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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 am a victim of COCSA. This was not easy for me to deal with, and the one question I keep asking myself is "Why can he get away with it?" Now, in this case, it is very overlooked, but when you're the one who is living with that trauma, it doesn't feel fair. In some cases, nothing ever happens, and that person has to live with the trauma caused by this. Personally, I feel like the abuser/assaulter should be held accountable for what they did. In fact, I know what you were thinking in that exact moment, too: "This is normal," "it will pass," "They still love me," "They are just angry." But I'll tell you, however old you are, whatever situation you're in, whoever you are, this is not normal, it will not pass, and it is not okay. There is never an excuse for physical, sexual, or emotional violence. Stand up for yourself. Even if it's not easy, fight back and most importantly, get the justice you deserve. You are strong, willing, powerful, and smart. No matter where you're reading this from. You are a survivor. You are brave. You are capable of surviving. I was 14 when I finally escaped it and 13 when it started. It may be hard at first, but believe in yourself because you can escape this. Finally, don't let the trauma control you; always remember you are stronger than they are. If you ever find yourself in need to talk, email me atEmail. Don't hesitate because if you feel like no one understands, I will.

He planted spyware on my phone and computer that gave him full access to my life - calls, texts, contacts, photos, browsing activities, location. He couldn’t stand not having power over me and my life when I broke up with him. As if he thought I was an object he owned by doing kind things that he gradually bought and paid for. The kindness was never real, it was just him justifying his eventual perceived ownership of me. He used to tell me his favorite person is Robert Greene. I would later learn he is the author of 48 Laws of Power, a book about obtaining total power over people by manipulating them. When I saw how he became a completely different person around his friends it was honestly terrifying. As if the person I had spent 3 months getting to know was never actually the real person. It was scary. After dumping him he went scorched earth: sabotaging my job search, harassing me and my family after a sibling died, sabotaging my education, and eventually sabotaging my career. Literally 6 years later and he has still went through my new phone after getting another one, having no social media and no life to get away from him. This weekend I went on a day trip 3 hours away from where he lives with someone new I was seeing. Sure enough I see him driving up there on our way back. Apparently he did the same to the partner he had before me he claimed he “found” with someone else (he was actually stalking her). He can’t handle the thought of being unable to control me to compensate for his complete lack of control he has over himself. Below are my personal thoughts on the past 6 years of being tortured by this person (from me to him, since he has hacked multiple of my phones he is likely reading this anyway): I am sorry that when my family member died you thought it was more important to have attention from me and supply instead of letting me heal. To the point you destroyed my computer with spyware, lied about our breakup, and ran a smear campaign against me. I am sorry I went to a better university than you (even though you harassed me and sabotaged my education the whole time I was there to the point I had to get an attorney). I am sorry I got into a real CS program and you didn’t so you had to minor in IT and major in something else. Or worse that you were so bothered by it you couldn’t handle me being able to independently pursue my education in it without you harassing me the entire time. I am sorry your mom left when you were younger and instead of seeking therapy you take your anger out on me, sabotaging my healing and success. Apparently childhood abandonment is the catalyst for narcissistic personality disorder. I am sorry you blame your drug and alcohol addictions on me instead of seeking treatment and going to rehab. I am sorry you were fired for incompetence at your first real programming job so you think its acceptable to be jealous of my tech career and sabotage it. I am sorry the only way you are able to feel anything is by trying to control people and have power over them. To the point you are willing to crush the good in life just to mean something, anything, to anyone. What will you do when you can’t access my life anymore? What will you do when I leave and you can’t find me again? Will you turn back to hurting people, destroying everything around you and drinking or finally wake up and get it? No one thinks you are a sophisticated hacker, a genius, an intellectual, or that you have any substance. Underneath it all you are an angry man who can’t get over the fact that multiple women including your own mother left you. It will keep happening and you will never be satisfied until you change. You are in your 40s so this is what the rest of your life will be like until you wake up. You want power? Stop thinking about how everyone around you owes you this or that and what will benefit you. You will never be full and you will continue draining people your whole life. Move on, go to rehab, and think about the people you hurt while you are there so you don’t do it anymore.

