the thick trees. Those lights were the hope that I soon will be able to take shelter from this storm. They came for me! I’m going to be safe. Keep going, name. You’re almost there. My phone continued to buzz in my hand, and once I could see the blue lights, I answered the phone. I picked up the phone to the sound of him wailing, “I’m so sorry..I’m so sorry..” again and again. In a quiet, yet firm, whisper I said, “Your life is worth living. Meet me at the bottom.” I hung up. Those were the last words I spoke to him. Oh Lord, please don’t let him jump. Finally, I made it to the trailhead. I waived my weary arms in the air as the EMTs covered for safety inside the ambulance from the torrential downpour. I was still afraid to yell. The skies were dark and the lights flashed and reflected off the wet leaves as I ran closer. The glimmers of blue and red welcomed me with each step. I ran up to the ambulance and placed my hand on its cold, wet frame as I found my way to the back with wobbly knees. They opened the door and I jumped in. It was so bright, cold, and unfamiliar. I looked down at my shaking legs. They were covered in dirt and sweat. My scraped and bloodied knees stung as the sweat dripped down. My muscles were spazzing. My hands shaking, and my head throbbing. What just happened? A tall deputy entered into the ambulance, dripping from the downpour, and breathlessly said “You must be name.” Apparently, he ran up half the mountain trying to find me. Why is he so wet? Is it raining? I was hooked up to so many machines in a matter of minutes. They checked to make sure I didn’t have brain bleeding. All clear. The pain in my neck and head was so intense. It was the pain that reminded me that this was not a bad dream. It reminded me of him. All I could think about was him. “Is he okay?” I kept asking the deputy. They cared about making sure I was okay first. It wasn’t long after I arrived in the ambulance that my husband made his way to the bottom of the mountain and was arrested immediately. I was so relieved he didn’t jump. Thank you, God. I was rushed to the local hospital. I remember watching the rain pour through the ambulance window in complete shock. What just happened? I just wanted my mom and dad. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be a little girl again. I wanted all of this to be erased. I couldn’t cry. I could only breathe. The days and months that followed that terrible day have been filled with painful conversations, post-traumatic stress, fear, emotional breakdowns, family reunions, moving, restraining order paperwork, medical bills, court dates, trauma therapy, writing, reading, forgiveness, love, peace, and hope. I have a future. I am unsure where my future lies on this earth but what matters is that I have a future. He is no longer my responsibility. He chose to become the man that he is today. I am free of him. I ran down that mountain away from the abuse and into my freedom. My feet are set on a new path. I have hope for a brighter tomorrow. I am not done for. He is only a man. Just one man. He will not have the last word.

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  • Every step forward, no matter how small, is still a step forwards. Take all the time you need taking those steps.

    Story
    From a survivor
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    The Scars Remain, But I Rise: A Survivor's Story

    For over four decades, a heavy secret festered within me. As a male survivor of childhood sexual abuse by a family member, the shame is felt isolated and suffocating. The silence I held onto became a prison, but a voice now compels me to break free. A voice now compels me to break free, whispering, 'It's time to write this. Shattering this silence is a giant leap toward reclaiming my power and self-worth. It's like stepping out of a suffocating darkness and into the sunlight of self-belief and resilience. This journey, however, wouldn't be possible without the unwavering support of organization, organization 2, my incredible friends, and the organization 3. This journey demands immense courage – facing the pain, healing the wounds, and rewriting my story. Every step is a victory, a defiance against the shadows of the past. Breaking free opens the door to a future free from the burden of abuse, a future where I can build healthy connections and cultivate self-love. The healing journey might be challenging, but it's a powerful reminder of the human spirit's incredible ability to heal and transform. Though scars may remain, they do not define me. I am a survivor, and my story is one of courage and resilience. Forgiveness is a personal journey, and while I may choose to forgive, it does not erase what happened. The world may seem different now, but within me lies an incredible wellspring of resilience. My story is far from over. I will embrace the journey of healing, and know that with time, the light of self-love will shine ever brighter. I am worthy of a future filled with healthy connections, fulfilling experiences, and endless possibilities. With each step, I break free. The scars remain, a testament to my journey, but the light within me shines brighter than ever. The future is mine to write.

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  • “Healing to me means that all these things that happened don’t have to define me.”

    Story
    From a survivor
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    SLIDING SCALE K THERAPY TRAP

