Community

I was sexually abused by my father when I was 8 years old. Once I got a bit older I realized the damage that it was bringing to my life. At 15 I finally told my mom what my own father did to me. In my early 30s I began going to church faithfully and that’s when I finally forgave him. Fast forward to when I turned 35 I received a phone call that my dad had been arrested for something similar. And currently at the moment I am fighting for justice once more. Hoping that finally this can be put in the past.

The Smoke and the Shield I grew up in a house where the air was always thick with the sweet, chemical stench of the meth pipe. My mother, stepfather, aunts, and uncles weren't just parents; they were soldiers in a war that didn't exist, and paranoia was our oxygen. I learned early that survival meant playing along with their ghosts, agreeing that I heard helicopters that weren't there just to avoid the jagged rants that followed if I didn't. I spent my childhood secretly praying for the police to raid us, not because I understood crime, but because I was desperate for someone to save me. But the sirens never came. Instead, I lived in the crossfire of meth-induced rage. I was accused of imaginary crimes born in their frantic minds, belittled until I felt invisible, and beaten until the fat lips became my only excuse to miss school. Neglect was my first language; I walked into classrooms smelling of that house while other children whispered about cooties and pulled away. My mother was so consumed by the pipe that she never taught me how to say no, leaving me defenseless when the betrayal turned predatory. At twelve, she served me meth in my coffee, trapping me in a nightmare of hallucinations. By thirteen, my protectors became my traffickers, selling my body under the guise of babysitting to a man twice my age. They groomed me to believe violation was normal, using pornography to distort my world before I even knew what a healthy life looked like. Eventually, something inside me snapped. I tried to drown the pain in alcohol and self-mutilation, attempting to leave this world numerous times because a life defined by their cruelty didn't feel like living. Even when hospitalized, the rule of silence followed me; I was too terrified to betray the family that had already discarded me. When child services finally intervened, my parents cheated the drug tests to keep the pipe lit, and rather than choosing me over the drug, my mother abandoned me to the system. I was angry, alone, and exhausted, but in the hollow quiet of foster care, I realized the only hand coming to save me was my own. I clawed my way out, fighting for my GED and stepping into a career that demanded the discipline and strength I had been forced to develop as a child. I made a silent vow to never become the monsters who raised me, but the trauma of my youth had broken my internal radar. I backslid into an abusive marriage that forced me to relive the nightmare I thought I had escaped. My husband tried to kill me twice, and when that didn’t work, he shifted to breaking me down mentally. He told me to kill myself because he didn’t want to do the dirty work of killing me himself. I became so broken that I almost succeeded, but after a medical crisis that should have been the end, I was told I was lucky to be alive. That was the moment the world shifted. I realized my life had value, and I took my kids and left him for good. Today, my life is dedicated to being the sanctuary I never had. I am raising my children in a home defined by stability and real love, not the chemical shadows or the violence of my past. I am sober, I am awake, and I am present for every moment they need me. I am constantly exhausted from the weight of the past and the effort of standing guard, but it is a fight worth fighting. The cycle is broken, and for the first time, my children are growing up in a house that is truly, deeply safe.

This happened when I was 16 years old and had just left a children's home and was returning to leave with my dad. On the first day back home, my dad came to pick me up from the children's home and we went back to his house and he showed me to my room and after unpacking my stuff,I said I was going to take a shower and I went to the bathroom to shower but realised my dad was peeking at me shower. I was afraid at the point of time and didn't know what to do and after rinsing off the soap and drying off I went to my bedroom to dress and my dad raped me and told me it's alright and that he loves me very much and alright. 3days later my dad invited 3 of his friends over for a drink and I said I was going to stay in my room and read. 2hours later,all 4 of the burst into my room and 2 of my dad's friends held me down while my dad and his the other friend started undressing me and my dad raped me while his friend put his penis in to my mouth and force me to perform oral sex on him. After what feels like forever,my dad and his friends exchanged places. I was blindfolded this time round by my dad's friend who initially was holding on to my hands. So I now don't know who was raping me and who is having a go in my mouth and one of the shoot in my mouth and forcing me to swallow his cum and they exchanged places again and when they were done,I was told to go clean up but I didn't,I just took a towel and my wallet and ran out the house and flag down a cab and went back to the children's home and when the staff there who opened the gate to let me in saw my in distraught called the police and I was taken to the hospital to be examined. 2 days later I was told that all 4 was caught.

