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

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

Fuck every single one of you motherfuckers. Fuck what you did to me. Fuck what you said to me. Liars. Manipulators. Gaslighters. Heart breakers. Rapist .Takers. Evil. All these voices in my head get loud, I wish I could shut them out or kill them. Get out. Die. Go to hell. An empty void of nothingness. Everything that was and is, is gone. It never existed. I blend in with the darkness. I can't tell the difference between his hands and everyone else's. Trapped in that moment forever. Tainted. Fucking sickening. Maybe if I died, everyone would be happy. Burden free. A dead person can't feel pain. Another body in the graveyard. That's all I'll be. I need to get out. I need a way out.

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

five months after my first period, I sent my first nude. I was eleven years old dating a girl I met on xbox , thirteen. i see her years later on tiktok, living a happy life with a new partner feeling nostalgic for the year we shared. i feel anger despite knowing she is just another cog, another victim, but she put me through that cycle too. i was eleven, she was complimenting my newly developing curves and chest, i still wore a training bra. i feel so small in my trauma, it was through snapchat, xbox live , she never touched me, she never molested me, but i still feel those phantom arms wrapping around my sides, i still feel her eyes leering at me when i catch a glimpse at myself in the bathroom mirror in the moments before it fogs up. i still feel so horrible about what she did to me, i feel so angry about what she did, i doubt she meant to hurt me like this, we were so young. i'm an adult now, same as she. sometimes i find myself wanting to contact her again, to ask, "why?". part of me misses her, part of me wants to scream at her, part of me wants to have a civil conversation. i wish it were easier.

I used to think rape was what you'd see in movies. Jumped on by a stranger and violently assaulted. Turns out I was wrong. I have been raped on multiple occasions and didn't fully understand it until I got older and wiser and also found out that I'm autistic. This is what helped me to understand what had really happened. I learned and studied autism in girls and women and figured it out from there. I was vulnerable and impressionable and masked so much that I was a completely different person on the outside than who I really was on the inside. When I was younger and had no clue that I was being preyed upon due to my vulnerability and started to pretend as though I just liked sex and was willingly promiscuous. It was a lie I told myself and my friends so that I didn't have to face the fact I couldn't and didn't know how to say no and mean it. There is flight, fight and also freeze. So many times I was telling them no and when they didn't stop I just froze and realised that my voice was pointless and they weren't listening to me. It was easier to allow them to finish without fighting and having it be violent too. I didn't realise how badly the mental impact would be. One particular night I was out in a bar and a few of us went back to a house party. One guy was showing interest in me and I actually liked it. We kissed and had fun and then he led me to a bedeoom and I hesitated but ended up going in. When he started to undress me I held my dress and said no. I said it so many times and he started to get really rough and forceful and started saying things to me about leading him on and what did I think was going to happen and I just wanted it rough. I realised that no matter what I said, sex was going to happen so I had two options, fight and be both violently and sexually assaulted or just have the sex without any further resistance which would mean that I'd be only sexually assaulted without the extra violence. I chose the latter and for a long time I believed that I just had sex that night. I now realise that was absolutely rape. It's played with my mental health for over ten years and I'm ready to acknowledge what happened to me instead of being in denial.

