Community

It was 21 years ago and I have never told anyone. I lived with my first roommate, who I knew had some questionable friends. Nevertheless, I trusted her and our new, cute, little home. Until one night she had friends over. I didn't drink and wasn't into hard drugs. We had food, everyone else was drinking and having a good time. I don't remember anything after that, until I woke up in the middle of the night with a man, one of her 'friends', on top of me. He was inside of me as I laid on the middle of the floor. I could not move, I could not speak. It wasn't a flight, fight or freeze, I had been drugged and could not move a single part of my body. I couldn't even move my arms to push him away. And when my roommates MOTHER walked into our new home, into the dark room, in the middle of the night, she saw what was happening. All I could do was open my eyes wide with fear, but she turned around and walked out without a word and left him to finish what he started. He laughed when she walked away. By the time I had any control of my body, he was gone, I was alone and naked on the living room floor of my first place, where every person stepped over me as they filed out in the morning. It was the morning joke...what and who did she do. No one asked if I was ok that morning. No one ever did. It has been 21 years and I still don't know the name of the man who raped me that night, but I will always remember his face.

The mind is an interesting, beautiful and dangerous thing. I find my mind to be especially so. I have always been an overthinker, and my thoughts have led me into dark places in my life. At the time of writing this, I am studying psychology and trying to work on a better understanding and diagnosis of my own condition through therapy and my studies. My story, this story, begins in 2022, the year I graduated high school. For context though, we must go back much further. Was I always depressed? Was I always insecure? Shy? Did I always hide in the corner? No! As a child, I was quite outgoing. I may have always been somewhat of a shy introvert, but I managed to make friends everywhere I went, eager to get to know others and play with them. I have always been extremely trusting, to the extent of naivety and gullibility. All the way through elementary school, I always had a large friend group and following. I physically grew faster than most kids, I learned faster than most and began tutoring my peers in fifth grade. My friends and I ran the playground. I was a leader, one of the cool kids. It brought me a sense of power, but it also led to me being obsessive, a control freak at times. The transition to middle school was different. Though I was still athletic and wasn't obese, I had gained a bit of weight that I could stand to lose. When swimming one time, someone whose opinion I greatly valued, pointed out my body. "You have rolls," they said. From that moment, I never saw myself the same. At that moment, insecurity truly crept into my life for the first time. From then on, I never took my shirt off around other people, even my closest friends and family. I wore a shirt whenever I swam, and when we were given middle school locker rooms for athletics, I changed in the bathroom stall instead. The friend group I once ruled the playground with, started to break apart, even if I didn't realize it. Part of it was because I stopped being one of the "cool kids," but looking back now, I realize that with my control, I was also not a very good friend at times. At the end of middle school, I learned that I would be moving to a different town and school. Though it was only a 30 minute drive away, for a kid with no transportation, it was a world away. This gave my friends the out they needed. I stopped hearing back from them until they eventually cut me out completely. A small few stuck around, but out of them, only one has stayed by my side to this day as an adult. The summer before high school was a hard one. My grandpa and his brother died within weeks of each other. With hardly any friends, my second oldest sister became my best friend for the summer. However, with her being four years older than me, as I was starting high school, she was off to college, and I was alone. As the youngest, I was an only child for the first time in my life, and my relationship with my parents at the time was almost nonexistent. When I started high school in a new and unfamiliar place, I was scared to death. I sat alone at lunch and in the corner of every classroom. My stress manifested itself as a painful black hole in the center of my torso. I couldn't bring myself to eat. In the first week of school alone, I lost about 15 pounds! To speed up my story a bit, I grew into myself a bit more, thinned out, worked out, and gained a bit of muscle. After the end of my freshman year, some girls actually started to find me attractive. I had a couple dates with a girl or two, and by the second half of my sophomore year, I had my first real girlfriend. Looking back at that relationship, I still thank God for bringing her into my life. As soon as she asked to sit next to me on the band bus, I knew she liked me, even though at the time, I wanted nothing to do with her for some reason. That single bus ride changed everything though. With main topics of conversation being random things like sandwiches and Veggie Tales, by the end, I had a new best friend. After a couple months of getting to know each other, we confessed our feelings and she soon became my girlfriend. We had a lot in common, including hobbies as we were both in band and theater. It was because of her that Covid wasn't such a bad time for me, as it was for most others. Though we were both very close, we were also both very awkward, and never intimate. We never had any talks about physical intimacy, so for the most part, we never had physical intimacy. The most "cuddling" we ever did was my arm around her shoulder, or her head on my shoulder. When we finally had our first kiss, it was 10 days before our 2 year anniversary. It was also just a quick peck, we never made out or anything like that. Through the remainder of high school, I was constantly worried about what I looked like and my image, trying to work out more and get stronger. I joined a fire academy to train to be a firefighter during my last two years of high school. Eventually, our lives started to go in different directions, and after about 2 1/2 years, we broke up 4 days before our high school graduation. As you can imagine, that was a pretty rough first breakup for me. With the way my brain works, after something like this happens, it becomes all I can think about, constantly. I overthink and over analyze every thought, every memory. I put myself through the different possible scenarios and outcomes, sometimes to the point where I start to lose my grip on reality, and what the true memories are. The black hole of stress returned to my chest. At first, I was convinced that she was still "the one" and that I would get her back after a couple years. Then, as my thought process continued to shift and spiral, I began to think that because the relationship ended, that must mean that it was a bad thing to begin with, meaning that I needed to find the opposite of what we had. Unfortunately, I got what I asked for. Only about two months had passed before I met another girl at a church retreat that I was volunteering at. This girl was someone that I had always seen growing up, but never interacted with. I always viewed her as being extremely attractive, and I lusted after her more than any other girl. She was one of the popular kids, the head cheerleader at high school. We started talking and she took an interest in me. She knew that I had just gone through a breakup because of a testimony I gave during the retreat. The more we talked, the more I realized that she was different than I thought. The red flags showed up early on. At this point, she was 17 as I was 18. At 17 years old, she had a list of the 23 guys she had kissed, and the 5 guys that she had sex with, versus the one girl I had kissed. I was originally convinced that she was a virgin like me, but that quickly flew out the window. She assured me over and over that she had only gone through a "hoe phase" and that she was different now (I came to find out later that this "hoe phase" happened only a month or two before we got together. We got together in August, and she had sex with at least 3 guys over the summer). Part of me didn't want to judge her based on her past. Part of me wanted the affirmation of someone as attractive as her being interested in me. Part of me adopted an "I can fix her" mentality. All in all, a recipe for disaster. After talking for a while, I eventually, nervously confessed feelings for her via word vomit after walking her to her car one night. To my surprise, she reciprocated those feelings. She then hugged me. This was no normal hug, as it was different from any other hug I had ever experienced. There was full body contact as she pressed against me. Part of me instinctively retreated backward, but she continued forward so that I was then pinned between her and her car. There was more physical intimacy in that hug alone than anything I had ever experienced before. This feeling was new and admittedly exciting. In my vulnerable and desperate state, I thought, "this must be love." On our first