My name in Name. Im a trans-man. This story happened she u was 13-14. I was forced to love my home country due to political repressions. So when we came to the city, I was completely alone. I didn’t know anyone and my family always have been abusive. Violence, alcohol, all that. And then I met her. She was four years older than me, in the last class. I don’t know what she found in me. I mean in a year, I would find out. So by the end of school year we became friends. So close, like I never had before. She was kind, understanding and generally nice to me. I never had this before. Next school year she went to college, but our connection only became stronger. She started saying things like “you are the most important to me” and even “I love you”. The first alarm bell was when I found out she was doing drugs. She casually mentioned it in a conversation. Something inside me screamed to stop it. But her “I love you” had me in a chokehold. I would do anything for her. I also knew she liked a guy, and I was practically the second option. Maybe that was the second alarm. In February we went to a concert. In the bathroom her and her friends started taking pills. “You want?” They asked. “Sure” I said. Didn’t even know what that was. Soon I started doing drugs too. She basically was my dealer, she had even more control over me.We would come to her room have these gatherings, where we did drugs, smoked and talked about nothing. What was supposed to be us together was one big loneliness. I hated that, I kept coming, just to see her. My parents didn’t even ask where I was spending nights. So one time after her friends left she sat close to me. That night from us two only I was high. She started kissing me, like she did before. But then she runs her hand across my chest and under my shirt. I got scared, I didn’t want anything like this. “Please don’t” I told her softly. She told me that it’s okay, and “you’re gonna like that”. After a few phrases I submitted. I hated the process, I hated myself in it. But now her. I said it, because I wanted to be liked my her. Next morning I was scraping myself in the shower, but I couldn’t feel clean. I felt her touch. Still do sometimes. A week after that happened she started ignoring me. Just became I ghost. Left me addicted not only to drugs, but also to her. I often feel, like it was my fault. I could’ve not done drugs, and not submitted to her.

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’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

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.

When I was 12/13 and my brother was 9ish, he started to grope me. At first it was just quick grabs of my breasts or ass. But he started to get more confident and began groping and squeezing for longer and longer periods of time and doing it more frequently. Eventually he started grabbing/cupping my vulva through my clothes. I was a bit bigger than him and could successfully fight him off, but I was not allowed to. My parents knew what was happening and he often did stuff like this in front of them. They ignored it and acted like it wasn't happening. He never got in trouble for it. They would only tell him to stop in the moment if there was a guest over or I was begging them to momentarily intervene. But if I pushed him, hit him, or even just yelled at him to stop, I got in trouble with my parents. I cried and begged my parents for months to talk to him and make him stop, but they never did. I was constantly choosing between letting my own brother touch me and getting punished by my parents for self-defense. It was agony. This probably went on for 9 months. I don't know if I'm really a victim of abuse or anything. My brother was younger than me and smaller than me. In COCSA cases, it's almost always an older abuser and a younger victim. That's not my situation. He knew touching me was wrong, but he didn't have a complete understanding of consent and sex. But, he was old enough to understand "no" and me crying. As his older sister, I feel like I also have a responsibility towards him and that I should have done more in that situation. But how could I? My parents didn't help me and I was punished for protecting myself.

