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You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

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.

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

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

At the age of twenty-six I was raped by a stranger. It took me many years to name what had happened to me as rape. Although, distressed when it happened, I blocked it from my mind for a number of years before going to a therapist for support. I decided to attend therapy as I was struggling with a deep depression. I didn't attend a Rape Crisis Centre. It took me a number of years before I disclosed to my then therapist that I had been raped. I had buried what took place deep within myself and I had never disclosed to anyone what happened that night. The person who raped me was a friend of some friends of mine. I was away for the weekend and thankfully, I never saw him again. While my healing journey has been long. It has been deeply supportive and has allowed me to heal from many different issues within my childhood and to heal from sexual violence. I no longer carry guilt or shame for what took place that night and would encourage any man or woman who is a survivor or sexual violence to go to a therapist who specialises in sexual violence and allow an experienced professional to support you on your healing journey. I have no regrets and am grateful to a number of wonderful women who have supported me to heal from a deeply traumatic experience. Healing can and does happen. Don't give up on you, as I have never given up on me. I have learned that I like so many survivors of abuse am a very resilient woman. I live life today, from a very grounded place and although, I remember what happened to me in the rape I have emotionally healed from the hurt and the pain of that traumatic experience.

This guy was my best friend. He knew everything I was dealing with. He was the reason I got out of the abusive place I was in. Less than 2 weeks after I got out of that abusive place, he raped me when I needed a safe place to stay. I had trusted him so much with absolutely everything and he not only violated me, but my trust aswell. He then text me the day after telling me not to tell anyone what happened. But I didn't remember anything about what happened until 5 days after it happened. He denied and denied and denied when I confronted him until eventually he admitted to what he did. Its been numberyears and I still can't walk around my hometown alone anymore out of fear, I can't hear his name or see anything remotely near to what he was wearing or I was wearing. But I'm in therapy now and it's making me realise so much. I'm working on trusting the world again. I didn't deserve it. No one does. As difficult and painful it is to deal with something like this, we can all survive. We can get through it. Someone wants to listen to your story. Someone wants to help. Don't deal with it alone xx

I had an aunt who had a son here in America. We were pretty close since our families only had each other here so we would go over to their house often. I was around 5 so he was like 7 or 8. We would play around the house while our parents talked and I remember us being in his parents room playing with some dinosaur figures one day when he closed the door and told me to go into the closet with him. I did and he shut the closet doors and started to tell me to do weird things like licking his hands and he would touch my privates. I cant remember exactly what else happened that day but I remember knowing it was wrong but I couldn't bring myself to tell my mom because I had done the things he told me to do. To be honest, I had forgotten everything until I went to Mexico for the first time and when I saw him, I suddenly remembered this day. I hate that I cant remember everything that happened and if it had happened more than once on separate occasions. I also hate that I'm scared of him and I don't know if he remembers. I haven't seen him since that day but it didn't seem like he felt awkward around me. I resent him so much because I have become hyper sexual but I feel sad because I wonder how he even knew this stuff. Was someone doing these things to him? I have only told my ex best friend and current best friend... I want to tell my mom, I know she will believe me, but I feel like it's already been so long that it won't change anything. I am now 19 and don't want to start any family drama. What should I do?

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

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

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

After over a decade, I'm just now coming out of a fog and realizing I've been abused since before we even married. I feel so lost right now. I'm trying to forgive myself, love myself, and gain strength, all while still having to be married to my abuser. I want to leave but don't have the resources to. And I cannot stomach the thought of my children having to suffer even weekend visits with him without me there as a shield. I'm so exhausted. I'm so hurt and angry and sad. He's abused me physically, emotionally, mentally, and financially. I feel so trapped and don't really see a way out for me and my kids. When I watched It Ends With Us, I related so much because I knew exactly how it felt to look back and finally realize what had actually happened. I am just now processing so much that I didn't feel safe enough to even consider was abuse before. It's hard and sometimes I want to hide from it all, but I know the only way to heal and somehow leave is to face what I've been through head on and make a plan to escape.