date, after going to Starbucks, we went back to my place to watch a movie. She asked if I wanted to cuddle, and I told her that I honestly didn't really know how. She showed me a few different ways/positions for cuddling, and we ended up spooning for the majority of the movie. I could tell that she wanted to kiss, but I was awkward and uncomfortable, so I just didn't say anything. We did decide to become official boyfriend and girlfriend though, which was a big, fast step. Of course, that was only the beginning. On our second date, we did end up kissing, which led to making out for about an hour. Another new experience for me. By the end of that date, we were already saying "I love you" to each other. With my previous girlfriend, I told her I loved her at a couple different milestones within the relationship, but she never felt comfortable saying it back, so this was my first time hearing words of affirmation like that. Two weeks in, she started ramping things up. She started talking to me about her favorite sex positions and demonstrating them (with clothes on). She told me about all her kinks and the things she liked. She told me that she didn't have a gag reflex and then proceeded to take my hand and suck on one of my fingers while making strong eye contact with me. Looking back on it, I realize that I was never asked, nor did I tell about what I might be comfortable with. I was of the mindset that I never wanted to have sex or even see my significant other naked before marriage, but I don't think I ever conveyed that. Later on that same date, we were watching a movie and cuddling as usual. I still remember the movie being "Phantom of the Opera." At one point during the movie, she let out a loud sigh. I asked her what was wrong. "Oh nothing. I'm just having intrusive thoughts." I asked what she meant. "It's nothing. You probably wouldn't want to anyway." I told her she could tell me whatever it was. "Oh, I was just thinking about putting your hand under my shirt." I got silent. I wasn't expecting that, and I didn't know how to respond. A moment later, she continued, "Do you want to?" I replied, "I don't know." She continued, "yes or no?" My response remained the same "I don't know." We went back and forth a couple more times, her voice becoming more and more of a seductive whisper each time. My mind was racing with thoughts of "Should I do this? I don't know, it feels wrong. What happens if I say no? Will she leave me? I can't lose her. I can't be alone!" To this day, I can't clearly remember if I actually said yes or not, but regardless, I didn’t say no, and I did what she wanted. I know now that it was all part of her tests to see how far she could push me little by little. Soon after that came grinding, and then sexual touching (all with clothes on). Over time, these memories have become a bit unclear as to exactly what happened and when. She started asking me to take my shirt off to cuddle. I thought that was a really weird request, especially still being very self-conscious about my body image, when shirtless most of all. I asked her why, to which she responded, "I like skin to skin contact." Though it made me feel uncomfortable and a bit ashamed, I complied and took my shirt off. She would affirm me and say how attractive I was to her. She would then become more passionate and eager to cuddle and make out. With the sexual touches, there became less and less clothes, down to underwear. She always gave me high praise and told me how good I made her feel, how happy I made her, and how much she loved me. I wanted to do anything I could to make her happy so that she wouldn't leave me. After dating for about a month and a half, we had moved up to oral sex. At this point, I was still so naive and uneducated that I thought I had lost my virginity. In my mind, this meant that we were eventually going to get married for sure. It only kept ramping up. If she wasn't on her period, we were engaging in oral sex every day, sometimes multiple times. We were always together every day. The longest we were ever apart from each other was about a week. By some miracle, we never went all the way, even though she constantly wanted to, and I still have my virginity to this day. However, with her kinks, she wanted me to be rough with her: to choke her, spank her, pull her hair, talk dirty, etc. These were all things that I was greatly uncomfortable with. At my core, I've always been a very gentle person, a hopeless romantic who wants to always respect women and keep them from harm. The thought of doing these things was horrendous to me, but it was what she wanted. I originally thought that I was the one fixing her, but I realize that she was the one breaking me instead. Or rather, I was broken from my first breakup, and she rebuilt me in her image. I became what she wanted me to be, putty in her hands. After being together for about 10 months, she suddenly broke up with me over text. The best reason I can come up with is that she finally got tired of my refusal to go all the way, the one boundary that I kept in place. I heard later that she had already been cheating on me anyway. Soon after we broke up, immediately in fact, she started spreading rumors. The day after she broke up with me, she blocked me on social media and posted about our breakup (one of my friends showed me the post). From there, it was one rumor after another. She even went as far as to tell some people that I raped her. Thankfully, anyone that knew me, knew that something like that could never be true, so that rumor never got anywhere. Still, I became extremely paranoid from that moment, always looking over my shoulder, wondering what people thought of me or what they've heard. To this day, I still have a lot of trouble trusting people, and I often get paranoid that everyone is talking behind my back, conspiring against me, planning to leave me. The breakup broke me in a different way than any other. I had been going to church for my whole life, but it wasn't until after the breakup that my eyes were opened and I felt the weight of sin crushing down on me. I tried to turn myself around on my own, but I got nowhere. It took me reaching the point of almost taking my own life that I finally realized that I needed help and couldn't do it alone. I talked to my mom about almost everything I was going through. Though I was never close to my parents, and I was always afraid of them when I was growing up, they were very supportive of me, and helped me to find therapy and get the help I needed. Today, I have a much better relationship with them. After letting myself be rebuilt in her image, God allowed me to break again, so that I might finally be rebuilt in His. It wasn't until reading the book "unwanted" by Jay Stringer, and going through "safe environment" classes at my church that I started to realize that I was groomed, manipulated, and abused. To be honest, I still struggle with this concept to some extent to this day. I don't tell many people because of fear that I wouldn't be believed. Who would believe that a younger girl groomed an older guy? It certainly isn't a very common occurrence. Part of me still blames myself at times. I feel like I should've known better. Part of me wonders if it was what I wanted all along. Part of me wonders how consenting I was. Part of me hates myself for not being able to just say no. Regardless of if these are truths or lies, I know I can't let them control me. I have to leave the past where it belongs and continue to live. Healing is possible, though it may not be easy. I've started sharing my story more, and while I'm unsure of its effect on other people, I know that it at least helps me in some way. I wish to share my story. To educate others. I may feel like what I went through was part of God's plan, necessary for making me the man I am today, but I still want to try my best to protect others from the same fate. Though I tend to grow the most after each time I'm broken, this is not the way it needs to be. There is a better way! Let this be a message to everyone that you are never truly alone! There is no need to fear people leaving you. Some people may leave, others may not. It should never change who you are.

I was only 7. So was he. He watched porn that his dad had his before his mom left him for my dad. He had a younger sister. One day he and I were outside and he asks me something, something my brain refuses to remember. I was so unsure, so confused on why he was suggesting us young kids to do adult activities. I visited my dad’s every other weekend, my mom was a terrible parent. I remember he suggested we started small since I was uncomfortable, I thought he was being sweet, but I was always uncomfortable. We started out just poking each other, then he fully went for it. I didn’t want it. I really didn’t. He was supposed to be like a brother to me. After he started to progress, he would do it any chance he got, any time we were alone. Years later, his mom and my dad broke up, our house caught fire so I had to live over there for a bit. He didn’t touch me. Not anymore, he wouldn’t look at me. But his sister began to touch me, I had to teach her that what her brother had done to me was not okay. I had to explain to a child that she was violating me. Now I’ve had many more troubling sexual encounters, I’m an adult and go to therapy, I still don’t like my body.

