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Being a girl is not fair I am a 32 year old woman abused more that once when I was younger. It was the first abuse that had the butterfly affect of leading me to the rest. When I was twelve I wanted to earn money. My parents did not believe in allowance for doing chores. I could not work legally until I was fourteen unless it was a newspaper route waking up before dawn. My Uncle--my Dad’s brother--hired me to work at his appliance repair shop. He was the only one we knew who had a business. Soon after I started, part of the job was letting him give me massages. He molested me a little more each time until he was using his mouth on my privates. He would masturbate while he did. I let him do this for weeks while he changed me and distorted me. Then he made me use my mouth on him. I did it ONE time. I vomited after. I reported him to my parents. The were caring and supportive, and angry at him. But not angry enough to do anything but let me stop working there. He apologized to me in the kitchen with my parents there. Me floating adrift in lava while the Gods decided my fate. I barely remember it. He stayed in our lives with almost no change. I went back to normal. On the surface. But I was not the same, and become more afraid of things. The dark, being alone, silence. In the coming years I fooled around with boys in ways I might not have. I may not have been that type of girl but felt compelled. I was fifteen when I had a boyfriend my age that I secretly had sex with almost daily. I loved him. He dumped me. More issues. Age seventeen. High school senior. Dyed blue-streaked hair down to my butt. Emo. Skinny. Flat chest. Was drinking and smoking put by then. But not THAT NIGHT. I Walked out of a Pink concert I had gone to with my cousin and her friends. Something upset me and I left. Night time. Part of the city I don’t know. No plans. Maybe go back to the concert after getting my head together. Walking past a strip mall a group of four guys came out of place, not sure what it was. I had seen that two of them were black. That scared me. I’m sorry. I hurried and turned right. So did they. It was something like an alley behind the strip mall and a big wall on the one side. Back doors of business, dumpsters, a few cars. Not well lit. Maybe I could have just kept walking and been fine but it was dark on the far side and seemed so far away. The guys were talking and laughing and behind me. I grew terrified of being raped or hurt or killed. I think I heard one of them say the words, “nice ass” in their chatter. Panic attack. I think I was trying to save my own life. Preemptive strike? I stopped, turned and said. “You guys can F--- me if want.” I remember the pause while some of them stopped but one kept coming. They laughed, maybe nervous. The one that kept coming put his arms around me and pressed his body to me. I forgot what he said but he pulled me in close, grinding on me. They took me to a dark area off to the side between two buildings. I did oral for the first one and the other black one, but not all the way. A show for them. Laughing. Shooshing each other when they got too loud. I tried but they got rough and I gagged a lot. Take you clothes off. Jacket, tank, jeans, panties. Onto my back. Asphalt. Legs spread. Trying to stay on top of my clothes to not get cut and scraped. All four of them took turns. With the first one it was a show they watched. With the rest they were turned around, talking to each other, trying to block me from view. I think someone walked by but not sure. Alcohol and cigarette breath. Guys probably in their thirties. Friends having fun. Boys being boys. Just pumping into me. Telling me I’m tight. My body a vessel. Legs spread. No resistance. My arms around them. Eye contact I don’t remember. I always looked at my boyfriend in the eyes. I always look in eyes during it, searching for a connection. I saw their eyes but not their faces. They just used me for friction. Quick and get it down. Except for the second to last. He wanted to talk. I told him my name. I told him about the concert. I told him I liked to be on top because he asked. I remember his face. The only one who was white. Crooked nose. Cauliflower ears. Blue eyes. A sense of hurry from the others. He blurs into the last one in my mind. The Arab/Persian? “Thanks a lot.” I know one of them said. They thanked me while I got dressed quickly and kept walking the direction they had been going before. By the time I walked back out they were gone. I went back the direction I had come from. I got back in the concert and spent the whole time finding my cousin. Sore and dripping. Back scratched up. I felt gross. I started crying but stopped when I drew too much attention. I found them. The final song was “Get the Party Started” We left together. The ones who were not driving drank wine but I was not allowed any because I was too young. I told nobody. Told my mom it was cool. Right away I became the girlfriend of a guy who had a locker near mine who had been persistent but I had always rejected. He was tall and no more than “okay”. I did not want to be alone. He fell in love. I did not. Prom and stuff. I broke up with him the last week of school. He was leaving for college anyway. I did not want to go with him. I cheated on him because I needed more sex that he could give. Then came the days of being passed around. I went to community college and dated my chem lab partner, got kind of raped by his brother in the shower and became the brother’s girlfriend. He got me into heavy drinking, party drugs, the club scene and I dropped school. I was an EDM/Metal/Trance princess and had so many “friends” in the scene that knew me as Sapphire. Sapphire was a nymphomaniac. People loved that about me. Some good, some bad. Quickies in dark spots in the clubs. Backstage. Back office. Cars. Secrets. Woke up in different beds. My boyfriend kind of “gave” me to his drug dealer and I lived with him until an older guy talked me into running away with him to Location. He was 39 (40 for a month) when I was 20 and we lived together for more than a year. It was a very sexual relationship but he cared about me. His house was a quick walk to the beach and I loved it. It was healthier. I started CC classes again and got my AA. He helped me through my panic attacks and I hid my depression from him. My parents met him, and accepted him eventually. We talked about marriage. But he was gone all day weekdays, I did not have a job, and I had a second life to feed my big hollow emptiness that had started after my uncle used me. Also, he liked to role play that he was my father. Just one of his kinks. The sickest part is that just like the eye contact thing, saying “F me daddy” became something I just do automatically. I cheated on him many times when he was with guys from the beach crowd he only knew slightly from our weekend beach trips. Girls too. I fell for a surfer and wanted to have his baby and even quit birth control. It all ended badly and I moved back with my parents. I was finally diagnosed with manic depression and talked to my mom about all the sexual encounters and abuse and started going to group. Five years after THAT NIGHT my mom was the first person I told about the four guys after the concert. That one still rips a hole in my sense of life and love and loving myself. I wonder if good guys don’t want to be with me because my breasts are small I take medication and I am functional. Like I said; BEING A GIRL IS NOT FAIR