    I am a survivor of what I believe to be therapist abuse, emotional manipulation, and grooming behaviors from LCSW, which I experienced while undergoing K Assisted Psychotherapy. I came to the center in my city, full of hope that I would get to access this kind of therapy as a lifelong, low-income person who has experienced immense trauma starting at the age of two. I had heard of the benefits and life-changing experiences that others had experienced with this type of therapy and was hoping for the same. Without access to the sliding scale cost model that the center was offering LGBT+ and BIPOC, I would have never been able to afford a therapy like this. I was hopeful to be able to access this therapy and would check in regularly about my place on the waitlist. FOR THE READER'S INFORMATION: COMMON REACTIONS TO SEXUAL MISCONDUCT BY A THERAPIST If a therapist has engaged in any sexual behavior or contact with you, you may experience some or all of the following feelings or reactions: Intimidated or threatened. Guilt and responsibility—even though it is the therapist’s responsibility to keep sexual behavior out of therapy. Mixed feelings about the therapist—e.g., protectiveness, anger, love, betrayal. Isolation and emptiness. Distrust of others’ feelings or intentions or your feelings. Fearful that no one will believe you. Feeling victimized or violated. Experiencing traumatic symptoms, e.g., anxiety, nightmares, obsessive thoughts, depression, or suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Before Intake, Admin told me I would have a psychological evaluation with a psychiatrist. INTAKE I arrived for my psychological intake, where LCSW accessed me. I was surprised to learn he was not a psychiatrist. I had seen LCSW in the main lobby as he hurried towards the elevator as I was reading the board to find the suite Location was in. I joined LCSW in the elevator, and he asked what floor I was going to. I said,” 4, the same as you, were probably going to the same place”. I made that assumption on how LCSW looked, as I assumed the guy with long died hair probably had something to do with psychedelics. We both ended up at the the center, where he instructed me on how to use the call button and told me to expect the admin to grab me from the waiting room soon. This appointment seemed pretty standard, so he asked me some basic questions and reviewed some basics of KAP therapy. I remember discussing my yoga practice and studies in herbalism, and he asked me what inspired that path. I told him my honest answer was a bit embarrassing as I was 15 and was first introduced to yoga in a small town in State when reading about it in Seventeen magazine and had read an interview with a yogi. I also said that I thought the yogi was attractive, which probably caught my attention. LCSW responded to this by saying. “Likely.” I found his response to be a bit demeaning. He didn’t understand the complexity of being raised in isolation in a place that lacked a diversity of culture and could only connect to the outside world through old magazines that my friends would hand down to me at school. At the end of this appointment. He told me that I would get a list of therapists and that I would get to pick from that list. I later received an email from LCSW: “Great news, I will be your therapist.” This felt uncomfortable to me for a few reasons: the inconsistency in the information I was told about choosing my therapist made me nervous, and I usually avoid working with male/male-bodied therapists due to significant traumas I have experienced from being raped, objectified, and brutally attacked by men. I chose to trust the process and hoped that this might be an opportunity to experience healing and safety with a male-bodied person who would hopefully be safe with me. LCSW told me we had to reschedule the first preparation appointment due to an emergency. As I tried to walk away unbothered by the random emergency, he stopped me and apologized multiple times, and I thought it strange that he would spend so much time apologizing to me if there was an emergency. PREP 1 My preparation appointments with LCSW were bizarre. My first couple of appointments discussed the possibility of therapeutic touch, what therapeutic touch is, and informed consent. I found it odd how much time was spent on these subjects; this was discussed at length during all three preparation appointments. I had done a lot of somatic healing bodywork with a physical therapist, and these conversations were not new to me. Still, I was uncomfortable with the amount of time and number of times this was brought up during preparation. PREP 2 LCSW discussed therapeutic touch again at great length. He claimed to be trained in somatics. LCSW said to me, “ I am your therapist for only a short amount of time, so we can do ANYTHING you want.” LCSW said to me, “ I know I am your therapist, but I want you to have as much power as you want.” LCSW asked me how I felt about therapeutic touch. I let LCSW know I was uncomfortable with touch in any capacity and would prefer to be given physical distance as much as possible. I told LCSW that I, historically, would avoid touch in any capacity throughout my life and gave examples of how I place pillows between myself and my friends when I sit on couches next to them. LCSW asked me if I was comfortable with him suggesting to me that I could touch myself. I felt uncomfortable with how he worded this but didn’t react. For example, he said some patients have tremors uncontrollably and can be instructed to place their hands on their arms. I told him I did not want him to make these suggestions. LCSW asked me what the thought of being touched felt in my body. He asked if this felt squirmy, and I said yes. During my preparation appointments, LCSW acted like he was some kind of drug dealer and made it seem like he would be involved in how many mg of K would be prescribed to me from the pharmacy. He asked me during each session how many milligrams I would want. He said I got to choose up to 600mg per session. I asked if I was prescribed 600mg each session and if I would have to take all of it during the session if I decided not to. He said I could do this. I asked for the max prescription, and he told me I could be prescribed 250mg. This was another example of him offering me a choice (like choosing my therapist) and then taking that choice away. He then asked me again how much I wanted to be prescribed in the following session. I remember this session was in person. I told him I wanted to be prescribed the high end of what is normal, and he said he would go with that. I was made aware that the dosage is prescribed by the prescribing doctor, Prescribing Doctor, and there is a standard dosage that most patients are prescribed with a max dosage of 400mg. LCSW disclosed his gender identity to me and asked me if I had a preference in how he would present himself during our sessions because sometimes he wears dresses and glitter. I asked if he was asking about my comfort with my gender expression. He assured me that was not what he was asking about and, instead, wanted to know if I would be more comfortable with one of his gender expressions over another, and I let him know that I didn’t think it mattered. I found this conversation beyond strange and uncomfortable. I’ve been in therapy since I was 18, and I have never had a therapist behave in the ways I convey with LCSW and found him to be strange, unpredictable, over-sharing, and unsafe. Before my final in-person preparation appointment, LCSW informed me that he had moved his office to a different location in the center because it was larger. PREP 3 LCSW quickly allowed me access from the waiting room on this day. Almost immediately after I pressed the button on the wall, I could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, and this made me uncomfortable as most therapists or doctors that I have worked with allow for 1-5 minutes to pass before greeting me in the waiting room. I felt LCSW was unusually excited or rushed about my arrival. LCSW had warned me in the previous preparation appointment that he had moved offices because the new office was larger. I was highly uncomfortable with the move when I saw his office. I froze in the doorway. He moved his office to the center's most private and secluded area. The new office seemed smaller. A reclined chair in his old office was available for the KAP therapy, which felt safe. The chair was not in his new office, and my options for where to lay down during my KAP therapy were a couch that I was much too tall for or a mattress on the ground. I felt unsafe laying on a mattress with LCSW in the room, but I thought I had no choice. I had experienced so much seductive and inappropriate behavior with him that discovering I would not have a reclined chair and would be isolated in the building was devastating news to me. The fact that his new office did not have room for the antigravity chair in his old office was an example of how this move was not due to the office being larger than he claimed. I had brought gifts for LCSW for the Winter Solstice. I had gifted him a piece of mushroom art made with layers of paper and a mushroom hairpin that my coworker made. These items were kept on a shelf in his office for all of my following sessions. I wasn’t aware that therapists are not supposed to accept gifts from their clients. LCSW was overly excited about the gifts. During our in-person preparation session, LCSW would ask me questions unrelated to my therapy. Do you like guacamole? Do you enjoy Role-Play Board Games? When I asked why he asked me these questions, he answered, “I’m trying to understand your resources.” After initially reporting him to my doctor, I discovered his dating profile while listing his display name, “Guacamole,” and his interests, “Role-play Board Games.” Now, I wonder if he was spending my sessions with me trying to gauge our compatibility for dating. LCSW would be extremely flirtatious with me. He would have his long hair up in a bun, pull it out slowly, groom it with his fingers, and display it in front of his shoulders, all while batting his eyes at me. Both times he did this, I went into shutdown. I would avoid eye contact, look at the floor, hunch, and move my body in the opposite direction, showing my physical discomfort. I would be talking about something both times he did this, and each time, I lost my words and stopped talking as a part of the shutdown state of my nervous system. This flirting with his hair happened on PREP 3 and KAP 1. One session was a preparation appointment, and the second time was before I was administered K for my KAP session. I asked LCSW if people clench their jaw while on K as I often have a lot of jaw tension and use a nightguard at night. He shared with me that his other clients who are “guarded” usually feel more relaxed on K and that often the jaw relaxes, but he let me know I could bring my guard if I wanted. I remember not liking that LCSW had indirectly called me guarded, but he was not wrong about that assessment. I had learned to be guarded to protect myself from people, especially harmful people like LCSW, who were unpredictable and unregulated. As I think back to this interaction, I wish I had been able to remain guarded around LCSW, which was not possible for me while on a psychedelic. LCSW asked me during an in-person preparation appointment if I had been hypnotized and if it worked. LCSW would use Neurological Language Processing on me to try and seduce me and make me think about sex during two of my sessions, PREP 3 & KAP 1. When he gave directions for taking the K medication, he would speak at a regular pace until he got to the part of the directions that directed me that I could spit or swallow the K. Specifically, the words “spit and swallow” were slowed down to an unusually slow pace, and he would stare into my eyes with intensity when he said those words slowly. He would slow that part of the directions down to a slow pace, all while making intense eye contact that made me highly uncomfortable. He did this during my last preparation appointment and also during my first appointment with the K. During these experiences, with the sexual and seductive nature of the emphasis of these words, while giving me directions, I would go into shutdown. I would look away and disengage with LCSW during these interactions. I was feeling highly unsafe, overwhelmed, confused, and afraid. KAP 1 During my first KAP appointment, LCSW welcomed me from the waiting room, pressed the switch on the wall, and looked around the room as usual. He would typically follow me down the hallway to his office, which made me uncomfortable as I have been stalked coming home at night off the bus countless times. In any capacity, I will avoid having any persons behind me as I feel safer when I can see people and when I have enough physical distance to run or defend myself if I can see signs of aggression in a person. I was surprised that LCSW would walk closely behind a person with PTSD, and I felt he had minimal experience working with people with PTSD and didn’t understand trauma-informed care. Most trauma-informed professionals I work with would check in with me regularly about what I was comfortable with. Before working with LCSW, I’d never had a doctor or staff walk so closely behind me. For example, I have had Doctors ask me if I am more comfortable sitting in a chair that faces the door instead of having the door behind me, and LCSW never checked in with me about any of these things. I was violently attacked for asking a 300lb man to try and be quiet so that I could sleep. I struggled to ask for what I needed to feel safe and comfortable from men after this experience, and I did not feel safe asking LCSW not to walk behind me or continue invading my personal space. While being let into the center, I stood behind him with as much physical distance as possible and waited for him to finish so I could follow him down the hall. He instructed me to walk down the hallway to his office and followed me closely. I entered LCSW’s dark office with the blinds closed. I felt uncomfortable immediately but was trying to manage my fear and stress the best I could as I was so dedicated to healing with K Assisted Psychotherapy and was looking to this therapy as my last hope after having tried everything with a slow, painful progress that had many setbacks as I struggled to avoid people like LCSW in my life who prioritize their desires over my well-being. We were in the center alone during all my appointments except the intake. There were no other therapists or admin. My KAP appointments were scheduled at the end of the day in the winter, so it was often already dark outside. I have since learned that being so isolated and having appointments late in the day are red flags. I was moving and brought in a book from my personal library to give to LCSW. On Book Name. LCSW responded to this by saying, “That’s really sweet.” This book lived on his bookshelf in following appointments. LCSW let me know I could set up my altar items at the end of his table and that he was going to the restroom and would be right back. I would like to mention that LCSW often seemed very different after visiting the bathroom. I suspected he was struggling with drug abuse and addiction, as when he went more than a few hours without a restroom break, he would look awful with sunken eyes with dark circles under them. He would get sweaty and look generally ill, and the only time I have seen anything like this was when I was around a family member who was experiencing opioid addiction. I was recovering from my KAP session when he looked ill to me, so it might have something to do with the medication or lighting. When LCSW returned from the bathroom, he walked right behind me while I was on my knees setting up my altar. I began physically shaking when he walked behind me because I feared him. I was visibly shaking, and LCSW started blowing air forcibly out of his nose multiple times, loudly. He was standing right behind me as I was visibly shaking and without tissue or covering his face. He blew out of his nostrils very forcefully multiple times until I froze. Then, I slowly turned my head in his direction and asked him, “Do you have allergies?” He said, “No, I have_____.” I can’t remember the condition he stated he had, but I remember it included something nasal-related to his nose. After asking this question to him, he immediately stopped with the weird, aggressive nose forceful exhalation. I never saw him do any weird breathing at any other time. I believe he did this to distract me from my body shaking and to gain sympathy from me as a form of emotional manipulation. My body was showing me how unsafe I felt, and I believe that LCSW wanted to distract me or was threatened by this. He then asked me to share the items for my altar with him. LCSW, told me he had to read my blood pressure. I was wearing a thick sweater and tried to pull the sleeve up high enough to be able to wrap the band around my arm. I could not pull the arm up high enough and asked LCSW if he could just put the band over my sweater. He said no and asked if that was okay. I sighed with disappointment and removed my sweater. Underneath my sweater, I wore a crop top/tank top shirt with no bra because I was instructed to dress comfortably. I was not comfortable with being so exposed around LCSW after experiencing so much harmful sexual behavior from him. Still, I was so desperate to receive this K Assisted Psychotherapy treatment that I was trying my best to cope with the harm I was experiencing. LCSW helped to wrap the band for the blood pressure reader around my arm. He did this very slowly. When he went to press the velcro together on the band, he used the tips of his two fingers, pointer & middle finger, and slowly pushed the velcro together with his two fingertips like this. This was taking forever and was very inappropriate and sexually charged. At this point, I got angry with LCSW. I audibly sighed with anger and frustration, and LCSW recognized this. He stopped petting my arm and took a step back. He told me to uncross my legs. He stood on the other side of the room and stared at the wall as the automatic blood pressure reader read my blood pressure. The machine went off with three beeps, and LCSW was still staring at the wall, completely disassociated. LCSW administered the K to me and did the creepy “spit or swallow” thing after this. He then helped me get onto the mattress and tucked me in, touching my body while tucking me in around my arms and legs. I remember having a difficult time relaxing or feeling comfortable during this appointment. I did not want to wear my eyemask or the noise-canceling headphones because I didn’t feel safe with LCSW and wanted to be aware of my surroundings as much as possible. I remember looking down at my body multiple times to make sure he wasn’t touching me. After about an hour into the session, I let LCSW know I had to use the restroom. LCSW helped me and told me we would have to walk slowly to the bathroom as I lacked balance. Someone from one of the other offices was walking behind us. I got into the bathroom and used one of the stalls. I sat there after finishing, not wanting to come out because I was so afraid of being around LCSW. The person who walked behind us to the bathrooms was also in the restroom in one of the other stalls. As she went to leave, she probably noticed that I was sitting in a stall and not doing anything. She asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. As we walked back, I exited the bathroom and noticed that LCSW was holding my hand, which I found very confusing. LCSW helped me back onto the mattress, tucked me into my blankets again, and touched my body on my arms and legs again. LCSW violated my informed consent by holding my hand and touching me while tucking me into my blanket while I was on K. I had clearly stated to LCSW that I did not want him to touch me in any way. I had a little loss of coordination but generally was fine walking on my own, and I did not need LCSW to hold my hand to “help” me. I was in an open and loving state of mind while on the medication, and this experience is when things got confusing for me. I knew I felt Uncomfortable with the unusual attention he was giving me and with the seductive and flirtatious behaviors he exhibited before taking K with him. This was the first time those feelings confused me, and a part of me liked how it felt to have this attention while under a psychedelic. These feelings caused me internal distress. After returning to the room, I tried to relax into my experience. I experienced a body sensation that reminded me of my body sensation when I had an out-of-body experience where you tense up right before leaving your body. I heard LCSW say, “There you go.” This freaked me out and took me out of my experience. I remember fidgeting my body after this. His comment felt like it was sexual to me. LCSW checked his laptop during my first KAP appointment and often texted someone through iMessage. As soon as the music ended, LCSW said my name “Name.” This jolted me out of my relaxed state. He told me he needed to use the restroom, and I asked him to bring me some water. When he returned, I had moved to the couch, and he responded to this move by saying, Woah. We chatted about my experience, as I didn’t feel like talking while on the medication. He then checked in with me and told me it was 515pm. Fifteen minutes later than when our appointment was supposed to end. I had arranged transportation and was shocked by how late our appointment had gone. I scrambled to get my things together to get to my ride in time. LCSW told me that I should plan to have my transportation picked up 15 minutes after our sessions, but this should have been communicated to me beforehand. I have since learned that therapists extending your appointment time past when it is supposed to end is a red flag. INTEGRATION 1 This was my first integration appointment. LCSW asked me how I was doing, and I said, “Fine.” He asked me to use a different adjective, and I told him I was feeling a lot. During this appointment, I went through my backpack, looked for my journal, and pulled out my headphones in their case in front of LCSW. He responded to seeing these headphones with an angry sigh. I shared some of the things I journaled about, and he seemed impressed by what I had written. I shared with LCSW about an oracle deck I had used the night after the first KAP session. I shared a card I pulled the night after my first KAP appointment while asking, “How can LCSW help me.” I read the description of the card I had pulled: “angel’s trumpet.” He got down on his knees and moved towards me with a coffee table in between us. He told me the reading resonated with him. I asked him how so, and he talked about his cornerstone of death work as the card description discussed how this card was related to hospice workers, which LCSW shared with me he had done before his current job. I resonated more with aspects of the reading that mentioned a seductive nature as I felt he had been sexually inappropriate with me, but I did not share that with him. He asked to see the cards' box and got loud and excited about my deck. “THERE’S A MAGIKAL BOTANICAL ORACLE DECK!” I often found LCSW’s energy to be unpredictable. He would, at times, use his therapist's voice and then have these excited or angry outbursts. He asked me if he could take a photo of the deck, and I said that was fine. After this first integration appointment, I felt a lot of shame and anxiety around having the headphones that I perceived LCSW had gotten angry about. He might be mad at me for seeking sliding scale services while having expensive headphones. I got these noise-canceling headphones as a self-care item for myself when I thought I would be undergoing KAP therapy while living with my ex, who would slam doors and move around the house angrily. I got these headphones to help me eliminate that noise and feel a sense of safety for integration. I felt so much anxiety and shame around my perception of LCSW being angry with me that I impulsively made a $500 donation to the center that I requested my employer match. My company later agreed to match my donation. I could not afford this donation, but I wanted to feel like LCSW was not angry with me for using the sliding scale services. the center later refunded my donation after reporting the harm. I requested this reimbursement, which I was grateful for as this was not a donation I was in any financial situation to make, and it was made on credit. I had made sure this donation was made privately and chose not to share my name as a donor with the center as I didn’t want LCSW to mention this to me because I didn’t want to talk about this uncomfortable situation with him. LCSW's phone was going off with a bell sound at the end of the session, and he apologized multiple times for this and said it shouldn’t be going off while he was messing with his phone. INTEGRATION 2 The second K appointment was canceled because LCSW had gotten sick. He had canceled an earlier preparation appointment because he had COVID, and I remember thinking he gets sick a lot. He wanted to keep our integration appointment and schedule it virtually, so we met via Google Meet. In his email coordinating this with me, he stated he would still “love” to have a virtual appointment. I didn’t like his use of the word love. He started the virtual appointment by overly complimenting my hair and telling me it looked good multiple times, making me uncomfortable. I remember I gave a cold and short “thanks.” He told me I had transformer hair and asked if I had recently changed my hair. I told him no, I was just wearing my hair up. I thought to myself that he was weird to make such a big deal about my hair and that I had worn my hair up around him before. In the background of his call was his bed in his bedroom, which I thought was strange and inappropriate. REACHING OUT FOR HELP On the evening a few days following integration 2, I asked my friend and mentor, a Naturopath Doctor, for advice. We scheduled an on-call, and I shared my concerns about this therapist. I wasn’t sure if I should approach LCSW with my fears about his behavior. She was extremely upset about the information I was sharing about my experience. She shared her knowledge about ethics as a provider and told me that this behavior was highly inappropriate and that she was worried about me. I remember her yelling out, “Don’t mess with my girl, fucker.” She asked me if I thought he was a predator. We came up with a plan that I would write out my concerns about LCSW’s behavior and share them with him during my next appointment. I did write this all out in my journal that evening. With Doctor's wisdom, I began to see that while experiencing this inappropriate behavior from LCSW before and during the altered state I was in using K, I had developed an addiction to the dysfunctional emotional state I would enter into when I experienced this abuse. I had been starving myself after my first KAP appointment, feeling high off the inappropriate attention, and having confusing feelings after experiencing the boundary crossing while on a psychedelic. I felt like the experience with LCSW was confusing my feelings surrounding love and solidifying my prior experiences that love is abuse. I was abusing myself, thinking I was loving myself. I wanted to look good, and since the abuse I experienced during my last preparation appointment at the end of Month, I had dropped four pant sizes. I was rapidly losing weight, which was noticed by my other care providers, who mentioned the change in weight to me. Since writing this in my journal and approaching my second KAP appointment, I have become very nervous about approaching LCSW with my concerns. I did not want to have this confrontation with him. I decided the night before that I was not going to read this to him unless there was another boundary crossing or sexually inappropriate interaction. KAP 2 Toward the beginning of my second KAP appointment, I asked LCSW about a stuffed animal bat he had on his bookshelf. He went into a very long-winded description of this bat. While looking at the bat in my opposite direction, he said that the wings were the PRIDE flag and the ears were the polyamorous flag. After sharing the polyamorous flag ears, he looked his right shoulder in my direction. I was staring at the wall across from me. I was worried about his intentions behind basically telling me that he is polyamorous. KAP 2 and integration 3. During these appointments, LCSW was more professional. He left his hair in a bun. He didn’t emphasize “spit or swallow.” He was normal when reading my blood pressure. I was so grateful that he had finally changed his behavior and respected these boundaries. I felt like he finally recognized how these behaviors affected me. I just had to manage my conflicting feelings around a part of me that felt like I had become addicted to this inappropriate attention. I was compassionate towards myself about that as I knew it made sense why I felt this way, that my experience was confusing, and that the psychedelic experience opened me up to feeling loving and caring to the therapist who I was feeling so unsafe with prior. I knew I could get help with this from my regular therapist and planned to discuss this during our next session. LCSW asked if I wanted the eye shade and headphones this time. I said I wanted to try them because hearing the lady in the room who shared a wall with LCSW, who worked with a different organization, and hearing him talk during my session last time was distracting. He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” LCSW was still sick during this appointment and was wearing a mask. I was annoyed that he was coughing during my experience, and I found that distracting even with the headphones. At the end of this session, I gave LCSW a gift of a mullein tincture that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness, extracted, and offered him a chance to try it. He asked me how to take it, and I shared the standard dosage of three dropper fulls three times a day and let him know to discontinue use if he had any side effects and when he no longer has symptoms of illness. Again, at the end of our appointment, we ended 15 minutes late. INTEGRATION 3 During our last session, I asked LCSW if he had tried the mullein tincture. He told me that he had taken it home, was using the standard tincture dosage, and was enjoying it. LCSW asked how it felt to have him respect my boundaries. He asked me this because he chose to be professional during one of our sessions. I told him I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I was grateful for how he showed up yesterday. I had processed some of the imagery or hallucinations I experienced in KAP 2, including my cat, who had passed OE. I shared with LCSW how I chose OE because she was the only kitten in the litter who seemed to want me to hold her. He responded to this story by saying, “You picked each other.” I found his wording and response odd and worried that he was hoping that I would pick him in response to him picking himself as my therapist and picking me for a patient to be inappropriate with. I shared with LCSW that I was surprised that I did not feel a dissociative effect with K. I shared that I could feel my body more than I ever had before, and I was curious about this because I had spent most of my life dissociated from my body due to trauma. I gave examples of how other drugs would work oppositely for me than the general public. He responded to this by calling me an anomaly. I found this odd as I always thought that these effects were due to me being neurodivergent. For many people with ADHD, coffee can make them sleepy. I was uncomfortable with LCSW making comments like I was unique or one of a kind, and I didn’t think that was a healthy mindset I was seeking for myself. LCSW asked me to share something coming up that I wasn’t sure I felt safe talking about with LCSW. I told LCSW I was uncomfortable talking about this with him because he is a male-bodied person and because we had a weird dynamic. He nodded and said yes, I am a male-bodied person. I worded this like that because LCSW shared with me that he identifies as non-binary, so I did not want to refer to him as a man out of respect. I told LCSW about how I would wake up to my ex-boyfriend on top of me many times and how, eventually, I developed an injury from this repeated trauma that made it so I was unable to have sex without experiencing a lot of pain. LCSW had an angry outburst at this news and told me that I was raped and that it wasn’t consensual, and Name was loud and angry. This made me highly uncomfortable, and I shut down. LCSW asked me for the name of the man who did this to me. I gave him the name, and then I started to defend the person who did this to me because I don’t think LCSW took the time to understand the layers of this trauma, how much I loved the person who did this to me, and what factors were involved (alcohol) that made this person do things they wouldn’t normally do. LCSW started to calm down after this, as his anger triggered me. LCSW said he believed good people do bad things. LCSW asked me what gym I go to during this meeting. After reporting LCSW, I saw one of the therapists that worked for him at my gym, during a queer event, and I felt highly anxious that he was having people watch me. I have been going to this gym for seven years and have never seen this therapist before. At the end of the appointment, I offered LCSW a cottonwood bud oil extract that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness and processed and extracted. I let him know, and it was labeled for external use only. I told him it was nice on this skin but that it should be tested on a small piece of skin first. He was grateful for this gift from me. He did not inform me that accepting patient gifts was inappropriate and did not uphold professional boundaries. I was not aware of these boundaries and ethics around gift-giving until after initially reporting sexual misconduct. I have text evidence about my ride from KAP 2. These texts were oddly missing from my text history, so my friend sent me screenshots of the messages she had on her phone. REACHING OUT FOR HELP & SUPPORT My friend who I first told about that harm I was experiencing followed up with the morning after KAP 2. After my integration appointment, I spoke with a friend at the sauna at my gym who went to school to become an LCSW and shared my experience with her. She told me that he had violated the code of ethics and that I was highly vulnerable. She then shared with me that her psilocybin guide had slept with her during their work together and that she had stopped her treatment with him. She asked me if I thought this was the first time he had done something like this. I had a panic attack in the locker room of my gym after talking to my friend. A week after KAP 2, I then shared my experience with my regular therapist, who also asked if I thought I was the first person he behaved this way with. She also informed that he had clear ethical codes. I had a panic attack during this session. The questions about LCSW being a predator remained in my mind. I knew his behavior as a therapist was inappropriate, and I wondered if the sometimes subtle nature of the experience and strange experience with his directions of “spit and swallow” could be accidental, especially when he repeated these behaviors even after I went into a shutdown state during my first experience with this behavior. I spent most of the night researching this kind of abuse. I am good at hyper-fixating and spending many hours researching a subject, quickly learning everything I can about it. I found many articles about grooming behaviors from therapists and emotional manipulation/therapy abuse that I felt uncomfortable with and how much I relate to them. These articles discuss the alleviation of symptoms of depression for victims due to the addictive nature of this inappropriate attention. I was pissed. I wanted to heal my brain, and I could not allow that to be based on a temporary response to the inappropriate attention I was receiving. I then read about how therapists sometimes adjust their behavior, becoming more professional after the patient shows some attachment or addiction to this behavior. The theory is that the patient will then approach the therapist and make the situation feel like a victim desires to have inappropriate interactions. I could not allow a situation like this when I had been so dedicated to healing for so many years of my life. I was highly agitated after learning more about this kind of abuse. I knew at this point that I was being deeply harmed and abused to an extent I couldn’t be fully aware of without the support of the people I spoke to about it and the knowledge of how this abuse affects victims. I planned to give myself time to process this new information before taking action. A week and one day after KAP 2, I had panic attacks in the waiting room of my doctor's office because I was struggling with the experience I had with LCSW and the knowledge I gained about the abuse I was experiencing. The doctor asked me about my experience with KAP, as I had listed K on my medications. It took me about an hour to tell her about my experience, but eventually, I was able to get it out of me between the tears and panic attacks. I did not want to report this to the doctor. I knew she would have to report him. I knew I would have to stop my therapy, and I did not want to give up this opportunity for KAP therapy. At the time, I also did not want to get LCSW in trouble, and a part of me felt incredibly guilty for telling this doctor about my experience. She was so amazing through this process. She spent about 2 hours with me, supporting me by sharing my experience. I had chosen this doctor for her indication of being trauma-informed; she had been patient, helpful, and understanding. She told me that I didn’t do anything wrong as I expressed my shame about how my feelings were confused once I had used a psychedelic with LCSW. She helped me come up with a safety plan. I knew I was in a very fragile state and thought it would be wise to have someone hold onto my K. She reached out to my doctors with my permission. She was able to get ahold of Prescribing Doctor, the prescribing doctor. On the day of my initial report to my doctor, I spoke to Prescribing Doctor on the phone, who works with Name. Prescribing Doctor is the prescribing doctor and is a part of the leadership team at the center. I was uncomfortable during this phone call with Prescribing Doctor; her tone was delighted and cheery. She told me she was in the middle of the forest in Locationwith joy and excitement. Her cheerful tone seemed highly inappropriate, given the circumstances, as I had just spent the day having panic attacks due to being groomed by her coworker. Later. I met with Prescribing Doctor in person. I asked Prescribing Doctor what was next after I reported the sexual misconduct. I shared with Prescribing Doctor how LCSW would disrespect my boundaries and continue to do so after I shut down in his office. Prescribing Doctor responded to this by saying, “he missed it.” I shrugged my shoulders in response. She reacted to my shrugging my shoulders by getting wide-eyed. Her reaction made me feel crazy and like she did not believe me. Prescribing Doctor then offered me a facilitated dialog with LCSW LCSW and offered that LCSW could bring the items I left in his office to my home, but I did not want that. I confirmed I did not feel comfortable having LCSW come to my house. It was an incredibly inappropriate thing even to suggest. Prescribing Doctor's notes do not include that the offering and idea of a facilitated dialog was her idea as a response to me asking what is next after reporting the sexual misconduct. She ignores my requests for this detail to be added to my record. The notes make it seem like it was my idea, which is not the case. I had no idea what a facilitated dialog even was before her offering it to me. Prescribing Doctor agreed to hold onto my medication and I could have it back whenever I felt ready. She later refused this unless I signed an NDA/release of all claims and when I shared my story more widely I was retaliated against and she claims she did this because I shared my experience of SI. I later was made aware that I wouldn't be able to take my life with K and that it is safe for this reason, and I would likely just take a long nap. I also had not had any thoughts about using K to hurt myself. I was later offered the facilitated dialog again with the Location team as part of a social justice framework. Cofounder and Psychiatrist informed me they could not provide it due to their insurance. That news was devastating, and I drove to a bridge to jump off it the next day but wasn’t brave enough to do so. I felt like the center had no idea how to handle my experience and report and was in a position to respond to it with care, and having something else offered to me by them and then taken away was traumatic. I think I held on to hope that I would get some kind of justice in the way that they had offered it to me, and having it taken away after experiencing something that broke me on a mental, physical, and spiritual level was not something I was in any position to handle. I was told multiple times over the course of reporting sexual misconduct by LCSW that the center and Prescribing Doctor had reported the sexual misconduct I experienced. It was only after some probing that I was made aware that any details regarding my experience had to come from me directly to the board and I felt that them not disclosing this to me without probing was a manipulation tactic to make me believe that the reporting was taken care of. I felt like the center was unwilling to uphold their signing of this document because they did not believe me. They allowed LCSW to continue to work in a leadership position. I have reported LCSW to the LCSW report and am sending this document to the LCSW Social Work Board in State. I have received support from SHINE and joined their peer support group for survivors of psychedelic harm. I am still seeking a regular therapist and am no longer working with my prior regular therapist due to her eating lunch during the last two therapy appointments. I have become hypervigilant for any signs of unprofessionalism from my care team after this sexual misconduct I experienced from LCSW. This experience with LCSW and the leadership team at the center of my city, has devastated my well-being. I came close to jumping off a bridge the day after getting the news about no longer being offered the Facilitated dialog. I have lost my trust in all people and my care team. I stepped away from therapy as I no longer feel safe in these dynamics. I fired all of my doctors and therapists. I started smoking cigarettes to try and help cope with the stress. Most days, I hope to die and don’t wish to continue living. I have angry outbursts where I would act on urges and exhibit behaviors that are abnormal for me. I lost all will to live, and most days, I don’t have the energy to care for myself. I would be amazed if I didn’t end up taking my own life in the next two years. The few people who care for me don’t know how to help me and comment on how hopeless I seem. Some of the people closest to me have stopped answering my calls or texts because they don’t know how to help me, and I have been in crisis for many days since Jan. 26th. I am trying many new psychiatric medications that are not helping me. The center and LCSW entirely abandoned me. I was not allowed to speak to LCSW. I had to wait many weeks between emails from the center. I was denied being matched with another therapist to help me understand the changes I was experiencing after two KAP sessions and experienced such sinister abuse and trauma from LCSW. My regular therapist, tried calling Prescribing Doctor so she could get information on how to support me better, but she has yet to get a callback. I asked the center for LCSW resignation.

