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It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

I never associated my assaults as sexual assaults. I always just saw it as a thing that happened me that was upsetting until recently. I was groped, forced into having sex and preforming oral sex on him. I remember one time he offered to drive me home. I lived over 40 mins from town so I thought i could save myself €60 in a taxi. Until I realised we were going in the opposite direction to my house. He drove me to secluded area. I knew it wasn't right I said no said I was due my period I tried everything I could to deter him. It didn't work. I can't drive that road without a feeling of dread. I do feel part to blame and I know that's wrong. I hate how it makes me feel. When I hear stories in the news I can't help but think my story isn't as bad as theirs or that maybe mine wasn't rape or a sexual assault. I hate myself for thinking it.

Survival. Fawn. He kisses me, I kiss him back. He touches me, I touch him too. He takes me, I let him take. Fawn. There’s safety in the fawn, A predictable safety, A safety perceived as consent, A safety that is survival. Frozen. My body responding, My mind screaming, My eyes pleading, When my lips cannot. Frozen. There’s a strength in the freeze, An unseen strength, A strength perceived as weakness, A strength that is survival.

I come here today with the utmost need of to tell my truth no longer be silenced and the need to be able to break these chains rather invisible or not they're there I have suffered for 20 plus years from abuse from an individual who suffers from narcissistic personality I'm pretty sure the subtype is passive aggressive covert malignant narcissism . He has shown documented behaviors of being a sociopath. This individual also suffers from substance abuse and sex addiction. My needs for housing transportation and financial support is a means of causing intentional harm by exploitation of my imminent needs for human basic survival and he knows that my disabilities cause me to not be able to get proper help because of my social and communication disorders and brain injury. Being a victim who also has disabilities of all kinds creates a much bigger barrier because I can't do communal living spaces. There is no way to get free every phone call to national special victims I get a recorded message and no one calls back..I'm posting a link for my fundraiser because I've gotten no help and if help doesn't come soon I will just be a statistic but helping me get free is way bigger than me it gives a ability to bring about systematic change to help others not have to suffer in silence anymore Please help me Link

I was six years old and I was friends with this girl who was also six. She was over at my house and we were sitting on the bed. I remember her asking me to play family and that I was the dad and she was the mom. She told me that I had to take all my clothes off because i was the 'dad' and she undressed from below the waist. After I did she just pushed me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. I just remember that she was sort of rubbing against me and I was so uncomfortable and I just wanted her to stop, but I was scared that we wouldn't be friends anymore if I did, so I just laid there and waited for it to be over. That is probably my oldest memory.

it happened in the fall. it was cold outside (so was he), i remember worrying about not looking pretty enough for him. i invited him in and we started talking we instantly clicked, he was funny, charismatic, good looking, everything i wanted in a man and as the night progressed he offered me edibles and i took it (not ever having taken them before) and i feel that's where i went wrong, i accepted something that was going to leave me feeling like i was in a nightmare for months. i don't necessarily remember every detail, at times i even wonder what was real and what wasn't but i know my body tells me what is real. i blacked out through most of it and the parts i do recall have begun to fade but my body hasn't forgotten. part of me blames me for letting him in, for allowing myself to be put in that situation, aftercall he was a tinder hookup. when i wanted to take legal action it already was too late and i didn't want to have to face him again. he scares me now, i often find myself looking at his pictures thinking how can someone so normal looking live such a normal life after what they did? how can monsters walk upon us and no one notice, it often reminds me of when no one noticed the day after it happened. i remember feeling so dirty and different, i felt like an alien that everyone would look at but no one would say anything. i never said anything because one of the first people i told didn't believe me at first, it was only after they saw how damaged i was that they realized they should have helped me instead of telling me i was a "liar". it just baffles me how he was able to move on and i have to live with this for the rest of my life. i often find myself wondering if he even is sorry or if he realized what he did wrong not only once but twice. i have tried convincing myself it is my mind trying to protect me from it but then there's days where all i see is him, all i feel is him, and then it hits me. i was raped.