I guess I am here to share some of the experiences I have been through in the past few years. My therapist introduced me to this page as a way to see support/connect with others who have been through similar experiences. My fiancé and I have been together for YEARS, but when we first got together he tried to force himself on me, and once I pushed him off and started crying he backed off. That should have been my first warning. Throughout the years he had a much higher drive than me and I didn’t always want to have sex like he did. He would practically beg me to have sex and I would eventually cave, which I have now learned is coercion. Once I even still told him know and he still went through with it. And then wondered why I was so upset. One time his sister brought over edibles for him and he let me have 2 and I didn’t think anything of it until I was unable to really move/keep my eyes open. I never smoke or do anything so this was a new experience. I remember at one point waking up to him on top of me starting to try to take my clothes off, luckily I was conscious enough to get him off of me. Moving forward years later this is STILL happening. He pressures me into having sex with him when I really don’t want to. I also don’t want to now because of prior experiences. My last straw was when I finally initiated sex with him and then he rushed through everything and then it started to hurt. And I begged him to stop and he claims he didn’t hear me. As he kept going to the point where I was sobbing and in physical pain. We are now on a break and I called off our engagement and I guess I just am at a loss and don’t know what to do. I love him , but I know this isn’t healthy. There has been other emotional things as well. I am always battling with my mental health and he can be very mean. I once was even self harming and he knew I was and completely ignored it. He really wants another chance to prove he is changing but I just don’t know. Everyone in my family loves him. He can be a great guy so I am just stuck!

It was a cold snowy winter night just before the COVID shutdown spread across the country. I was attending the second-year graduate school class reception with a group of friends from the second-year graduate class. My "date" as my invitation to attend that class's event was really someone everyone knew was in a committed long-distance relationship and just using the extra ticket as a fun excuse to invite me as friend. It was a fun time to explore a historic mansion while having food and wine. An hour later, as it was about to conclude, one of the second-year's partners turns to me and tells me she would really like to meet me at a bar, and a group of people from that class are planning to go there. I turn to my "date" and we both agree to go. We drove to the vintage bar, one I never had been to before. I walk in through the snow and ice in my black high heels in a cocktail dress covered by my winter jacket, trying my best not to trip. A cocktail and a few conversations among classmates of my "date" later, I find myself in the corner chatting with the person who invited me to the bar from the reception. Something seemed off from the start of the conversation -- and it only got worse. The 30-something-appearing cis woman was a faculty member, yet seemed to serial date younger, new students at the same professional school -- a fact a classmate mentioned in passing with an eye-roll earlier. The one-to-one conversation with me appeared to go in circles, with her repeating the same stories over and over again without realizing that she was doing so. Awkward conversation, but it would just be a temporarily annoyance, my thought was. Yet it took an even more bizarre turn. She kept getting closer to closer to me as she was talking. At one point, she touched my shoulder, ostensibly to make a comment about how she liked my dress. She was mentioning her professional expertise and connections in the field I was, and still am, most interested in entering. She then started asking me awkward questions about how I was visibly trans, and then mentioned as a complete non-sequitur how she was the dominant "masculine" partner in her relationship. And then, to my horror, I noticed her abruptly lifting the bottom of my dress up and reaching underneath my dress to attempt to grope either my inner thigh...or worse. This wasn't just a slight motion; her hand was fully underneath my dress and moving fast upwards, from what I could clearly see from the brief glimpse I took. I immediately stepped backwards with a wide-eyed look on my face, in total disbelief of what just happened...and what did not happen that was mere seconds away from fully happening. She turned away in a hurry and walked back to her partner at the bar -- who was oblivious to what just happened -- grabbed him by the arm, and made an excuse to request to leave. This was not the first time I had experience attempted or completed sexual assault. Just like when I experienced rape the year of my college graduation, during a different cold winter night years earlier, I remember feeling puzzled, confused, and very much *not* wanting to put a label on what just happened to me. The events of each night leading up to the sexual assault always seem so random and not predictable as they are happening, but in retrospect, it is so easy to attempt to scrutinize every detail as a possible warning sign of what was to come. Yet I do not even want to think about the likely reality that the attempted sexual assault I experienced that night seemed to happen due to being visibly trans. When people think of post-traumatic stress disorder from an evolutionary perspective, it is typically thought of as an adaptive way to avoid situations of future danger. But when you're scared of social events and comments about personal identity, just think of how unpredictable the healing journey is.