    Community note

    This story contains references to self-harm or suicidal thoughts. If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out to a crisis helpline.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
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    Name … A/C Salesman Took Advantage

    I am a female, 28, very happily married. My husband was out of town three weeks for a program at Harvard over the summer. We were told that we had to replace our air conditioner units, so I had a salesman come out to quote us on two new units. He had to come in my home to see duct work and thermostats. He was here from 1:45pm-4:22pm. As the appointment went on, he would ask about pricing. I would mention that I’m back in school, so we’re on a budget. He would then ask what I’m in school for. I left out my camera on a nearby table in another room he could apparently easily see, and asked about it. I’m a photographer and he asked if he could see what I shot, because he used to be a photography gear salesman. I shoot wildlife and landscape. So while the conversation stayed mostly business-like, personal things came up as he typed up things in the computer for us for our quote. After I asked if we should not replace the unit and when we sell the house just take less money and the next person can replace them (we move in two years), he mentioned that he has five properties he rents out, so he loves quirky houses and ours is and at the end he asked if he could take a look around. He would have had to go upstairs anyway to see the thermostat, so we went upstairs. After seeing my husband’s office we turned around to go back downstairs. We have a small landing at the top of the stairs and it is met with three doors. The first on the left is the bedroom. The door was open, I didn’t think we’d be going up there. As we turned around to come back downstairs, he stopped me, where he could see well into the bedroom, I was right at the top of the stairs but against a wall. He started saying something about the house, then interrupted himself: “I find you very attractive, may I touch you?” His eyes grew large, he was reaching for my breasts with his arms outstretched and kind of moving around his fingers. I took a step or two back onto the stairs and he then motioned to the bed. I said “okay, let’s go this way” as I headed down the stairs. “I need to let the dog out soon” (who at that point was whining and almost barking, I think he could sense how I was feeling). At the bottom of the stairs he was just standing there but wasn’t leaving. I said “thank you for the quote, I’ll call my husband and let him know the prices” and as he heard “my husband” he responded “oh, yeah!” as if he forgot I was married. “Okay, well, let me grab my bag and I’ll be on my way. It’s so nice to meet people who like the same things and are good quality people.” I couldn’t get him out of the house quick enough. Once he was leaving, he saw I had a package on the porch and picked it up and handed it to me. I had to still be kind because I didn’t want him to react any kind of way toward me for basically turning him down sexually. He finally left, I called my husband who told me to call the police. The police came over, were in shock, and said they would track him down. I luckily have a doorbell camera and they have his car description and face, personal phone number and name. He is 58 years old, rotund, shorter than me by a few inches, and was a pervert. I hate to admit it, but if he were closer to my age I like to think it would feel less disgusting. I have photographic memory, so my flashbacks are very detailed. I journaled but it only helped a little. I have therapy tomorrow and my therapist is aware of what happened. My husband is being fantastic, asking that I tell him my triggers and if we need to move the bedroom around or anything to let him know. It was all I could do to not slap or punch the man as he said what he did to me, but if he had the gall to say that and do that in my home with barely knowing me, I don’t know what else he would have done. I got very lucky.

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  • We all have the ability to be allies and support the survivors in our lives.

    Story
    From a survivor
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    For those who’s voices have been silenced

    I was in an abusive relationship for two years. I was embarrassed and never told anyone. I did not want anyone to know what was happening to me, because why would I let that happen to myself? Why did I let it get this bad? I saw the red flags, and I ignored them. I thought he could change. He promised me every time he put his hands on me, that it was the last time. Until his hands moved around my neck, or when he threw me down stairs, or would burn me with his lighter, etc. it never got better. He never got better. He showed me his true colors and my rose colored glasses were shattered. I was already in too deep, and it thought it was too late for me. He wouldn’t let me leave. I tried twice before and he strangled me, and he told me I would not leave his house unless I was in a body bag. I lived in fear every single day. I prayed every night for God just to take my life so I could get an escape from the hell I was in. I struggled everyday with my mental health. I tried to kill my self multiple times, and would honestly fantasize about it, but I kept fighting. I thankfully, told some friends about my situation at work and came up with a code with them, for when things got bad I could hopefully reach them in time. I remember the day I left vividly. I remember him punching me in my face. He held me down and choked me until I could not scream anymore. He kept repeating in my ears. I will kill you. You’re not leaving me. I had texted my friends prior. I was able to eventually get him off and he fell asleep. And I ran. I knew in that moment it was truly now or never. I went outside and started to run to my car. Two police officers were waiting for me outside. Everyday I am so thankful they were there in that moment. I turned away and he was right there. If they had not been there in that exact moment, I know I would have never left that house. Everyday has been a struggle. It’s been almost three years and sometimes I still have nightmares about that day or just being stuck in that house. I have moved states. I got married to the love of my life. Someone who truly loves me and would never raise their voice at me, let alone a hand. I am expecting my first child in January. I am so thankful everyday that I held on and kept fighting. I know it’s hard and sometimes there is truly no light that you can see yourself, but keep holding on and keep fighting. You are worth so much more and I promise it does get better. I’m so proud of you.

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  • Message of Hope
    From a survivor
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    you are NOT alone.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
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    your body is beautiful. period.

    your body is beautiful. period.
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  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    Growing and embracing the past as something that changed you and made you

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  • If you are reading this, you have survived 100% of your worst days. You’re doing great.

    Story
    From a survivor
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    Chapter 1.

    It is currently 2:00a.m. My child and fiancé are sound asleep in our bedroom, but I'm stuck at our kitchen island after an hour-long breakdown in a scolding hot shower. For some reason, I seem to think that showers fix everything... news flash: they don't. I'm a 22-year-old female on a very rough ride to peace. I have come a long way, but I still have so much farther to go. I hope this story lets others know that they are not alone. Instances like mine should not be so common. The chaos started when I was 8 years old. My childhood was completely ripped away from me in a matter of 30 minutes by someone I thought I could trust. My little brother and I were watching tv in my older half-brother's room. We were sitting on the floor and just enjoying each other's space... until my older half-brother patted on the bed for me to sit up there with him. I did what he asked because obviously the bed was going to be more comfortable to sit on than the floor. Before I could truly comprehend what was going on, I could feel my face burning a bright red color. That's when I realized a part of me was being touched that should not be touched by anyone. I immediately whispered to him, asking if I could use the restroom. He slid his hand out of my pants and let me use the bathroom. No 8-year-old should ever have to feel what I felt standing in that bathroom while looking at myself in the mirror. What was I supposed to do? My parents weren't home. I couldn't just run outside and tell a stranger. I can't tell my little brother... who's been sitting in the room with us the entire time. I did the only thing my young mind could think to do and that was to pull my pants up as high as they could possibly go. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him. He didn't stop until he whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted him to stop. I couldn't speak. I only nodded my head. I continued to sit there next to him as if nothing had happened. How stupid of me. I didn't tell anyone for two years. I was scared. I thought no one would believe me. My parents found out that he had been keeping drugs in our house, so they kicked him out. I finally got the courage to tell my mother. The first thing she said to me? "Are you sure?" Hah. Great. My mom thinks I would lie about this? I reassured her that I was sure and that I was serious. She immediately took me to the doctor, but what were they going to do? I waited two years to tell anyone, so we hired an attorney... and so begins the next chapter of chaos. This entire situation put my father in hard place, as we were both his children. My mom did 100% believe me, and I do think that her first reaction was out of shock. I remember being relentlessly questioned by various detectives and attorneys - like, to the point where I was questioning if I really do remember everything or if it even did happen. I can't tell you how many times I told my story. The same story. Over and over and over. I was tired. I was losing my mind. I was 11 years old at this time. I was still a child. My family had always been extremely close, and I felt like I was the reason everyone was fighting and hating each other. I had always been very close to my grandmother and grandfather... but, they ended up hiring an extremely good attorney for him. Everyone's relationships with each other were being burnt at both ends... because of me. So, what do I do? I wanted to stop the hate. Stop the chaos. I wanted to try to live a semi-normal life even if it meant I had to make severe sacrifices. At 12 years old, I decided to drop the charges. The state tried to pick up the case, but I had a breakdown and simply asked them not to because I just couldn't go on like I was. At 22, I have a lot of anger towards the little girl that chose not to continue on with the charges. I'm upset that I chose to sacrifice my happiness and peace for everyone else's. I'm angry that I still have to associate with him and act like nothing ever happened. I'm hurt that many don't believe me because I did choose to drop the charges. I am absolutely livid that I may never have peace. To this day. the only person that I know 100% believed me is my mother. I really think that everyone else assumes I got angry with him and just decided to come up with this disgusting story to try and get even... but, I was not an angry child. I didn't even know what was happening to me while it was happening. I didn't really even know it was such a terrible thing until I mentioned something to my best friend 2 years after the incident. I am trying to heal. I truly am. I wish that someone would have told me how much ugly crying is involved. I wish I didn't have to heal, honestly. I wish events like this just didn't happen. This is just one story out of my book. This is just one abuser on my list. If I can't heal from this one - the one that happened over a decade ago... how am I supposed to heal from the rest?

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    This is a space where survivors of trauma and abuse share their stories alongside supportive allies. These stories remind us that hope exists even in dark times. You are never alone in your experience. Healing is possible for everyone.

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    Story
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    #1982

    I don't really want advice or anything. I just need to get this out somewhere because holy shit lol. Things with my boyfriend have gotten really bad lately. He'll wake up or come home and almost immediately start bitching at me. Just ranting, degrading me, telling me I've ruined his life and that everything is my fault. And he'll just keep going even when I'm not responding. So lately I've just been putting my headphones in and watching YouTube. Yesterday he was going on and on at me and getting more and more pissed because I wasn't reacting, so I literally just started singing along with whatever I was watching. He finally shut up and left. Then he came back later and tried it again. I put my headphones back in and ignored him. He got pissed and yanked my charger away from me and took off in the car. This morning, same shit. He woke up and immediately started bitching at me. I put my headphones in and listened to YouTube while he ranted. Then I started singing again and eventually he just left for work. It's honestly morbidly hilarious watching him get SO pissed that I can just sit there and be content while he's trying so hard to upset me. Like dude, I'm literally watching YouTube. But at the same time it's fucking exhausting. I'm at the point where I don't feel entirely safe around him anymore, and I'm probably going to call the shelter today and figure out what I can do. The part that scares me the most is my dogs. I have dog and dog and I don't want to be separated from them or have anything happen to them. I'm also terrified of losing my stuff, especially my PC. I don't even know. I just needed to tell somebody. I don't really want advice. I just want to throw this out into the universe and have somebody go "yeah, holy shit, that's fucked up" and then let me exist lol.