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

Just words. You have trouble talking about these things. You realize you have trouble talking about a lot of things. You remember being excited about your first job at Company Name. One of your friends works there and you know a lot of people work there as a summer job. It’s the 1990’s and it’s been grandfathered in that they can pay you less than minimum wage because it’s like a part time training experience for students getting their first work experience. Like a newspaper route. Those are for boys. You got so excited after being nervous you asked for an application along with your friend. You don’t remember meeting him then. So many people want to get chosen for that crap job because for some reason it’s become a sought after thing among the cool kids. You do remember the phone call that you can come for an interview. Walking home you wonder if being cute and having larger breasts than most almost freshman girls had something to do with it. You met Name and remember him for sure this time. The way you look has been a curse far more than a blessing. One reason people would not feel that bad for you. 'God sure blessed you, honey." You have so many bad memories, blocked memories, repressed memories because of Name. You are having second thoughts as tears build up. You need a drink. You quit drinking years ago and today you have three months and eight days sober. Your record is nine months and two days. You are strong. Most of the time. You are hollow. All the time. Name wasn’t the last but he was the first. You change his name although you don’t want to. He is the symbol of your hatred of all that is wrong with men. You were tricked. Name got what he wanted from you. Too many times. Too many times before you stopped going back. Just stopped. You could have just stopped after the first time he held you close and caressed you before your mom picked you up that night. The first time. You still don’t understand or forgive yourself for that. You had let a boy at a party and a boy at an 8th grade dance put their hand up your shirt. You had liked it so much those times. It had been exciting and happy. Name did not make you happy. You went back. You want to talk about something else now. Not the other men who thought your body was their plaything. Not the time you went to Ireland with your Aunts and mom. You miss mom. That was a good trip. You got back to that a lot. You sat down to talk about things you don’t talk about. On a family trip to Adventureland you asked your cousin if was considered losing your virginity of a boy did it to your boobs. You pretended it was a cute boy, not Name. It was hard to breathe with him sitting on your torso thrusting. You sometimes break things and scream. Never when your son is around. You have two jobs and don’t really like the one that pays the most. Your college degree does not count much. How much life is wasted on despair and doubt and taking the wrong path? You feel relief when he finally finished. You hate when he finishes because you know he is stealing his ultimate pleasure from you when he has a wife. He acts like it was just another day at work to keep you on his leash. You are pathetic. His remnants are inside you every time you go home after closing with him. Just another miserable day in the life. You say nothing. You tell no one. You are worthless except as a vessel for him. Your parents say nice things to you, about you. They always have. They have to. They don’t know what you really are. A black shame is the times you felt pleasure in your body while he was doing it do you. At least while you remained quiet and motionless there was some dignity. Defiance. Insult to him. When your body and voice reacted like you liked it it was a betrayal. Like you liked that tub of disgusting man on top of you and inside of you, fucking you on that tile floor, kissing you like a lover. You befriended a group of guys by mid high school. Over a year after Name was more than thorn in your soul. A deep callous. The group figured out what you were. They played football. They were important and had strong will. They shared you and passed you around. They told you they loved you. That you were the coolest girl. They took what they wanted when they wanted. Why? Name 2 was you lab partner for biology. He was the first. He was the only one your age. You went in his car for lunch and met some others. They wanted you. You volunteered. It is all you are good for. Draining them of their juice so they can be happy and feel like men. So you can feel empty and dirty. Even after they graduated they got together for group fun, or had you sneak out at night to go for a ride. You headed far west after you graduated. A fresh start. An exodus. An escape. You went to one reunion. The ten year reunion. Name 2 came with his wife. He introduced you as his ex-girlfriend. You let hm take you to the disabled restroom and have his quickie. You went to the bars afterward and ditched your real friend and let Name 3 take you back to his hotel room to live his fantasies just because he claimed that he always loved you. They say attractive people have sex more frequently with more partners than normal people. The darkness behind that statement is that for females it is no always because they want it that way but because of the relentless pressure from men and how they will do anything if they get the opportunity. You are not a nice innocent girl. Would you have been if it had not been for Name like you want to think? Would you have let your much older cousin you barely know take you back into the woods with him behind their house to the shack where he smokes pot after a wedding. Then wait there for him to call his friends after he found out you were a bad girl and wait for them too. Swatting flies in your underwear while you waited for them. You did not drink because your mom did not allow it even though kids younger than you were. But your cousin and his local friends did. Four of them counting your cousin old enough to be your uncle. Still, you acted like you liked everything they did. They took it so far like you were the world's greatest toy. Porn star, they called you like it was the best thing you could be. The anal was excruciating. It was easier to just wash off all your makeup than to try to fix it after all the sweat and sticky. Smiles and complements followed by the deep hollow feeling of total isolation in the station wagon on the way back home from Kansas city. Hating Name and feeling like you betrayed your aunt because one of them was her fiancé. You got an infection and it was embarrassing when the doctor told you. At least it was a female doctor. The idea of a male gynecologist is unnerving. The one time you were examined by one was terrifying. You were in college. He was way too thorough and talkative like he was working up to asking you out on a date and you decided never again. The only one you ever had that did not wear gloves for the breast exam. The most sensual digital vaginal exam you ever had to check the cervix and ovaries for pain. Was his thumb supposed to be brushing your clitoris? You even wonder if he was recording it on his phone that you saw him adjust twice as it was peaking out of the breast pocket of his lab coat. His stupid November mustache he asked you if you liked. So some days you don’t eat. You exercise to maintain the body they want. It gives you value to them. You are nothing. People always say nice things. Hollow things. What if you had never met Name? What if you never got fucked on the floor for $3.45 an hour. On your back, on your hands and knees, sometimes even on top of him. Your first orgasm on that floor that smelled like stale milk and bleach. Having to tell your mom pick you up 45 minutes after the place closes for your cleaning duties. You used tampons just to keep from his semen leaking out on the way home. You pretended to be a virgin when you were far from it. He told you not to worry because he had a vasectomy. That part must have been true. You don't got on dates even though they always try to set you up. Not a chance. Your son is a good excuse. And a real reason. Real love. The Earth spins in space. Why can’t it just freeze and die like me? Your boss doesn’t go all the way with you because he won’t cheat on his wife. You give him oral because he doesn’t think that counts. Preserves his purity. He says he wants to so badly, like he can take whatever he wants from you but he is strong and valiant. You are nothing. He is handsome. You let him kiss you and fondle you. You long for his touch. He is not a great man but you long for him. The closest thing to a good man you have known. A father figure. Your son needs a father figure. He is everything. He deserves better. He loves you. He tells you are a good mom and that is worth enduring the world for as long as it takes. You put on a good face but he knows you are hollow, deep down. A wounded duck pretending to be a swan. Always pretending. Was there no pretending before Name? Maybe not. The days begin and your mind pretends and it is hard and the days end. Bad dreams on both ends. Will he be a good man? The funny thing is you want him to be a prince because he is your prince but even if he is like most men you want his total happiness. You want beautiful girls, good times, and strong friends for him. You exist to fake it and to have let those men enjoy you but mostly to give your son the best life possible beyond you. You are not worthless. It is not your fault. You are stronger than you know. Hollow words. They have to say it. They always have. No creativity. No insight. No truth. Just words.