HELLO PEOPLE , its nice we can share our stories over here . So im a 19 year old girl from india who has a very typical indian family of four , me my little brother, mother and father . So my story is , my father used to physically abuse my mother since i was some months old , it started . he beat her over silly reasons . then when i gradually grew up and reached class 1 i was 6or 7 years old at that time , my father made me study for an entrance exam for class 6th and the syllabus was all of class 6th and 7th 9(to be noted that i was in class 1 at that point) . so my father made me study high level subjects of class 6th when i was still in class 1 which was a very tough job for me . i couldnt understand anything , and then my father used to beat me . he never let me play with friends , go out , in short he never let me have my childhood as childhood . he was always very extremely focused on my studies but forgot that i was still a child . We lived far from my father's village where my grandmother lived so in every summer vacations he used to take me and kept me there in the village where he would give me tution classes for the examination prep so i never got to enjoy my vacations . When was home , again the same thing , study and watch domestic violence at home . i always had to hear really abusive words which as a child i got traumatized . so when i was in class 2 , my mother got into an extramarital affair which i found out eventually and i hated my mother for that i was very shameful and i wanted to tell my father about this but i didnt . eventually my father found out and i remember that day when he beat her so much after he catch her red handed . It was a divorce situation but even then they stayed. my mother was no more into affair stuff but still i hated her . i wished she would die . later as i grew up the violence continued at home where i had to stop them both , physical abuse , abusive words and everything continued . it was really toxic . they both used to abuse me and my brother verbally with words like slut , Name and any abusive slangs you can think of . this is to be noted that my mother was also not very decent or you can say nice , she didnt do household chores at time , didnt made food on time , was extremely lazy (to be noted that my father helped her in everything ) but she didnt cuz she was ill manned to be honest . and so all of this continues and when i was in 1 i had my first boyfriend and my parents found out and they kind of accepted it at the first so when i appeared for 10th boards , i scored a 90.2 percent despite being in love and stuff but my parents where not happy infact they shamed me for my result (to be noted that they have never been satisfied by my results even if i score the full marks or become the topper they just always compare me with other children which made my self esteem and confidence shatter ) . they blamed me and my love affair for the 90.2 percent i scored which was too less for them because i was not the topper , the topper was at 93 . and now im in college , 3 years have passed by after that result but still they abuse and compare me for my 90.2 percent . i attempted suicide twice but i survived and they dont know bout this . i always get suicidal thoughts . they have never given me any privacy , they take control of everything , dont let me go out , visit a friend , talk to a friend over call . its suffocating . now im 19 and im again preparing for an exam , they have continued they abuse , domestic violence and everything . they make me hear for anything i eat , they have locked me up in a room where i have a laptop and study and sit here the whole day . they verablly abuse me a lot . some days ago i had a packet of noodles when i was hungry because my mom hadn't prepared food and it was very late and my mom found out that i ate noodles and she called me slut and other slangs infront of all neighbours . they always have been toxic . please mind that i have no problem studying . but i dont think something which takes away your entire childhood from you is not worth it . So my entire teenage and childhood was destroyed . i dont know how my adulthood would go because they wont let me live they are always here to pull me down . i wish i could just die .

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

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

I experienced coercive rape by my ex-boyfriend over the span of some months. After not only sexual but also emotional abuse I was able to leave the relationship two years ago. Since then it has been a confusing journey....it took me a long time to understand what happened and to acknowledge my trauma. Sometimes I still feel very confused. Adding to the confusion, a few days ago, I had sex for the first time after the abuse. I didn't know what to expect. I thought it might be fine and ill have a great time or it is horrible and I´ll finally have the strong emotional reaction I was kind of always hoping for so that I can validate my trauma. Somehow it was neither...but it wasn't really enjoyable. I felt like I was not really present but I also couldn't act to stop it. In the moment I also didn't feel like it was so bad that I needed to stop it. The person I was with was also very respectful and felt safe. Im not sure how to feel about it...I was hoping it might help me on my healing journey but I feel like I am still facing the same confusion as before. It was not nice or enjoyable, I was kind of dissociated and couldn't do anything to stop it....still I have this feeling that it was all not bad enough. At least not as bad as I always expected it to be after experiencing sexual trauma. Maybe someone had similar experiencs...?