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    I was 19. Now I’m 35 and finally trying to face the past. This is a moment from year one of a five year abusive relationship

    The controlling eventually became so severe that it finally came to a head on Halloween that year. Me, my ex, my roommate, and my best friend visited my best friends boyfriend at university and went to a big party in the woods called venue.  It was crazy because we had the best night ever. No fighting, lots of dancing, and just an overall fun time. We went back to stay at my best friends boyfriends place. We all stayed in his room. My best friend and her boyfriend in the bed, me, my ex, and my roommate on the floor. Everyone had just fallen asleep, and my ex tried to initiate having sex with me. I told him no, that I wasn’t going to hook up with him in the room full of people. He got so angry telling me I didn’t love him. He was, for lack of a better term, “whisper yelling” at me to come speak with him in the bathroom. After refusing several times, he finally grabbed me by my arm and dragged me on the floor from the room, down the hall, and into the bathroom. He picked me up, closed the door, grabbed my face and held it there while he proceeded to yell in my face about me not loving him. He then let go. It was surreal. I felt quite numb. From what I remember, I just walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and laid down. He laid down next to me and tried to put his arms around me, apologizing over and over again. I said several times do not touch me. Keep your hands off me. He said no, he loves me and he’s sorry and he’s going to touch me because he loves me and he’s sorry. The next day I was just in disbelief that that had happened to me. That it had truly gotten to that point and that I was truly in an abusive relationship.  It felt like an out of body experience. He showed up at my door with a bouquet of white roses. Exactly like the one he brought me the first time he acted weird towards me. The second I saw the roses; I felt physically sick in the pit of my stomach. It was like what happened had become a reality and he was admitting to it and thought flowers would make it okay. I knew I had to break up with him, but I was so scared to do it because I knew it would hurt him. It’s crazy to look back at it now, that I never considered my own safety being at risk, I just considered how much it would hurt him and that’s why it would be difficult to end it. I think it was about two weeks later that I ended things with him (the first time). This was year one of a five year relationship that eventually led to me uprooting my life

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    Lifting Fog: The Story of an Ex-Pastor's Wife who escaped, survived, and thrived.

    Lifting Fog Dec 29 Written By Name View my blog for more at Link (Rewind to June 2019) I could sense my husband was growing more stressed with his work. I understood that leading a youth ministry could be stressful, so I chalked up his strange behavior to his workload. It was a summer afternoon and I was sitting in the office next to him, working on the children’s ministry curriculum and volunteer schedules. Upon finishing my work, I noticed that I was not working in the children’s ministry on Sunday, July 7th. I’m free! Maybe he can take the weekend off too. I texted a close friend who lives up north and asked if we could crash at their place for the weekend. She and her husband were very dear friends of ours. We consider them as family. My girlfriend was excited to open their home to us and spend some time with them before they left for the weekend. They both had obligations to volunteer at a camp that weekend and had to leave Friday afternoon, but she said we could stay at their place while they were gone. A free place to stay on a fourth of July weekend? I’ll take it! I asked permission from my father-in-law, who was also the lead pastor. He was completely on board and thought it was a great idea for the both of us to have a spontaneous getaway weekend. I even found a house sitter to watch our pup. All of the plans were falling into place. I was so excited to get away and spend some one-on-one time with my husband exploring the Location 1 together. I grew up in State 1 and taking summer trips to the mountains was one of my favorite things to do. I knew that being in the beauty of the mountains can just cause the stress of life to melt away. The greenery, the crispy mountain air, and the slower pace were calling my name. I wanted that for him. I imagined his stress levels falling. I wanted to see him laugh again. He stopped laughing months ago. He stopped coming to bed with me. He stopped asking me how I was doing. He stopped engaging with me altogether. More and more of his time was spent on his phone, computer, or in front of the television. It’s the stress of his job, I kept telling myself. We had many fights about how much time he was spending on electronics. They never ended well. He talked about running away from everything. It’s the stress of his job, I justified. He stopped caring altogether. I thought it was because of the miscarriage and the stress of adjusting to a more demanding job. He started to talk with me more and more about choking me out for fun. I thought he was just being silly and I always laughed it off. He wrapped his arm around my neck at times while I was making dinner or laying in bed. I justified it all. I tried to make sense of it but in the meantime, I shut down too. My stress levels were through the roof. I thought I had to keep it all together to keep up with appearances. Don’t let them see your weakness, name. When I had the miscarriage in May, I kept that emotional valve shut tight. The stress inside of me was so pressed down, the levels were rising. I could feel it in my chest. I could taste it in my mouth. Something was wrong. I just didn’t know what. We needed this vacation. So, after finishing my schedule, I walked over to his office and knocked on his door. “Come in,” he said. I opened his door and leaning on its frame, I announced with a smile, “Hey! Mark your calendar. I’m taking you away on the first weekend of July for a trip. Your dad said it was okay. We can make it back just in time on Sunday night for youth group!” He turned his chair toward me and smiled. There it is, I thought. Relieved to finally see a smile on his face. “Okay!” He said quickly. I turned around to begin the plans and his voice called from afar, “Hey, I’d like to go on a hike when we’re there,” he remarked. I slowly walked back to him in disbelief… A hike?? He never wants to hike! “I’d love to go on a mountain with a cliff face,” He said. “Sounds like fun!!” I replied. Maybe he just needs some exercise and an adrenaline rush, I thought. I was shocked that he suggested going for a hike because throughout all the years that I’ve known him, he never once expressed an interest in doing anything remotely close to hiking. I shut his door to continue to let him work and finished up mine. It was then that I started the countdown for our vacation. I was so excited and ready to get away from it all. I was ready to breathe. I know where your mind is going, it’s clear to see, isn’t it? But when you are in the middle of the mess, your mind doesn’t go there. Your mind always assumes the best. Especially when it comes to someone you love the most. (fast forward) On Date, I called 9-1-1 on my husband. That very morning after I finished reading and taking my last sip of coffee, I breathed in that beautiful fresh mountain air. I remembered it was going to rain at some point during this vacation, so I looked at the weather radar that morning. Oh, no. There was going to be a torrential downpour and thunderstorm right where we wanted to hike. We only had 3 hours before it hit. He woke up shortly after me and made his way out to the back porch where I was reading. Leaning on the door frame, I showed him the radar on my phone. “Hey, I’m not sure today would be a good day to hike. We don’t have much time before the storm hits. Maybe we can go tomorrow morning before we head home?” I asked. “No, we need to go today,” he insisted. I knew that this may be the only time he would ever want to hike again and I didn’t want to miss the opportunity since it’s something that I love. We searched frantically for a hike that was close enough, yet fit his qualifications. We planned to go to Location 2. He didn’t care to pack food nor did he care to eat beforehand. He said a Gatorade would be enough. He wore a tank top, shorts, and flat Adidas slide-in shoes. I wore workout pants, a tank top, a bandana, and running shoes. We loaded up in the truck and headed toward the mountain. The GPS kept rerouting us, we lost reception more times than I can count, and we could not find the trailhead. We were running out of time and I was growing frustrated. I wanted to be able to enjoy the hike and not rush it, but he insisted. “Let’s drive along the Location 3 and find something there. I remember seeing a trail when we came yesterday,” he said. We swam in the Location 4 the day before. It was one of the best days we had together in months. We laughed a lot, talked, rested, and enjoyed the day exploring. All was well. I was at ease because I felt like taking this mini-vacation was exactly what he needed. There was one point on that day when he was physically aggressive with me while we were swimming. I look back now and have the mental clarity to realize that it was not okay. His hands that were meant to show love treated me as an object and I numbly complied. As I always did. I tried to fight it but that nagging voice in the back of my head told me to stop… don’t disappoint him, name. So, we drove along the Location 3 since we could not find Location 2. We drove and drove and drove and connected to the Location 5. My anxiety began to build as time passed. Something is not right. We turned the corner and arrived at the spot he told me about previously and were welcomed with a large, wooden sign. The sign read, “Location 6.” This is where my life forever changed. We pulled in, paid for parking, and began our ascent. He has a bad knee, so he took Advil before heading up. We stopped to look at the map before climbing. I looked for the total distance, the route, and the scenic points. He searched for all the lookout points at the top. He huffed and puffed his entire way up. He had to take many breaks for a breath and a drink. It is a 1.5-mile trail up and back, totaling only at 3 miles. I talked most of the way up, pointed out silly “scenic” points. One scenic point was literally just a little village of mushrooms. All I honestly cared about was seeing a moose. I’ve lived 28 years in State 1 and have never seen a moose. It's one of my life’s goals and remains it still today. I laughed and talked about my family, and eventually, he asked if we could stop talking altogether. He wanted silence. Strange… I thought. Finally, we made it to the top. He kept searching around the top of the mountain for more cliffs almost as if he was searching for the perfect one. I thought nothing of it. I spent most of that time taking pictures of the scenery and taking in the beauty of the mountainous landscape that seemed to stretch on forever. I looked over to my right and he was walking closer and closer to the edge. I continued to tell him to be careful and to stop going so close. He had an intense and thrilling look in his eyes. He stood on a rock that protruded out of the cliff and looked down for a minute. “Come over here and stand on this,” he asked. “Uhm, no thank you. I don’t want to slip and die..” I sarcastically said back. He continued to plead with me, and I didn’t want to let him down despite how scared I was. So, against my every instinct, I complied. I stood on the edge and he was behind me. “Just trust me,” he said, with his hands on my lower back. My shaking knees straightened as I held onto a long, dead tree branch on my right. I could feel the wind cool on my legs and I glimpsed downward for a split second into the abyss of pine trees hundreds of feet down right below my feet. And in an instant, I heard... Get off. Instinct.. fear...intuition...the voice of God? I am not sure. But I knew I needed to get away quickly. I instantly backed off and scooted off, stood up, and walked to a safe place. Breathe, name. He was frustrated with me but I didn’t care. Something was wrong; I could sense it. I thought I was nervous about the impending storm, but my subconscious knew that I wasn’t safe for more reasons than one. He kept making comments that if I were to fall off the small drop-offs, I would only break a leg and I’d survive. Not that cliff… that one was a 250-foot drop into pine trees. I couldn’t see what was happening right in front of me. I told him to stop making those jokes, and he pointed the finger back at me and said that it was me who was making them. Always playing mind games. After I backed away from the ledge that he wanted me to stand on, I found a comfortable spot farther up and sat down. I tried to shake off this nervous feeling that I had and focused on the scenery in front of me. I took in the hundreds of shades of green spotted across the landscape, the eagle soaring through the trees, and the blue sunny skies welcoming me. He made his way over to me and sat down. With a deep breath, he said “I could get used to this.” “It truly is beautiful here,” I responded. We quietly enjoyed the view together. There was a large rainstorm approaching and the clouds from behind the mountain were growing darker by the minute. “I think it’s time we start heading back, we don’t want to get caught in the rain,” I said. He insisted that we waited longer. Everyone at this point was cleared from the top. It was just him and I. Anxiety continued to grow inside me. I waited long enough, it was now growing darker as the clouds covered the sun. “I’m sorry, but we have to go now,” I said as I stood up, brushing off my dusty legs. I stood up to walk away and he followed frustratingly with a huff. We entered the wooded path down the mountain, and only about one hundred feet in, he shouted at me from behind, “You have been the biggest source of stress in my life!” I turned around to him in shock. He was about 30 feet away from me, stopped dead in his tracks, fists clenched… I was completely thrown off as this was coming out of the blue… “what?” I responded. His face looked different. He then went on to tell me that he doesn’t think we were meant to be together. That maybe that’s why I had the miscarriage. That all he ever does is try with me, and I give him nothing in return. He said he didn’t know if he wanted to try anymore with me. Blame shifting. Guilt giving. Life-sucking words. I begged, “I want to fix this. I’m willing to fight, but you need to be, too. Are you?” “I don’t know,” he said. “The only way we couldn’t possibly work this out is if you cheated on me,” I said. Stone cold face, hands-on-hips, head pointed away from me and toward the ground, he said the two most shocking words… “I did.” My feet instantly left the ground. My breath escaped me. I can only hear the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. No, no. This isn’t real. I am dreaming. “It was when you went away to that children’s ministry conference. It was with some random girl in a hotel,” he said. Still no eye contact. “What? This isn’t real,” I said. “Some random girl? At a hotel?” I begged him to tell me who and where. But all my heart wanted to know was why. He crouched down, giving off a tearless cry. “This isn’t real, this isn’t happening, this isn’t real…” I continued to chant to myself. I kept touching my chest and my head and my face to make sure I was still there. The first raindrops were beginning to fall on my skin, but I couldn’t feel it. I looked at the tree bark. Noticed the details, the moss, the bugs. This. Is. Real. Panic is setting in. “The rain is coming. We will work this out. We NEED to get off this mountain!” I shouted. The wind was beginning to pick up. He didn’t move, still crouched in the dirt refusing to look at me. I was about 15 feet away from him. I turned to walk away, and just when I thought I couldn’t be any more heartbroken.... his voice sounded relieved and terrified as he shouted her name. My best friend. I stopped in my tracks. My mind flooded with all of the time we spent together. Betrayal of the deepest sense… my best friend and my husband? I could no longer feel my entire body. Her? No. It couldn’t be. I moved toward him as he began to tell me how many times they slept together, when, and where. “I’ve always loved her and she has always loved me. When we found out you were pregnant, it was the only thing that stopped us from running away together because we thought she was pregnant too,” he said. I looked at my hands. I examined my skin. I felt my chest. I am real. This is real. Breathe. “Are you lying?” I breathlessly asked. He looked down at my feet, smirked, and said, “What if I am?” “Come ON, tell me... are you lying!?” I asked, louder. I was about 10 feet down the path, away from him. “Yes,” he said, with a relieved smile. My heart rate slowed. I ran up the rocky, steep trail to him. I touched his shoulders, his face, and asked why he would do that to me. “Did you want to see how much I love you? Why would you lie about this? LOOK AT ME!” He didn’t look at me. “You’re not lying, are you?” I whispered. “No,” he said sternly. Anger grew inside of me unlike any other. I screamed in his face and he did not look at me. Instead, he stared blankly at my feet. “You broke a COVENANT with me! LOOK AT ME!” I yelled. But he refused to look. Refused to fight. Refused to try. “We need to go home and work this out, we can get help!” He then looked up at me for the first time and stated with a strangely calm yet loud voice… “What, do you think we can just go home now after this!? We can’t just go home now. I can’t tell my parents about this.” I turned to walk away. And then, seconds later, I felt the blow. I woke up on the ground. Flashes of pictures of leaves and trees and sky and his fists filled my mind. My ears were ringing and all I could hear was his muffled animal-like scream mixed with my heavy breathing and helpless cry. My husband hit me in the back of the head with a rock. I woke up on the ground with him fighting me. I miraculously landed on my left side and did not fall face-down into the steep trail under my feet. I was able to come to consciousness just in time to fight. I didn’t realize I was fighting him. I didn’t realize he was trying to kill me. I didn’t realize anything except that I needed to protect my neck as he reached for it. I breathlessly screamed, kicked, punched…fought like hell. I remember tasting blood. He then began to hyperventilate and sat up with his hands in his face. “I’m a piece of shit,” he wailed. Over and over again. “You deserve better.” That was the first true statement I heard from his mouth in years. I picked myself up and tried to help him breathe as I regained my breath. I attempted to lift up his hands to help him and they flopped on the ground the moment I let go and then… Then I felt it... Pain, throbbing pain, in my head and neck. I touched the back of my head. I remembered the noise of the rock hitting my head. It was like sticking my head inside a bass drum. Then a faint ringing sound. And then black. I felt my head. It was the lower left part of my head where he struck me with the rock. It was swelling fast. My vision was blurred and I could hear my breath as if I was inside of a tight bubble. “You hit me in the back of the head with a rock,” I quietly muttered while holding my head. “You tried to kill me. I might die. My head is swelling. I might die” I chanted. I began to panic as I knelt in the dirt and rocked my body back and forth as my mind raced through scenarios. What do I do? He continued to wail on the ground like a child. His cry was different this time. It was real, but it was only for himself. “I have to call 9-1-1,” I announced. I stood up with shaky legs and retrieved my phone from my backpack. My shaking hands began to dial 9-1-1. He then begged me not to, but I knew that we both weren’t safe and I didn’t think that I was going to survive if I waited longer. He wailed and begged me not to… “Please, please, please don’t. Don’t, name!” “If you don’t want me to call 9-1-1, then you’re going to follow me down this mountain and if I faint… you’re going to carry me if it’s the last thing you do for me,” I demanded as if speaking to a child. He then went very still. His breathing slowed and his eyes stared into the dirt. No response. He just doesn’t want to get caught, name. He doesn’t care for me, he only cares for himself. As my thoughts began to see reality for what it was, then my adrenaline kicked in. I could feel my veins spark and my vision cleared. I was very present. I was breathing smoothly, my knees stopped shaking, and I felt more alert than ever. He is going to try to kill me again, I realized. Once I ran out of his sight, I stopped and called 9-1-1. Instant connection. The dispatcher connected me to the Location 7 Deputies Office. “We are on our way,” are the last words I heard before I lost connection. And then... I ran. Run, name. Run like hell. It was a good thing I began training for a half marathon months before. I had tunnel vision as I zeroed in on the trail. Follow the yellow dots. Lord, don’t let him jump. Don’t trip. Light feet. Lord, don’t let me die. Please get me to the bottom. I WILL survive this. Don’t trip. Stay on your toes. Follow the yellow dots. Please, God, don’t let him jump. I ran for 20 minutes down a steep, rocky trail filled with boulders and thick pine roots. It was pouring rain. I didn’t feel a drop. I could not feel my feet touch the ground. I could not feel my head pain or my weak knee. Adrenaline surged through my veins. As I ran for my life, I thought of my mom and dad. I thought of a man that would be on the bottom of the mountain to rescue me. I thought of Hawaii. I thought of my husband and prayed for his safety. I thought of my dog, my church, my brothers. I thought of my sisters and my nieces. I thought of my family. My entire life and all that I loved came to the forefront of my mind. It was my people that mattered. The ones I loved. I fought and I ran for them. I dreamt of being held by my mom and dad. I didn’t trip. I didn’t slip. I didn’t stop. I heard the laughter of a woman up high in the hill to the right of me as I ran. I paused and looked up… Should I yell for help? I decided not to. It’s not worth the risk. I turned around and could not see him behind but heard the crunching of leaves far up the trail and they were getting louder. RUN, name! I ran as silently and quickly as I could. I didn’t want him to hear me and find me. I remember swallowing my stinging breaths and letting the air slowly out my nostrils. I didn’t even want to breathe loudly. I held my backpack straps tightly to my chest to keep my backpack from making noise. He kept calling me. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t break this silent sprint. I had to focus. In what felt like only minutes, I made it to the bottom of the trail. As the ground became flatter, I ran as fast as I could. I could begin to see the flashing blue lights through the thick trees. Those lights were the hope that I soon will be able to take shelter from this storm. They came for me! I’m going to be safe. Keep going, name. You’re almost there. My phone continued to buzz in my hand, and once I could see the blue lights, I answered the phone. I picked up the phone to the sound of him wailing, “I’m so sorry..I’m so sorry..” again and again. In a quiet, yet firm, whisper I said, “Your life is worth living. Meet me at the bottom.” I hung up. Those were the last words I spoke to him. Oh Lord, please don’t let him jump. Finally, I made it to the trailhead. I waived my weary arms in the air as the EMTs covered for safety inside the ambulance from the torrential downpour. I was still afraid to yell. The skies were dark and the lights flashed and reflected off the wet leaves as I ran closer. The glimmers of blue and red welcomed me with each step. I ran up to the ambulance and placed my hand on its cold, wet frame as I found my way to the back with wobbly knees. They opened the door and I jumped in. It was so bright, cold, and unfamiliar. I looked down at my shaking legs. They were covered in dirt and sweat. My scraped and bloodied knees stung as the sweat dripped down. My muscles were spazzing. My hands shaking, and my head throbbing. What just happened? A tall deputy entered into the ambulance, dripping from the downpour, and breathlessly said “You must be name.” Apparently, he ran up half the mountain trying to find me. Why is he so wet? Is it raining? I was hooked up to so many machines in a matter of minutes. They checked to make sure I didn’t have brain bleeding. All clear. The pain in my neck and head was so intense. It was the pain that reminded me that this was not a bad dream. It reminded me of him. All I could think about was him. “Is he okay?” I kept asking the deputy. They cared about making sure I was okay first. It wasn’t long after I arrived in the ambulance that my husband made his way to the bottom of the mountain and was arrested immediately. I was so relieved he didn’t jump. Thank you, God. I was rushed to the local hospital. I remember watching the rain pour through the ambulance window in complete shock. What just happened? I just wanted my mom and dad. I wanted to go home. I wanted to be a little girl again. I wanted all of this to be erased. I couldn’t cry. I could only breathe. The days and months that followed that terrible day have been filled with painful conversations, post-traumatic stress, fear, emotional breakdowns, family reunions, moving, restraining order paperwork, medical bills, court dates, trauma therapy, writing, reading, forgiveness, love, peace, and hope. I have a future. I am unsure where my future lies on this earth but what matters is that I have a future. He is no longer my responsibility. He chose to become the man that he is today. I am free of him. I ran down that mountain away from the abuse and into my freedom. My feet are set on a new path. I have hope for a brighter tomorrow. I am not done for. He is only a man. Just one man. He will not have the last word.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    Name … A/C Salesman Took Advantage