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

Inappropriate touching is how I would refer to what my ex-husband would do. We were together for nearly numberyears. There were countless times that I would wake up with his hands down my pyjamas, him having intercourse with me, him forcing me to do things to him, that this just became normal. I felt that this was part of my marriage. I now know that this should not have been the case and no man should ever treat a woman like this. That consent cannot be taken it must be given. We separated and he was still living in the house. I had a hospital admission. He was helping look after our three children. He would come into my bedroom at nighttime after I came home from hospital and rub my back and belly, even though I had asked him not to. This progressed on two occasions to rape, I had said no, he continued to do it. I did not realize at the time that this is what it was. Even writing this now is difficult. It was only three years later after discussing the inappropriate touching with a therapist that she used that word with me. Deep down I knew how fundamentally wrong this all was but never saw myself as having been sexually assaulted or raped by my husband while we were married or just after we had separated. I still find it extremely difficult to say this word out loud. Most of my friends or family do not know this has happened. It is a very lonely place but speaking to professionals certainly helps with the shame and guilt that I hold myself.

I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

I'm a 63-year-old woman who has endured abuse all of my life. The abuse started with my mother who was a narcissistic sociopath. She would beat me with a 2x4 shaped into a paddle so she could get a good grip on it. I would get beaten every single day. She would say the abuse was due to me wetting my underwear. I would have to take off my underwear every night and she would smell them. If they had even the slightest hint of urine that was enough of a reason to get beaten. It was like a catch 24, if I was out playing I wouldn't go home to go to the bathroom because I was afraid of getting beaten, but if I didn't go home to go to the bathroom I would get beaten. I spent my entire childhood in fear. She would steal my money, throw my things away, tell lies about me. She knew I was my father's favorite, so I wasn't allowed to speak to him. I was brainwashed to believe this was how every family lived. When I got married I married my mother. He also abused me. He would lie, cheat, and steal from me. I was diagnosed with Stage IV breast cancer. When I would go to my treatments I would take Fish crackers to help with the nausea. One day I went to the cupboard to get my crackers and they were all gone but one, just enough to make it look like they were still there and the container wouldn't have to be thrown away. I also was diagnosed with brittle bone disease. I was told I needed to drink alot of milk. We had a refrigerator in the garage where I would keep 5 gallons of milk, along with 1 gallon that was in the house refrigerator. One day I went out to the garage to get a gallon of milk and all 5 gallons were gone. He had drank all 5 gallons in just one week. Can you imagine doing that to your wife who has Stage IV breast cancer!!! He threw a hammer at my head as I was walking away from him. He burned our home to the ground and told the detectives I did it. He is also a narcissistic sociopath. While he was doing all this, he got my daughter to go along with him. She, as of today 10/11/25, is a liar, cheater, thief. She is abusive. She's only 25 and already has been married twice, has 2 children from each marriage and she hates them both. She uses her children as pawns to get her way. She has already used two childhood friends to try and get to me. I'm not stupid, I know what she's up to and I'm not falling for it. I've been divorced for 3 years now. I've changed my name, moved away, and started my life over, but she still finds me. I'm terrified of her. I know what she's capable of. I thought once I got divorced I would be free of the abuse, but I'm not. At this time, all I have is my faith that God will take care of me. God got me out of a horrific situation and I have faith the God will continue watching over me. I'm so happy I got out of my marriage, which lasted 35 years. The divorce took 3 years; the judge said it should've only taken 9 months. He wanted everything, so I gave him everything. The law needs to be trained to understand mental illness such as narcissistic sociopath to understand that they are prolific liars. My divorce attorney's husband even said, "he lies so well you almost have to believe him." That's the problem, the legal system believes them so the innocent get punished and the perpetrators get away with it.

Understanding the Complexity of Sexual Abuse It is difficult for people, even victims, to comprehend how complicated sexual abuse can be, including trauma responses. I was gang raped when I was younger. I was so traumatised that I repressed memories of it. A few months later slight memories returned to me about it and snippets of memory thereafter, but it wasn’t until years later that most of the memories became vivid through scary flashbacks. I developed late onset PTSD. I went to counselling but, at that time, there seemed to be limited knowledge on how to deal with this condition, so it was a struggle. I always wanted to report it but I felt I had to clearly remember everything little detail to do so. A few years after I started counselling my urge to report the rape became so strong that I felt I had to do it. There wasn’t sufficient evidence for the DPP to prosecute. I felt really upset about that but there wasn’t much I could do about it. I had a mixed experience dealing with the Gardaí, one was nice but the other made victim blaming remarks. The DPP came across as cold and indifferent. A couple of years after I made the complaint some high profile cases were covered in the news. The female colleagues I lunched with kept making victim blaming comments. They even said ‘every woman, who reported sexual assault that didn’t lead to a conviction, lied’. This was disturbing because it is so untrue. This triggered my PTSD again. I felt so alone, like there was no one in my life who understood what I was going through. I used to feel so angry and let down by the lack of justice and understanding, but now I know that I don’t need this type of validation. However I definitely still welcome improvements in the justice system and society, in the way victims are treated. Healing to me is self-validation and connecting with people who care. Finally I have people to connect with, who won’t judge. I’m so pleased to be a part of this wonderful network of people in this space of We-Speak.

Hi um. I'm Z and I'm a victim of cocsa (child on child sexual assault). Anyways, I'll make this quick. I was with my cousins for the weekend and they took me to a friend's house with them. They had a kid my age (10) and one a bit younger (8/9). The one my age wasn't around that much, so I started talking with the younger one. I trusted him, telling him about my nervousness around people (which I later found out to be social anxiety). Later that night, he took me into his mom's room and locked the door. At first, it was just him falling on top of me, pinning me to the ground. I thought it was weird, but didn't think much of it. Then it happened. It gets foggy around here. We were flipping through stations and I thought it'd be funny to watch Peppa Pig. As we sat there and watched, he slipped my hand up my shirt.. I don't think I had started wearing a bra at this point, though I probably should've. It was the summer, so I was wearing a crop top and jean shorts. He tried rubbing down there but the jeans made it hard to feel much. I was so shocked, I didn't know what to do and just froze. I sit there and let it happen. I had to spend the night there. I couldn't sleep much, or that well. I was up, terrified that he'd sneak into the room and do it again. And then he did. Though by now it had been a few years, we'll say about 2. Again, went over with my cousins. It was for Easter. I saw more of his brother this time around. I'm not entirely sure why, but I just remember we kept like, physically fighting - in a "joking" way. I'm not entirely sure how I got there, but suddenly he's on me. He's laying there, groping me, rubbing himself on me and I can't help but wonder - why did it happen again? His excuse was cause I had kicked him in the balls. I still have trouble telling myself that because I didn't consent it's sa but it's hard. After a few years it got out and he was let go because "he was probably just curious". Well I wasn't. Now I have to deal with the long term effects of his "curiosity". And my aunt has brought it up a few times, acting like it's all fun and games. That's all I'm tired it's almost 4AM

I was sexually assaulted by two teenagers when I was 17 and extremely intoxicated. One of the rapists was my high school best friend's brother. This story is 35 years old but needs to be told in order for me to start healing. A repressed memory came flooding back 5 years ago, after finding a photo of a trip I took with her family, the place where this assault happened. I've silently tried to process it alone, but I can't keep quiet any longer. I hope sharing my story will help others come forward and start their healing process. It's never too late! I'm finding more and more friends who have similar stories and only by sharing my story had allowed them to share theirs. I feel like it's paying it forward a little.