I didn't know what I was being asked to do. I was 6 years old. I didn't realize what had happened to me until recently. I tried to walk out of the room but I was manipulated into staying. He was my cousin. I didn't think he would use me. I didn't know what he did was wrong until about 1 year ago. It disgusts me to be around him. I have always felt for SA survivors, without knowing that I was one myself. I have taken the path of healing silently. Knowing my experience I know that there are children that are affected by this every day. I hope that by sharing my story, I can help young children know what is happening to them.

I was in an abusive relationship for 12 years. I met him when I was fourteen and we came together when I was fifteen. He was nice and lovely and I fell in love with him. I never thought that he could have a dark side. After a few month I began to realize, that there is something inside him. When we had our first fight, he screamed with me and I had so much fear. He apologized and I forgived him. But: It didn‘t stopped. He was verbal abusive. He said that I am a whore. He made me feeling small and like I am the worst person in the world. He said, that I am a psycho. He said I am a joke. He said I am nothing. He said, that he has to talk and scream with me like this, because I don‘t understand his points otherwise. He began to destroy things like my watch or a necklace. The walls had holes and he often grabbed me at my shoulders very hard when he got angry. When I cried, he became angrier at all. I locked myself in the toilet because I had so much fear of him. He also pushed me at the asphalt when he was drunk sometimes. I had bruises. One time he choked me. I never told anybody what happend, because I always forgived him and felt so fucking guilty. I tried to left him, but he always said, that he will kill himself, when I go. I went to therapy but even there I was so ashamed, that I didn‘t talk about the abuse. After two years of therapy I got stronger and stronger. I was ready to talk to somebody about the things that happend to me and that I want to leave him. Suddenly I felt free and was ready to go. He always said, that he loves me and that I am the love of his life. It never was love. I realized that I was in an abusive relationship. There were verbal, emotional and physical abuse. I didn't imagine any of it. I wasn't crazy. Whoever is reading this and is in a similar situation: You are strong! You are intelligent! You are beautiful! You are a good person! You can trust yourself! You can talk to someone! You can do this! You can leave him! You are a wonderful human being! I love you all out there and send you hugs. We have to share our stories and we are allowed to share them. Together we can change something.

I was 9 when it started. I mean it really started. There was a boy in my class who openly liked me. It didn’t bother me too much, except when he’s chase me around the field telling me he was in love with me. We were 7. It was ‘how kids were’ said my school when I said I wanted him to stop. But then later on in the years he got obsessed. Taking photos of me around school. Following me home. Getting in calls with me online (we were somewhat friends) and asking me to take my shirt off. Asking me to take my clothes off so he could screenshot. We were 9. It’s just how kids are? Right? Well that’s what I told myself. And still do. Then he got aggressive, telling his friends about how ‘sexy I was’ I didn’t know what sexy meant until he told me: “it means I want to take your clothes off and feel you” I remember his words so clearly. After that his friends got weird around me too. Especially another boy. I always thought we were friends until a girl ran up to me at break saying “—— HAD A DREAM ABOUT YOU” I didn’t know what she meant until the boy whispered in my ear how he dreamt of me giving him a blow job. That’s the day when I found out what blow jobs were. 9 fucking years old. He told me in detail and I sat there and cried. I wanted to run away. I wanted to scream. But I froze. Instead I fucking froze. I hate myself for it. But I know it’s ‘normal’. The main boy started to grow more and more aggressive. Grabbing my arm, hugging me and never letting go. And more and more pictures. More following home. More standing outside my house pretending to read when he watched me get changed. But for some reason i forgot to shut my curtains. Why? Did I like him? Was it all my fault? Did I tempt him? Those are questions I ask myself every day. He did bad things to me. Until I left primary school. Free. I was away from that horrible boy. And then we had a school reunion last year. I’m not going into detail. Mainly because I can’t I just can’t. He didn’t rape me. But he made bleed in the wrong place. He groped my chest. I still have a scar. And the at was the last time I saw him. I hate him. I pity him. I love him. No I don’t. I don’t. What if i did? What if it’s all my fault? Fuck, did I want him to do those things! I was only 12! I was only 9! and I had no one. no one helped me. No one saved me from that nightmare. I still look back on my younger self. My memory is hazy. Traumatic response my therapist says. But what if it never happened. Am I just like those people I see on the internet who lie about SA? I don’t want to be. They make me so angry. I still am not okay. No one sees me. I hate him. I hate all the people who made people suffer like I have. If you experienced COCSA I’m so sorry. I love you. You are more than them. You are braze and special. And I love you. Stay fucking safe.