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

He was 53. I was 20. He was my professor, an ex-cop. I didn’t trust him at first. But he worked hard to open me up. He noticed the cracks, the places I was already vulnerable, and pressed on them. I was away from home, dealing with multiple tragedies, withdrawn, guarded, and craving someone who might actually listen. He positioned himself as that person, the one who understood me when no one else did. At first, it didn’t look like abuse. It looked like attention. Being called on in class, asked to stay afterward, seeing me and my wounds, and being told I had potential. It was meticulous. Slowly, the attention became personal. He asked questions no professor should. He touched me without consent - digging his thumb into my collarbone, grabbing my neck, kicking my butt, brushing up against me, physically blocking me. He commented on my body and my clothes. He admitted he had feelings he “couldn’t say or act on.” He went out of his way to prove he could be trusted. He framed my hesitation as a lack of trust and made me feel guilty when I pulled away. He isolated me. He criticized my boyfriend, planted wedges in my relationships. He gave me a simple object he had worn himself, framing it as a reminder “to be himself.” I thought of it that way too, but it became clear it was more like a collar, a way to own me. He noticed when I didn’t wear it. He told me about his dead ex and compared me to her, as if I was supposed to fill her place. He said he thought about me often. He bragged about meeting women in their early twenties at bars - the same age I was. He suggested I should come to his house so I could “feel safe.” He even admitted he kept a list of things written down about me. I saw him as a mentor, sometimes even a father figure. But he refused that. Instead, he tried to reframe the relationship, grooming me to see him in a way that served his desires. There were nights after class when it was just us. He wanted me to walk him to his car. Looking back, I believe that if my friend hadn’t shown up on a few of those nights, something worse would have happened. His eye contact was suffocating, unblinking, sharp, and intimidating. He looked at me in ways that pinned me down, made me freeze - ways that made me feel both seen and trapped. He presented himself as invincible, even bragging he could make himself out to be a “scary person.” On a video call, I’m almost certain he was trying to push me toward doing things. That’s when he asked if I had ever been sexually assaulted before, using it like leverage. He revealed his preferences, and made it clear he didn’t like when women told others about their relationship. When I confronted him once, he said people always painted him as the “villain.” He said it like he was the one who had been wronged. And even then, I felt guilty, like I had hurt him. That’s how strong his hold was. For a year and a half, I stayed in that cycle - sick around him but convinced he was the only one who understood me. The cracks in his mask eventually showed, and his grip loosened when I started calling him out and speaking the truth he worked so hard to bury. I finally ran. I was so drained, stripped of myself, that I couldn’t survive another round of his wicked game. I reported him more than once. The first time, nothing was done. Later, even after he lost his job for unrelated reasons, he tried to pull me back in - even asking me to be a reference for jobs working with children. I reported him again because I feared he would keep targeting students. That time, he was trespassed, but it still didn’t feel like it ended. I still fear I'll run into him. I carried guilt. Shame. Silence. I didn’t tell my anyone for a long time. I thought silence would erase it. Instead, it gave the abuse more room inside me. And I still ask: What was this? Was it sexual assault, even if it never looked “obvious” enough? Was it my fault? Is it all in my head? Is this valid since wasn't underage? Was any of it real? I’m still learning how to feel safe. How to exist in my body without flinching. How to wear clothes without wondering if fabric is an invitation. How to hold eye contact without feeling exposed. How to believe attention doesn’t always come with a price. How to let silence feel peaceful instead of dangerous. How to stop scanning every room for the nearest exit. How to trust my gut. And how to never let someone treat me like that again. I’m still learning how to live in a world altered by his eyes, his hands, his words, and to believe I am not forever marked by them, or by men like him.