The first time I remember being abused I believe I was 7 year old. My first abuser was my father. He sexually assaulted me while I pretended to be sleeping. I told my younger brother who told my mother. My mother made me tell her what happened and no one ever talked about it again. I didn't see my father for 7 years. It wasn't until he passed away that I found out he sexually abuse my step sister most of her life. Up until I knew he abused someone else I thought I did something to cause him to do what he did to me. It was early in the morning, maybe my stretching caused him to get on top of me. It seems ridiculous now, but in a 7 years old mind it made sense to me. As an adult, it makes me sad for that little girl to believe she did something to cause it to happen. My next abuser was my Uncle. I don't remember how old I was, possibly younger than 7, but I cannot remember. I remember being at my grandmother's home and my uncles were taking us on motorcycle rides through the woods. On my first ride, one of my uncles decided to put his hands down my pants and play with my vagina, but never quite put his fingers all the way inside my vagina. I remember it feeling good. I wasn't scared, in fact, I wanted to keep going with him on motorcycle rides. The next ride with him, I waited until the same place he first unbuttoned my pants and instead of him doing it, I unbuttoned my pants. I don't know how to feel about that, but right now I feel shame for that little girl so desperate for love and attention. I told my mother and she said, "oh, he was only experimenting" or something like that...kind of like, boys will be boys. I remember feeling hurt by my mother's response and feeling all alone. I don't believe I've ever been the same. I became a very angry little girl. So much so, my mother didn't feel it necessary to tell a man who was 11 years older than me to leave me alone after he made it known he was in love with me. He was her drug dealer so he continued to come around the house and lived what would be a city block away from us but we lived in the country so about 500 yards or less. I was 10 left to tell a grown man to leave me alone while he told me "you love me, you just don't know it yet". What the f*ck is wrong with people?! My mother's second husband was also a very terrifying man. I don't remember much about him, but I remember being afraid all that time. I was 4 and I remember seeing him throw my mother across the room and she hit her head on a radiator and began bleeding. Another time I remember being drug by my hair because I had accidently made noise upstairs. He used a belt on us but I don't remember being hit. I just remember him snapping the belt and hiding. As an adult before my healing journey began I was sexually harassed at work. I did finally speak up to my supervisor, but the man continued. I never spoke up again because clearly that guy wasn't going anywhere and what else could I say or do to make it stop?! Other bosses took advantage of their position of power. I had sex with two men who had say in whether I could keep my job. Afraid if I rejected their advances I would no longer have a position on the team. I felt helpless. All this though...could have been so much worse. So. much. worse. I've heard stories of worse, but this is mine. F*ck people who come to this earth to hurt others. F*ck them. They will never hurt me again.

I hope my story will help someone Who may be in an abusive relationship so so long they start to think there is no way out but with your strong will and determination you can and will leave when the time is right for you....It took me 29 yrs to Leave the gaslighting, and other forms of abuse just got to be to much My abuser with help from his dysfunctional crowd he hung around with showed him how to groom me back in the relationship only to show our grown son that he can't be wrong!!! It bothered him so much that I walked out on him he used my vulnerability and grooming to get me back it was the worst descion of my life...let's put it this way I'm lucky to be alive right now to tell you this story ...I hope one day my grown son will see the truth...I believe in God and I know my ex significant other Will have to come to terms with his demons when he decides to get clean If not for himself for our wonderful adult son who takes care of him each day since I left...

My father sexually assaulted me multiple times when I was very young. After I grew a bit older, probably around 5-6, he stopped directly assaulting me (penetration) but the abuse continued. I wasn’t allowed to shower by myself until I was 12. He would ALWAYS shower with me and masturbate while I stood there. I still live with him, and I don’t know what to do. Though I’m a legal adult I don’t have the money to move out on my own. I can’t tell anyone in my family because I’m afraid they won’t believe me. I hate living this life with this dark secret. I’m so tired of it.

When I was in Kindergarten, I was in a group with 3 boys, we are talking about how the crayons did have a wrapper on it, calling it naked. I don’t remember how it to this point but the next thing I remember is them showing me their private parts and for some reason I did the same. I remember knowing that I was told never to do that and I don’t remember why I did it but I do remember the end result. I was called into the principal’s office to tell them what happened and back then there was no word for Coercion which is what I’m pretty sure it was however I could be extremely wrong. My mom was also a Spanish speaker so I remember she understood most of it but not all of what I was telling her and the principal. The next thing I remember was being taken home but we went to my dad construction site instead. She severely beat me to the point where I was running out of the truck to my dad. I put this memory away up until a few days ago when somehow I started to remember. All I can think about is how I was beat for telling the truth and not really knowing any better I was 5. I do remember my mom telling me it was my fault and till this day I don’t know why I did what I did but I remember it’s my fault and the guilt hasn’t gone away since unlocking this memory. I blame myself obviously. I guess I’m here to not make myself feel better but in hopes that getting this out with help me heal. I’ve never told anyone this before, including my husband. Im 26 and currently pregnant, I’m terrified that what I am will affect my child. I didn’t even know if it was considered sexual abuse but I think it was. I was always seen as the problem child to everyone of my moms friends and family., i guess i can see why. This isn’t even the last sexual abuse I experienced just the first and honestly most traumatic for me.