    I am a female, 28, very happily married. My husband was out of town three weeks for a program at Harvard over the summer. We were told that we had to replace our air conditioner units, so I had a salesman come out to quote us on two new units. He had to come in my home to see duct work and thermostats. He was here from 1:45pm-4:22pm. As the appointment went on, he would ask about pricing. I would mention that I’m back in school, so we’re on a budget. He would then ask what I’m in school for. I left out my camera on a nearby table in another room he could apparently easily see, and asked about it. I’m a photographer and he asked if he could see what I shot, because he used to be a photography gear salesman. I shoot wildlife and landscape. So while the conversation stayed mostly business-like, personal things came up as he typed up things in the computer for us for our quote. After I asked if we should not replace the unit and when we sell the house just take less money and the next person can replace them (we move in two years), he mentioned that he has five properties he rents out, so he loves quirky houses and ours is and at the end he asked if he could take a look around. He would have had to go upstairs anyway to see the thermostat, so we went upstairs. After seeing my husband’s office we turned around to go back downstairs. We have a small landing at the top of the stairs and it is met with three doors. The first on the left is the bedroom. The door was open, I didn’t think we’d be going up there. As we turned around to come back downstairs, he stopped me, where he could see well into the bedroom, I was right at the top of the stairs but against a wall. He started saying something about the house, then interrupted himself: “I find you very attractive, may I touch you?” His eyes grew large, he was reaching for my breasts with his arms outstretched and kind of moving around his fingers. I took a step or two back onto the stairs and he then motioned to the bed. I said “okay, let’s go this way” as I headed down the stairs. “I need to let the dog out soon” (who at that point was whining and almost barking, I think he could sense how I was feeling). At the bottom of the stairs he was just standing there but wasn’t leaving. I said “thank you for the quote, I’ll call my husband and let him know the prices” and as he heard “my husband” he responded “oh, yeah!” as if he forgot I was married. “Okay, well, let me grab my bag and I’ll be on my way. It’s so nice to meet people who like the same things and are good quality people.” I couldn’t get him out of the house quick enough. Once he was leaving, he saw I had a package on the porch and picked it up and handed it to me. I had to still be kind because I didn’t want him to react any kind of way toward me for basically turning him down sexually. He finally left, I called my husband who told me to call the police. The police came over, were in shock, and said they would track him down. I luckily have a doorbell camera and they have his car description and face, personal phone number and name. He is 58 years old, rotund, shorter than me by a few inches, and was a pervert. I hate to admit it, but if he were closer to my age I like to think it would feel less disgusting. I have photographic memory, so my flashbacks are very detailed. I journaled but it only helped a little. I have therapy tomorrow and my therapist is aware of what happened. My husband is being fantastic, asking that I tell him my triggers and if we need to move the bedroom around or anything to let him know. It was all I could do to not slap or punch the man as he said what he did to me, but if he had the gall to say that and do that in my home with barely knowing me, I don’t know what else he would have done. I got very lucky.

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  • Story
    From a survivor
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    For those who’s voices have been silenced

    I was in an abusive relationship for two years. I was embarrassed and never told anyone. I did not want anyone to know what was happening to me, because why would I let that happen to myself? Why did I let it get this bad? I saw the red flags, and I ignored them. I thought he could change. He promised me every time he put his hands on me, that it was the last time. Until his hands moved around my neck, or when he threw me down stairs, or would burn me with his lighter, etc. it never got better. He never got better. He showed me his true colors and my rose colored glasses were shattered. I was already in too deep, and it thought it was too late for me. He wouldn’t let me leave. I tried twice before and he strangled me, and he told me I would not leave his house unless I was in a body bag. I lived in fear every single day. I prayed every night for God just to take my life so I could get an escape from the hell I was in. I struggled everyday with my mental health. I tried to kill my self multiple times, and would honestly fantasize about it, but I kept fighting. I thankfully, told some friends about my situation at work and came up with a code with them, for when things got bad I could hopefully reach them in time. I remember the day I left vividly. I remember him punching me in my face. He held me down and choked me until I could not scream anymore. He kept repeating in my ears. I will kill you. You’re not leaving me. I had texted my friends prior. I was able to eventually get him off and he fell asleep. And I ran. I knew in that moment it was truly now or never. I went outside and started to run to my car. Two police officers were waiting for me outside. Everyday I am so thankful they were there in that moment. I turned away and he was right there. If they had not been there in that exact moment, I know I would have never left that house. Everyday has been a struggle. It’s been almost three years and sometimes I still have nightmares about that day or just being stuck in that house. I have moved states. I got married to the love of my life. Someone who truly loves me and would never raise their voice at me, let alone a hand. I am expecting my first child in January. I am so thankful everyday that I held on and kept fighting. I know it’s hard and sometimes there is truly no light that you can see yourself, but keep holding on and keep fighting. You are worth so much more and I promise it does get better. I’m so proud of you.

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  • Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇦🇺

    Growing and embracing the past as something that changed you and made you

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  • Story
    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    .A Safe Life for My Children

    My Story — I Just Want a Safe Life for My Children I am sharing my story anonymously because I am afraid that people from my past may recognise me. Some details have been changed or left out to protect me and my children. The experiences and feelings I describe are my own. For most of my life, I have kept my pain inside. I have carried things that I never told anyone because I was frightened, ashamed, or simply didn't know how to explain everything that had happened to me. Today, I am finally trying to tell my story. Not because I want revenge. Not because I want people to feel sorry for me. I just want someone to hear me. My childhood When I was a young child, I was expected to clean the house, wash clothes, iron and cook. If something wasn't done exactly the way my mother wanted, I would be punished. I remember being beaten with spoons and other objects. I would have bruises on my body and would try to hide them. I was frightened in my own home. Sometimes I was thrown outside without proper clothes or shoes, even when it was cold and getting dark. I remember hiding underneath a tree because I was scared. One of the few places where I felt safe was when my uncle would take me to his house. I looked forward to those visits because I knew I would have some peace. I also felt that my siblings were treated differently from me. I was made to feel that I was less wanted because my mother had wanted a boy when I was born. For years, I wondered what I had done wrong. I was only a child. I had done nothing wrong. A decision that was never mine When I was a teenager, my family told me we were going on holiday. I wanted to finish my education first. Instead, I was taken abroad and discovered that the real reason for the trip was that I was going to be married. I was still very young. I tried to convince myself that perhaps marriage would give me the loving family I had always wanted. Very quickly, I discovered that my new husband was not the person I had hoped he would be. When I told my family what was happening, I was told that things would become better. I didn't want him to come and live with me. My wishes were ignored. My first marriage When I returned home, I was expected to work and look after everything. My money was controlled. I was expected to work long hours and still cook, clean and look after my husband. When I couldn't meet all the expectations placed on me, I was shouted at, insulted and physically abused. I also experienced sexual violence. I did not consent, but my wishes were ignored. Eventually, I was thrown out. I managed to find somewhere safe to stay for a short time. I thought perhaps my life was finally going to change. But I was persuaded to return. Later, I was taken abroad again and left there for a long period because I would not agree to live with my husband. I was heartbroken and frightened. Eventually, under pressure, I agreed. My children I eventually became a mother. My children became my whole world. Their father was violent towards me, and there were times when I had to put myself between him and the children to stop him from hurting them. I was terrified, but I would never allow someone to hurt my children if I could protect them. After years of cheating, violence, shouting and fear, my husband eventually left. I felt relieved. Then he returned. People around me told me that he had changed and that I should give him another chance. I didn't want to. My children and I were frightened. Then came the night that I will never forget. While I was working, one of my children contacted me and warned me not to come home because they were afraid their father was going to kill me. When I returned home, I was attacked. I was hit, thrown against furniture and injured. At one point, a knife was held against my throat and I was threatened. My children were terrified. They helped me find a way to keep him distracted long enough for help to arrive. I remember praying that the police would come before something happened that could never be undone. Eventually, there was a knock at the door. The police arrived. He was arrested. I was shaking and crying. My body was hurting and I was terrified. I was taken to hospital. My children and I were then moved somewhere safe. For the first time in a long time, we had some distance from the danger. Starting again After many months away, we returned home. I hoped we could finally rebuild our lives. Instead, our belongings were removed. Furniture was thrown away. My children's belongings were sold. I was told that we did not deserve comfortable things and that we could sit and sleep on the floor. I was devastated. But the next morning, I got up and bought basic food for my children. That was when I decided I had to work. I found a job working nights. I arranged childcare and built my entire life around my children. I would work through the night, come home, get my children ready for school, take them to school, sleep for a few hours, wake up to cook and clean, collect them, feed them, take them to their activities, put them to bed and then go back to work. I was exhausted. But I did it because my children needed me. Losing our home While I was trying to rebuild our lives, I also suffered serious financial difficulties involving people close to me. I had worked hard to build a home for my children. I had invested years of work and money into making it a safe and happy place. Then I discovered that arrangements had been made for the house to be transferred to another family member without my agreement. I came home from work and was told that the house had been sold. I couldn't believe it. That house wasn't just a building. It was where my children had grown up. It was where I had tried to create the home and family I had never had as a child. I had spent years making it ours. Suddenly, it was gone. My children and I had nowhere to go. We stayed with family for a while, where we were made to sleep on the floor. Eventually, I went to the council for help. My children and I were placed in temporary accommodation. We had very little privacy and were struggling to cope. Eventually, we were given somewhere to live. I continued working wherever I could. I worked in care and took other jobs when I needed to. I did whatever I could to support my children. Trying to find love again My family continued to pressure me to marry again. I didn't want another marriage. I was frightened of going through the same things again. But people around me kept telling me that I should give someone else a chance. Eventually, I agreed to marry a man who had been described to me as kind and caring. At first, he seemed wonderful. I thought perhaps I had finally found the person I had spent my whole life waiting for. Then I became pregnant. Things changed. He began asking me for money. He became angry and verbally abusive. He wanted me to arrange for him to come and live with me. I was pregnant and unable to work normally. I couldn't understand why someone who had seemed so kind was treating me this way. I asked people for help and was told to keep him happy and do what he wanted. It felt like my past was repeating itself. When I gave birth by Caesarean section, I was still in hospital when he said something that broke my heart. I had just given birth to our son. Instead of feeling loved and supported, I was made to feel worthless. After that, he continued to be kind mainly when he wanted money. I was paying for things and trying to provide for my child. Eventually, I discovered evidence that he had been involved with another woman. Once again, my heart was broken. I had believed that this marriage would be different. Eventually, he left. Where I am today Today, I am raising four children. I have spent years working whenever I could to provide for them. But recently, everything changed again. I became seriously unwell and was diagnosed with blood clots affecting both lungs. Because of my health, I am currently unable to work. This has been frightening. Working has always been how I have tried to keep our lives going. Now I am unable to do what I have always done while still having the responsibility of caring for my children. Everyday life has become a struggle. After everything I have already survived, I never imagined that my health would become another battle. But I am still here. I am still trying to look after my children and find a way forward. For years, I blamed myself and wondered whether there was something wrong with me. I am beginning to understand that being mistreated did not mean I deserved to be mistreated. I was a child who deserved protection. I was a young woman who deserved a choice. I was a wife who deserved safety and respect. I am a mother who deserves a safe and stable home for her children. I don't want revenge. I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want pity. I simply want my story to be heard. I want my children to grow up feeling safe, loved and protected. This is my story. For the first time, I am letting it be heard.