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

I met my abuser Month, Year at a indinginous pipe ceremony. The community met often. I would speak to him and his wife on occasion. I realized later that he was there to recruit people for his medicine retreats, his tantra events and he would search out his victims. What a better place where there are impressionable people wanting to heal, looking for something to help. He would tell me I needed to try mushrooms, to help with my depression and anxiety. I did stop taking my antidepressants on Date cause another person of “good standing” in our community was offering iboga and also was promising that would help me. I never did an iboga ceremony with that group but in Month, Year, I could not go to a retreat that my abuser and his wife were offering. the retreat was out in City, State and they thought they would include me by offering me my own private journey. my abuser offered to come to my house and he would hold a mushroom ceremony for me.. 4 people including my abuser showed up at my house one Friday night. I remember I was so excited cause these people who seemed so knowledgeable and respected were singling me out and I felt special. Except when they showed up it felt weird. I took a small amount of chocolate and a couple of hours in I still did not feel much. He offered me more. The night was uncomfortable but I kept thinking, these people know what they are doing, they have my best interest in their hearts. I’m not sure they really did. They left me around midnight that night. The medicine hit me just as they were all leaving. I was completely alone, tripping out. It was a long night. The next day, no one texted or phoned to check in with me. I just went through the next few days feeling pretty lost. My abuser, his wife and I continued to do indigenous ceremonies together, Hapey, pipe ceremonies, sweat lodges. By 2018, we had been hanging out socially a lot. My abuser started to offer psychedelic meetups at his house. I could not go to the first few because of work but my work schedule changed in the spring. I could go to the meet ups. I started to learn about the psychedelic movement and all these medicines had to offer. Name of Organization was steamed into one of our meetings, he had this vision and I wanted to be part of it. I found out my abuser was teaching Tantra. What’s that? I was curious. Another way for me to explore who I was. I started to go to his tantra events. It was fun, I was hanging out with the abuser and his wife and they knew how to have fun. It became my life. My abuser started coming out to my town. Asked if I wanted to meet for beers. He was paying lots of attention to me. I heard about the struggles he was going through with his marriage and how psychedelics and the lifestyle, being polyamourus was helping my abuser and his wife. I’m not sure where the offer came from but My abuser was telling me how he help break me open sexually and we could do private sessions. The first meeting, We met for super and a beer. He came to my house. We undressed and I sat, facing him. We hugged and did circular breathing exercise together to calm down. We talked about our desires, boundaries and fears. I remember him telling me he didnt want to get an erection because in the teaching he should not have one but he did already. I laid down and he did a youni massage on me. All the attention on me. I could not believe someone wanted to give me all this attention. I must be pretty special. We had been meeting every other week for a few months for sessions. He came for a session one night. He asked me if I wanted to be involved in his business of selling microdose online. Hell yes I did. Out of the all the people in the community, he picked me to help him. I felt special. That night when we did our session it was different. Up till that time he only massaged me, no penis vagina contact. That night I felt him insert himself. We did not discuss this. I froze for a bit but I continued to let him do what he wanted. If I said no I lost what he was offering. I remember thinking I’m selling my soul to the devil! I remember feeling confused. I was excited cause I was going to be part of something big but I felt violated. We continued our sessions but they just turned into sex. He wanted to have a relationship with me but not be a couple. I was so entwined in his life. I did everything with my abuser and his wife. Month, Year, My abuser and his wife were going on vacation and they needed me to do the mailing and keep the microdose business going, he was letting me into his very secret life. I killed that job will they were gone. I showed my abuser that I could handle his business. That was his baby and he was proud of it. It was one of the 3 most successful microdose businesses online at that time in Country. Abuser Name, my abuser was one of the companies selling the stamets stack that Abuser Name would eventually send a legal letter to to stop selling the stamets stack And you continued to support him through speaking at his conferences and I see you are coming to his conference in may in City along with Name. The site was Website. It’s been taken down in the last year. We continued to hangout, sell drugs together. I realized that I was helping to support him and his wife’s life. She was a tantric(sex worker) And between her And I, I'm sure we paid the bills. I helped over years with the psychedelics meetups, retreats, helped start and run his conference and did lots of work to make that happen, did medicine with him in group settings and in private and helped start his business plus many other things. I helped at the community events that he created. He was from a very religious background and had since left the church and claimed he needed community. He started these communities to find his victims. He picks people who are vulnerable and uses their skills or their connections. He then drops them especially if they do not agree with him. Over the years he would sometimes treat me very special as long as I conformed to his rules, he needed me. He would one minute be very attentive to me and then next he would punish me for talking to someone about us or speaking out of line. He would take away sex, medicine, eventually he took the microdose business. He was starting to gain moumentum in the legal psychedelic world. He started a businesss in Year that trains therapist