He took me to a restaurant near his house for drinks. While at the restaurant, he did not drink but he ordered more than one drink for me. I was under the impression that this was a date so I was asking him questions to get to know him: "Are you married?" "Do you have kids?" He kept trying to get me to drink more alcohol even though I told him I did not want to finish my first drink. After I finished drinking, he said "let's go" and I naively left with him without confirming where we were going next. I thought he was taking me home. I realized he was taking me to his house only after we arrived in what appeared to be his driveway. I didn't want to be there at all. I was too nervous to make a move because it was night time and pitch black outside, and his home was located in an area that is not close to public transportation. I went inside and told myself I'd leave after a few minutes of talking. As I went inside he pulled me straight into his bedroom. It was dark in his bedroom because the lights were off and his bedroom was located in the basement of the house. Shortly after, he took off his pants, revealing his penis. I tried to talk my way out of being there. He came on to me, kissing me and pushing me backward on his bed. I told him NO several times and in several ways: "No," "It's too soon," "I'm not ready," etc. Eventually, he became frustrated and said, "I know what it is. You're just afraid something is going to happen after. Nothing is going to happen". He had me pinned down while he quickly searched for the condom and lube in the nightstand next to his bed with one hand. When he eased off of me just a little bit to put on his condom and lube, I froze. My body froze. I could not get up. I kept saying in my mind, "No, get up" but my body would not move. He told me to take my clothes off and my body was still frozen. He then began very aggressively taking my clothes off. I assisted only because he was physically overwhelming me, and at this point it really became clear to me that he was not going to stop. He climbed on top of me and began very weirdly kissing me. He penetrated me. He did so for a few minutes. He was done. I told myself to get up, get dressed, leave and block his number after. He wanted to penetrate me again and I said no. He said, "come on!" and raped me again. It lasted longer than the first time. I still wanted to go home. I asked him to take me home after I got dressed. Because I wasn't sure exactly where his house was located and because it was pitch black outside, I did not feel comfortable going outside by myself. He said that I should just stay the night since I was already there. I said, "No, I need to go home NOW". He said he wasn't going to take me home, that I should just stay. I asked for the address to the place so I could call an uber, he refused to give me the address. I asked him again, he turned over on the bed and had his back toward me, completely ignoring me. I was completely defeated at this point. To cope with what was happening to me, my brain rewrote the narrative. I told myself what had just happened was not rape (it absolutely was). He lived in the basement of a house. We entered his "apartment" through a weird back entrance. It was really late and pitch black outside so I was not comfortable going outside to find the front entrance to get the address and then have to wait for an uber in the dark. I laid back down and waited until sunrise. I kept thinking to myself throughout the night, I hope I had not contracted anything from this predator. I don't think I slept. I was in a state of panic until sunrise and I could not think logically. He took me home in the morning. Shorty after he raped me (1-3 weeks later) I went to my urgent care center because I was experiencing vaginal discomfort. I went to get a pap smear and the doctor informed me that I had internal bruising in my vagina. I did not report what happened to the doctor because my brain rewrote the narrative already and I was still not ready to confront the true brutality of the situation. This happened three years ago. It was only after therapy, self reflection, and growth that I was able to come to terms with what happened to me: I was raped twice in one night and coerced to stay the night with my abuser. This predator who was 13 years older than me took complete advantage of me and violated my body and autonomy.