I don't know how to start, it's just I am having pms rn and I can't help but feel disgusted. It was my cousin brother. We have been close since childhood. We used to do all kinds of things that you would usually do with your brother. I used to live far, I with my fam used to visit their fam. I still remember the last conversation we had when I last visited him before covid, we were talking about him getting a gf and Me getting a bf just normal conversation. After covid, in 2022 I moved. It was near where he lived. He came to stay naturally, just like we would hang out daily and eat out and had fun. One day, I was laying down with him. All the days, he stayed with us. I used to sleep with him in the same bed. But that it was a nightmare. Out of nowhere he started putting his hand on my stomach. He started touching me over my underwear and in between my thighs. I froze on place. I couldn't think anything I was begging God please don't let him go further. He was trying to open my underwear and touching around it. I pulled away his hand. He still brought it again in between my thighs. Then after sometime he stopped. I continued sleeping there..ik it was the dumbest thing but yk how it is, you freeze in a place, you can't think right. I didn't shout or anything. I was just stunned and didn't know anything that I could do then. Next day, I woke up I literally felt it was a dream but I had a clear memory. Very clear memory Long time, it felt like I was at fault.. for sleeping in bed with him, for not shouting, for not reacting enough, for never speaking up about it to me. I was just disgusted and decided to talk to my friends. They made me understand it's not me, it was him. It was not something he could do without any intention. Its been 3 years, only my closest friends know, my parents don't know. I don't know whether he remembers it or not. It doesn't matter. It was something so disgusting and it stays with till today. It doesn't matter what he thinks. I stay away from him and made sure to never have a good connection with him ever after that. He once blackmailed me with something I didn't know. He just randomly started telling me he knows what I did. And called one of his friend saying that I will give 500 rupees and you give me that thing. I don't even know what it was about. But he is the most disgusting person to ever exist. His idea about woman disgusts me and how he keeps his gf too. I wish the old me would have done something then But I am so glad I understand myself more than anything and bring that up will only cause harm in my slowly healing life

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

I just recently graduated with an associate's degree in healthcare Management. Upon entering my first job out of school I experienced sexual exploitation online and in person as well as defamation harassment verbal and psychological abuse and spiritual warfare. It was reported multiple times and eventually it was turned around on me. I had a group of girls that ganged up on me inside the workplace and made me dislike going to work each day. I was discouraged humiliated and violated online and in person putting my safety at risk because of the sexual nature that I was being discussed online. My supervisors were made aware of it and actually bore witness to it. They made the statement that my coworkers online activity had no prevalence in the workplace even if it caused me harm and put my safety at risk and I do not even have an online presence. I was eventually terminated for voicing my concern of feeling unsafe and that I might fall under a terrorist attack at any time at work or followed home. In which case after my termination I did have things around my home that were vandalized. I was also the victim of bank fraud through the same individual who made a bank account on LinkedIn and Phish me to work from home while making me experience all these things at work to make me want to leave. Even after I was terminated for reporting this abuse that lasted for over 30 days the individual continued to deface me and attack me and smear me online putting my safety at risk. Nobody wants to interview me or hire me because of this individual and I feel like the entity that I just left is responsible as well because they did not do anything to reprimand her behavior. I no longer want to pursue or am excited about pursuing a career with the degree I just obtained after having to endure these things in a place that was supposed to keep me safe from this behavior.

you are never alone, I never told my mother and I think I am strong enough to tell her When I was little (maybe 10 or younger) me, my mom, and my little brother went to my moms friends house and my mom was dating this guy named "r" and "r" had a friend named "d" and It was a normal day, everything was going fine and I cant really remember if it was the same day or not but one day when i went there, I believe I was in the living room with everyone and I guess he asked me to come to the room with him and me being 10 or younger I listened and I went into the room and he locked it and he sat me down on the right bed (there were two beds one on the left and one on the right) and he pulled my pants down and took his off and he made me suck him off and there was a knock on the door and he covered me with a white pillow and the kids outside told him to make them popcorn and he did and I stayed where I was, confused on what was happening and he came back, locked the door and I don't remember if he raped me. I would like to think he didn't but I blocked out most of it from my head