to hold psychedelic space here in City . Then he stared to get exemptions from the Country government to give people psilocybin for their end of life distress. Now he is being given clinical trails to give front line care givers medicine. His dream was coming true. He wants to run retreat Centers. He found an investor to buy a resort in Country. That was short lived as business went bankrupt and he had a incident down there with a shibo hitting on clients. During the time of his start up he started to really distance himself from me. He only contacted me when he needed help and tried to keep me just involved enough. I ran Facebook pages for him and still had the microdose business. In Year, he asked me to take a bigger part in the microdose business because he had to distance himself from the ilagel business. That changed. He came out to my place one day and said he sold it and I was done. I called bullshit. That was his pride and joy. He sold it to his son. I was a threat. He still talked to me and we met for beers once in awhile. I was even invited to some social events at his house. Date Year, I went to a party at his house. It was a bit of a weird feeling going on. He dropped his wife while dancing. She hit her head pretty hard. An hour later I was looking for him as it was almost midnight. I walked in on him and his newest victim finishing having sex. He ran out the room. I looked at her and told her she should run from him. He’s dangerous. She is part of the community he started. She has money, is indigenous and has connections in that community, he needs her to get with the indigenous community. Midnight hit that night, he was still friendly, even tried to kiss me. We were suppose to go out in the new year. One day he sent a message that he could not meet and blocked me on all social media. He never did give me an answer why. Probably cause I found out about him and the other women. This is when the universe started to show me who I was involved in. Actually the universe was talking to me all along but I was not listening. I would have mushroom journeys facilitated bu my abuser and his wife. In those journeys, I would get messages from the medicine. The medicine was yelling at me to get away from him. I even I had a journey where I had snake coming out of me and then later actually seeing him as a rapist. That journey I sat up on my mat and he was sitting in front of me and I was freaking out but could confide in no one. No one was safe. I started to open my eyes after that. What has unfolded over the last 11 months. I was going to integrations circles with a lady. She would travel with me. We talked. I found out one day, she wanted to end her life because of a relationship she had with My abuser in the summer of Year. She had heard stories of a lady who caused him lots of stress.She did not know it was me until I shared my story one night with her. That was the first lightbulb moment. I heard another story about more emotional abuse from another lady, who pointed out he’s a predator. He likes to find women in vulnerable positions in communities he develops and then he takes them sexually and mentally. vStories kept showing up to me. I wasn’t looking for the stories. He contacted me in Month to have a mediation meeting. The mediator was a lady who is a therapist and knew both of us. I did not feel comfortable so I asked my support person to come. I’m glad I did as I will tell you some info about the therapist in a minute. We had the meeting. I did well speaking for myself. He eventually admitted the meeting was not to apologize but make sure that I stay silent. Nothing was solved. I find out he recorded the meeting. Next came a letter of cease and disest. It was a threat. He had his conference coming up in City, Province, and he was going to the government to talk about clinical trials. he did not want me speaking, cause I know to much. That proved to me my story is worth sharing. I have recently found out that the therapist that mediated the talk we had in Month has had sexual relations with him in the same way as me, through tantra sessions.. I used her as a therapist 2 years ago. I could not go deep enough with her for some reason, I did not understand at the time. She also writes for his therapist training program. That one hurt deep. Over the years of being involved with my abuser. I have suffered. I lost about 70lbs in a short time, my anxiety was so high as I never knew from one minute to the next if he was going be hot or cold to me. I did not know who to trust as people in the community would go back and tell him what I said. He always seemed to know what I was doing, what I was saying. He would talk to me and then ignore me for periods of time. This is a common thing with the other women I have talked to. They felt like he was following them, watching them. He always knew what we were doing I was vulnerable with trauma. He made promises to heal. He used that promise as a position of power and exploited it to get me into a sexual relationship. He broke me down and got into my psyche, he used substances to heal me to break me open and worm inside every aspect of me: body, mind, heart, soul, even financial survival. He is sneaky and manipulative and good at it. Name's desire to develop acronym stems from personal experiences with psychedelics that “brought him to his knees” and forced him to face his ego. He aligns himself with people such as Name,who wrote some material for his company. microdose, and a few others. I never understood why he picked me. Maybe cause I was well liked and respected in the community. I showed up. I lost my self. Hard to trust anyone when everyone’s connected in the community. 10 minutes is not long enough to share this story but it is a start. It took a lot to get here. I’m grateful that I found somewhere to share my story and I feel like I’m just beginning to share. I struggle with relationships. As soon as one little red flag comes up, I sabotage, it’s hard. Update. I told my story publicly, Month, Year at the Conference Name conference. Since then I recorded a podcast, took part in a documentary, to be released next year, and had two articles written about my abuser and his company. My story got some attention and in Month, Year he was arrested for sexual assault. The trial will be in Month, Year. He stepped down from his company as CEO and Company Name does not exist anymore.