I was age out in a club and my boss and his friends were there at a stag, he introduced me to his friend who was hot so initially I was delighted. Had one drink with him and next thing I wake up in a hotel room, naked in a bed with him, the double bed was covered in my vomit, my first reaction was I just got too drunk and was consensual, he was horrible told me to go clean myself up and he would drive me home, he laughed at me when I asked did I need the morning after pill, I knew I did? I had only had sex with one other person, I’d bruises all over me and was sore. I knew something was wrong, he drove me home in his BMW acting like he had done nothing wrong. I got home, showered, knew 100% then I’d been date raped. Didn’t want to worry my mum so my best friend brought me to my doc and he refused morning after cause he thought it was abortion so we had to drive hours to get it. Also had to get std tests. I’ll never forget the smirk I got from my boss when I went back to work. The shame, guilt, embarrassment I put on myself over it, I drank too much, got in abusive relationship, and had about 10 years of feeling so negative about myself. Counselling, talking to friends and now meds have helped. I’m now embedding consent into my own kids and letting them know the dangers out there. It’s happening too often and it needs to stop. I wish I had of reported him, wish I knew then that it wasn’t my fault, that it was him being pathetic, sad excuse of a man. Fuck him and fuck all of the others that think it’s ok to rape. Hope you all rot in hell. And sending massive love to the women who have the courage to stand up to them, you are amazing xxx

I believe that my ex-boyfriend, Name — a bodybuilder currently living in State — has been engaging in serious digital harassment, including hacking my devices, spoofing text messages, and attempting to make it appear that I sent messages I did not. I have also noticed individuals around me—such as neighbors or coworkers—acting in ways that seem coordinated, including color-coding, winking, and using specific terms like “widgets” when referring to my family. I have reported this situation to the police, but so far there has been insufficient evidence to link these incidents directly to him. If anyone else has experienced similar behavior from this person, please come forward and share your experience.

Hello, I am a victim of physical, mental, emotional, and verbal abuse. For the last for years my kids dad have been abusing me. I’ve tried so many times to escape but every time was not a success. When I have my son the abusing had for but then it started back. When I was pregnant with my daughter I remember me sitting in the couch and he can in the house mad about something somebody told him . I remember saying it’s wasn’t true but then he beat me. I couldn’t do anything but sit there and cover my face and stomach. Recently he broke bones in my face when he punched me. Which in this whole situation got my kids taken from me and also my car

Help me please I found out i was assaulted when i was ten or so by my older half brother. I woke up to him in my bed, and i was a child so i didnt think much of it, but i always had this rule where i didnt want anyone in my bed because it was mine and blah blah, so i told him i was gonna tell on him later and he ran back to my brother bunk bed where he originally slept and didnt say anything. I ran over to tell my parents, and in the morning yhey obviously knew something was wrong so they asked him why he was in my bed and he admitted that he been using my ass to masturbate for months. And i got memories to when i would wake up in the middle of the night where he’d be walkong back and forgh with paper tissues and my butt would feel wet and i always thiught i was just seeaty and stuff but it then clicked and i remembered all the tomes he would grind against me randomly but again i didnt think anything of it and he got beat for three days and he had to applogize to me and i saw him pleading for forgiveness cause they forced him too and i was so scared but i always thiught it wasnt that deep cause it wasnt actually rape and i was jever conscious for him doing that and now im much older now but this week has been really hard and even to this day it turns me on so much to think of me being assaulted like i hate it when i hear of of others getting hurt in that way but it arouses me so much and i thiught it made progress but during this period it turned me on so much and its terrible and i dont know what to do its still haunting me when i didnt even really go theough anyrhing and ive been telling myself that im fine for the longest time and that everything is okay but this is jsut revealing that in not okay and that im judt some sicko who gets off to other people hypothetically assaulting me whats wrong with me i dont know what to do please help me llease validate me please do something i dont like feeling like this what should i do