I'm not going to spell check this story I'm talk texting it just so you know. My first memory as a child I was four moving into a new apartment with my mother and my first stepfather. My mother was a 17 year old heroin addict prostitute when she was pregnant with me by some Hells Angels Bikers who obviously never claimed me. She was a terrible I mean she wasn't a bad mother but she wasn't a mother she was just really fun to party with I guess there's always some sort of roof over my head my first stepfather I would watch him beat her unrecognizable to even myself on a regular basis he was an alcoholic and they were both heroin addicts I didn't know this at the time. He was verbally abusive and torturous to me as well as very physically violent from as early as I can remember. One of the times that she escaped him but she always went back of course we stayed with a friend of hers who had a son that was my age we were both five. The boy's grandparents owned a bar and a liquor store where we would stay in there apartment that was attached to them both while our mothers worked at the bar. I would wake up in the middle of the night in front of the TV on the floor with the boys Grandpa's hand in my pants and fingers inside. One night our mothers had gone out partying and back then we didn't have babysitters I'm sure we weren't any older than 6 years old we were sleeping in his mother's waterbed and he offered to do something to me that I would absolutely love and I said yes and he gave me oral the boy that was my age where no older than six at the most and I remember I loved it and he told me he would do it anytime I wanted all I had to do was ask. Parents teach their children Bad Touch no no spots you have to tell but when you're that age and you don't know any different and it feels good the last thing you want to do is tell anyone I remember being extremely mad when he wouldn't do it one time when I asked. My memories of being a child are spotty there's not a lot of them. I never met my real father I didn't know anything about him or my mom being what she was or what she was involved in when she got pregnant I had no clue. She always told me the reason I didn't have a dad was because this guy got her and another girl pregnant at the same time and chose to be with the other girl and we couldn't ruin their family by trying to track him down and he'd be mad cuz he wouldn't want to pay child support. My mother went through a slew of men all being drug dealers I never understood that or got that at the time. My grandparents hated me because I was basically the other woman's grandchild to my grandma my grandma was my step grandma that's a different story all together but she hated me and my mother was a loser drug addict so they both couldn't stand us. Lot of years went by running from physical abuse and share beatings from all of them some things I remember knowing sexually a very young age now looking back I'm 55 now I don't know how I could have known those things other than being involved in them but I think my brain blocked a lot of it out. And the third grade the little boy next door and I used to pose like the Playboy pictures my step dad had in his books naked and have oral. I had an aunt Carla that was when you're older than me when I was eight seven or eight and we experimented sexually together. I was always very sexually aware and spent a better part of my very very young childhood masturbating all of the time everywhere. The times that my mother was in contact with my grandparents we would go to their house for Christmas or Thanksgiving and I had three cousins to brothers and one sister all from the same family and my mom's half brother my uncle. We would all sleep on the floor in the living room together us kids probably up until age of 13 or 14 and I would always wake up at to my cousin Name playing with my privates. He was quite a bit older than me I know the last time we were there together I could not have been more than 13 and he had just come home from the military. My female cousin which I never understood as being wrong we would what she called tickle each other all over every time we spent the night at Grandma's. Now that's weird. When I was 13 I was introduced to my foster parents that I was unaware of apparently I was given to them at 6 months old when my mother went to prison and stayed with them until I was four I don't have one single memory of them or anything about them the entire time I was there I believed that they were my parents they had two sons that were my brothers they were fantastic people they were stereotypical nuclear 2.5 family when I met them at 13. So at that time I was only told that I was there for 6 months I didn't know it was for 4 years I also did not know that she never came to visit me so when Social Services came and took me back from them and gave me to her I did not know her she was a total stranger to me as well as the man she picked me up and took me home with I don't remember any of that until we walked through the door of the bedroom that she told me was mine. Then I proceeded to live in a life of abuse and alcoholism and heroin and cocaine and just party party my mom did never stop being younger partying she just drug me along with her. Basically I went from a perfect life with my foster parents into sexual assault and abuse Etc. I'm also guessing with no explanation for any of it back then as this was in the'70s early '70s. I have no recollection of being parented being taught about life or life lessons or anything like that growing up. I always hated my mother and I never understood why until I learned about being fostered for so long that made sense that I had no connection to her ever. I always only wanted the attention of men I wanted to grow up and be a stripper some men would like me pay attention to me never had any relationship friendship or parental child anything with any of my adults in my life that wasn't sexual. When I told my mother and my grandmother about my cousin assaulting me like that they didn't believe me. On my 21st birthday which is Christmas Eve so we were all together they got me drunk my cousins and that cousin proceeded to tell me that he had been in love with me his whole life and if he didn't know that it would give our grandmother a heart attack he would ask me to marry him he did not believe that it was wrong whatsoever. Skip way way ahead I'm hanging out with Mike female cousin at 21 years old who is insisting that if I ever decide that I want to be with females let her be the first one. Skip forward a little bit more and my second male cousin has invited me to live with him in City because he's doing very well for himself and he wants to give me an opportunity to build my life up go to school whatever which ends because I will not have sexual relations with him at some point and he did not understand how the fact that we share the same blood in our bodies made it wrong none of them did. I'm 55 years old right now and it did not occur to me until just today for some reason who did all that to them because somebody did. So the rest of my story isn't really so important other than I spent my entire years growing up a very pretty little girl young lady and no one ever wanted anything to do with me if it wasn't about sex and I just wanted people to want to be my friend and to like me and I want to hang out with me for anything other than sex notice I had a brain or I was fun or I had a sense of humor that's always been my plight I just want to be noticed and loved. Marrying a narcissist covert narcissist for 20 years did not do that for me. My mother got me addicted to cocaine when I was 15 I quit at 19 and started doing meth which I continued to do until I was 30 something I think and then I got clean and had my second child my first one died when she was born not because of drugs because of genetics I have my son and he fixed me that he fixed me all of me as far as I was concerned four years later we had a daughter oh yeah I forgot I got set up for this guy on a one night stand intentional one night stand for both of us and wake up pregnant and ended up with him a complete covert narcissist for 16 years I raised his child from a previous and then our son that was 4 here's younger then we had a her daughter we had a daughter 4 years later he was not a father he didn't do anything to help in the household with the family you girls know what I mean I don't have to explain that. Put all every one of my whole life was to grow up and have babies and be a wife and be a mom and be the family that I wasn't a part of growing up and I had that and I was so grateful I was so eternally gratefully happy that I thought that my marriage was making me happy it took me a lot of years to realize it wasn't my marriage at all he was a piece of s*** who neglected me it was my children that made me happy I accepted it I had my children and that's all I ever wanted was to grow up and have a family and not be my mother and give my children something that I didn't have which was family and he stuck around so I outweighed the situation and was willing to sacrifice whatever I had to to have that family. Finally after 16 years of it I couldn't take it anymore and for some reason one day I made the mistake of standing up for myself and demanding to not be treated horribly anymore because when all I wanted was to be noticed and loved in life that's exactly what he didn't do he neglected and rejected me day in and day out for decades so I just asked him to stop being mean to me I would beg him for my for his friendship I would beg him to just talk to me anything I knew we weren't in love but we had committed to this family and apparently we're both both going to stick it out I didn't see why we couldn't be a little bit happy birthday could you just please stop being mean and if you can't stop being mean then leave I didn't even ask him to be nice to me just not being mean which he refused and moved out into the park down the street now I'll just jump real forward my kids are 21 and 17 and he has turned them against me and they hate me we followed him across the United States to try to keep things together after he disappeared two days after finding out that our son was cutting himself we've been fighting off and on and we talked and he sat down with our son and promise he wasn't going to go across the country to visit his brother he was going to stick around and we were going to make things work and we were going to help fix him she might send it started cutting because his life was absolutely perfect day in and day out for the first 10 years of his life we never argued we never fought we didn't have problems he never called me names he didn't treat me badly he just didn't treat me like anything I protected him coddled my children and kept them from the evils of the world as much as I could and that was wrong because then when things went bad they had no idea how to handle it and I failed them and I got so wrapped up and trying to put back together or what I knew that they needed and I had messed up and put my own needs first for once which I had never done everything was always for them and I tried so hard to take it back that I lost my mind and I did not behave with any decorum or couth and instead of holding their hands and ushering them through the most difficult part of their life I lost my mind because I didn't know how to go through the most difficult time in mine and I pay for that daily and so do they unfortunately I didn't see any of it while it was happening I really didn't if you were my friend or even my enemy and you were going through the same exact things I went through with this whole situation and my kids and my husband I would have stood right by you and showed you hey you can't do that you know what they need is you got to do this and you got to be like that and I didn't have anyone there for me to help me like that and I didn't see myself I couldn't see me through myself do you know what I mean like the forest in the trees and I didn't see a lot of it until it was so so too late anyway he disappeared without a word went from California to Tennessee and for three straight months did not answer the phone and I continued to lose my mind and spiral deeper and deeper into a abyss of loss of control which was the only thing that I wanted in my life stability control for myself you know never had it growing up so now I'm spiraling deeper and time is going by and my children are getting ignored because I'm too busy going crazy calling texting. I finally make contact with him we talk and talk and talk and over the course of time agreed to reconcile and I will give up everything in California and put my kids in the car and drive to Tennessee to reconcile our family and so I did I gave up everything but the clothes that fit in the car and long story short on that we came to Tennessee just before I left California and just after I gave up everything of ours I learned that he had a girlfriend here and so I just drowned in that crazy uncontrollable crazy b**** face I lost my mind I lost sight and track of everything else but we still had to come out here so skipping over a bunch of Juicy stuff to get here here we came I sent my son first because he had to get signed up and start high school it was his first year of high school and we were waiting for text me to come to be able to afford to get her unbeknownst to me when my son got here at 14 years old instead of his father trying to help him just like his mother wasn't and he'd been cutting hardly my son stayed in a motel with his father and some girl and at that time and laughed my son didn't even know that those things existed my son did not know people did those things to each other he had no clue so he sucked deeper into that Cesspool of no one cares about me I don't matter so for the 3 months he was in Tennessee before his sister and I he never spoke to me once what was he going to say he wouldn't answer the phone to me you would not talk to me and that's when I lost him that was my baby and he has never really spoken to me since other than to tell me I should off myself. So we came to Tennessee and he was horribly horribly worse to me and I just could never understand why he was begging me to come here and then she has treating me like absolute garbage dirt at the same time it never made any sense to me and it drove me crazier and I could not figure out what was wrong with me what is wrong with me what am I doing it all became about me me and I lost my children's love more more more and more and the connection with them got further and further so now the only thing that's ever mattered to me I am completely out of touch with at this point in it and I don't even realize it I don't even realize it. So we got together we broke up we got together we broke up we got together we broke up when I learned that he was now advertising on Craigslist to sleep with men and I'm not lying about this not one but this is embellished if anything this isn't even the half of it I have no reason to b******* I wait a minute so even before that once we were here he left me for this chick and run off to City 2 with her while me and the kids were here in Tennessee and after 6 months of it not working I bought him a bus ticket to come back here because we're both parents right we're both parents and at this point I've been with this human being for 18 years and I don't know anything different anyway my daughter and I had been living in motels because I lost my home when he left for City 2 my son had already moved out from the age of 17 because he said he couldn't put up with her b******* anymore and I didn't blame him so he comes back he doesn't get a job I don't have enough money to afford the motels anymore we send my daughter to my mother-in-law's because she's about to start high school in a few days and we have to buy a tent and go to sleep in the woods until he procures a job and helps me save money to get into a place now . So now I'm living in a two-man tent in the middle of the Woods 2400 Mi away from home where I don't have anybody except for this person that hates me that I hate he saves the money and leaves me in the tent where I have been homeless now over 2 years my children hate me they won't speak to me it's all my fault that I'm a loser homeless person and Drug them across the country so all of that being said. My cousin Name it was the one who diddled my middle grew up to be some sort of Representative in Utah I don't know what his title is he married a woman that had three daughters and all I could think this whole time was I know he did it to them too and how much it disgusts me that this city in Utah has an elected official who is a child predator and a child molester how disgusting it is that people don't see people for what they are or who they are and the first time that I saw him on Facebook about 5 years into my marriage which I was married in 2004 and I contacted him and one of the first things I said was something to the effect of what he had done and his only response was oh now that's where we're going to start are you kidding me. I made an attempt one time and called the the newspaper there and ask them if they'd be interested in a story about their elected official but then when they got back to me i chickened out and never talked to them right now I want to contact his wife and let her know what she's been with this whole time because it makes me sick that he's just like nothing ever happened and there was nothing wrong with it. The good news is I'm not traumatized sexually or you know it didn't make me a w**** or a s*** it didn't make me not want sex it didn't make me gay it didn't make me not gay it didn't make me anything it didn't as disgusting and disturbing as it is to me my favorite way to have sex is the same way that he used to touch me which is bizarre but I'm pretty normal sexually it doesn't plague me it didn't change me as a person it didn't affect my life entirely and completely like some people it doesn't Define me it's never defined me as far as I'm concerned it's something that happens to everyone and when I raised my children it wasn't is it going to happen to them but when is it going to happen and who is it going to be so I guess I saw this site because I was looking up things to try to slyly jab him in the side like a thorn and involve myself in a couple of Facebook conversations he was having with other political members where they were arguing back and forth about Elon Musk doing that Hitler sign and how stupid they were I wanted to tell them because they're so focused on something that doesn't even matter in life that they don't even realize that they're talking to a sex offender child predator child molester but I wanted to do it in them most professional way so I started researching and asking questions on the internet and this is where I ended up somehow. I told the story hundreds of times it doesn't bother me it doesn't make me sad it doesn't make me anything except for disgusted I don't want or anything I dont want people to feel sorry for me or anything like that I just wanted to share my story because the first three that I read each of those stories were a piece of my total story if you added them all up when I was younger .I used to want to write a book because people say oh yeah my mom was an alcoholic or oh yeah my family was into drugs or oh my family was abusive or my family was neglectful I lived a piece of all of those things throughout my growing up all of them some people only experience one or two of those Lifestyles and I dabbled in a little bit of it all and I thought I could write a book where each chapter was dedicated to one section like that and then no matter who picked up the book and read it they would see that they weren't the only ones that there was someone out there that shared what they were going through or went through and they're not crazy and they're not bad and they're not alone so that's why I just puked out all the story which from what I can recall is about 300 times longer than any of the other ones I read sorry for that I hope I at least kept you entertained I could have made the story way more intense and detailed but I've already taken up too much of your time. I'm just curious should I tell her should I ruin her existence and tell her what she's been living with this whole time so she could at least ask her three daughters who are probably grown women at this point what he did to them should I tell his constituents you think that's going too far I mean it was decades ago. But considering the position that he's in in his community I am firmly against a child predator and molester rapist having the ability to be in control of deciding anything for anyone else and in their community I don't even think he's in office anymore I just think that people should know the type of person that they let have control then at the same time then the same thing happened with our president I mean basically basically nobody cared they still elected him so maybe I just want to matter to someone just matter enough for someone to tell you how you know it f*** that guy . The only other thing I got for you is aside from losing my family unit and the only thing that mattered to me my children the reason that I woke up every morning I don't have any other family members everyone's dead except for my molester cousins two of them the Name and the girl and I never had any brothers or sisters or anyone else so I'm all alone out here and it sucks 3,000 miles away from home haven't had a friend in the world for about 5 years now it's crazy I'm glad you could meet me I'm sorry I wasted so much of everyone's time really all I ask is don't you dare even suggest to yourself inside your own head that any of this is b******* it's just my life that's all and it's just some of it.