I got drugged on a festival and ultimately it ended up with me performing sex with a stranger without me even being conscious. I went to the festival with three of my friends. One was already asleep when a drunk guy came to our tents. He was searching for his friend, he said but then he asked if he could stay with us a bit. He was kinda funny and pretty drunk so we thought as a group that it would be okay to give him some water and let him be with us a bit. After some time my remaining awake friends said they wanted to shower and left me alone. That's the last thing I can remember clearly. The rest is in snippets. I can remember him giving me something to drink and I drank. Then I remember him kissing me. And ultimately I woke up the next morning, naked in his tent. My friends searched for me the whole night and were really pissed, that I went with him, without telling anybody and I felt horrible for making them feel that way, so I kinda forgot that I had no memories of this incident and thought for a year or so that I was just a really bad friend, who walked off with a random drunk guy and made my friends worry. Just after that first year I started dating my SO and told him the story. He looked at me, hugged me tightly and said that this is awful. That's the first time I thought about the incident a bit more and tried to understand what happened. It was a shock for me, that he got angry at my friends because in my book they were the ones that did nothing wrong. The more I thought about though, the more I understood: he gave me some kind of drug, that basically knocked me out and had sex with me. I got raped. And this was even more of a shock. I'm still in my healing process. The memories sometimes still haunt me but way less then they did before. I still feel ashamed sometimes but I'm at a point where I can turn the train of thought around and tell myself that I don't have to be. I really hope that sharing my story will help others in one way or another and I can certainly say that it will help me be more open with my story.