I somehow got myself on Tinder at 16 years old. I know, not very smart of me but all my friends were on it at the time and I didn't think about it. I met someone who told me he was also underage, he claimed he was 17. He seemed perfect. We went on a date to a pumpkin patch, we got sushi at a restaurant, and after he came to my home to carve pumpkins. Everything was going so well. We were watching a movie and he asked us to move to my room. Honestly, I didn't really want to but I agreed and we went to my room. His demeanor changed immediately, suddenly he was cocky and dominant. We had sex which I had agreed to even if I felt pressured. Suddenly he put his penis in my anus, pulled it out after a few times, and put it back into my vagina. I was shocked, I was confused. Did that just happen? Is that normal? I am so grateful for the human survival instincts because I mostly checked out. But I remember him saying "You could at least act like you're enjoying it". Still, I didn't react. When he was done he got up and went to get a towel, I asked him to turn on the light and he said "Are you sure? You might not want to see the bed it's going to be graphic." I didn't understand and wanted the light on anyway. My white comforter was covered in blood and had feces stains on it. "wow" I felt embarrassed. He said it was normal. We went back into the living room and a few minutes later he left. Next, I threw out my comforter and went to my best friend's house. She had her older friend over. I told them what happened and they were shocked. Both of these girls were sexually experienced, and they told me that is not normal. You don't have anal sex by accident. You don't have anal sex without a discussion first. You don't "slip" into someone's anus which is the excuse I had thought up for him, "maybe he slipped?". They assured me it was not an accident that happens. I told the older girl his name, Name, it turns out she knows him and he is not 17. He told her he was 20. When he came over to her house before he was really pushy to have sex and her dog hated him so she kicked him out. My dog also hated him. Moving forward I reached out to him, he wasn't responding to my messages, then he said he was sorry but he's not looking for anything relationship-wise, he didn't want to see me again. At this point it started to become clearer "I might have been raped". I spent about 2 years going back and forth between did that really happen, was it rape, was it my fault, did I ask for it? A few days after the rape my vagina became swollen. I know, I'm sorry for the detail but it is crucial to the story. I went to the student based health center my school worked with because I did not want my parents to know I had sex. They did a test on me and I had bacterial vaginosis. The nurse said I had "bacteria that looked like a blooming flower inside of me.", this is because he went from my anus to my vagina a few times and I was bloody. Luckily it was an easy fix with some antibiotics. Another thing that confirmed something seriously wrong had happened. I spent 2 years of my life Junior and Senior years of high school in bed and I do not remember my high school time fully. I slept, I rotted, I removed my bed frame from my room in a mental breakdown, I rearranged my bed to different positions in my room, and I changed mattresses. Nothing was helping me. Eventually, I changed rooms. I began to resent my own home. I did not feel like I had a safe space. I started to be rude to my parents, I was mean when they would not let me go out, and I was snappy anytime. I skipped dinner, and avoided family time. In addition, I stopped going to school. I missed so many days of school, that they sent a letter that they might have a police officer come to our house to do a welfare check. My mom would drop me off at school, I would wait for her to drive away, and I would walk back home to go lay in bed. Until she started to wait until I got inside and then I would maybe go to one class and then walk home. My two best friends started to come to my window on school days and they would knock on my window to try and get me to come to class. One of them, my bestest friend in the world, would continuously knock on my window until I let her into my house. I also have barky dogs so they would be going crazy barking and I had to let her in, she also literally would not leave or stop knocking until I let her in. No matter how disgusting, and horribly messy my room was (I am talking can not see the floor, obstacles to the bed, garbage, huge piles of clothes, deep clothes on the floor) she would sit with me on my mattress on the floor. She would lay with me, she would cuddle me, she would make me watch videos with her on her phone. She would skip school for me. She would eventually coax me into leaving the house, going with her to get coffee, get food, go drive around, go to her house, go adventure outside in the woods together. I can't imagine what would have happened without her. She never made me feel like a victim, always let me talk about the gross details, and let me be my gross rotting self at this time, she made me laugh, she made me feel happy when I was so depressed, and didn't even really know why. As in I was still confused, still unsure if I was actually raped. Eventually, my school told me I would have to repeat my senior year. They never asked me what was wrong, they just told me I was failing bad. I had met a new guy at this time who became my boyfriend, he ended up cheating on me so I can't make him too nice in this story but at this time, he was really helpful, and beneficial, he taught me what real safe sex is and what it is supposed to be and feel like. It is communication, consent, mutual good feelings, and love. I want to add that when I did have sex with him for the first time after the rape my hands locked up. A physical result of trauma, I couldn't open up my hands, I was scared and not of him, but my body responded to this intimate act happening again. It was his first time having sex and I like to consider it my real first time too. He did not "slip" into my anus. Becuase that does not happen. After this, it clicked to me that I was anally raped. I had always searched on Google, Instagram, and anywhere I could for information on anal rape, and I could never find it. I wanted to be confirmed and validated. I wanted to find someone who had experienced the same thing I had and I still have not found it (4 years later). I only saw things about male prison rape. I am making a face right now that is not what I was looking for. Moving forward, one of my friends' sisters started dating the man who raped me a few days later. She messaged me and asked about him. I didn't tell her he raped me but I wish I did. Later on, I saw her at a party, a few drinks in, I went up to her and said I have a really personal question I need to ask. She said absolutely. I asked her if Name (the rapist) had tried to do anal with her. She whipped her head around and said "Yeah! He tried to during sex and I stopped him, I freaked out on him I was so upset.". Everything clicked for me in that moment and I am forever grateful for her and her honesty. She was a turning point in my healing. She confirmed what I had been questioning for years. My at the time boyfriend had gone to a high school that was inclusive, they had personalized education, and they really cared about their students. It was called School Name. He told me I should apply, they work with credit recovery and he thought it would be perfect to help me graduate. He was right. I applied to School Name, they asked me why I was failing high school. I told them I was raped at 16 and I stopped going to school. I told them I didn't want to repeat my senior year. I told them no one at my other high school asked about what was going on in my personal life. The woman on the phone said they could get me to graduate on time and that they could support me. My best friend who helped me through this time also transferred to this school. The two of us were in a new high school in our senior year. School Name changed my life. I enjoyed going to school again, I felt supported, and I was treated like I was smart and not like I was a delinquent who couldn't care less about their future. Every teacher in that building wanted me to succeed and I could feel it. I was in credit recovery programs, taking tests to prove I had the knowledge needed to graduate. My best friend and I finished high school early. It was a great feeling even though I graduated with a 2.3 GPA. Now I am sitting here writing this in a community college with my 21st birthday a few weeks away, and I have finally reached the point where I can think about the rape and not hit myself in the head until I stop thinking about it. I think about the rape and my rapist every day of my life since. I have always wanted to share my story and now I am looking for platforms to share it. I want someone else who was anally raped to be able to read my story, I want someone to be able to feel seen and heard like I wanted and needed. But for any rape survivor, I want you to know that eventually, you will be able to live with this new normal. I won't say "it gets better" because I am not sure that it does, frankly I do not think it does get better, it just becomes something you adapt to. I have gone to therapy and I am in therapy again now. I continue to try and put the work in to heal. I still think about it every day but I am finally less reactive. I still shudder and get angry every time I see his name somewhere. I will never be with someone named Name again. I shudder when I see someone who resembles him in any way. I am afraid of men. I don't like to go on dates, I don't like to be too close to a man, I don't want to be in a room alone with a man, I get angry or uncomfortable when a strange man on the street looks at me for too long, if they compliment me, if they try to have a conversation, or if they flirt. I have attachment and abandonment issues. I don't know if this will ever get better but it is a part of my new normal. Who I was before my rape is no longer me. I have accepted the fact that I am a new person and that I have to get to know myself again. I lost a lot of friends during my time of isolation, I have a hard time keeping a job, and I struggle to do well in school even though I really want to succeed. My depression is overwhelming most days. I want Name to be in a jail cell. I want him to be labeled as the rapist he is, I want him to suffer honestly. I want him to never be able to get a job. I hate him and I hate that he gets to live free and possibly enjoy his life. I hate that he probably still finds new victims. I did report him to the police, but nothing came of it. I also reported him to the Department of Human Services for abuse in my state, and nothing came of it. But I did my part, I can only hope that someone else reports him like I did and they see a flag in their system that he has done this before. I still see him on dating apps, he goes by his middle name now, and he is bisexual. I feel he used me as a test subject. When I was younger I would harass him online from fake accounts on Instagram. I told him that he was gay and that he should be a real man and find a guy to hook up with instead of torturing innocent girls. I told him I know everyone he has raped, even though I don't. I told him karma would catch up to him, and that someone will get you eventually. I told him he is a terrible person, but he never admitted what he did or owned up to it. I would like to think I can move on with my life but this is my story. It is a part of me now, it is why I act the way I do, and it is an explanation for most things in my life. I recently moved out on my own and got my own apartment. I thought I just didn't like having people over at my childhood home because it was the home I was raped in. My family moved out of that house and moved states. And now in my new house, my own personal space, I still can not invite anyone over. It is hard for me to have even just girlfriends, my friendly neighbor, or my best friend over. I do not allow guests to come over, and I never invite a date over. It is a huge step for me to have someone in my home and that is his fault. I only made this connection this year. I am afraid of having my space claimed by anyone else again. Wow, it felt good to get all of that out. It is hard to speak about and share my story when I do not have the justice I would like. It is hard to learn about the justice system when it is supposed to protect you and it does not. It is hard to think that so many people are raped so often. I am angry and I want change. I don't really know what kind of change but something. I wish I didn't have to live in so much anger and fear but that is also a part of my new normal. I am antsy, I can't help but look over my shoulder frequently when I am in public, and I can't help but worry about unlikely things. But I am adapting and you will too. Sending love to you.