I was 6 when it happened. When I told, nobody believed me. After all who who believe a 7 year old could molest a 6 year old? That's exactly what happened. He would start with a massage or singing to me. When I didn't like it he threatened me with a pocket knife and that he'd kill me if I ever told. I did. I told a babysitter, who told my parent, who told my teacher, who told the principal. The principal met with both of us together, then separate. In retaliation, he cut me on the arm with the knife. The principal didn't believe me. There was no punishment. We were to stay on separate playground equipment or be anywhere near each other. He bullied me for the next 5 years until he left the school. That's when the memories came back. It had quite an impact on me since I was 11 at the time, I looked much older. I easily attracted male attention which lead to sexual harassment and further traumatization. I was in a long term psych facility at the age of 12 because of a suicide attempt. There was a male staff member who seemed to enjoy destroying the teen girls there. When he got to me the first time, he wanted to know every detail of my abuse. When I got upset, he laughed at me and made fun of me. Later, he made comments on the way I looked and my eating habits. Telling me skinniness was unattractive on me. If we wanted out of that place, we had to admit everything he said was right. I did wahat I could to get out of that abusive place, I got out in 2 months. Many years later, I was 18, I met a man 11 years older than me. I liked him alot and he had shown some interest in me. He later convinced me to leave the country with him. My home situation has always been bad and still is. I went with him. We ended up getting married, at his insistence, after only three months of knowing each other, becoming homeless, and eventually returning to the US. We lived with his family, I started to get over his brainwashing, saw how abusive he really was. He had been taking advantage of me sexually, I started refusing him. He then started raping me. At first it was only a few times, then when we lived on our own, it became more frequent, along with other forms of daily abuse. He did it to show "dominance" because he refused to work, spent my money on drugs and alcohol, and slept/watched TV/got high all day while I was at work. He became more violent and paranoid over time. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't cry multiple times a day from the constant abuse. I tried leaving him, he would threaten to kill himself, psychologically torture me or physically threaten me until I changed my mind, or promise me things would be better. The turning point came after I possibly became pregnant, he was going to force me to have an abortion. I miscarried due to the abuse. I couldn't go to the doctor, if my parents found out, they told me they would completely disown me if I got pregnant. A month later, he raped me in my sleep and a few days later tried to strangle me. I did move out but later came back at his and his parent's insistence. I saw no other way out, I didn't want to be divorced at such a young age (be damaged goods) and I couldn't handle living with my abusive parents again so I tried to take my own life. After getting out of the psych hospital, (who had been no help whatsoever in helping me get away from him or my family), I did get the paperwork together to divorce him, of course, he convinced me to tear them up. A month later, I did file the papers and tell him it was over. We finally separated after he held me hostage in my car, for the umpteenth time and tried to take me to another city. The divorce came through a few months later. We had been married a little over a year, I was 20.

I’m not sure if this counts but according to online it is considered as COCSA child on child sexual assault. When I was a kid in 1st grade I believe or kindergarten I was stuck at a table in between 2 or 3 boys on either end with another girl next to me. We were sitting at a circle table used for group learning and the teacher stepped away. While the teacher was gone the boys proceeded to try to twist our nipples and give us like a nurple…it felt really uncomfortable and I hated it and I remember as a child just trying to push the boys away. I also remember that it wasn’t for that long ig but I didn’t tell anyone…idk why. I told my parents recently and they kinda brushed past it like it was kids being kids but it really wasn’t. A couple years ago I was around 13 or 14 I was identifying and acknowledging myself sexually if…I come to realize that the situation left me feeling very uncomfortable with how I felt with my body specifically with my chest.

It has been over a year since I stopped reading emails and letters and opening packages of self help books. I have not seen my mother in four years and I will never visit again to be dismissed, invalidated and used as a prop on her stage. In order to support her narrative of how wrong, how disordered, how crazy I must be, my mother has been able to ignore her own heinous immorality towards her own daughter, and appears to believe she is the victim because I have cut her out of my life forever. She had no outrage when I told her a friend of the family had molested me. I told her when I was 27, and repeated it when I was 40, when it was clear she had done nothing to break her alliance. She continued her loyal friendship with this sexual predator for over two more decades, knowing he preyed upon not just me but many other children in our community. With great dismay and sadness, I have finally realized she is incapable of caring, and she is a monster. I raised my kids to be suspicious of inappropriate adults, and to stand up for themselves. I wish I'd had that courage but I'm proud I could break the cycle. I spent most of my life trying to be helpful, loyal and understanding to a mother who didn't know how to be a mother. I'm done now. Mother's Day is a day of mourning; I am still amazed and baffled that people have loving, protective, loyal mothers they cherish. I am fortunate however, to have many others who care about me and thus fortified, began the journey towards truth, wholeness and self-worth. Thanks to your website and many others, I have been validated and gained understanding and courage. Still plodding ahead, and gaining insight and strength.