I was just 3 years old when it started, my mom walked in on my older brother telling me to get undressed to play the love doctor game. He is my half brother so we had different moms. My mom told my dad to keep his son away from me. Unfortunately it continued for 11 more years. He would hold me down, cover my mouth and touch me or rub up against me. He would wake me up in the middle of the night by touching me. He would even do it when my dad was in the same room asleep but I couldn’t move, I was frozen. I fought everything at first but he was bigger than me and stronger than me so I soon learned that I was powerless. I would lay there crying and then I eventually went numb and would derealize. One time, I was wearing a bathing suit and my brother proceeded to tell me that I put it on to tease him. After that I hated wearing bathing suits. We went on a family vacation with my whole family, we were in the lake, and he started touching me in the lake, I couldn’t do anything but freeze. Those are just a few times it occurred given it was almost every day. He did it in front of my little cousin who then thought it was okay to grab my butt and try and kiss me. I came out about my abuse my sophomore year of High school, so about 2 years ago. I spiraled very fast starting high school, I began drinking a lot and getting into drugs to cope. One night, I was at a party and I got extremely drunk and high and was passed out, my ex bf dragged me into this supply closet and raped me. Everyone called me a whore for it and blamed me. I then went on a date with a guy later that year, for Valentine’s Day, he asked me to give him oral, I said no, multiple times, then he forced me, I cried the whole time, and still to this day he sees nothing wrong with it. I was told I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I am still forced to be around all of these people and struggle with my mental health. I have PTSD, Anxiety, and depression, and they have no consequences for their actions only I do.

I was first raped when I was 14 years old, by a classmate. I didn’t know it was rape for almost 10 years. I was raped again when I was 20 years old, by a friend in my dorm on campus. I’m now 28 years old and work as an educator, counselor and advocate for interpersonal violence prevention. I have been searching for a place to share my story without having to share my identity (thank you endlessly EROC/It’s On Us for this space). I have so much to share but even more so I hope whoever is reading this knows they’re not alone.

I want to share my experiences, as I have many times but never in print or where I can leave it for other survivors to read. I want you to know that you ARE better than the abuse you might be receiving. You ARE amazing. You ARE resilient and can absolutely do whatever you set your mind to. I was in an abusive relationship for 8 years. Of course the abuse started slowly, so slowly I could write it off as my fault or an accident. I lived with a friend at 21 and met the man who would eventually become my children's father. I remember telling my friend that he had shoved me on the bed, directly on my cat so I might hurt her too. I remember that friend telling me "He reminds me of my ex-husband, the one who broke my jaw for catching him cheating on me" and of course I didn't listen. Slowly the abuse got worse physically, mentally, emotionally. Eventually I started to fight back, not physically but would try to talk him down or just defend myself and he would rape me, as a point to show me who was still in control. I had out of body experiences- got knocked out by force- to wake up locked away in a hotel room with my keys gone and phone taken so I couldn't call for help. I loved him and couldn't bear to call the police on him- by this time I knew he was here illegally. I knew most of his family were here illegally. They would sit around the living room hearing me getting my ass handed to me and in the beginning I wondered why they wouldn't interfere- I later learned that if anyone interfered then my beating got worse because "you're cheating on me with HIM" or something similar. A couple years go by and most of my friends have moved on or were disgusted that I stayed with him- I was pretty good at hiding what was really going on because he loved hitting me where most people wouldn't see a bruise. I truly believed that I could help him, or fix him, because his childhood was rough growing up in the mountainous countryside of location and his father was abusive. Plus I knew that for the most part their women are brought up submissive, so it was all acceptable for a long time. I made excuses for him and he would cry to me and say "I know it's wrong but I can't help it, I watched it my whole life- watched my mother die because of my father." Plus he crossed the border when he was about 16 and was traumatized from that also. He just knew how to manipulate me and my emotions and for years I had no idea. I was attending college while pregnant at 25 and my classmates knew and tried to help me but I wasn't ready yet. Not until he hit me and split my eyebrow open with his fist when I was 6 months pregnant. My mom dragged me to the police station and wouldn't let me leave until I pressed charges against him. That was when she learned about my years of abuse- my family suspected but I was good at hiding it. It took me having my little girl - my saving grace, my reason for waking up back then- to learn I was better than the abuse I was getting. I realized that I didn't want her growing up in that kind of environment, never wanted her to think that any sort of abuse is okay or even remotely acceptable. That was when I started thinking about leaving him. That's when God shows up glaringly obvious to me then- he gets arrested. Finally I have one foot out the door. Then 2. Then I lose that apartment we were living in because I had been on HUD and he wasn't supposed to be there. I go back to my parents house with my 1 year old daughter. A year later I get pregnant once more by him. By this time I am self-medicating for depression/anxiety/PTSD and trying to fill that void left behind by him. He had introduced me to drugs and snorting pills during our relationship. I was struggling with answering/not answering the phone when he called and jumping when he asked for things. By all rights, my 2nd child should have been born with withdrawals and once again God showed up for me and my child. A month prior to her birth I went to church and without even knowing me that pastor spoke to my soul and him and his congregation healed my unborn child. Today my girls are age 1 &age 2years old and thriving. My little savior and miracle child. Their father was deported a few years ago and he stopped calling/checking in on our girls. They know what kind of person he was and how he treated me and they don't really want anything to do with him though they have attempted to reach him via FB because they want answers. They want to know why he doesn't try to call them anymore, why he hurt me. I have never wanted to be that parent who keeps their kids from the other parent. My mom struggles with that concept but honors it for them. I want my kids to decide whether they want him in their life or not though he seems to have made that choice for them. He has always been selfish. 18 years later I still struggle with my self worth, have struggled to stay clean. I am strong, I am resilient, I am a great mom. I love myself Most days. Most days I know my worth, though I have been in a relationship with someone I thought was perfect for me but now I struggle with whether or not this relationship is healthy.