Okey, thank you for this space. My story happened some time ago but i only recently remembered it so here i go: I was 15, had a boyfriend at a time and i met a boy/friend my age, A. We knew each other trough his guitar teacher who lived in my village but we didn't know each other well. A had lived with the guy for a period of time because he couldn't stay with his foster family. We met in my village and wanted to visit the guitar teacher who wasnt home at that time. We ended up breaking into his house from the backyard and cooking something in his kitchen, i think it was eggs. Afterwards we went exploring in the house and A took a bottle of some herbal schnaps from the basement (i was too scared to go down there because of the spiders). We went to the place where A had lived before, we could only reach it trough the balcony, it was like a seperate mini house over the carport. We went in, there were some artcollections in the first room and we reached the upper room trough a ladder we pulled up after us. There we hung out, we talked, he shared a lot about his trauma and we got drunk. He knew, that i was in a relationship and therefore wasn't interested in him romantically. He ended up getting me really drunk, that was also the only time i have ever had periods of blackout with drinking. I thought he was also as drunk as me and i remember him encouraging me to drink a lot. Maybe even emotionally force me to do it. I remember at one point being conscious and seing that it was dark and that i had many missed calls and texts from my mom but i was too drunk to get up or care. i was on a matrace in the small room, he had been on a chair and then at some point he was there with me. i remember him undressing me and i also remember grasping my shorts with all the force i got when he tried to remove them. I was laying there in my blue bra and im not sure if i ended up naked from the waist down or not. I remember him trying to penetrate me and i remember being too drunk to speak but grasping his penis to not let him enter me, i remember him penetrating my hand and i remember getting conscious again and him still doing something. i don't know if he was inside me or not that time. I do remember that his penis had at least touched my vulva and that i grasped it with my hands to not let him in and then him penetrating my hand. I remember feeling shame about having pubic hair. I don't remember what happened, i think he didn't climax and the guitar teacher found us. he turned on the lights, he saw A naked and tried to pull the (blue) blanket off me. I held it as strong as i could. He said that the police had called him and that they were searching for us all over the place - my mom had called them. i think it was somewhere between eleven and twelve pm at the time. He then brought us downstairs to the kitchen, made us a coffee with condensed milk and he joked with A about the wordplay to condom milk, which i found... not funny but okey too, for some reason. He said that next time we should just tell him and that he wasn't mad. I thought that that was pretty cool at the time. We walked to my families house laughing and joking on the way, the police were waiting there with flashlights, they flashed into our faces and made us do the alcohol test - it turned out that i was way more drunk by the way. my mom was very mad, she grounded me, took away my phone and forbade A to ever step foot on the proprety again. I didn't tell her what happened - funny thing is, i didn't think that it was a big deal at all. I kept A's scarf and gave it a name, i called it after his favourit soccer player. In the following months i smelled it and i told my friends about all of it and i remember being secretly proud, that i had held his penis and knew, what it felt like and how big it was. I thought i had cheated on my boyfriend and i didn't tell him about what happened. But my friends knew. And i didnt think it was a big deal and they didn't seem to either. Soooo i started to see A again. I was in love with him, secretly. nothing ever happened between us that was like cheating and i didn't leave my boyfriend for him but i ended up sneaking out at a sleepover, to be with him all night, and then going to school the next day. We walked around the town, we did some vandalism at a school and we lisstened to music at a playground at 4am. It was uncover by zara larsson and that became our song. Haha its only now funny to me as i write this, in that night (we had alredy gotten rid of our spraythings) we were tracked down by the police again, we ran from them, layed in some backyard and were eventually found. they didn't do anything except get our id and tell us to go to bed. When other people were around he was always a gaslighting ass. Over time we drifted apart but we still did some smalltalk when we met on public transportation - until now even. And now that i remembered what happened that night of the break in and that he had actually raped me, i am really scared to see him. I think about it a lot and i get scared when someone looks like him on the train or in the city. I just have no idea ho to face him now. And something else: the guitar guy has also overstepped my boundaries a lot. He is a old guy and he always touches me and tells me how beautiful i am. I stopped hanging out with him when i became an adult and became aware of his behaviour but he also still gets way too close when he sees me on the street or in the bus/ train and i hate it. I really hate men sometimes. I never thought he would be a bad guy especially being a child and talking to him, and him being a teacher and all. He was also the one introducing me to A. hmm so i think thats it for now. Thank you for this platform and this opportunity to share.