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  • “To anyone facing something similar, you are not alone. You are worth so much and are loved by so many. You are so much stronger than you realize.”

    Message of Healing
    From a survivor
    🇬🇧

    Healing has not been easy for me. For many years, I thought surviving meant simply getting through each day. I carried so much fear, hurt and sadness inside me that I didn't know how to begin talking about it. I am still healing, and I know that healing is not something that happens overnight. Some days are harder than others. There are memories and experiences that I still struggle with, and there are times when I feel overwhelmed by everything I have been through. But I am learning that healing can also mean recognising that what happened to me was not my fault. I am learning to be kinder to myself. I am learning that I deserved to be protected as a child, that I deserved to have a choice, and that I deserve to live without fear. My children are a huge part of my reason to keep going. I want to give them the safety, love and stability that I didn't always have growing up. I want them to know that they are valued and that they deserve to be treated with kindness and respect. Speaking about my experiences is also part of my healing. For so many years, I stayed silent because I was frightened and ashamed. Telling my story now is a way of taking back my voice. I am still facing challenges, including my health and the uncertainty that comes with not being able to work at the moment. But I am still here. I am still caring for my children. I am still trying to rebuild. I don't know exactly what the future will look like, but I am beginning to believe that it can be different from my past. For me, healing means finding my voice, learning that I matter, protecting my children, and allowing myself to hope again. I may not be healed from everything I have experienced, but I am healing. And I believe healing is possible.

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  • We believe in you. You are strong.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    bar city, state 2020

    Between dates, 2020, I (female) was on a work trip by myself to another site in city, state for a job interview. I had taken advantage of the long weekend due to MLK day, so I could experience the new place and see if it was a fit for me. After my interview, I was feeling pretty good. At some point, I had ended up at what was called “bar” for some drinks. This has since changed its name. I had been over-served, and there was no security. After $92.63 worth of alcohol (no food), and someone giving me weed (which I don’t like), the room was spinning. I hardly even knew how to walk at this point. A stranger with a guitar, who I believe had a gig at the bar, walked me back to my hotel. On the way back, I had fallen backwards onto the sidewalk cement and hit my head. We entered the wrong hotel. After finding the right hotel, hotel, he entered into the room with me, took my clothes off, and raped me. I could not move. Somehow I had also fallen off the bed during the act. I woke up the next day with him next to me in the bed. I immediately thought he was going to harm me or kill me, so I was nice to him. We went to “café” for some coffee. He left his guitar in my hotel room so he could be allowed back in to get it. I’m honestly surprised I survived this, and it could have gotten worse. I don’t remember how I eventually got away, but I only had the hotel room for so long. This could have been an even worse tragedy. I don’t believe that single females like myself are safe to go anywhere. I don’t go out anymore, even with friends. I stay home. It’s the only bit of safety I have. If you work at a bar or hotel, please please please SPEAK UP if you see something that’s not right. You could save a life.

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  • “It can be really difficult to ask for help when you are struggling. Healing is a huge weight to bear, but you do not need to bear it on your own.”

    You are wonderful, strong, and worthy. From one survivor to another.

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    We all have broken places, but we are not broken

    In 2007, my ex-husband drove over my foot. He did it out of rage. What followed was something I’ll never forget: ➤ I called the police. ➤ They issued a temporary restraining order. ➤ I went to court, determined to protect myself and my toddler. ➤ He stood before the judge, pleaded, and promised he’d never do it again. ➤ The court believed him. They let him go. The restraining order wasn’t extended. And just like that, I was left to pick up the pieces on my own. I’ve shared parts of my story about surviving domestic violence before. But this part? I’ve kept it to myself. For years, I was ashamed of this story. Not because of what happened to me—but because the world taught me to be ashamed. To be quiet. To “move on” as though resilience meant silence. But here’s the truth: Resilience doesn’t come from silence. 𝐈𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩. This experience, as painful as it was, taught me lessons I couldn’t learn any other way: ➤ I learned how to find my voice, even when no one wanted to hear it. ➤ I learned how to advocate for myself, even when the system failed me. ➤ I learned that survival isn’t the end goal—thriving is. But let’s be clear—this isn’t just about my story. It’s about a culture that protects abusers, excuses toxic behavior, and leaves survivors to fend for themselves. The same culture that let him walk away is the one that: ➤ Enables toxic leadership in workplaces. ➤ Silences survivors of sexual assault and domestic violence. ➤ Ignores the mental health toll of these experiences. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 “𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.” Leadership isn’t just about titles or decisions—it’s about creating a world where: ➤ Survivors feel safe to speak up. ➤ Toxicity is called out, not tolerated. ➤ Resilience is celebrated, not silence. Some stories stay with you until you’re ready—today, I’m ready. Let it end with us. NO MORE Week 2025 hashtag#nomoreweek2025 hashtag#SayNoMore, hashtag#EndTheSilence hashtag#nomoreweek from LinkedIn post: link

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  • Every step forward, no matter how small, is still a step forwards. Take all the time you need taking those steps.

    “Healing to me means that all these things that happened don’t have to define me.”