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

There was a lot of emotions happening in me that led up to the night it happened. I was struggling in my relationship, I was confused about God, I was angry at my friends who didn't include me in their get-together that day. So I drank a lot. I drank a lot of tequila, specifically, which I never do. I don't know the guy's name I went home with that night. I don't know what he looks like. I don't remember leaving the bar with him. I remember "coming-to" for just a minute, realizing I didn't know where I was, and trying to run out of the apartment before collapsing onto the floor in the hallway of the complex and crying. I woke up mostly naked and I was sore and bruised and still very drunk. I don't believe this guy forced himself upon me. I just didn't know what I was saying yes to in the moment, or even who I was saying yes to. I'm still working through the fact that it's not my fault that this happened; it's not his fault - I don't blame him at all, as he was extremely intoxicated as well. But I want other survivors with a story like mine to hear this: just because your story may not involve abuse, just because you were blackout drunk, does not mean that you don't deserve to be considered a survivor. Because you do. You're not alone. You're not alone. You are worthy, you are not damaged, you deserve love. Healing is not linear and it happens in small ways, but it does happen.

IF YOU DONT, THE CHILDREN WILL NEVER SEE ME AGAIN.... It was Mother's Day and that's what the father of our children said. If I didn't have sex with him, the kids would never see their Dad again. So I did. And it was the final straw. My depression really kicked in then. Looking back, I realise a few things. It's now called coercive rape, the children would have been better to have seen as little as possible of a manipulative, narcissistic father as possible and despite all that happened since, I and the children are together.