When i was about 12-13 years old, me and my twinsister used to hang out a lot with the girl that lived next door. She was a few years older (she was 16 i believe) and i looked up to her a lot. I thought she was cool and loved that she wanted to play with us. She would sometimes babysit when our parents were away. So overall we had a pretty good relationship i guess. One time, we (me and my twinsister) were sleeping over at the neighbours and sleeping in the girl's room together. Normally that would just be the three of us, but this time for some reason her brother and his best friend were also sleeping in the same room. Both of the guys were about 17 years old. It started out alright but at some point (either the girl or the boys, i don't remember) suggested playing a game. I didn't really know much about sex at that time, but what they suggested as a game was to have oral sex with the guys. The neighbour girl took me and my sister to a seperate room for a bit, and explained what oral sex was and had us sort of "practice" that on a pencil for a bit. After that we returned to the girl's bedroom. At this point, i don't remember much of what happened (if anything more happened), i just remember at some point being upset and crying. I keep struggling to deal with this memory and often it doesn't even feel valid to call it abuse or even trauma. But i know i was very uncomfortable and overwhelmed. I don't know if what happened counts as COCSA. I recently just learned about this word so. It's all very confusing, but whenever i think about that memory now, i feel very uncomfortable and anxious.

I have been asked so many times, why are you still married? The answer isn't very simple and when I try to simplify it, I can feel the ants beneath my skin, I am hiding my story again, hiding my own existence in a white lie just so I don't make them feel bad, to feel pity for me. The real truth is that I am tired or being the one that has to put the work in, to still be blames for being the one that left. I was never perfect, I was a storm of inconsistences and low self-esteem, I didn't have tools to use for my mental health, I buried it deep as just a reflection of my flaws and nothing more. When I left, I did this as another impulse, it was because I was in love with someone else, something I promised not to do when we opened our marriage up. I just wanted to get away from the fists, he hit me long before I married him. I left my animals behind, they needed me but I could not bring them with me, I regret every day that I left them so long ago. I left him and after the bliss of living with a lover for a short time, I was slapped in the face with reality of my situation. To face my grandmother and her dislike for breaking tradition, "why don't you just go back to him Name" I was ashamed to tell. I am smarter than that, I am an advocate for her and her and him, but not for myself. I tucked myself away in a closet to be found later, to be saved at one point, not realizing I had to save myself. The years have dragged on, I had a child with someone else, I hoped he was dead in the woods, dead from all the evil he held on to. I was afraid for so long that I could not look, I could not file, I could not afford it. No one around me knew what to do, no one knew what resources were out there. Facebook connected me one day with a girl saying she was his partner; I gave my condolences. Years went by and on occasion she would chime in and ask if I filed for a divorce yet, I had not. Then when I tried, I was faced with roadblocks, when I needed paternity paperwork signed by him stating he is not my child's father, he took 6 months to return the paperwork which was time sensitive. I don't use social media anymore; I still hope every day he has died but I know he probably hasn't. I just wish i could get help, I still can't afford filing fees or an attorney.

All that I can remember is growing up feeling empty and worthless. Constantly having to deal with drunk parents feeding into your head that your not enough and will never be. Watching them slowly get consumed by addiction. I developed an intense list of diagnoses. It had got to the point where I couldn't talk myself out of attempting suicide and spiraling downward into a fight with self harm. I was being placed in Hospitals for suicide attempts almost every other month. Bouncing around in institutions and being torn from the every bit of nothing I had left. I had lost all hope. I started abusing drugs and fell into my parents footsteps devloping an addiction of my own. During the times I was using I had been drugged to be gang raped, laced, and pimped out living on the streets at 16. I caught Multiple STI's and had to get treated. After being picked up off the street and interigated I was place in a residential rehab facility where I had to do a lot of personal growth. Having my parents abandon me throughout all of my personal struggles I was left to face this on my own. The road has not been smooth or easy at all, but I am so greatful that I chose to keep fighting and persevere. My Dad finally stepped up to the plate and divorced my Mother after allowing her to abuse us throughout our lives and poison our emotional well-being. Now me, my dad and my brother have built back out relationship and we are now happy and healthy. Sometimes you have to go through the dark before you can appreciate the light. I am a Survivor. I am Enough. I am Strong.