My ex-husband verbally, sexually, mentally and physically abused me during our marriage. He tried to force me to have sex with others for money and luckily I was able to prevent that from happening; but not with out consequence. A miscarriage during our marriage forced me to see a therapist and working with her for almost two years gave me the strength to leave. It’s been over 25 years since I left and I still live with PTSD stemming from the abuse. I have since remarried and have two teenage children. They were little I have always talked to them about what a healthy relationship is, how to recognize potentially abusive behavior and to say “NO MORE”. My kids talk to their friends about what they have learned at home. I speak about IPV/DV to youth groups and to their advisors about what to look for, how to deal with and provide resources for help. I will continue to say “NO MORE” until the day comes when we don’t have to say it.

I never liked yoga. It was hard, it hurt, and I especially hated the woman who forced me to do it. Ah, stepmothers. As if my own father wasn’t shitty enough. As if he hadn’t already tried to kill me when I was 7. As if he hadn’t done enough to traumatise me, he goes ahead and marries her. She was obsessed with natural healing. She came from old money, and was an ‘earth healer’ as a full time job. She believed in meditation, yoga, essential oils. So when I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety and a few other things at age 9, she decided she was going to fix me. Thus began the weekly yoga classes. I went to each of them. I only faked being sick once or twice… or seven times. I hated it. It hurt, my body would pop and hurt and do everything it wasn’t supposed to. So she decided to start yoga classes at home. She decided to train me to be good at yoga. Meaning, she decided to get me in tights and no shirt, despite my eating disorder and gender dysphoria, and she decided to get her hands on as much of my body as she could. No one believed me, of course. No, I was just an attention seeking little ‘girl’, who hated his stepmom and was being brainwashed into thinking he was mentally ill (yes, they actually said this). I gained my father’s attention for it one time, and one time only. I must have been 12 or 13. This had been going on for years. At the time, they had implemented a strict diet and exercise regime, meaning I was severely underweight and couldn’t stand up without feeling faint. I’m currently in the process of being diagnosed with EDS. Just to give you an idea of how particularly bad that is. Anyway, I finally gained my father’s attention, because I kicked her. In the stomach. She was pregnant. “Why did you do that?” He asked. He was being surprisingly calm. I should have noticed. “Because she was trying to touch me, and I didn’t want her to.” I replied. Not long after, they dumped me on my mother’s doorstep and told everyone else in the family that my mother was a psycho bitch who tried to keep me from them. I feel disgusting.

I'm hesitant to call it what it was because I'm not ready to admit that someone who I love and trust so much did that to me. I don't know why I didn't stop him. I never said yes to my best friend touching me while we were sharing a bed, but I never said no either. If someone else told me my story, I'd tell them it's not their fault and that they're so strong. Yet, I just feel weak and I've lost trust in myself more than anything.

I remember the morning after. I don't quite remember the night before. Or really just hours before. But i remember waking up and not knowing why I wanted to stand in the shower for hours. Letting the hottest setting of water i could handle turn my body a deeper shade of red than your hands left it. I remember wanting to scrub myself so hard, until i left bruises with my own hands, next to the ones yours left. I don't quite remember the morning before, but i will always remember the morning after. this is just something i wrote trying to describe the way i felt. Not the story, because i cant say that part yet.