I can't remember the month I met him or the day he became a coworker. I just remember meeting him and thinking he was shy. I remember him having a friendly smile. Something about him made me feel safe. He was kind and patient and empathetic. I guess our friendship started when I needed someone and I was vulnerable. I've been happily married for over a decade. Even now, I've haven't spoken about what happened. I feel dirty. I haven't been able to write about what happened to me. For a long time, I blamed myself because I was high when it happened. I was so high that I couldn't feel anything. There are blank spots within my memory, but I do remember the first night. A few coworkers and I had decided to go out for drinks and play pool at a local bar. He offered to drive me home and we talked. It was nice. After a few hours, he picked me up again and we drove around the city. It wasn't long before the feeling on his hands were on my skin. I asked him to stop and he did for a while. He drove into an old church parking lot and we continued to talk. He knew I was married, but he wanted to kiss me anyway. When he leaned in, I told him no. I don't quite remember the rest of the evening but I remember reading the time and seeing 2:13am. I told him that I needed to go home, but he said I had to do something first. I thought he was joking. He placed my hand on his lower body. I pulled away and told him no. He said, "Please. It would feel so good and I really need this." I told him we shouldn't, but he was persistent. He continued to grab my hand and put it on his crotch. He said it would feel better if he was able to "take it out". I asked him to stop and he said, "Sorry." I was grateful he apologized. "I thought you wanted this, though. You got me hardd, so now you have to finish," he said. I kept saying no and he continued to be persistent. The only answer left was to say yes. Externally, I said yes but internally I was saying no. I figured if I could make the situation less unpleasant, it would end quickly. I laid in the passenger seat feeling his hands move from my upper body down to my groin. He asked me to turn around and bend over. I told him no. He said, "I'm almost done. Please.. I need this." Even after saying no, he was persistent. I should have walked away or called 911 or called my Mom. Anything to save me. But I knew if I did, it would cause chaos. I was located 30-45 minutes outside of town - it was dark out, and I was worried he was going to hurt me or kick me out. I feel guilty for allowing him to touch me. It's hard not to feel guilty even though I froze and did what I could to survive. I returned home confused about what happened and acknowledged that I had not consented to that encounter. I know what assault is. I didn't want this to happen and I said no. Yet, it happened anyway. I learned about sexual coercion a few months after. This continued for a few months. He told me that I was a cheater because I didn't walk away. I feel like a cheater. I feel useless and powerless because he told me I had no choice. I feel responsible for what happened, but confused because it was unwanted. All along I've been wondering what he took from me. He took my consent.