I am a child sexual abuse survivor living in Canada with an NDA for childhood sexual abuse for the past 28 years. When I sought to lift my NDA in 2018 after my abuser had died, the British Columbia court denied me and refused to lift the NDA. So, for the past seven years, I have been advocating both provincial and federal politicians in Canada to ban the misuse of NDAs for childhood sexual abuse survivors. With the passage of Trey's Law in both Texas and Missouri (and more states soon, I hope!), this will place pressure on the Canadian government and the provinces to pass similar legislation. I'm very heartened (and healed too!) by all of the survivors sharing their stories in the Missouri and Texas legislatures. All of this testimony is very important as evidence to prove the long-term extensive damage of an NDA on a childhood abuse victim for ensuing court cases. (This kind of evidence of long-term damage was missing in my BC court case; as a result, my application to lift the NDA was denied). We all need to keep speaking out to change the future for children. We might not be able to change the past, but we can certainly change the present and make the world safer for others. After a great deal of suffering for many years, I can see now that the suffering has had a meaning. As a result, I have become a stronger person. I am not thankful for the abuse, but it seems to me that a greater force in the universe is helping all victims to completely change the world right now. It is an unprecedented moment in human history and we all need to keep moving this incredible change forward. Thank you to Trey's Law and to all the survivors who have spoken in support of Trey's Law.