I had posted something before and I don't know if it's okay to post this here but I hope it is. I am so angry right now and just had to get this out. My Loved One’s suicide attempt. Multiple attempts if we are being accurate. I want to start by telling you, I am no stranger to the suicide world and suicide ideation. I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder and when I became involved with my Loved One (LO.), I knew I had met someone who would/could understand my depression as I understood theirs (to a degree). I also knew that if I continued the relationship there might be a time when we might need to lean on each other (hopefully not at the same time). My previous career also had me working with families of victims of Suicide in the direct aftermath of completed suicide (my company came in and cleaned the scene. I want to apologize for the length of this and please understand that I have had to consolidate 12+ months into a few pages and its barely a drop in the bucket of this story. For All Intents and Purposes (there are 4 main people in this story; plus myself as the storyteller) Below are the abbreviations I am using throughout the story KP = K Provider (CRNA). *My loved one was their patient* L.O.= Loved One (The Patient) Psych Nurse (Nurse Practitioner – Psychiatric Nurse. *My loved one was their patient* LMHC = (License Mental Health Counselor/Therapist) *My loved one was their patient* The K Provider owns their independent clinic The Psych Nurse owns their practice and the LMHC is their employee Suicide Attempt One In Month, Year– my L.O. (L.O.) was given two back-to-back high-dose K infusions from KP (KP) (two days in a row). The decision to give my L.O. two back-to-back infusions was made by the KP and the Psych Nurse. The KP took my L.O. back to their home (KP’s home, not L.O.’s home) and also fed them 4mg of their (KP’s) personal Ativan, to “calm them down”. My L.O. sent a message to their psychiatric nurse (who assisted in scheduling the back-to-back infusions) and pleaded to never be left alone again after a K infusion with their abuser (the KP). The following day a 2nd high-dose K infusion was given to my L.O. along with more (personal) Ativan and afterward dropped off at a relative’s home. This time the they were not taken back to the KP’s home (as previously described “the abuser” from the previous day/evening’s infusion). My L.O. was in a lot of distress after this 2nd high-dose treatment and tried reaching out to the KP but they found their number was blocked from receiving calls/texts. It is assumed they were blocked because my L.O. didn’t want to go home with the KP. My L.O. began reaching out to their psychiatric nurse. But was met by the psychiatric Nurse telling them to stop contacting KP. The more and more my L.O. reached out (via texts and calls) the Psych Nurse told them “you are manic and scaring me”. They were told to “stop calling” (the Psych Nurse) because “they were not going to answer the telephone”. They didn’t want to take a call because “it would wake up their entire home and “my child is sleeping”. Both KP and the Psych Nurse knew they had given my L.O. two high dose back to back infusions and ignored them. Cut them off from help. They were supposed mental health care providers. (It has been learned) My L.O. was having a paradoxical psychosis due to the (2) high-dose K infusions and all of the Ativan that the KP and Psych Nurse had been giving them. The KP was supplying their own prescribed Ativan to my L.O. The Psych nurse had given them a prescription for Ativan a day before. Neither KP or Psych Nurse would answer calls (as stated above), in the midst of the paradoxical psychosis and their providers ignoring them…My L.O. slit their throat open to end their life, sending out final text messages and photos to the psych nurse stating “I hope you and KP are happy for what you have done to me.” This is when the psych nurse decided that my L.O. needed help and 911 was called. EMS and First responders were able to get to & save the life of my L.O. Everyone in the house that evening now has PTSD and became traumatized from this suicide attempt as they are all over 80 years old, because the Psych Nurse and the KP failed their patient. They (KP and Psych Nurse) chose to use more than the average standard dose per mg/kg/hr dose of K and continue to give Ativan to control the patient. The Psych Nurse has ZERO formal training on K administration. The KP is a cRNA and was only trained by their former employer, before opening their clinic. The KP has ZERO formal training in psychiatric and mental health matters or therapy to treat patients’ mental health. ****It should be noted that the Day before the 1st Infusion the KP stated in the morning to my L.O. they were going to admit themselves to in-patient care because they were “not well.” It should also be noted that the same evening the Psych Nurse told my L.O. They were going to “Baker Act” the KP, because they were not well. The KP never admitted themselves to an inpatient facility. The Psych Nurse never baker acted the KP. What did happen the following day(s) was the KP and Psych Nurse administered the High Dose Infusions to my loved one. (All of this is documented in text messages) 3 days were spent in a baker act. The psychiatrist at the hospital asked my L.O why they had attempted to take their life. My L.O. told the doctor. They were in a romantic relationship with KP and the KP had been mentally and emotionally abusing them and they were having issues in their relationship because the KP was still actively involved