It is still difficult for me to look back on my story and not feel that shame and embarrassment that I linked with the events time and time again. Difficult, but not impossible. My story is not one isolated incident, it is three stories piled into one. Some would say “I did not learn my lesson the first time”. Despite those people, I will share the entirety of my story. Gory details and all. For the first time today. And as painful, as challenging, as inevitability “embarrassing” as the past may be, it needs to be told. I have come to believe there is strength in sharing. Power. There is the potential for healing. 15. My high school crush invited me to the homecoming game and then dance. What fifteen year old girl wouldn’t be thrilled. The beginning of the night was wonderful, and my feelings continued to grow. Then my crush decided to pursue more than me, he decided to pursue being intimate. Physically. I knew I was nowhere near ready. But it turns out it was not up to me. One day at lunch he tried to touch me. I was firm, telling him ‘no’. Despite the observable anger reading across my face, he tried again. I reacted, with a slap across the check and a quick exit. We never spoke again. 19. After spending a year together, I ‘knew’ he was the one. This was the man I would marry. We planned to spend time together like any other Saturday night when he was home from school, only this time his parents would not be home. We started to kiss, then we started to progress. When he insinuated going further, I honestly answered that I did not know if I wanted to. He responded with seemingly-kind false reassurance, “don’t worry, it will be okay. I love you”. I did not known what I wanted. What was best for me. So I told him, and he echoed back “don’t worry, it will be okay. I love you”, as if I had not spoken at all. I watched his frustration build as I finally stopped objecting. I was afraid he would stop loving me. He did, that night when he stole my virginity. 23. About one month and several dates later, he had already pushed boundaries. I was uncomfortable, but convinced myself that if I had not yet been clear, then how would he know the limits? It was not his fault, so I forgave him for pushing. The red flags were there. But so was being desperate to find love. So I ignored the warning signs in pursuit of a relationship. Despite my gut feeling, I invited him over that night with the intention of cooking us dinner, followed by a movie. At this point, I was not ready for our physical relationship to move beyond kissing. I was not ready. I was very clear. When I told him about my past, he responded with a tone of understanding, apologizing again and again for anything that may have been too far. Yet during the movie, he suggested seeing my bedroom. I quickly disregarded the option, saying it had to be an early night. It was a work night, so let’s finish the movie. He was persistent. And I stood my ground. At some point, he self-justified going to my room without my permission. Keeping it light, I suggested we continue the movie as I casually followed. When he tossed me onto the bed, I laughed, nervously. Then as I tried to get up, I felt his hands push against me. He forced me back down and started to kiss me. My memory is scattered at best from this moment forward. I have no memory of how my body ended up fully on the bed. I have no memory of his clothes coming off. I have no memory of my own clothes coming off. I do remember pleading as he laid on top of me, “Please, don’t”. Again, “Please don’t”. He gently lied in my ear, “Don’t worry. I won’t”. He stole my sense of safety that night. In my own home, my own room, my own bed. When looking back at my past, the people in it, the choices that were made for me—I could see darkness. I could feel hopelessness. And while I have, but I do not today. Since these moments in time, my brokenness has been transformed into a mission. My voice used to help others. My experiences making an impact. I now choose to see power, strength, even beauty in my story.

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

I just recently graduated with an associate's degree in healthcare Management. Upon entering my first job out of school I experienced sexual exploitation online and in person as well as defamation harassment verbal and psychological abuse and spiritual warfare. It was reported multiple times and eventually it was turned around on me. I had a group of girls that ganged up on me inside the workplace and made me dislike going to work each day. I was discouraged humiliated and violated online and in person putting my safety at risk because of the sexual nature that I was being discussed online. My supervisors were made aware of it and actually bore witness to it. They made the statement that my coworkers online activity had no prevalence in the workplace even if it caused me harm and put my safety at risk and I do not even have an online presence. I was eventually terminated for voicing my concern of feeling unsafe and that I might fall under a terrorist attack at any time at work or followed home. In which case after my termination I did have things around my home that were vandalized. I was also the victim of bank fraud through the same individual who made a bank account on LinkedIn and Phish me to work from home while making me experience all these things at work to make me want to leave. Even after I was terminated for reporting this abuse that lasted for over 30 days the individual continued to deface me and attack me and smear me online putting my safety at risk. Nobody wants to interview me or hire me because of this individual and I feel like the entity that I just left is responsible as well because they did not do anything to reprimand her behavior. I no longer want to pursue or am excited about pursuing a career with the degree I just obtained after having to endure these things in a place that was supposed to keep me safe from this behavior.

I got out of an abusive relationship. It wasn’t till I left there was physical abuse and emotional abuse. Even if the physical was minimal. I’m so glad to be apart of a group of women who are healing. Healing is hard, it’s been countless sleepless nights, extra periods, and nightmares over and over. But the reward of being free is so much better than anything I could’ve imagined. I don’t wish to ever be back in that, and am glad I left every day