The first time someone raped me, I was fourteen. Summer before high school. I didn’t know what rape was. I didn’t have a word for what happened. I didn’t know it was wrong, even though it felt terrifying and ugly and dirty. I figured it was just me. Turns out when things like this go unaddressed, we’re at higher risks of repeating the trauma. That’s what ended up happening to me in different ways. I hated myself. I struggled with eating disorders. I felt inherently poison. I don’t remember a lot because the majority of my thoughts were consumed by pain, and wondering if anyone cared. It didn’t feel like anyone did; in fact, all my trauma responses (before I knew them as such) were blamed on me being difficult. Ten years later, I realized and disclosed the impact rape had on my entire understanding of myself and the difficult roads I had traveled. And so I began a long healing journey. A few years after that, it happened again. Turns out old trauma responses die hard. The difference was that this time, I knew what happened. I had words for it. It was brutal, but I fought for myself and became the advocate I needed as a kid. I didn’t abandon her, the terrified girl battered in a dark room. I stayed. I was exhausted, I grieved, I did it all. But I stayed. Three years have passed. While the DA couldn’t prosecute, I found a lawyer willing to take my case as a civil case on contingency. I can’t say that was easy, or that any part of the process felt fair. But again—I stayed. What I think most about in my healing is that living freely is a luxury even though it shouldn’t be. I think about the chains that tie us up over time, the intersections of violence and our identities, of feeling in my body or out of it, what feels safe for my presence, how I can grow into that so I can enjoy pieces of life I’ve cut off out of fear for their being an opening for more harm. I’m still healing. Aren’t we all? And what I’ve decided is that healing lives not only in what you reclaim but how you reclaim it. Wholeness is what we deserve. Every one of us. Including me. Including you.

I was in second year of my undergrad and at that time I was partying and getting drunk almost every night. I recently came out to my friends as bisexual and was really shy and nervous about that whole thing. I wasn’t confident in my sexuality and they made jokes about what kind of girls I was into. I felt alone and uncomfortable with my self and who I was interested in. I went to a local bar one night and got so so drunk I managed to leave the bar and start walking home to my university house really late at night. My roommates weren’t with me and didn’t know where I went. To this day, 4 years later I cannot remember why or how I left. I have the start of my memories on my bedroom with some girl on top of me. I did not remember how we got there, I didn’t know who she was, I didn’t know what was happening. She was kissing me and touching me all over. I kept saying stop, what’s going on. She kept saying it’s okay, your so hot. But I was so drunk I could barley walk or speak. I managed to tell her to get off and leave. She did and as soon as she closed the door to my room I locked it. I was so scared, drunk and in shock of what just happened. My roommates came home while she was in my room and as soon as she left, they asked who that was. I didn’t know the answer. I said I legit don’t know and that was the end of it as everyone assumed I wanted this person there. I tried to tell one roommate the next day that I didn’t know the person and to let her know I needed help. She didn’t realize what I was saying to her. I walked around the next year and half at my university thinking I was going to see this girl. I thought I did one time and I started balling my eyes out and hid my face until they walked past. Years later I broke down and told my new boyfriend and months later, I told my friends from home. To this day the flashback of being in my room with stranger on top of me makes me want to throw up. I don’t know how to heal or how long it will take but all I know was that was not okay. I was not okay and I am safe now but wasn’t then. I was scared to speak but I need to. I did not want that, I was not conscious.

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.

I was sexually assaulted at work in 2018. Then in 2020 it happened again but with stalking and threats. Every time I reported I was demonized and retaliated against. The second harassment and subsequent legal route I took resulted in me having a nervous breakdown and becoming agoraphobic and unable to drive my car reliably amongst many other "unables", not to mention damaging my relationship with my partner who has been with me every step of the way. This stress I was undergoing juxtaposed against my family's inability to support me (due to their own mental health problems/ dysfunctional nature and generational trauma that they had passed to me) brought up old childhood traumas that I was not ready to handle. This all is said to you while I am sitting on the toilet for the 10th time today, a side affects of the GERD and IBS that I was gifted with due to this toxic stress I am saddled with. To this day I am still struggling to become employed as well as struggling to reduce my self harm and suicidal thoughts that have increased since the start.