with their abusive spouse. The psychiatrist at the hospital interviewed the KP and the KP lied and stated that they were not in a relationship with the patient. And that my L.O. was confused “it was the anniversary of the breakup of their previous relationship” , and they were having a hard time with it. (This is documented in my L.O.’s health records). It can be proven that the KP was in a relationship with my L.O. and the text messages sent to them before and after the suicide attempt show how “IN LOVE and didn’t want to lose them”. KP was also going to visit my L.O. during visiting hours and cuddling with them in the day room of the facility. AT THIS POINT YOU MIGHT BE THINKING WAIT WHAT? THE KP was in a Relationship with your Loved One, the Patient? HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?? HOW DID THAT START? The Grooming of My Loved One My L.O. was referred to the KP by their Psych Nurse provider, stating that K treatments would be beneficial and that they wanted them to see the KP, to help with their treatment-resistant depression. My L.O. stated that during the first 4 months of treatment, they would wake up and the KP was sitting in the room talking to them after their infusions. The K provider called it “therapy time”. The K Provider is only a CRNA and in Statutes this is practicing outside of their scope. The K provider would text message the patient excessively. In the first month alone the provider sent over 500 text messages to the patient. The 2nd month over 1200 text messages which included inappropriate photographs. The KP provider also would talk about their former drug use, current alcohol and partying ways, and body modifications such as piercings. They would also speak about how often they were hit on while they were out at functions and conferences. The provider once gave my L.O. a ride home and while parked outside of a relatives house, disclosed that they were unhappy in their marriage and told them personal things about how bad things were in their marital home. My L.O. still under the influence of the K infusion sat quietly and did not respond. The provider was constantly texting my L.O. and crossed many boundaries at this point, many of the text messages were personal and selfies, and some were inappropriate and sexual of nature. The KP provider even suggested that my L.O to give food poisoning to their new romantic partner; to go through their wallet to confirm their identity and age. One evening after providing a K infusion to my L.O. (after 4 months of text messages and “therapy time” after K treatments ) the KP confessed they had fallen in love with them, and they hated their abusive spouse and would leave them if my L.O. felt the same way. Because they felt that my L.O. had feelings for them. ** Remember For 4 months the KP had been sitting in on every infusion and been slowly grooming and manipulating my L.O.** My L.O. stated they were attracted to the KP. The KP took this as their cue and then undressed my L.O. and proceeded to have sex with them. From here on out the KP laid stakes on my L.O. and this marked the beginning of the relationship between the KP and my L.O.(the patient) The KP mandated the patient break up with their romantic partner, even though the KP was married and had not initiated a divorce. The KP then confessed to the Psych Nurse that they had engaged in sex with the patient and were now in a relationship. The Psych Nurse then reached out to a divorce attorney and assisted in obtaining legal counsel so that the KP could file for divorce and be with my L.O. The Psych Nurse even went as far to blind CC my Loved on the email sent to the divorce attorney. The Psych Nurse then purchased a burner phone so that my L.O. (patient ) and the KP could talk and not be discovered by the KP’s spouse. The KP also mandated that the patient download and use “WhatsApp” to have conversations, to hide from their spouse, and send photos of their genitals, since they could set the messages to disappear after 24 hours. The Psych Nurse did not report the KP for having sexual relations with a patient. The Psych Nurse encourages the relationship. It is believed that the psych nurse also instructed my L.O.’s licensed mental health counselor to not report the relationship. After the relationship was established the KP began even more sick and diabolical actions of imprinting themselves on my L.O. The KP provided free infusions to my L.O. and would engage in intercourse as my L.O. was coming to after an infusion. It is believed that this is part of the reason my L.O. is “trauma bonded” to the KP. The KP would unhook the IV from the pump and engage in sex, while my loved one was still in the recliner. The KP also mandated that my L.O. refrain from taking certain prescription medications to make the sex better for them so they could engage in hours of sex. During the first month (30 days) of the relationship with the KP, my L.O. attempted to break things off due to experiencing mental abuse from KP. The KP would have mental breakdowns and claim they were going to kill themself if they broke up. The KP was still living with their spouse but would often rent hotel rooms so they could have sex. But the majority of sex happened right inside of the clinic on the floor or in the patient chairs, until the KP moved out of their marital home, 45 days after the first sexual encounter with the patient. During the 2nd month of the relationship, it became very apparent the KP was abusive, my L.O. attempted to get out of the relationship because they began to feel that it was detrimental