My name is Name, I’m an indigenous person from Place, USA. I’m a daughter, sister, mother, and a Survivor. I never really thought that I would end up in the relationships I ended up in but, here I am sharing my story! The last 12 years of my life I had been in and out of relationships, had two sons out of two of those relationships. They are the best parts of those relationships and times in my life. I know they in some way saved me and helped me survive to be here today sharing. My last two relationships I were in, were the worst abusive relationships. My youngest son came out of one of them, and to this day I still have to deal with one of my abusers because we have a child together. In that relationship I was physically, emotionally, mentally, financially, and sexually abused. I went through things that I didn’t even know that happened until the next day or days after. My ex we can call him Nameabused me mostly when he was already drunk, it was always when we were drinking that he would start arguments with me or his jealousy would come out more. Little did I know that at one time he had sexually assaulted me while I had passed out from drinking and when I woke up asking if something happened; something didn’t feel right. Nametold me “yeah you don’t remember?” And clearly I had no clue but according to him “I wanted it!” But how could I even know that or even say “yes” to anything being passed out. This was the first time he raped me but it wasn’t the last. Nameand I were in a relationship for 3 1/2 years in that time he physically would hurt me, force himself on me or take advantage of me while I was sleeping . It became unsettling to sleep at night knowing something might happen. At that time I was also taking care of my oldest son from a previous marriage and my youngest who was a baby on top of working full time. So I was exhausted from everything. I used to wake up to either text messages saying how worthless I was or name calling me because I had fallen asleep and not awake when he would get home. Or I would wake up to him yelling at me because I was defending myself in my sleep as he was trying to sexually assault me. Everything became my fault according to him. It was so dysfunctional, that at that time I was even drinking heavily. The pandemic hit and that was the beginning of the end of our relationship, I was so exhausted, depressed, just at the point of breaking! Our last fight ended with him calling the police on me and turning the narrative like I was the aggressor because he had spammed me on the ground and was hurting me, I defended myself, I felt so misunderstood and betrayed especially when the police wouldn’t let me speak and listen to me. I know now I’m not the only woman this has happened to in domestic violence situations. I take that as that was my way out yeah I got booked, finger printed and had charges which in the end Namedidn’t want either for me because he knew I didn’t do anything. In his words he just called them to “calm me down” he honestly thought I would go back to him after that NOPE! That was the end of it my freedom from him, with my sons. At that time I thought I would never get back into a relationship like that again, I knew the signs; I thought I knew it all! BOY was I wrong! My life at that time was spiraling out of control, I was lost but yet still thinking that I was completely mentally okay! I was dating and still drinking, I was rebellious at that time. It was almost a year later that I ended up meeting my last abuser, the one that almost ended my life! They say something you repeat things until you learn the lesson and I sure did that! This guy was handsome, charming, everything I ever wanted in a guy or so I thought! I’ll call him Name for the purpose of privacy reasons, but he really put on a great performance and mask! He was a small business owner and he made himself seem like he was down on his luck. He used the fact that I was previously in an abusive relationship as away to get close to me and give me false promises. Name promised me the entire world, I was “the best thing to ever happen to him!” And he was going to treat me the way I always should’ve been treated. Things went very fast for us when we first met. Our first meeting he was already referring me as his girlfriend. At the time I thought it was just so sweet and I felt like I was dreaming. For the first two months our relationship was amazing, he was good with my sons, and my family liked him. But at that point he definitely showed me a side of him that I didn’t like his jealousy. He made it clear that I couldn’t tapk to anyone of the opposite sex or have friends that were either. He slowly cut me off from everyone and everything! I quit my job because he told me to in the end and that I would be better working for him. Which that was a huge mistake! He and I were together 24/7 and it got to the point that where he started to verbally abuse me; his words were hurtful! He would tell me if I just listened and he obeyed him then none of it would happen but if I counted to be “bad” then he would continue to get mad at me. It wasn’t until about 6 months into our relationship is when Name became physically abusive with me. The first time it happened I was completely scared out of my mind, I froze, I was crying but I was told to be quiet or it would be worse. After that every time he would get mad at me I would be physically hurt on top of being verbally, emotionally, mentally, and financially abused. Those were the darkest moments of my life, there were days that I thought I would never get out of it. I felt trapped, and alone. Name made me completely dependent on him and I had to ask him to do anything right down to using the bathroom. I did nothing alone, showering, getting dressed, taking care of myself when it was that time of the month all of it! I was his prisoner! He would refer to me as his “Indian Slave” amount other very racially charged names that were so mean and hateful! He told me that if I ever left he would blackmail me, he kept complete control over me. He got my addicted to substances that I had never even done in my life, even doing drugs I had never even thought I would do! All to keep me under his control! This was a daily thing every day to obey him and if I didn’t then he would get mad for hours even days u til he would get over whatever he was mad at me about and then things would be “normal” for about a day or two then right back into it again. It was a sick cycle! I was exhausted mentally and physically! Survival mode every day is a lot for a person. The last and final time he abused me was complete torture, he tortured me for 3 to 4 hours and in that time He almost took my life! He strangled me to the point I couldn’t breathe, I lost my sight, the ability to see, and hear! I was close to dying! When he finally let go and I came back I knew I had to find away out, after being physically hurt more after that, hours had past he made me fall asleep with him. When we woke up I knew then I had to get my son who was in another room away from me and run! Somehow, someway I did just that, Name tried to hold me son against me not letting me take him, but it was my voice of screaming for my son that I was able to pick him up and run into the woods with him. It was the only thing I could think of to do and doing that with the clothes I had on and the clothes my son (youngest) had on I saved our lives, I ran to safety I knew the way I was going that the police station would be there. That was the motivation for me to keep going, thankfully someone had seen me with my son running and they called the police along with others who had called before, letting them know “hey this woman and child need help!” And they did I managed to make it on the main road and I was scared walking looking around hoping that Name wouldn’t drive up and try to take us or worse run us over, I almost asked someone for help but it was at that moment that I had looked up and saw the police coming right at me! I was all kinds of emotions, happy, sad, sacred, relieved! I told them what happened and I’m so glad I did as scary as it was to speak up it was the best decision I made for myself and my youngest son my oldest son thankfully want there at the time. But I knew that this was the time that I either needed to smarten up or I was going to end up not being here! I finally said to myself I learned my lesson and now I must truly, truly that this serious and heal from this and take a good look at myself so that this doesn’t happen to me again in any relationship. That was just over two years ago now and my abuser has been in prison for what he did to me, he got sentenced to 9 years, but he only has to do 5 years then he can get put on probation with speculations if he violates that then he goes back to prison for 4 years. I am one of three women that he has abused, I was the third one to speak out and the first one to put him prison for domestic violence. I’m in therapy and counseling for all the abuse I’ve been through and have been single since this all happened I’m taking my time, being smart about it all not rushing anything. I also will always speak out and share my story to help others because no one deserves to be treated this way! This wasn’t love! Love isn’t supposed to hurt like that or almost get one killed over it! So if my story can help others I’ll always continue to share. Thank you for letting me share this on here for others!

I survived. I got out. You can too. Insidious and devious are the words I think of when I've wondered how I got trapped. My ex-spouse was so charming, everybody thought he was a great person and I did too. So much so that I decided to ignore the fact he raped me and chalked it up to us drinking. Then gradually as we dated and then married he tried to spin a web of control around me by being angry and violent when I would spend time with friends or go to the gym or go to the library to study. Telling me I was not allowed to go to the gym because there were men there. Being told I couldn't go to work events. Calling my work when I was working late and accusing me of having affairs, then being verbally and physically abusive. He was so successful at manipulating others even my dad, initially, didn't believe me when I told him about the monster and the horrible things I had endured. I finally told my dad what had been going on when he threatened to kill me and chased me with a baseball bat. I was able to get in my car and get away and called my dad crying and screaming. He thought I had lost my mind. Some of my friends also thought I had lost it, and told me oh he is so nice and scoffed when I said I was filing for divorce and a protective order. After the first two calls to the sheriff they believed me and were so kind, frequently driving by my house and making sure I was safe. There is power in being believed. There is strength in knowing that others have made it out both alive and eventually became whole. I still experience occasional flashbacks and certain situations will trigger my anxiety, but I am able to trust people again and no longer fear "being in trouble" if I spend time with friends. Even more, I have allowed myself to become emotionally vulnerable with other people again after all these years. That was a huge leap for me. And I genuinely feel like a good person again.

Post: I’m a survivor of an abusive experience with a man who confused me, argued with me, and manipulated me in ways that pulled me out of my own body. It left me with anger, nightmares, and a lot of scars. Since then I’ve felt disconnected from my body, especially sexually. I’ve spent years arguing with my body instead of listening to it. Part of my struggle has been sexuality. I’ve tried really hard to be straight because women are beautiful and interesting to me. But my body often didn’t feel safe or connected during sex. Sometimes it felt like I was forcing my body to perform a role rather than actually wanting it. Over time I started noticing something painful: I barely feel pleasure in my body anymore. Even in my penis, I feel maybe 1% of what I imagine people normally feel. It’s like I’ve trained myself to override my body instead of listening to it. For years I thought that meant I was broken. Or that I needed to make myself more straight. Or that I needed to become more gay. Or that I just needed to “fix” myself somehow. Recently I read a story from another survivor who realized her body was trying to tell her something. When she forced herself sexually, her body reacted with migraines and nausea. Her body was saying “no.” That made me wonder something about my own life. What if the problem isn’t that my body is broken? What if the problem is that I’ve been ignoring my body for years? I’m starting to think I may have treated my body like a machine that’s supposed to produce pleasure on command. I’ve pushed it, argued with it, tried to control it, and forced it into situations where it didn’t feel safe. So lately I’ve been trying something different. Instead of trying to force pleasure or force an identity, I’m trying to listen. I even wrote an apology to my body. I apologized for forcing sex when it didn’t feel safe. I apologized for ignoring its signals. I apologized for pushing through stress, loneliness, and shame by overriding what my body was telling me. Right now I’m trying to learn what it would be like to rebuild a relationship with my body instead of controlling it. Listening instead of forcing. Patience instead of pressure. Has anyone else here gone through something like this after abuse or trauma? How did you start rebuilding trust with your body again?