The day before my thanksgiving break I was on the bus ride home (school bus, not public transportation), I usually tend to sit towards the back because thats where my other friends would sit most of the time. The bus isn't overcrowded as it usually is because not many people came to school, so it was just me who was 12 at the time and in 7th grade, my other 7th grade friend ill call him "T" who was also 12/13 and an 8th grader sitting behind me, i'll call him "M" who was 13/14. I sat all the way in the back one seat ahead of the last one, M was behind me. I'm scrolling on my phone waiting until we get to my stop, not long before we leave school T starts making odd remarks about how he's gonna SA me and touch me, sometimes people around me would joke like this and not do anything so i didn't pay it much attention and went back to looking at my phone. Eventually he comes into the seat next to me and starts making more inappropriate remarks about how he's gonna feel me up on my chest, thighs and other private areas. One thing to mention is that I was already kinda scared of T because of his physical strength, so I try moving but he just pushes me against the window and tries to start touching me. I don't let him get too far with it until M starts assisting my "friend" in the act by holding me down and moving my arms away from my body so I could be freely touched. I screamed but nobody from the front of the bus seemed to hear me or they just assumed it was just someone being weird or playing around. I tried recording the things he was saying but he noticed and took my phone and threatened to throw it out the window, but for the time being he just threw it to the seat across the aisle from us. I emailed my teacher about what happened but I knew she wouldn't see my message until we came back to school, which was about 4 days later. Once those 4 days were up, I gave her more information, she told our grade level assistant principal and nothing proceeded to happen, i waited days, weeks, eventually it was a month that had passed and i just gave up on getting them in trouble. I don't remember crying or anything of the sort, and i didn't tell the bus driver, we coincidentally had a substitute one that day and they still had another route to do after us so they couldn't do much about it themself either. I can't tell if i was really impacted by it or not, it was just weird especially since I considered T to be my friend and M to not be that much of a weirdo. A year after all of this went down, still nothing, but by then I had fully stopped caring. I didn't tell my parents because I didn't want them to overreact, I mean this is serious but I felt like I wasn't that harmed by it. I was also frightened of the idea of T and M trying to fight me or do it again if they were to get suspended and come back afterwards. I confronted both of them after our break in front of other people, they thought it was weird but they didn't seem to care much or want to do anything about it. I'd say now i'm fine, its been a while and I don't feel the need for therapy, I just wanted them to get in trouble for what they did. My 8th grade year I proceeded to stay away from T as much as possible, but our bus was smaller and we're in the same grade so it wasn't totally accomplishable. I'm not really sure what to do about this now, maybe eventually i'll tell one of my family members what happened but today is not one of those days and tomorrow isn't either.

This happened back in 2023. I had met this guy through my sister because she had told me that he had seen my picture and had asked about me and wanted to talk to me. At the time I was living out of state, so we were talking and we got together a couple days later. During the time that I was living out of state I had to be on the phone with him 24/7 if he was home and I wasn't at work which should've been the first red flag, but the second red flag should've been when he didn't let me go out drinking with my parents on my 21st birthday and told me I had to be on video chat with him during my birthday party. A couple weeks after my birthday I moved back to my home state to be with him and things were going fine at first. But then things started progressively getting worse, the first job I got when I got back he also got a job there because he didn't trust me being alone. I couldn't go to my therapy appointments alone, I couldn't go to the store alone, I wasn't allowed to have friends but yet he was allowed to talk to other girls, I wasn't allowed to go to work alone when I got a new job even though it was an hour away from where we were living. It eventually got to the point where he had introduced me to a few of his friends over video chat and one night he had gotten drunk and accused me of cheating on him with one of his friends when I was in the other room making a Tik Tok video, we got in a fight and when I was trying to leave he grabbed ahold of my bag and shoved me into the bathtub. As I was trying to leave after that he took my phone and wouldn't give it back to me, he tried breaking it and was doing everything in his power to keep me from leaving the house. When I finally was able to leave and just go for a drive he was blowing my phone up trying to call me and when I went back to the house and decided to sleep on the couch until his mom got back from work he knew I was talking to a friend and he told me to choose between him and the friend. When I went into the bedroom to sleep for the night because I had given up with the fighting he took my phone while I was asleep and blocked that friend which I didn't realize until I left him 2 days later but the following day acted like nothing was wrong except wouldn't offer to buy me anything at the mall even though I was the one that drove us there and paid for gas to get there. When I finally got the courage to leave him it was because I had to go to work one day and as always he forced his way along. When we got to my work I was told that I wasn't needed that day which meant I was able to go home, the only issue with that was that I didn't have enough gas in my car to get home and not enough money to put gas in the car. So I called my mom and stepdad who live in another state and asked for help but told them what was happening and decided that day that I was done with everything. My mom told me that she would only help me if I left him which with the help of her I was able to. After I dropped him off I made my way to a safe location in town and locked my car waiting to be able to go get my stuff, while I was waiting he walked from his house to where I was parked and tried to get me to talk to him. After I finally left for good he was blowing my phone up calling and texting asking if I was seriously leaving.