to their health; the gaslighting, manipulation, verbal psychological, and mental abuse were too much for them. The KP again threatened to commit suicide if they broke up. The KP promised to be better and get better “help” and would go get a therapist. The KP then started counseling from my L.Os mental health counselor and began to see the Psych Nurse who was treating my loved one. KP claimed that they could not find anyone else in the very large city they reside in. I believe this was to cover up the relationship, as this relationship was highly illegal and against State statutes to have sex with your mental health patient. The Psych Nurse and the LMHC both covered up this relationship and failed to report it to the Department of Health or State Nursing Board. The Psych Nurse and the LMHC both profited off the patient by billing the insurance company for psycho-therapy sessions from both the KP and my loved one. The Psych Nurse also encouraged the relationship, so it is believed that they did not want to say anything because they did not report the relationship from when they learned about it two months prior. The KP also had the LMHC treat their children as patients as they were having a difficult time dealing with the impending divorce and break up of their family. The KP had begun bringing my L.O. in as a “parental figure” and stated to my L.O. that the children loved them, and they needed them in their lives. They ask about them all the time. My L.O. does not have children of their own and it made them feel as if they finally had the family they always dreamed of. This was again another manipulation tactic of the K.P. Over the course of the entire relationship, every time my L.O. tried or attempted to terminate the intimate personal relationship the KP would have a “mental meltdown” and state they were going to kill themselves. They often made dramatic outbursts and comments of “someone needs to take care of my patients” or would physically hurt themselves in front of my L.O. and children by hitting themselves or laying on the floor and crying clutching bottles of alcohol. The K.P. would also state they would sell the K clinic as it was not worth their life. In the third month of the relationship, the KP tried to smooth things over by taking my L.O. on an all-expenses paid trip to Saint Augustine. While in the shower the KP shoved their finger up the anus of my L.O. My L.O. told them to stop and they didn’t want that and asked “Why would you do that, we have both talked about butt sex and we both said we never wanted that? KP stated said… because “it happened to me and I felt you were safe, I needed to do it to you so I could see if I could get over being anally violated”. The KP sexually assaulted my L.O. to “get over” something they had experienced in the past by another partner. I'm not sure how that works… I’ve been raped before and I have never had to rape someone else to get over it. My L.O. finally broke off the relationship with the KP. But the KP again tried one last attempt to keep the relationship and rope my L.O. back into it, by claiming they were going to kill themselves. The KP even sent “Goodbye” texts to their shared Psychiatric Nurse. The KP didn’t do any harm to themselves. They were just crying wolf like the many times before. After a month of gaining clarity and feeling they had gotten to a safe space, my L.O., decided that they needed to contact the Department of Health and report the KP for having sex with their patient(s). They were afraid that the KP might seek another victim and use K again to gain control over another patient. Currently, it is unclear if this was an isolated event (relationship/sexual encounter) or if it has happened before. But the threat was still there, and it needed to be reported. What is clear though the provider has had an affair with another KP (their former boss). KP is unethical in many ways. KP did confess to my L.O. that they had copied their former boss’s ( K provider) patient list (the one they had an affair with) to build their business. My L.O. contacted the Department of Health and reported the provider. In retaliation, KP went to the county court and placed a stalking injunction against my L.O.. stating that my L.O. was stalking them and they were afraid of them. This is the same provider who sent 500+ text messages to the patient in the first month 1200+ in the second month sent inappropriate photographs to their patient, and invited them out on outings to spend time outside of the K clinic. The provider even asked them to come to the Walk-a-ton for suicide awareness last year, so they could spend time together. My L.O. declined as they were going to be spending time with their significant other (the one the KP wanted to give food poisoning to). In the 7 months that the provider knew my L.O., the text conversations (mostly from the provider) totaled over 900 PDF pages (all of which are in my possession). Suicide attempt Two In Month, Year, everything became too much for my L.O. They had been spiraling since March because of the PTSD of the KP; manipulation, gaslighting, and psychological, emotional, and mental abuse. The false accusation The provider filed in court and with the police. The KP created a trauma bond and groomed my L.O. to fall in love with them all under the influence of K. Because the KP wanted to be in a relationship with my L.O. (the patient). It must be noted My L.O. paid for these treatments (the first 4 months). They had been giving hundreds and hundreds of dollars in the hope that their mental health could be healed. My