I feel like nobody talks about COCSA. And I feel like no one talks about female perpetrators. I’m not necessarily here to talk about the abuse that happened to me, but for context, I was nine and the other child was a nine year old girl. What really haunts me is what I did after. I inflicted this pain onto someone else, I figure I was probably about 10 and she was 9. She was my mom’s friends daughter. My mom’s best friend, actually. And I’ve been thinking a lot about how much that must’ve ruined their friendship when they found out what happened. How much anger my mother must have deep down felt towards me. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. And I tell myself “I didn’t touch her I didn’t actually lay my hands on her I didn’t do it” but I did. I hurt someone like that and maybe I have an excuse and maybe I don’t but all I can think is how horrible I feel to have done something like that to another person. It was never about getting caught or getting in trouble, im just disgusted with myself. Just recently I remembered that I was raped twice that night, not once. And now I’m terrified that maybe I’m forgetting something and maybe I did this more than once, but how could I have forgotten doing something like that? I would never harm a child today. Never. There is not a single doubt in my mind that I would ever hurt anybody like that again. All I think about now is if I’m this awful person because nobody ever talks about this side of childhood SA and the people that do are treated like monsters. But maybe that’s what I deserve.

When I was in 7th grade, I met this guy. He was older than me by at least a year and I had the biggest crush on him -- he totally knew it too. I was the most insecure child which I told him. I thought he was my friend so when he told me to send him a picture, fully clothed, I trusted him and did. He told me I was pretty but that he didn't fully know because he couldn't see all of me. After more convincing, he got me to send him more photos, each time with less clothes on. The next week or so, he 'confessed' that he got horny from the photos and started demanding more. I was hesitant at first but I wanted him to like me so bad. I was 12. Then, once he was done with me, he would only reach out every two or three weeks. He had made me so reliant on his words for my self confidence that when I was reading an online story and they talked about an anonymous website where you could meet strangers and chat, it was all I wanted. I met more and more men, older and older, who took advantage of me and groomed me further to meet their needs. Now, I'm 18. That little 12 year old is so sad and hurting but trying to heal.

This is my life story, well, at least the major events that come to mind. There are aspects of my life that I have either blocked out or chosen not to remember. When I was about 5 years old, my grandfather on my mother’s side started molesting me. It went on for a while, and I vividly remember crying to my mom, begging her not to make me go back there one weekend. In response, she looked at me and asked if my grandfather was touching me. I mustered the courage to say yes, hoping for support. To my dismay, she told me that my grandfather was sick and that I needed to support him. She continued to send me to his house every weekend until I turned 8, when he passed away. At the age of twelve, a traumatizing incident occurred. I was raped at a school basketball game by a high school student. My mother’s solution to this was to move us to another state. Unfortunately, that didn’t shield me from more pain. At 14 years old, I was gang-raped at a party and ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Thankfully, the police came, and the men responsible were arrested and charged. However, on the day of the court hearing, before I took the stand, something happened. I can’t recall the specifics, but my mom said something so terrifying that it coerced me out of testifying. Because of that, the adult perpetrator walked away free. I distinctly remember the furious look my dad gave my mom. He was so angry, while she callously said, “what would the people say.” It was a devastating blow. Tragedy struck again when I was 15 years old. I lost my father to suicide. Shockingly, my mom and sister blamed me for his death and gave me up to the state, making me an orphan. From that point, I bounced from foster home to foster home, eventually ending up in a group home until I turned 18. Desperate and lost, I fell into a dangerous cycle. I became addicted to drugs and involved in drug trafficking. My relationships were plagued by violence and abuse. In a desperate attempt to find a sense of belonging, I got involved with a Cartel Name. I immersed myself in their world, learning fluent Spanish. Tragically, I ended up being kidnapped and remained missing until the FBI located me eight months later. They discovered me chained up to a bed, on the brink of death. After spending five months rehabilitating in an State hospital, I was finally returned home. Throughout all these experiences, I encountered domestic violence, battled drug abuse, and confronted countless challenges along the way. Yet here I am today – resilient and determined to create positive change. My life has been a series of unimaginable hardships and painful experiences. From the abuse I suffered as a child to the trauma of rape and the loss of my father, I have faced more than anyone should have to endure. The path I walked led me down dark and dangerous roads, filled with addiction, crime, and violence. But amidst the darkness, I found a glimmer of hope. I made the decision to break free from the cycle of abuse and rebuild my life. With sheer determination, I ventured into the unknown, finding solace in new places and pursuing education to empower myself. Now, as I share my story, I am studying for my Master’s degree in human services, driven by a deep desire to help others who have faced similar struggles. I refuse to let the past define me, and I am committed to making a positive impact in the lives of others. My journey has been long and tumultuous, but it has also shown me the strength and resilience that resides within me.

When I was 18 I was raped and physically assaulted by a friend of mine at the time. He was 3 years older than me and it was his 21st birthday. It took me a year to accept what happened, and 4 years to get help through counseling. I used to feel a lot of guilt for not getting help sooner and the way my trauma affected other people in my life/people I was in relationships with. I also hated and still sometimes hate the way it affects me 6 years later, but I’m learning that things don’t always go away on their own and it’s okay to reach out for help, no matter what stage you’re in or how long has passed. You will find people who love and believe you, and you’re more than worthy of that. They say skin completely regenerates every 7 years, so by this time next year I’ll have a body you’ve never touched, and that’s comforting.

I've been psychologically abused by my mother since I was little. Because of this, I have a habit of always thinking about what she thinks, and I feel like I have no self because I'm so devoted to her. I work at a restaurant, but I'm exhausted from trying to avoid creating a bad atmosphere at work and making sure she doesn't dislike me, and even working is painful. I signed up for a dating app hoping to get away from my mother, but I've been taken advantage of and rejected constantly, and I can't see any hope for my life.