when i was 5 my family came from Nigeria and as soon as they came my uncle which is just 4 years older than me kept touching me he would say things like lets play mums and dads and then will hump me and say that's what mum and dads do or will slap my bum and kiss on my neck it was quite odd to me everytime they visited this will happen he will say stuff to me like we play vampire game to rub on my private parts and kiss my neck and chest when I was 9 or 10 I travelled with them to another country but he just got worse he nearly even tried having s*x with me he would rub his penis on my private parts and kiss and slap my bum his sister who was younger than me also tried doing the same i recently found out she did it with my sister and cousin . this made me very hyper sexual at a young age and I would constantly use my body to get what I wanted it affects me a lot he texted me a few weeks ago and said he was a child and I should respect him because he's older than me and forgive and forget this is seriously ruining my life as my mum doesn't believe me and because I got caught doing things with my body she believes I initiated it or liked it...

I was ran through before I even became a woman. I cant remember anything from my early childhood besides random snippets of conversations, arguments between my parents, and blurred pictures. I think now I finally understand why. It started when I was around 5 and lasted up until around 10. My grandma was a drug addict back then, and since no one else could watch me after school and on breaks, I was always with her. I loved her, I didnt understand her lifestyle at all and followed her just about anywhere I could. We always went on crazy adventures that, before today, I would look back on with a sort of nostalgic wonder. The memories were strange, almost like a book you would read in elementary school because thats how my brain processed all traumatic memories I think- they were altered into fairytales. One memory in particular, however, had no fairytale elements. A friend of my grandma's she always hung around was tall, I remember never being able to see his face- kind of like those old children's cartoons' portrayal of adults. He always had a stench to him and a slur in his speech. The first day I met him, I was wearing my favorite striped dress and my hair done in pigtails with red ballies. I was happy with myself that day, I got so many compliments, so many stares- but for some reason, only his stares and compliments terrified me. He was touchy, his breath was thick with alcohol and other substances ill never know the name of. He wasnt the only man who did this to me. I came into contact with many men after that, all just a drugged up and drunk as the last. If they harassed me, my grandma wouldn't care- she was probably under the influence of her own stuff. I vaguely remember some phrases- a man teaching me how to kiss with tongue, another man giving praise for using my mouth on him, and I never remembered any of it the next day. The acts I did, however, stuck with me. I would often touch myself and rub my private parts on things in my room, sucking on things that resembled genitalia. I was incredibly hypersexual, I even put my head down at school and "made out" on tables while having my pants pulled down from my hips and hump nothing. It's been affecting me ever sense, I dont know what to do. Every time an older man looks at me a dread thats almost paralyzing. I cant stand being touched anymore now that I remember, which im scared to convey because I've always been super touchy (not in an intimate way) with my friends- I dont know how to tell them. I zone out a lot, but now its more frequent and I'm scared it will get worst. Please, if you have any advice, share it. I cant let this ruin my life and it was so long ago.