L.O. trusted this KP with their mental health. And it almost cost them their life. I still fear that it will. In July my L.O. drove to the parking lot of the KP’s clinic and in the middle of the night and attempted suicide. I had luckily been at my L.O.’s home and noticed my L.O. had left the house and figured out why they left. I was able to call 911 and assist the sheriff’s office in finding them. I don’t even know physical the address of my own doctor’s office. And I was able to recite every address I knew where my L.O. could be. I don’t even live in the same city as my L.O. I live over 3 hours from them and was just visiting and taking care of them because they were having an exceptionally hard time. I prevented my L.O. from ending their life that day. I worry that in the future I might not be so lucky to prevent it. I know the statistics that the likelihood of them retrying is very high. Especially since this was the 2nd attempt. The KP has now been playing the victim. Stating that the patient is a dangerous person. That they are afraid of the patient their former lover/partner – whom they had groomed into the relationship. The scariest part is this provider is still allowed to practice while the Department of Health investigates all of this. I wanted to add a little about me. I spent 11.5 years running a company that cleans up after suicides and homicides. A crime scene clean-up company. I have taken thousands of phone calls from family members after a suicide. Never in a million years had I ever believed that I would be on the opposite side of that phone call. NEVER. I never thought I’d be saying my L.O. attempted suicide, or my L.O. killed themselves. I am no stranger to suicide and those who have experienced it. It is why I am such a huge advocate for mental health. It’s the reason I dropped my entire life and worked remotely in my L.O.’s city to make sure they were okay, so they weren’t alone as they were trying to deal with the PTSD from what they experienced from their K provider. I was trying to help navigate the darkness. Or sit in the dark so they weren’t alone. Because as someone with depression, I know how dark that dark is. My reason for writing this is because of the K provider I speak of. Is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The KP has befriended a person on the Board of Directors for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention who is also an Investigator at the Department of Health (in which this event occurred). The KP has donated $1000 to the AFSP for the suicide awareness walk that will be hosted in the city. I find it fascinating they have collected a donation of $1000.00 from this KP for the Suicide awareness walk a ton. Is this HUSH HUSH MONEY ?? Is this cover-up money? Is the donation to get insider information on their case? Or to have the case altered in their favor? I am so sick to my stomach. At the thought of this or that the provider is allowed to be a sponsor.(granted they don't know the story.... well actually I have sent an email to their public relations department this morning) The audacity that the KP even has to make the community feel like they care about Suicide Awareness when they are the ones that caused someone to attempt suicide multiple times because they wanted to be in a relationship with their PATIENT. A mental HEALTH PATIENT. People do not seek K treatments because they are well. The K provider learned everything about my Loved One while they were under the influence of K, they made my loved one feel they were a safe provider and then they sucked my loved one into an adulterous relationship, left their spouse, broke up their family and abused my loved one; psychologically, emotionally, mentally, and verbally. So much so that my loved ones tried to kill themselves. On the second attempt my loved one tried to kill themselves in the parking lot of the K clinic in hopes it would bring media attention. I have been so angry that this K Provider is making a mockery of SUICIDE AWARENESS when they are such a sick and vile hazard to the community. I also find it disgusting that the KP uses SUICIDAL THREATS to keep control of people in their lives, as a crutch to manipulate people and keep them in their life. We have been very private about this situation as it is embarrassing to know our loved one was sexually assaulted by a practitioner. It has been a lot to digest to know that someone suffering from mental illness (depression and PTSD) has been sexually taken advantage of and all 3 of the people (K provider, Psych Nurse & LMHC) were supposed to be helping our loved one…. Were the ones that almost cost us their life. And we would all be grieving for the rest of ours. I felt like I needed to speak out. I am at a loss as to why the Department of Health is moving so slowly. I feel like I need to contact a new station or something and this needs to go public Nationwide so that people are aware of this predatory behavior. My Loved One is not well. This has exacerbated their PTSD/CTPSD and we are getting them help but its been a very long road and they are tired. So very tired. This has been a setback on so many levels. The story gets worse....there are even more evil things that have happened but this is all I care to share for now. I feel like we have been living in a Netflix Docuseries for the last year. My mental health has taken a toll. But I can tell you that my K Provider in my city has been nothing but wonderful and my experience with Ketmaine saved my life. My heart hurts that my loved ones' K provider and K almost cost them their life.