This isn’t my story but something I wrote that I feel would help and resonate with a lot of readers. Someone asked, “ what exactly is a narcissist?” to a different group I’m on and this was my reply: They are the most manipulative, gaslighting, liars. They tear you down to bring them up. They don’t have empathy or remorse. Your feelings will never be validated. No matter how hard you love them, no matter how much you do for them, and no matter how hard you fight and try to make the relationship work… it won’t. Your effort will never be good enough and you’ll go unappreciated. They only care about themselves. They are charming and will fool everyone into thinking they’re someone they’re not. They will ruin you and make you question your reality, sanity, and even your own memory. After a relationship with a narc, it’s so F’ING hard to move on because you end up losing yourself in that relationship. It’s the most hurtful type of relationship to be in. There are different types of narcs. Some are harder to spot. They will make you fall so madly in love within weeks (at least I did). They are the best during the honeymoon stage. You’ll think it’ll never end.. but it will. You become blind. You either don’t see the red flags or you ignore them. You’ll beg for them to give you back the love you give them… but they won’t. And yet, you’d do anything for them. But, you’ll wake up and you’ll realize what he’s doing to you. He’s making you not even recognize yourself anymore. He’s emotionally abusing you every single day. You are losing your happiness and your self-respect. He’s making you question everything. And also, that person you once knew and loved will be gone. You’ll heal, it’s going to take time but you will. And days will become brighter again. It’s going to hurt and you’re going to be so mad at him/her and probably yourself. Another thing, you will never be the same person you were after being with a narcissist.

i'm so nervous this afternoon, i'm finally going to the police to share my story about a guy at school who assaulted me over the summer (i live in the southern hemisphere, so around january). he's a school captain, and i'm vice-captain so he's already in a position of power not only over me but the entire school, and the teachers practically worship the ground he walks on (last time i reported verbal harassment from him, the teachers blamed me) so i'm hoping something changes. i'm terrified, and anxious, but i'm also proud. knowing that i'm doing something a lot of victims don't get the chance to do. i'm going to share my story, and i pray to god that he faces the consequences because this isn't the first time he's done bad things, and won't be the last. stay strong my lovelies, you can share your story too <3 if you wanna chat at all, you can dm social media handle on instagram (my assault awareness page) - a survivor

My story .... What haven't I been through. Is the question? I'm in the bathroom . Trying to figure out how the hell did I get so fucked up . Literally. I don't know whether to blame myself . Ballz up . Or to hit up my vice . Or live in the real world . Or hit autopilot again and again and again? Life is too much to bare . Recently I'm so severe into my DOC . That Iam numb all the time .. because even with that numbing agent it's still too hard to face life . I'm I a coward?? For saying this . 6 days ago my baby daddy of my daughter died of a OD. And before that almost 1 year ago was my adopted father. Then 1 1/2 years ago was my best friend closer then what me and my dad were . And before that 2 1/2 years ago was my biological mother . So death has a funny way of saying hello . And I fight everyday all day a toxic vice of a best friend . I had a baby almost 2 years ago . Child welfare took him from birth . The pain is no where near done . The clip of the momma elephant and baby elephant in disney dumbo . Baby of mine . Is the way to describe it . I also deal with a nightmare cycle of perfect love life at home . Sometimes loves amazing other time love hurts and I mean really hurts . My 1 st black eye ever from a man I idolized and had loved from 17 years old . I'm now turning 37. I can't stand him but I love him Soo much if that makes sense . Life is crazy . Almost unbearably crazy . In a sense of awww. Or more like ummmmmmm....?????

My name is Name. I grew up with a mother, two sisters, and a stepfather that stepped up to be my Dad when my biological father passed at 7 years old. My step father became someone I looked up to in a time where I didn’t know how to navigate grief. He was my Dad and I was proud to call him that. When I was 10 years old, the one I called my Dad molested me in our backyard. I was told that if I were to tell anyone we would be homeless and I would break the family apart if I were to say a word. That was the day I grew silent. I didn’t quite know the extremity of the situation until I was 11 years old. I discovered what he had done to me through a movie that I was watching unsupervised. I remember the exact moment I figured it out. Holding back my tears, I rushed to the shower and began to wash my body. I thought that if I washed hard enough somehow I could be wiped clean from impurity. I took the blame for what happened and dared not to say anything because if I did, all I could picture was my mom and sisters on the streets since he was the only one bringing in the money to live on. From 11-13 years old it was only mere comments and mandatory kissing of the lips, but that was my normal. I didn’t know it wasn’t normal in other households until a friend of mine noticed. I began to grow suspicion of how much I might be in danger from something happening again as I grew older. When I was 14, he found a video of me and my friends on my phone one night. He used it against me and said that what we did on our video would send me to jail for a long time, and if I didn’t do what he says, he would email it to the police. He began to groom me and the kisses began to turn into 10 kisses in a row. He would come in my bedroom, my bathroom, the dressing rooms, my bed, and when he was driving he would hold my hand or put his hand on my thigh. When I would try to stand up for myself, he would threaten to take the doors off my bathroom and bedroom. The moment I knew I was in deeper danger, was the night that he suggested intercourse and sexual activity in order to have a car or go to college. I ran inside to tell my mom, but she didn’t believe me. I knew that something had to change, but I felt stuck. I didn’t know what to do. When I was 15 years old, I went to a church camp with the youth group of my Grandma’s church. One day the group I was in had a prayers circle. It was an opportunity for campers to say what is on my heart. When it was my turn, I told them everything. On the last day of camp, the head of the camp who flew out to meet me, told me that I am safe and they called Children’s Protection Services. My heart sank, but I knew somehow everything was going to be okay. The rest of my summer consisted of meetings and preparation for trial. The trial came several months later, but I was not believed. My whole life, I tried to protect my sisters from the same thing, but when I wasn’t believed, I began to feel as if I was failing to protect them. Not only that but my first sister who was 10 years old at the time wanted nothing to do with me, and although I was angry of being pushed out by my mother and sister, I had my grandparents and had my baby sister, who was 5 at the time, to adore me and see me as I was with full belief. 7 years later at 22 years old, the one I once called Dad got sentenced to life in prison. How? The same thing happened to my younger sister just 5 years a part from me. There was enough proof, and it was the day where the jury, the judge and half a filled room believed me., but this time, both my sisters shut me out. Within a 12 years period of my life I felt alone, unseen, and unheard. Since I came out with my story when I was 15, I felt even more alone, unseen, and unheard. The rest of the family didn’t know anything about what happened to me because my family lives in secret. Secrets, Suffering, Silence. The 3 S’s my life consisted of. Finally at 22 I could breathe. 12 years of weight was lifted off my shoulders and even though my baby sister’s attitude change towards me, she was safe, and that was all that mattered to me. When I was 23 years old, my younger sister, who was also molested as I was, the one I tried to protect since I was 11, died from fentanyl. It was then when I vowed to never be silent again. At 25 years old, I left everything I knew to somehow embark a journey where I travel the world to speak message of liberation, change, and awareness. My hope is that the little girls and boys like us, the survivors, can hear the story of a girl as they are somewhere around the world terrified to leave their bedroom, with the hope they march out that bedroom and say “No, I will not stand up for this any longer. I refuse to remain silent.” My love goes to every once hurt child, teenager, or adult. You are not alone. Thank you for reading. More about my story is found on my Link