    Story
    From a survivor
    🇺🇸

    SLIDING SCALE K THERAPY TRAP

    I am a survivor of what I believe to be therapist abuse, emotional manipulation, and grooming behaviors from LCSW, which I experienced while undergoing K Assisted Psychotherapy. I came to the center in my city, full of hope that I would get to access this kind of therapy as a lifelong, low-income person who has experienced immense trauma starting at the age of two. I had heard of the benefits and life-changing experiences that others had experienced with this type of therapy and was hoping for the same. Without access to the sliding scale cost model that the center was offering LGBT+ and BIPOC, I would have never been able to afford a therapy like this. I was hopeful to be able to access this therapy and would check in regularly about my place on the waitlist. FOR THE READER'S INFORMATION: COMMON REACTIONS TO SEXUAL MISCONDUCT BY A THERAPIST If a therapist has engaged in any sexual behavior or contact with you, you may experience some or all of the following feelings or reactions: Intimidated or threatened. Guilt and responsibility—even though it is the therapist’s responsibility to keep sexual behavior out of therapy. Mixed feelings about the therapist—e.g., protectiveness, anger, love, betrayal. Isolation and emptiness. Distrust of others’ feelings or intentions or your feelings. Fearful that no one will believe you. Feeling victimized or violated. Experiencing traumatic symptoms, e.g., anxiety, nightmares, obsessive thoughts, depression, or suicidal or homicidal thoughts. Before Intake, Admin told me I would have a psychological evaluation with a psychiatrist. INTAKE I arrived for my psychological intake, where LCSW accessed me. I was surprised to learn he was not a psychiatrist. I had seen LCSW in the main lobby as he hurried towards the elevator as I was reading the board to find the suite Location was in. I joined LCSW in the elevator, and he asked what floor I was going to. I said,” 4, the same as you, were probably going to the same place”. I made that assumption on how LCSW looked, as I assumed the guy with long died hair probably had something to do with psychedelics. We both ended up at the the center, where he instructed me on how to use the call button and told me to expect the admin to grab me from the waiting room soon. This appointment seemed pretty standard, so he asked me some basic questions and reviewed some basics of KAP therapy. I remember discussing my yoga practice and studies in herbalism, and he asked me what inspired that path. I told him my honest answer was a bit embarrassing as I was 15 and was first introduced to yoga in a small town in State when reading about it in Seventeen magazine and had read an interview with a yogi. I also said that I thought the yogi was attractive, which probably caught my attention. LCSW responded to this by saying. “Likely.” I found his response to be a bit demeaning. He didn’t understand the complexity of being raised in isolation in a place that lacked a diversity of culture and could only connect to the outside world through old magazines that my friends would hand down to me at school. At the end of this appointment. He told me that I would get a list of therapists and that I would get to pick from that list. I later received an email from LCSW: “Great news, I will be your therapist.” This felt uncomfortable to me for a few reasons: the inconsistency in the information I was told about choosing my therapist made me nervous, and I usually avoid working with male/male-bodied therapists due to significant traumas I have experienced from being raped, objectified, and brutally attacked by men. I chose to trust the process and hoped that this might be an opportunity to experience healing and safety with a male-bodied person who would hopefully be safe with me. LCSW told me we had to reschedule the first preparation appointment due to an emergency. As I tried to walk away unbothered by the random emergency, he stopped me and apologized multiple times, and I thought it strange that he would spend so much time apologizing to me if there was an emergency. PREP 1 My preparation appointments with LCSW were bizarre. My first couple of appointments discussed the possibility of therapeutic touch, what therapeutic touch is, and informed consent. I found it odd how much time was spent on these subjects; this was discussed at length during all three preparation appointments. I had done a lot of somatic healing bodywork with a physical therapist, and these conversations were not new to me. Still, I was uncomfortable with the amount of time and number of times this was brought up during preparation. PREP 2 LCSW discussed therapeutic touch again at great length. He claimed to be trained in somatics. LCSW said to me, “ I am your therapist for only a short amount of time, so we can do ANYTHING you want.” LCSW said to me, “ I know I am your therapist, but I want you to have as much power as you want.” LCSW asked me how I felt about therapeutic touch. I let LCSW know I was uncomfortable with touch in any capacity and would prefer to be given physical distance as much as possible. I told LCSW that I, historically, would avoid touch in any capacity throughout my life and gave examples of how I place pillows between myself and my friends when I sit on couches next to them. LCSW asked me if I was comfortable with him suggesting to me that I could touch myself. I felt uncomfortable with how he worded this but didn’t react. For example, he said some patients have tremors uncontrollably and can be instructed to place their hands on their arms. I told him I did not want him to make these suggestions. LCSW asked me what the thought of being touched felt in my body. He asked if this felt squirmy, and I said yes. During my preparation appointments, LCSW acted like he was some kind of drug dealer and made it seem like he would be involved in how many mg of K would be prescribed to me from the pharmacy. He asked me during each session how many milligrams I would want. He said I got to choose up to 600mg per session. I asked if I was prescribed 600mg each session and if I would have to take all of it during the session if I decided not to. He said I could do this. I asked for the max prescription, and he told me I could be prescribed 250mg. This was another example of him offering me a choice (like choosing my therapist) and then taking that choice away. He then asked me again how much I wanted to be prescribed in the following session. I remember this session was in person. I told him I wanted to be prescribed the high end of what is normal, and he said he would go with that. I was made aware that the dosage is prescribed by the prescribing doctor, Prescribing Doctor, and there is a standard dosage that most patients are prescribed with a max dosage of 400mg. LCSW disclosed his gender identity to me and asked me if I had a preference in how he would present himself during our sessions because sometimes he wears dresses and glitter. I asked if he was asking about my comfort with my gender expression. He assured me that was not what he was asking about and, instead, wanted to know if I would be more comfortable with one of his gender expressions over another, and I let him know that I didn’t think it mattered. I found this conversation beyond strange and uncomfortable. I’ve been in therapy since I was 18, and I have never had a therapist behave in the ways I convey with LCSW and found him to be strange, unpredictable, over-sharing, and unsafe. Before my final in-person preparation appointment, LCSW informed me that he had moved his office to a different location in the center because it was larger. PREP 3 LCSW quickly allowed me access from the waiting room on this day. Almost immediately after I pressed the button on the wall, I could hear his footsteps coming down the hallway, and this made me uncomfortable as most therapists or doctors that I have worked with allow for 1-5 minutes to pass before greeting me in the waiting room. I felt LCSW was unusually excited or rushed about my arrival. LCSW had warned me in the previous preparation appointment that he had moved offices because the new office was larger. I was highly uncomfortable with the move when I saw his office. I froze in the doorway. He moved his office to the center's most private and secluded area. The new office seemed smaller. A reclined chair in his old office was available for the KAP therapy, which felt safe. The chair was not in his new office, and my options for where to lay down during my KAP therapy were a couch that I was much too tall for or a mattress on the ground. I felt unsafe laying on a mattress with LCSW in the room, but I thought I had no choice. I had experienced so much seductive and inappropriate behavior with him that discovering I would not have a reclined chair and would be isolated in the building was devastating news to me. The fact that his new office did not have room for the antigravity chair in his old office was an example of how this move was not due to the office being larger than he claimed. I had brought gifts for LCSW for the Winter Solstice. I had gifted him a piece of mushroom art made with layers of paper and a mushroom hairpin that my coworker made. These items were kept on a shelf in his office for all of my following sessions. I wasn’t aware that therapists are not supposed to accept gifts from their clients. LCSW was overly excited about the gifts. During our in-person preparation session, LCSW would ask me questions unrelated to my therapy. Do you like guacamole? Do you enjoy Role-Play Board Games? When I asked why he asked me these questions, he answered, “I’m trying to understand your resources.” After initially reporting him to my doctor, I discovered his dating profile while listing his display name, “Guacamole,” and his interests, “Role-play Board Games.” Now, I wonder if he was spending my sessions with me trying to gauge our compatibility for dating. LCSW would be extremely flirtatious with me. He would have his long hair up in a bun, pull it out slowly, groom it with his fingers, and display it in front of his shoulders, all while batting his eyes at me. Both times he did this, I went into shutdown. I would avoid eye contact, look at the floor, hunch, and move my body in the opposite direction, showing my physical discomfort. I would be talking about something both times he did this, and each time, I lost my words and stopped talking as a part of the shutdown state of my nervous system. This flirting with his hair happened on PREP 3 and KAP 1. One session was a preparation appointment, and the second time was before I was administered K for my KAP session. I asked LCSW if people clench their jaw while on K as I often have a lot of jaw tension and use a nightguard at night. He shared with me that his other clients who are “guarded” usually feel more relaxed on K and that often the jaw relaxes, but he let me know I could bring my guard if I wanted. I remember not liking that LCSW had indirectly called me guarded, but he was not wrong about that assessment. I had learned to be guarded to protect myself from people, especially harmful people like LCSW, who were unpredictable and unregulated. As I think back to this interaction, I wish I had been able to remain guarded around LCSW, which was not possible for me while on a psychedelic. LCSW asked me during an in-person preparation appointment if I had been hypnotized and if it worked. LCSW would use Neurological Language Processing on me to try and seduce me and make me think about sex during two of my sessions, PREP 3 & KAP 1. When he gave directions for taking the K medication, he would speak at a regular pace until he got to the part of the directions that directed me that I could spit or swallow the K. Specifically, the words “spit and swallow” were slowed down to an unusually slow pace, and he would stare into my eyes with intensity when he said those words slowly. He would slow that part of the directions down to a slow pace, all while making intense eye contact that made me highly uncomfortable. He did this during my last preparation appointment and also during my first appointment with the K. During these experiences, with the sexual and seductive nature of the emphasis of these words, while giving me directions, I would go into shutdown. I would look away and disengage with LCSW during these interactions. I was feeling highly unsafe, overwhelmed, confused, and afraid. KAP 1 During my first KAP appointment, LCSW welcomed me from the waiting room, pressed the switch on the wall, and looked around the room as usual. He would typically follow me down the hallway to his office, which made me uncomfortable as I have been stalked coming home at night off the bus countless times. In any capacity, I will avoid having any persons behind me as I feel safer when I can see people and when I have enough physical distance to run or defend myself if I can see signs of aggression in a person. I was surprised that LCSW would walk closely behind a person with PTSD, and I felt he had minimal experience working with people with PTSD and didn’t understand trauma-informed care. Most trauma-informed professionals I work with would check in with me regularly about what I was comfortable with. Before working with LCSW, I’d never had a doctor or staff walk so closely behind me. For example, I have had Doctors ask me if I am more comfortable sitting in a chair that faces the door instead of having the door behind me, and LCSW never checked in with me about any of these things. I was violently attacked for asking a 300lb man to try and be quiet so that I could sleep. I struggled to ask for what I needed to feel safe and comfortable from men after this experience, and I did not feel safe asking LCSW not to walk behind me or continue invading my personal space. While being let into the center, I stood behind him with as much physical distance as possible and waited for him to finish so I could follow him down the hall. He instructed me to walk down the hallway to his office and followed me closely. I entered LCSW’s dark office with the blinds closed. I felt uncomfortable immediately but was trying to manage my fear and stress the best I could as I was so dedicated to healing with K Assisted Psychotherapy and was looking to this therapy as my last hope after having tried everything with a slow, painful progress that had many setbacks as I struggled to avoid people like LCSW in my life who prioritize their desires over my well-being. We were in the center alone during all my appointments except the intake. There were no other therapists or admin. My KAP appointments were scheduled at the end of the day in the winter, so it was often already dark outside. I have since learned that being so isolated and having appointments late in the day are red flags. I was moving and brought in a book from my personal library to give to LCSW. On Book Name. LCSW responded to this by saying, “That’s really sweet.” This book lived on his bookshelf in following appointments. LCSW let me know I could set up my altar items at the end of his table and that he was going to the restroom and would be right back. I would like to mention that LCSW often seemed very different after visiting the bathroom. I suspected he was struggling with drug abuse and addiction, as when he went more than a few hours without a restroom break, he would look awful with sunken eyes with dark circles under them. He would get sweaty and look generally ill, and the only time I have seen anything like this was when I was around a family member who was experiencing opioid addiction. I was recovering from my KAP session when he looked ill to me, so it might have something to do with the medication or lighting. When LCSW returned from the bathroom, he walked right behind me while I was on my knees setting up my altar. I began physically shaking when he walked behind me because I feared him. I was visibly shaking, and LCSW started blowing air forcibly out of his nose multiple times, loudly. He was standing right behind me as I was visibly shaking and without tissue or covering his face. He blew out of his nostrils very forcefully multiple times until I froze. Then, I slowly turned my head in his direction and asked him, “Do you have allergies?” He said, “No, I have_____.” I can’t remember the condition he stated he had, but I remember it included something nasal-related to his nose. After asking this question to him, he immediately stopped with the weird, aggressive nose forceful exhalation. I never saw him do any weird breathing at any other time. I believe he did this to distract me from my body shaking and to gain sympathy from me as a form of emotional manipulation. My body was showing me how unsafe I felt, and I believe that LCSW wanted to distract me or was threatened by this. He then asked me to share the items for my altar with him. LCSW, told me he had to read my blood pressure. I was wearing a thick sweater and tried to pull the sleeve up high enough to be able to wrap the band around my arm. I could not pull the arm up high enough and asked LCSW if he could just put the band over my sweater. He said no and asked if that was okay. I sighed with disappointment and removed my sweater. Underneath my sweater, I wore a crop top/tank top shirt with no bra because I was instructed to dress comfortably. I was not comfortable with being so exposed around LCSW after experiencing so much harmful sexual behavior from him. Still, I was so desperate to receive this K Assisted Psychotherapy treatment that I was trying my best to cope with the harm I was experiencing. LCSW helped to wrap the band for the blood pressure reader around my arm. He did this very slowly. When he went to press the velcro together on the band, he used the tips of his two fingers, pointer & middle finger, and slowly pushed the velcro together with his two fingertips like this. This was taking forever and was very inappropriate and sexually charged. At this point, I got angry with LCSW. I audibly sighed with anger and frustration, and LCSW recognized this. He stopped petting my arm and took a step back. He told me to uncross my legs. He stood on the other side of the room and stared at the wall as the automatic blood pressure reader read my blood pressure. The machine went off with three beeps, and LCSW was still staring at the wall, completely disassociated. LCSW administered the K to me and did the creepy “spit or swallow” thing after this. He then helped me get onto the mattress and tucked me in, touching my body while tucking me in around my arms and legs. I remember having a difficult time relaxing or feeling comfortable during this appointment. I did not want to wear my eyemask or the noise-canceling headphones because I didn’t feel safe with LCSW and wanted to be aware of my surroundings as much as possible. I remember looking down at my body multiple times to make sure he wasn’t touching me. After about an hour into the session, I let LCSW know I had to use the restroom. LCSW helped me and told me we would have to walk slowly to the bathroom as I lacked balance. Someone from one of the other offices was walking behind us. I got into the bathroom and used one of the stalls. I sat there after finishing, not wanting to come out because I was so afraid of being around LCSW. The person who walked behind us to the bathrooms was also in the restroom in one of the other stalls. As she went to leave, she probably noticed that I was sitting in a stall and not doing anything. She asked me if I was okay, and I said yes. As we walked back, I exited the bathroom and noticed that LCSW was holding my hand, which I found very confusing. LCSW helped me back onto the mattress, tucked me into my blankets again, and touched my body on my arms and legs again. LCSW violated my informed consent by holding my hand and touching me while tucking me into my blanket while I was on K. I had clearly stated to LCSW that I did not want him to touch me in any way. I had a little loss of coordination but generally was fine walking on my own, and I did not need LCSW to hold my hand to “help” me. I was in an open and loving state of mind while on the medication, and this experience is when things got confusing for me. I knew I felt Uncomfortable with the unusual attention he was giving me and with the seductive and flirtatious behaviors he exhibited before taking K with him. This was the first time those feelings confused me, and a part of me liked how it felt to have this attention while under a psychedelic. These feelings caused me internal distress. After returning to the room, I tried to relax into my experience. I experienced a body sensation that reminded me of my body sensation when I had an out-of-body experience where you tense up right before leaving your body. I heard LCSW say, “There you go.” This freaked me out and took me out of my experience. I remember fidgeting my body after this. His comment felt like it was sexual to me. LCSW checked his laptop during my first KAP appointment and often texted someone through iMessage. As soon as the music ended, LCSW said my name “Name.” This jolted me out of my relaxed state. He told me he needed to use the restroom, and I asked him to bring me some water. When he returned, I had moved to the couch, and he responded to this move by saying, Woah. We chatted about my experience, as I didn’t feel like talking while on the medication. He then checked in with me and told me it was 515pm. Fifteen minutes later than when our appointment was supposed to end. I had arranged transportation and was shocked by how late our appointment had gone. I scrambled to get my things together to get to my ride in time. LCSW told me that I should plan to have my transportation picked up 15 minutes after our sessions, but this should have been communicated to me beforehand. I have since learned that therapists extending your appointment time past when it is supposed to end is a red flag. INTEGRATION 1 This was my first integration appointment. LCSW asked me how I was doing, and I said, “Fine.” He asked me to use a different adjective, and I told him I was feeling a lot. During this appointment, I went through my backpack, looked for my journal, and pulled out my headphones in their case in front of LCSW. He responded to seeing these headphones with an angry sigh. I shared some of the things I journaled about, and he seemed impressed by what I had written. I shared with LCSW about an oracle deck I had used the night after the first KAP session. I shared a card I pulled the night after my first KAP appointment while asking, “How can LCSW help me.” I read the description of the card I had pulled: “angel’s trumpet.” He got down on his knees and moved towards me with a coffee table in between us. He told me the reading resonated with him. I asked him how so, and he talked about his cornerstone of death work as the card description discussed how this card was related to hospice workers, which LCSW shared with me he had done before his current job. I resonated more with aspects of the reading that mentioned a seductive nature as I felt he had been sexually inappropriate with me, but I did not share that with him. He asked to see the cards' box and got loud and excited about my deck. “THERE’S A MAGIKAL BOTANICAL ORACLE DECK!” I often found LCSW’s energy to be unpredictable. He would, at times, use his therapist's voice and then have these excited or angry outbursts. He asked me if he could take a photo of the deck, and I said that was fine. After this first integration appointment, I felt a lot of shame and anxiety around having the headphones that I perceived LCSW had gotten angry about. He might be mad at me for seeking sliding scale services while having expensive headphones. I got these noise-canceling headphones as a self-care item for myself when I thought I would be undergoing KAP therapy while living with my ex, who would slam doors and move around the house angrily. I got these headphones to help me eliminate that noise and feel a sense of safety for integration. I felt so much anxiety and shame around my perception of LCSW being angry with me that I impulsively made a $500 donation to the center that I requested my employer match. My company later agreed to match my donation. I could not afford this donation, but I wanted to feel like LCSW was not angry with me for using the sliding scale services. the center later refunded my donation after reporting the harm. I requested this reimbursement, which I was grateful for as this was not a donation I was in any financial situation to make, and it was made on credit. I had made sure this donation was made privately and chose not to share my name as a donor with the center as I didn’t want LCSW to mention this to me because I didn’t want to talk about this uncomfortable situation with him. LCSW's phone was going off with a bell sound at the end of the session, and he apologized multiple times for this and said it shouldn’t be going off while he was messing with his phone. INTEGRATION 2 The second K appointment was canceled because LCSW had gotten sick. He had canceled an earlier preparation appointment because he had COVID, and I remember thinking he gets sick a lot. He wanted to keep our integration appointment and schedule it virtually, so we met via Google Meet. In his email coordinating this with me, he stated he would still “love” to have a virtual appointment. I didn’t like his use of the word love. He started the virtual appointment by overly complimenting my hair and telling me it looked good multiple times, making me uncomfortable. I remember I gave a cold and short “thanks.” He told me I had transformer hair and asked if I had recently changed my hair. I told him no, I was just wearing my hair up. I thought to myself that he was weird to make such a big deal about my hair and that I had worn my hair up around him before. In the background of his call was his bed in his bedroom, which I thought was strange and inappropriate. REACHING OUT FOR HELP On the evening a few days following integration 2, I asked my friend and mentor, a Naturopath Doctor, for advice. We scheduled an on-call, and I shared my concerns about this therapist. I wasn’t sure if I should approach LCSW with my fears about his behavior. She was extremely upset about the information I was sharing about my experience. She shared her knowledge about ethics as a provider and told me that this behavior was highly inappropriate and that she was worried about me. I remember her yelling out, “Don’t mess with my girl, fucker.” She asked me if I thought he was a predator. We came up with a plan that I would write out my concerns about LCSW’s behavior and share them with him during my next appointment. I did write this all out in my journal that evening. With Doctor's wisdom, I began to see that while experiencing this inappropriate behavior from LCSW before and during the altered state I was in using K, I had developed an addiction to the dysfunctional emotional state I would enter into when I experienced this abuse. I had been starving myself after my first KAP appointment, feeling high off the inappropriate attention, and having confusing feelings after experiencing the boundary crossing while on a psychedelic. I felt like the experience with LCSW was confusing my feelings surrounding love and solidifying my prior experiences that love is abuse. I was abusing myself, thinking I was loving myself. I wanted to look good, and since the abuse I experienced during my last preparation appointment at the end of Month, I had dropped four pant sizes. I was rapidly losing weight, which was noticed by my other care providers, who mentioned the change in weight to me. Since writing this in my journal and approaching my second KAP appointment, I have become very nervous about approaching LCSW with my concerns. I did not want to have this confrontation with him. I decided the night before that I was not going to read this to him unless there was another boundary crossing or sexually inappropriate interaction. KAP 2 Toward the beginning of my second KAP appointment, I asked LCSW about a stuffed animal bat he had on his bookshelf. He went into a very long-winded description of this bat. While looking at the bat in my opposite direction, he said that the wings were the PRIDE flag and the ears were the polyamorous flag. After sharing the polyamorous flag ears, he looked his right shoulder in my direction. I was staring at the wall across from me. I was worried about his intentions behind basically telling me that he is polyamorous. KAP 2 and integration 3. During these appointments, LCSW was more professional. He left his hair in a bun. He didn’t emphasize “spit or swallow.” He was normal when reading my blood pressure. I was so grateful that he had finally changed his behavior and respected these boundaries. I felt like he finally recognized how these behaviors affected me. I just had to manage my conflicting feelings around a part of me that felt like I had become addicted to this inappropriate attention. I was compassionate towards myself about that as I knew it made sense why I felt this way, that my experience was confusing, and that the psychedelic experience opened me up to feeling loving and caring to the therapist who I was feeling so unsafe with prior. I knew I could get help with this from my regular therapist and planned to discuss this during our next session. LCSW asked if I wanted the eye shade and headphones this time. I said I wanted to try them because hearing the lady in the room who shared a wall with LCSW, who worked with a different organization, and hearing him talk during my session last time was distracting. He said, “Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” LCSW was still sick during this appointment and was wearing a mask. I was annoyed that he was coughing during my experience, and I found that distracting even with the headphones. At the end of this session, I gave LCSW a gift of a mullein tincture that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness, extracted, and offered him a chance to try it. He asked me how to take it, and I shared the standard dosage of three dropper fulls three times a day and let him know to discontinue use if he had any side effects and when he no longer has symptoms of illness. Again, at the end of our appointment, we ended 15 minutes late. INTEGRATION 3 During our last session, I asked LCSW if he had tried the mullein tincture. He told me that he had taken it home, was using the standard tincture dosage, and was enjoying it. LCSW asked how it felt to have him respect my boundaries. He asked me this because he chose to be professional during one of our sessions. I told him I wasn’t sure if that was possible, but I was grateful for how he showed up yesterday. I had processed some of the imagery or hallucinations I experienced in KAP 2, including my cat, who had passed OE. I shared with LCSW how I chose OE because she was the only kitten in the litter who seemed to want me to hold her. He responded to this story by saying, “You picked each other.” I found his wording and response odd and worried that he was hoping that I would pick him in response to him picking himself as my therapist and picking me for a patient to be inappropriate with. I shared with LCSW that I was surprised that I did not feel a dissociative effect with K. I shared that I could feel my body more than I ever had before, and I was curious about this because I had spent most of my life dissociated from my body due to trauma. I gave examples of how other drugs would work oppositely for me than the general public. He responded to this by calling me an anomaly. I found this odd as I always thought that these effects were due to me being neurodivergent. For many people with ADHD, coffee can make them sleepy. I was uncomfortable with LCSW making comments like I was unique or one of a kind, and I didn’t think that was a healthy mindset I was seeking for myself. LCSW asked me to share something coming up that I wasn’t sure I felt safe talking about with LCSW. I told LCSW I was uncomfortable talking about this with him because he is a male-bodied person and because we had a weird dynamic. He nodded and said yes, I am a male-bodied person. I worded this like that because LCSW shared with me that he identifies as non-binary, so I did not want to refer to him as a man out of respect. I told LCSW about how I would wake up to my ex-boyfriend on top of me many times and how, eventually, I developed an injury from this repeated trauma that made it so I was unable to have sex without experiencing a lot of pain. LCSW had an angry outburst at this news and told me that I was raped and that it wasn’t consensual, and Name was loud and angry. This made me highly uncomfortable, and I shut down. LCSW asked me for the name of the man who did this to me. I gave him the name, and then I started to defend the person who did this to me because I don’t think LCSW took the time to understand the layers of this trauma, how much I loved the person who did this to me, and what factors were involved (alcohol) that made this person do things they wouldn’t normally do. LCSW started to calm down after this, as his anger triggered me. LCSW said he believed good people do bad things. LCSW asked me what gym I go to during this meeting. After reporting LCSW, I saw one of the therapists that worked for him at my gym, during a queer event, and I felt highly anxious that he was having people watch me. I have been going to this gym for seven years and have never seen this therapist before. At the end of the appointment, I offered LCSW a cottonwood bud oil extract that I had ethically wildcrafted from the wilderness and processed and extracted. I let him know, and it was labeled for external use only. I told him it was nice on this skin but that it should be tested on a small piece of skin first. He was grateful for this gift from me. He did not inform me that accepting patient gifts was inappropriate and did not uphold professional boundaries. I was not aware of these boundaries and ethics around gift-giving until after initially reporting sexual misconduct. I have text evidence about my ride from KAP 2. These texts were oddly missing from my text history, so my friend sent me screenshots of the messages she had on her phone. REACHING OUT FOR HELP & SUPPORT My friend who I first told about that harm I was experiencing followed up with the morning after KAP 2. After my integration appointment, I spoke with a friend at the sauna at my gym who went to school to become an LCSW and shared my experience with her. She told me that he had violated the code of ethics and that I was highly vulnerable. She then shared with me that her psilocybin guide had slept with her during their work together and that she had stopped her treatment with him. She asked me if I thought this was the first time he had done something like this. I had a panic attack in the locker room of my gym after talking to my friend. A week after KAP 2, I then shared my experience with my regular therapist, who also asked if I thought I was the first person he behaved this way with. She also informed that he had clear ethical codes. I had a panic attack during this session. The questions about LCSW being a predator remained in my mind. I knew his behavior as a therapist was inappropriate, and I wondered if the sometimes subtle nature of the experience and strange experience with his directions of “spit and swallow” could be accidental, especially when he repeated these behaviors even after I went into a shutdown state during my first experience with this behavior. I spent most of the night researching this kind of abuse. I am good at hyper-fixating and spending many hours researching a subject, quickly learning everything I can about it. I found many articles about grooming behaviors from therapists and emotional manipulation/therapy abuse that I felt uncomfortable with and how much I relate to them. These articles discuss the alleviation of symptoms of depression for victims due to the addictive nature of this inappropriate attention. I was pissed. I wanted to heal my brain, and I could not allow that to be based on a temporary response to the inappropriate attention I was receiving. I then read about how therapists sometimes adjust their behavior, becoming more professional after the patient shows some attachment or addiction to this behavior. The theory is that the patient will then approach the therapist and make the situation feel like a victim desires to have inappropriate interactions. I could not allow a situation like this when I had been so dedicated to healing for so many years of my life. I was highly agitated after learning more about this kind of abuse. I knew at this point that I was being deeply harmed and abused to an extent I couldn’t be fully aware of without the support of the people I spoke to about it and the knowledge of how this abuse affects victims. I planned to give myself time to process this new information before taking action. A week and one day after KAP 2, I had panic attacks in the waiting room of my doctor's office because I was struggling with the experience I had with LCSW and the knowledge I gained about the abuse I was experiencing. The doctor asked me about my experience with KAP, as I had listed K on my medications. It took me about an hour to tell her about my experience, but eventually, I was able to get it out of me between the tears and panic attacks. I did not want to report this to the doctor. I knew she would have to report him. I knew I would have to stop my therapy, and I did not want to give up this opportunity for KAP therapy. At the time, I also did not want to get LCSW in trouble, and a part of me felt incredibly guilty for telling this doctor about my experience. She was so amazing through this process. She spent about 2 hours with me, supporting me by sharing my experience. I had chosen this doctor for her indication of being trauma-informed; she had been patient, helpful, and understanding. She told me that I didn’t do anything wrong as I expressed my shame about how my feelings were confused once I had used a psychedelic with LCSW. She helped me come up with a safety plan. I knew I was in a very fragile state and thought it would be wise to have someone hold onto my K. She reached out to my doctors with my permission. She was able to get ahold of Prescribing Doctor, the prescribing doctor. On the day of my initial report to my doctor, I spoke to Prescribing Doctor on the phone, who works with Name. Prescribing Doctor is the prescribing doctor and is a part of the leadership team at the center. I was uncomfortable during this phone call with Prescribing Doctor; her tone was delighted and cheery. She told me she was in the middle of the forest in Locationwith joy and excitement. Her cheerful tone seemed highly inappropriate, given the circumstances, as I had just spent the day having panic attacks due to being groomed by her coworker. Later. I met with Prescribing Doctor in person. I asked Prescribing Doctor what was next after I reported the sexual misconduct. I shared with Prescribing Doctor how LCSW would disrespect my boundaries and continue to do so after I shut down in his office. Prescribing Doctor responded to this by saying, “he missed it.” I shrugged my shoulders in response. She reacted to my shrugging my shoulders by getting wide-eyed. Her reaction made me feel crazy and like she did not believe me. Prescribing Doctor then offered me a facilitated dialog with LCSW LCSW and offered that LCSW could bring the items I left in his office to my home, but I did not want that. I confirmed I did not feel comfortable having LCSW come to my house. It was an incredibly inappropriate thing even to suggest. Prescribing Doctor's notes do not include that the offering and idea of a facilitated dialog was her idea as a response to me asking what is next after reporting the sexual misconduct. She ignores my requests for this detail to be added to my record. The notes make it seem like it was my idea, which is not the case. I had no idea what a facilitated dialog even was before her offering it to me. Prescribing Doctor agreed to hold onto my medication and I could have it back whenever I felt ready. She later refused this unless I signed an NDA/release of all claims and when I shared my story more widely I was retaliated against and she claims she did this because I shared my experience of SI. I later was made aware that I wouldn't be able to take my life with K and that it is safe for this reason, and I would likely just take a long nap. I also had not had any thoughts about using K to hurt myself. I was later offered the facilitated dialog again with the Location team as part of a social justice framework. Cofounder and Psychiatrist informed me they could not provide it due to their insurance. That news was devastating, and I drove to a bridge to jump off it the next day but wasn’t brave enough to do so. I felt like the center had no idea how to handle my experience and report and was in a position to respond to it with care, and having something else offered to me by them and then taken away was traumatic. I think I held on to hope that I would get some kind of justice in the way that they had offered it to me, and having it taken away after experiencing something that broke me on a mental, physical, and spiritual level was not something I was in any position to handle. I was told multiple times over the course of reporting sexual misconduct by LCSW that the center and Prescribing Doctor had reported the sexual misconduct I experienced. It was only after some probing that I was made aware that any details regarding my experience had to come from me directly to the board and I felt that them not disclosing this to me without probing was a manipulation tactic to make me believe that the reporting was taken care of. I felt like the center was unwilling to uphold their signing of this document because they did not believe me. They allowed LCSW to continue to work in a leadership position. I have reported LCSW to the LCSW report and am sending this document to the LCSW Social Work Board in State. I have received support from SHINE and joined their peer support group for survivors of psychedelic harm. I am still seeking a regular therapist and am no longer working with my prior regular therapist due to her eating lunch during the last two therapy appointments. I have become hypervigilant for any signs of unprofessionalism from my care team after this sexual misconduct I experienced from LCSW. This experience with LCSW and the leadership team at the center of my city, has devastated my well-being. I came close to jumping off a bridge the day after getting the news about no longer being offered the Facilitated dialog. I have lost my trust in all people and my care team. I stepped away from therapy as I no longer feel safe in these dynamics. I fired all of my doctors and therapists. I started smoking cigarettes to try and help cope with the stress. Most days, I hope to die and don’t wish to continue living. I have angry outbursts where I would act on urges and exhibit behaviors that are abnormal for me. I lost all will to live, and most days, I don’t have the energy to care for myself. I would be amazed if I didn’t end up taking my own life in the next two years. The few people who care for me don’t know how to help me and comment on how hopeless I seem. Some of the people closest to me have stopped answering my calls or texts because they don’t know how to help me, and I have been in crisis for many days since Jan. 26th. I am trying many new psychiatric medications that are not helping me. The center and LCSW entirely abandoned me. I was not allowed to speak to LCSW. I had to wait many weeks between emails from the center. I was denied being matched with another therapist to help me understand the changes I was experiencing after two KAP sessions and experienced such sinister abuse and trauma from LCSW. My regular therapist, tried calling Prescribing Doctor so she could get information on how to support me better, but she has yet to get a callback. I asked the center for LCSW resignation.