This is something I’ve thought about for a long time. I told some people but they don't know the details. I’ll start at the beginning. When I was first sexually abused. I had a best friend. I have known her since we were in diapers. I always went to her house every. Single. Weekend. Until fourth grade was over. Well, this particular time was different. I used the bathroom at her house like I always do. Now this is where it gets weird. She asked me if I…pooped. Yeah, weird. I reluctantly told her yes. I don’t exactly remember what happened next, but every weekend she would try and get me to poop. Even if I didn’t have to. Now, this is the crazy part. She would have me get down on my hands and knees with my pants down. Then she would shove a Sharpie in me. Yes, it hurt. My face scrunched up. She kept going and I didn’t say anything because one, I was scared and two I just freaked out and froze. And sometimes she would lay and towel down on her floor, wanting me to take a crap on it. I didn’t that time but I think I did. Once. Another time was when she got orbies. Yes, ORBIES. She put them in a pencil case that was filled with water. When they grew, she had me get on my hands and knees again and shoved them in me like she did with the Sharpie. Now, I didn’t really know what was going on. I was nine and clueless. And a little scared of her. She tends to get violent sometimes if I don’t do something she wants. So this time like all the other times, I didn’t say a word. Once I was full of orbies, she had me sit on the toilet and push them out. Some were too far up me and I couldn’t get it out. So…this is really hard to put down. I’ve never gone into this much detail before. She had to use her finger to get them out. When they were out, she had me do the same thing to her. And that was the first and only time she wanted me to do something to her. Every time I would go over, she did the same thing. I kept going to her house because I mean she’s my best friend and I didn’t know it was wrong until it popped up in my head one day. Four years later. Now, when I found out it was wrong. I was in shock. I didn’t know what to think. Well, the first thing I thought was ‘why.’ I was traumatized from then on. And then the unthinkable happened. It happens AGAIN. This story has a lot of parts. So I had this neighbor that was really annoying and I tried to avoid her. Well, when I couldn’t I had to hang out with her. And when we did it wasn’t all bad. We went to her granny and papa’s house and swam in their pool and played laser tag. This particular afternoon, we were at her granny and papa’s house swimming. So, we’re swimming and my top keeps falling. So then I decided to just take it off. I mean we were both girls and I didn’t think much of it. But that just led to worse things happening. So back to the pool. She asked if she could kiss me. I didn’t know what to say. I mean I’ve never kissed anyone before, so I said ‘sure’ just wanting to try it out. Mind you, I didn’t like her like that. So to me, it was a kiss. To her, it was something more. So we kissed and then I grinded on her leg and she did the same to me. So, we got out after that and just hung out. A little while after that we started dating. It was on and off. She only wanted sexual favors but I’ll get to that. We were at their house, we were in her room looking for her X-box. She sat on the bed and I just stood there awkwardly. Then she mentioned something about me either giving her head or fingering her. I don't remember but, I do remember somehow avoiding the question and changed the subject. Fast forward to a few weeks later, we were at my house in my pool. So were just swimming and playing around. Well, she got horny like she always does whenever we’re alone. This is the really disturbing part. We had these pool torpedoes, right? We had like four of them. Well, she got creative and decided to shove two up inside her and she wanted me to do the same. I asked ‘why’ and she just said ‘Just do it, it feels good.’ I of course didn’t believe her, but she kind of coerced me to. So she put two in me and it hurt like hell. I could barely move. After a few seconds of having them in, I wanted them out, but she wouldn’t let me. I told her it hurt and she didn’t care. She told me I had to get ready for dick. Instead, we got out of the pool and walked to my treehouse. I don't know how I could walk let alone climb the ladder to get up into the treehouse. So we sat down, and I said, ‘Name, please let me take them out, it hurts.’ she said I could only take them out if I fingered her. Yeah, she’s controlling and manipulative. She gave me no choice. When I was done, I took them out. Just then her mom came over and said it was time to go home. Thank god. When she left, I went inside and changed. When I was done, I went to the bathroom and it burned. And I was bleeding. Yeah, she popped my fucking cherry in the worst way possible. Crazy right? Well, it doesn’t end there. It hurt to walk because I had a constant burn between my legs. I couldn’t wear underwear because it hurt so bad. They would rub up against me and make the pain even worse. I didn’t tell anybody because I was ashamed of myself. I never told her ‘no.’ it's like you do something you don’t want to do and you feel like you have no choice. You just kind of disassociate and aren’t in the moment. And when it's over, that’s when it hits you. And you ask yourself, ‘Why did I do that?’ and you can’t go back and fix it. I ask myself that every day I see her, when I go near my pool, and when I see those toys she used on me. I could hardly fall asleep that night, and the burn made it hard to sleep. A few days after when I went to the bathroom it burned and there was this pain. I can’t explain. I couldn’t even do track practice. I later found out I had a UTI. I didn’t dare tell anyone about it because I was ashamed of myself. I let this happen to me again. That wasn’t the only time. I tried to avoid her after that but she always saw me and I’d pretend to be happy to see her. Whenever we were alone together she would somehow coerce me into doing sexual things to her. One time I went over to her house after I got off the bus. I put my backpack inside and went back over. I wasn’t to be over there because her mom wasn't home. She invited me in, and of course, I didn’t speak up and say ‘no’ for the hundredth time. So she showed me around the house and we sat on the couch and I tried to have a casual conversation but all she wanted to do was make out. She convinced me to go into her room. And there we made out and got naked. I really hate saying this. But I was kissing her and she asked me ‘You want to eat this pussy?’ and I didn’t say no. I just nodded my head and I hated myself and wanted to kill myself afterward. I went home and washed my face and my mouth to get her taste off my face and my mouth. I never said no because one I was scared and if I said I didn’t want to she would threaten me or manipulate me into what she wanted. Like what she did at the pool. Im still traumatized from that. And I see her every day at school. I can't forget what she did to me. Now I don't like people touching me the way she made me touch her. Since she was my first sexual experience now I do things with girls more than I do with boys. She messed me up in so many ways. I told my friend what she did and of course, she was disgusted. She made this ‘ugh’ face and shook her head. It was funny. This is the more updated version than what I put on paper, but im gonna put this on paper. I could print it but I don't want my parents to read this. They would be very concerned.