Hello, my name isNamethank you so very much for the opportunity to speak my truth. I got into my first abusive relationship when I was 17. The abuse started when he used jealousy as a way to control me. we had a daughter together and shortly after became pregnant again. One day when I was with a friend, we rean into some of his rivals and he got so mad he beat me kicking me and punching me. the next morning, I had started bleeding really bad and had miscarried. A lot of the time we were together he was locked up and released and locked ack up. One day he had punched me so hard in the stomach and chest area that he knocked out all my air and I couldn't speak but I was barking almost like a dog. my daughter and I were thrown out and lived different places even at one time under a tree. Another time while I was driving, and he sat in the passenger seat he punched me on the side of my head my head hit the window, and I crashed the car it hurt for like a year. After five and a half years of this and after he sexually assaulted me. I ended the relationship. His mother tried to get me to come back so did his dad, but I told her no. Time went by I stayed to myself and my little girl we had a 1-bedroom apartment and without any real support around and little money for food and no car I had to speak to some of the neighbors. that's when I met my second abuser and the father of my youngest daughter and without really knowing what I did wrong in the first relationship I found myself in another, he had a job he was attentive he was kind to every one of the neighbors and even though I didn't want to be in a relationship here I was and. his family really liked me too so that felt good. my daughter was happy, and we had food and felt safe at night until we didn't things changed when I found out he was cheating, and I went to his mom's house to break up with him that's when he went for the knives in the kitchen his mom and dad had been woken up by my daughter who at 4 years old went running and screaming. his parents were able to stop him, and he left after a physical altercation with his dad. So that moment I knew leaving was a bad idea because it could get me killed. the abuse continued throughout the pregnancy and more times than I can remember but it was even worse than the first. long story short I finally left after years of abuse, and he came to kill me one morning put the screwdriver to my chest and told me that he was sorry but that he has to kill me because he can't live without me. I used my knowledge of how he thought and used it to convince him that I understood why he had to kill me and that it's okay I understand I just asked two things one he doesn't let the girls see and two that he doesn't do it with a screwdriver. because that is meant for someone he hates and he loves me so if he loves me, he won't use it. this confused him he cried fell into my arms and I calmed him down and sent him back to his wife whom he had only married two weeks prior to this. He stalked me for years, but I had come to the mindset of I would rather be dead by him then continue to live tis way with him and told him those words. eventually he was locked up and more. I have spent the last 20 plus years advocating for women, men, and all youth and will continue to do so as a domestic violence advocate. if you are reading this you are more powerful than you know, and people care about you and its more than okay to ask for help silence empowers the abuser and does nothing for you. Love you, learn to enjoy your own company, and get out when it is safe to do so. When you are ready. Someone will help you never give up on you. you did nothing to deserve the abuse. it's not your fault. and as I always say in interviews and in my book, I'm working on Book Title Always Name

Sometimes, I still struggle to function normally. I was 6 and he was one of my older sister's friends. I can't remember his age, but I think he was around 10. I kept denying that it was SA since we were both so young. We moved schools and nobody (But my little sister) knows that I went through this. I can't tell my Mom either, she was a victim of Rape and I was scared that she might see me differently and find this a reason to cage me more. Trust me, my Mom is very overbearing, I will most likely tell her this when I hit 23. Anyways, I was 6 and he was around 10, I was taking a bathroom break when he came up to me. "(Deadname), come over here," He whispers in my direction. He was behind the big ramps, I was a bit wary but he was my sister's friend, so surely nothing could happen, right? Right. I went over to where he motioned, suddenly very cautious. He grabbed my arm, and we were out of sight from my classmates. "Can I have a kiss?" I was confused, as to why he would pull me aside for such silly thing? He pouted at my silence and I reluctantly gave him a kiss on the cheek. He beamed at my approach, and grabbed both of my cheeks, attempting to lean closer to my lips. I struggled in his grip, he was bigger than me, and I was a starved child at the time, very bony, so I couldn't do much. "Please stop," I asked as he placed one of his hands on my waist, traveling it more below. He pushed me closer to himself, and I almost cried. My memory is a bit hazy here, but he said something like, "My mom does this with my Dad, why don't you enjoy this? Don't make me look bad, you're gonna get me in trouble." And he talked about sex education with me, while groping me. Writing this makes me so disgusting in my own skin. I genuinely look back at this often and wonder if this is really COCSA. After my classmates finished using the bathroom, the teacher came out of the classroom that was across the bathroom area. His classmates came around the corner and He pushed me off of him. "See you later," He said to me. "I'll get your first kiss one way or another," He pointed to his pants, where his, you know what, was very showing. It was stained, and I was confused, just confused. I looked at my shorts and it was somewhat stained too. I didn't know how to feel. I was scared, that was one thing. I didn't know if I should tell my older sister, I didn't want her to lose a friend over this Incident. I kept to myself for most of the day, my teacher noticed but didn't say anything. After that, my life was completely down hill from there. I was too shy, too scared to be left with other boys, even with my male teachers. I was very sexual when I hit 7, I kept drawing inappropriate things during class as well at home, and had thoughts no toddler should have, even ones about my own FAMILY. I was scared, I thought I was sick. I thought it was a stupid phase. I completely forgot what had happened to me last year. Every time I saw him, I cowered in fear. I tried to stink so no other guy would do what he did to me, I wore less "revealing" clothes. He still looked at me like a predator. I felt like a rabbit, helplessly trapped, trying to escape before the big bad wolf came to get what he had caught. I wanted to avoid him, but it was no use. Every time we HAD to be around each other, he tried to get closer to me, He pointed out how feminine I looked even in pants, and it made me sick. Sometimes, when he did try, I would let him. He didn't do anything but stare, though. When I started to grow more into my looks, he despised how boyish I began to look. He didn't want much to do with me afterwards, but when he did, he'd just look at me and shamelessly point out my looks. I became insecure, still am, but it's less obvious now. I'm a young adult now, I'm hypersexual and asexual, worst of all, gay too. I get internalized homophobia sometimes, thinking that I became gay because of my trauma. Same for being hypersexual and asexual, it's so difficult to manage. One moment I'm sexualizing myself to men who could be my dad, then another, I'm too scared to be in the same room with another man. It's disgusting to me, that I became this way because of what HE did to me. So, if that didn't happen to me, would I still be gay? I don't get it anymore, my head hurts. I came across this site to clear my head out of this traumatic experience, but the more I put thought into it, the more my memories become oh so clear. I see others getting validated for their trauma, but when it's with me, I'm always too scared to even utter his name. Anyways, thanks for reading. Sorry that this is so darn long LMAOO

COCSA has affected me deeply its warped my mind along with my memories. My views on sex are distorted im a hypersexual who craves intimacy but is so afraid of it. Im ashamed of all that has happened especially the times I didnt fight and let it happen infact sometimes I wanted it to happen and im so ashamed but i was just a kid exposed to this shitty world with even shitter people who prey on the innocent and the weak. I wish someone protected me back then..