    Community note

    This story contains references to self-harm or suicidal thoughts. If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out to a crisis helpline.

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    From a survivor

    Digging up the past is not always a bad idea

    I woke up a morning after a night at the bar, in a room I had never seen before, without my pants, and next to a boy I knew only in passing. My last clear memory was receiving and drinking about half of my second drink of the night: a vodka redbull. From there, I recall walking to the door of the bar around 10 PM, and then everything else was completely blank. My mouth was dry and my head was pounding - my vision was so blurry that when I stood up, it felt like I had stepped onto a rotating carnival ride. The boy in the bed rolled over, hungover, and when I panickly asked if anything happened last night, he smiled and said we fooled around for a while until I passed out. I felt so sick to my stomach at that moment that I almost puked. I stumbled down the stairs and out of the house, shivering the whole walk home as I tried desperately to see straight. The hangover was like nothing I have ever experienced before, throwing up for hours into the evening and hoping for death. I am sure that sounds like an exaggeration, but having experienced many, many hangovers before, this one felt like something different. I contacted friends at the second bar I apparently arrived at, and they told me how concerned they were for me, how I could barely stand, how when they asked me to drink some water and sit on a stool, I complied but had no life in my eyes. It was then, that "the boy from the bed" stepped in and offered to take me home. Since my friends were working, they agreed, believing the boy and I were friends. For so long, I felt so much shame about that night. I wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there because the anxiety was so overwhelming. My long-distance boyfriend at the time was understanding, but I could not even bring myself to talk to him about it. In truth, because I had no memory of the night, and it only made the panic and shame bubble up inside me more to think about it. So I locked the event away and decided to move on. But now 5 years later, that night has come back to haunt me. A few months ago, I kept closing my eyes and seeing him smiling in his bed and my lungs felt like they were constricting. I would sit in bed and feel paralyzed, trying desperately to remember a clue. Now, I write about it and talk about the night with friends and other victims. I still feel a lot of anxiety from it, but I no longer feel like a stupid drunk girl.

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    The Scars Remain, But I Rise: A Survivor's Story

    For over four decades, a heavy secret festered within me. As a male survivor of childhood sexual abuse by a family member, the shame is felt isolated and suffocating. The silence I held onto became a prison, but a voice now compels me to break free. A voice now compels me to break free, whispering, 'It's time to write this. Shattering this silence is a giant leap toward reclaiming my power and self-worth. It's like stepping out of a suffocating darkness and into the sunlight of self-belief and resilience. This journey, however, wouldn't be possible without the unwavering support of organization, organization 2, my incredible friends, and the organization 3. This journey demands immense courage – facing the pain, healing the wounds, and rewriting my story. Every step is a victory, a defiance against the shadows of the past. Breaking free opens the door to a future free from the burden of abuse, a future where I can build healthy connections and cultivate self-love. The healing journey might be challenging, but it's a powerful reminder of the human spirit's incredible ability to heal and transform. Though scars may remain, they do not define me. I am a survivor, and my story is one of courage and resilience. Forgiveness is a personal journey, and while I may choose to forgive, it does not erase what happened. The world may seem different now, but within me lies an incredible wellspring of resilience. My story is far from over. I will embrace the journey of healing, and know that with time, the light of self-love will shine ever brighter. I am worthy of a future filled with healthy connections, fulfilling experiences, and endless possibilities. With each step, I break free. The scars remain, a testament to my journey, but the light within me shines brighter than ever. The future is mine to write.

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    your body is beautiful. period.

    your body is beautiful. period.
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    Chapter 1.

    It is currently 2:00a.m. My child and fiancé are sound asleep in our bedroom, but I'm stuck at our kitchen island after an hour-long breakdown in a scolding hot shower. For some reason, I seem to think that showers fix everything... news flash: they don't. I'm a 22-year-old female on a very rough ride to peace. I have come a long way, but I still have so much farther to go. I hope this story lets others know that they are not alone. Instances like mine should not be so common. The chaos started when I was 8 years old. My childhood was completely ripped away from me in a matter of 30 minutes by someone I thought I could trust. My little brother and I were watching tv in my older half-brother's room. We were sitting on the floor and just enjoying each other's space... until my older half-brother patted on the bed for me to sit up there with him. I did what he asked because obviously the bed was going to be more comfortable to sit on than the floor. Before I could truly comprehend what was going on, I could feel my face burning a bright red color. That's when I realized a part of me was being touched that should not be touched by anyone. I immediately whispered to him, asking if I could use the restroom. He slid his hand out of my pants and let me use the bathroom. No 8-year-old should ever have to feel what I felt standing in that bathroom while looking at myself in the mirror. What was I supposed to do? My parents weren't home. I couldn't just run outside and tell a stranger. I can't tell my little brother... who's been sitting in the room with us the entire time. I did the only thing my young mind could think to do and that was to pull my pants up as high as they could possibly go. Unfortunately, that didn't stop him. He didn't stop until he whispered in my ear, asking if I wanted him to stop. I couldn't speak. I only nodded my head. I continued to sit there next to him as if nothing had happened. How stupid of me. I didn't tell anyone for two years. I was scared. I thought no one would believe me. My parents found out that he had been keeping drugs in our house, so they kicked him out. I finally got the courage to tell my mother. The first thing she said to me? "Are you sure?" Hah. Great. My mom thinks I would lie about this? I reassured her that I was sure and that I was serious. She immediately took me to the doctor, but what were they going to do? I waited two years to tell anyone, so we hired an attorney... and so begins the next chapter of chaos. This entire situation put my father in hard place, as we were both his children. My mom did 100% believe me, and I do think that her first reaction was out of shock. I remember being relentlessly questioned by various detectives and attorneys - like, to the point where I was questioning if I really do remember everything or if it even did happen. I can't tell you how many times I told my story. The same story. Over and over and over. I was tired. I was losing my mind. I was 11 years old at this time. I was still a child. My family had always been extremely close, and I felt like I was the reason everyone was fighting and hating each other. I had always been very close to my grandmother and grandfather... but, they ended up hiring an extremely good attorney for him. Everyone's relationships with each other were being burnt at both ends... because of me. So, what do I do? I wanted to stop the hate. Stop the chaos. I wanted to try to live a semi-normal life even if it meant I had to make severe sacrifices. At 12 years old, I decided to drop the charges. The state tried to pick up the case, but I had a breakdown and simply asked them not to because I just couldn't go on like I was. At 22, I have a lot of anger towards the little girl that chose not to continue on with the charges. I'm upset that I chose to sacrifice my happiness and peace for everyone else's. I'm angry that I still have to associate with him and act like nothing ever happened. I'm hurt that many don't believe me because I did choose to drop the charges. I am absolutely livid that I may never have peace. To this day. the only person that I know 100% believed me is my mother. I really think that everyone else assumes I got angry with him and just decided to come up with this disgusting story to try and get even... but, I was not an angry child. I didn't even know what was happening to me while it was happening. I didn't really even know it was such a terrible thing until I mentioned something to my best friend 2 years after the incident. I am trying to heal. I truly am. I wish that someone would have told me how much ugly crying is involved. I wish I didn't have to heal, honestly. I wish events like this just didn't happen. This is just one story out of my book. This is just one abuser on my list. If I can't heal from this one - the one that happened over a decade ago... how am I supposed to heal from the rest?

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    Grounding activity

    Find a comfortable place to sit. Gently close your eyes and take a couple of deep breaths - in through your nose (count to 3), out through your mouth (count of 3). Now open your eyes and look around you. Name the following out loud:

    5 – things you can see (you can look within the room and out of the window)

    4 – things you can feel (what is in front of you that you can touch?)

    3 – things you can hear

    2 – things you can smell

    1 – thing you like about yourself.

    Take a deep breath to end.

    From where you are sitting, look around for things that have a texture or are nice or interesting to look at.

    Hold an object in your hand and bring your full focus to it. Look at where shadows fall on parts of it or maybe where there are shapes that form within the object. Feel how heavy or light it is in your hand and what the surface texture feels like under your fingers (This can also be done with a pet if you have one).

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Ask yourself the following questions and answer them out loud:

    1. Where am I?

    2. What day of the week is today?

    3. What is today’s date?

    4. What is the current month?

    5. What is the current year?

    6. How old am I?

    7. What season is it?

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Put your right hand palm down on your left shoulder. Put your left hand palm down on your right shoulder. Choose a sentence that will strengthen you. For example: “I am powerful.” Say the sentence out loud first and pat your right hand on your left shoulder, then your left hand on your right shoulder.

    Alternate the patting. Do ten pats altogether, five on each side, each time repeating your sentences aloud.

    Take a deep breath to end.

    Cross your arms in front of you and draw them towards your chest. With your right hand, hold your left upper arm. With your left hand, hold your right upper arm. Squeeze gently, and pull your arms inwards. Hold the squeeze for a little while, finding the right amount of squeeze for you in this moment. Hold the tension and release. Then squeeze for a little while again and release. Stay like that for a moment.

    Take a deep breath to end.