I was 9 the first time I was assaulted. 16 when I was raped. This is what I remember. I am now 54 and just starting to acknowledge my assaults. The first person that assaulted me was the son of my parent’s best friends. When my parents would go away on trips, I would stay with this family. I’m not sure how it started but I vividly remember two incidents. One in his parent’s bedroom. There must have been a party happening because their were a lot of coats on the bed. I remember him trying to convince me to do something I wasn’t comfortable with. I remember it being very confusing and I kept saying no. I’m not 100% sure what exactly happened but I know it was wrong. The second incident I recall with this individual was on his bed (I think). He was on top of me. I believe we both had our clothes on but he was on top of me, kissing me and trying to convince me to let him put his hands down my pants. I don’t remember the rest. I am certain this happened more than twice. Fast forward 4 or 5 years later. I was at this families camp. This individual’s sister was dressing me up, putting makeup on me, etc. It was supposed to be fun. When I was all “made up” they wanted to take pictures. The person who assaulted me was there and they wanted me to pose next to him….I started to cry. After some time, I disclosed what happened to my mother. It was swept under the rug and it was never really talked about again. Shortly after I disclosed, I was watching tv with my father (completely innocent, my father and I were and still are very close), my mother was out and came home. She had some trouble opening the door to get into our camp. She thought we locked the door. She accused me and my father of doing something nasty. This was devastating to me. Continue on a couple of years to when I was around 16. I started dating a man who was 33. I didn’t realize until a few weeks ago that when he had sex with me, it was rape because of my age. He took pictures of me in lingerie and naked. When I wanted to break up with him, he told me he would send the pictures to everyone I knew including my parents, teachers, church and where I worked. My parents found out. They gave me the choice to leave and be with him or stay at home and break up. I was happy to break up with this individual, but it blows my mind now that my parents gave me the option to go with him. Until just recently, I thought that since I don’t remember any penetration when I was 9 that I wasn’t actually assaulted. I thought it was normal even though I still feel sick thinking of the incidents. I never really talked or dealt with it openly. I became incredibly sexually driven. I define myself based on how sexually attractive I am which has made aging incredibly difficult for me. I drink too much and consume weed to fog my brain. I am now seeking help and it’s so difficult to face the memories. I keep thinking that these individuals got away with what they did to me and I feel shame that I didn’t do enough to help future victims of these individuals. My heart breaks for those who had to go through what I did because I wasn’t brave enough to push the issue and stop them. I think that out of all the things that were done to me, the worst is that these individuals likely went on to ruin the life of others. For that, I am so ashamed and sorry.

I got sexually assaulted by a massage therapist. Damn it feels so good to say that out loud (or at least type to whoever is listening in the interweb universe). I felt like it was my fault. Was I flirting with him? Did I lead him on in some way? Should I take it as a compliment? Ew. Disgusting that I am so conditioned to feel that way. I completely froze when it was happening. I felt detached from my body, floating overhead looking down at myself, praying for it to be over. Hell I even tipped him afterwards. Why did I do that... it’s hard to say. I guess I was shocked. Terrified. Maybe I panicked and just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. But what does that mean for the other women he will come in contact with? Will reporting it to his manager be enough to stop this from happening to someone else? Did she even take what I said seriously? And what does this mean for me? How can I navigate the world knowing that things like this happen everyday. I’m discouraged. I’m angry. I’m sad. And I feel like I didn’t do enough. But what else could I have done? What case could I win with virtually no evidence?

It was my freshman year of college at a frat party. I’d only started drinking about 4 months prior. Only about 15-20 minutes after arriving at the party, I took a drink from a friend of a friend - Not knowing it had been roofied. Within about 10-15 minutes, my memory went completely. My friend reports seeing me glassy eyed, stumbling and very unwell. She did everything she could to sober me up, but made a decision to leave me at the party in a bed so I wouldn’t get in trouble with our small Christian college. I don’t blame her for this decision and never have - I probably would’ve done the same thing. The next morning I woke up, no pants on, next to a man I didn’t know. In the coming weeks, I learned he took photos of me that night and sent them to his entire frat group chat. He proceeded to stalk me around my campus, send me texts like “you look so good naked” and harass me further. My life was a living hell and to cope with it all, I dissociated from myself and developed an eating disorder to gain back some sense of control in my life. It took me a year to finally open up to my mom and sister about what I’d experienced. This was a decision sort of thrust upon me when I decided to report my rapist to my school and they told me I’d need support through the process. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and while I was told they couldn’t do anything because it was my word against his, I am so truly glad I did. Telling my story opened up my journey to healing - One that number years later has allowed me to raise awareness for sexual assault and gow we can prevent it, as well as provide a support system for other individuals like me.

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