Grandma’s house I don't Think anyone really Knows how long It really Went On. I don't remember how old I was when it started either. I don't really know the age I was when any of It happened. I tried to block out most of it. I was young we lived in a little blue house. Grandpa would babysit me and my older brother Name. Because mom worked Before School and didn't come home till 5, we would go up the hill to grandma's house before and after school. Grandma was a nurse, So She was gone at the Same time as mom was, so grandpa watched us. Grandpa would go Outside to work or fall asleep on the couch leaving me and Name alone. It started all of a Sudden Name would take me into a room where he could close the door. I remember the first time he pulled me into my grandparent’s room he pulled down his pants then he made me touch “it”. I was crying because I knew I wasn't supposed to even be looking at It, it’s a boy's private part. It just got worse from there. At that time grandma had a door in her laundry room and that’s where we would play school because the chalkboard was there. Name would close the door, and make me lay on my stomach and he would pull my pants down around my Knees. He would put his hand on my mouth so grandpa couldn’t hear me cry. The day grandma replaced the door with a swinging door was one of the best days of my life. He found other places though; it was a constant struggle. I was so young The Yellow house It only stopped for a little bit. We moved to the yellow house and mom got a new job. She worked a night Job and my Stepdad worked days so there was a 2.hr period where Name and I would be alone. It was the same thing almost every day. I would find every excuse in the book to make him stop “I was sick, my head hurt”. They never worked. He would tell me don't tell mom she will be so upset and I'll have to hurt you". I didn’t like to upset Mom, and I definitely didn't want to be hit. I Can Say I was in 5th grade when This was happening at this point It was whenever and wherever he could get me alone. One time it was across the Street from The elevator in a little clearing. one time when we were up at grandma’s house I think it was a holiday. We were playing outside. We were allowed to run around town, it was a small town. He tried to get me alone, but I remembered that church doors are always unlocked. I ran to the church. I then realized all that would do was make it so he could really get me alone so I ran out the side door and back up to grandma's house he caught me I was already full-blown tears by now. He told me to tell mom that I had fallen and that’s why I was crying, so that’s what I did. My world changed one morning, he and I were alone again and he was getting ready to start. He had my pants pulled down when grandma just happened to walk in. I instantly started crying. I couldn’t tell you if it was because I was scared of what she would do or what he would do or even the fact now someone knew, maybe it was a cry of relief. She told me to grab a blanket and go to the car. We went up to her house where I sat on the couch and cried while she called my mom who was on her way home. She got there and grandpa called saying Name was up in his room threatening to kill himself. Mom ended up calling 911. She brought me school clothes and my bookbag. The bus pulled up in front of the house where there were flashing cop lights. Everyone put that and the fact that Name hadn’t gotten on the bus together. They kept asking what happened and I said nothing. The bus driver asked if everything was alright, and I just cried. Mom picked me up early because we had to go to Omaha where they were admitting Name. That day I was asked so many questions I can’t remember them, but I can tell you I lied, I just wanted it all to be over with. I didn’t want them to tear my family apart. They still did, I had to move in with my grandparents and we had to have weekly therapy sessions. After a while they were able to move on, I was able to move back in and life went on. I never got to move on. I pretended everything was okay. Nothing was ok. I was afraid to be alone with any guy older than me. I thought there must be something wrong with me, why me? As I get older I regret not telling the truth. Maybe things would be different. Maybe it would have stopped what came next. Brick house Years later, I was in high school. I would say life was good, but I'd be lying. I was suffering from what I could only blame on depression. I hated the way I looked. I hated everything about myself. I didn’t want to do homework. Hell, I didn’t want to go to school. There were really bad days that I didn’t want to be alive. I used to self-harm. My wrist and thighs were the most popular spots. I wore tons of bracelets to cover the marks. Witch, sometimes they would chafe my arms and hurt, so they served two purposes. I was still afraid we were older and he always had a girlfriend but I hated being alone with him. Mom was with a different guy, he had two kids who were both younger than me. The most important part of that is the youngest one was a daughter. He didn't know of Name’s or my past. He should have been told we should have protected her. Everyone thought he was fine but no one really knew. They thought Name was over all that stuff but they were so wrong. I always thought it would happen again to me but I was wrong. One night mom was working the night shift and the stepdad was as well. I was laying in bed when all of a sudden I heard my little sister crying. I went out to the living room where I found him on top of her. I grabbed her and brought her to my room where I locked the door. We lied in bed and cried together. I told her everything would be ok, I would tell Mom in the morning but don’t tell anyone else till we get things figured out. She fell asleep and I cried. I was holding the only other person who knew exactly what I was going through. That morning when mom got home I went right to her. She told me she would take care of it and that my little sister was to sleep in my room from now on. It was weeks before anything happened. My little sister was only at our house on the weekends; she lived with her mom the rest of the week so we only had to worry on the weekends. The day my whole life changed for a second time. I went to school just like I did every day. My first class was small engines, I remember the secretary walking up to me and telling me to grab my stuff because there was a family emergency and my mom was there to pick me up. I grabbed my stuff and walked out the door trying to figure out why she didn’t call my phone. I looked down and my arms were covered in grease. I got to the car where both my mom and stepdad were with my little brother. I got in and was informed Name had been arrested, apparently, my little sister told her mom who reported it to the police. We had to go to the police station to talk to the cops. We got there and my mom went in a little bit later they called me in and I told them what happened that night I brought her into my room. We were there for 2 hrs or more when my mom came out crying. She handed me her stuff and told me she loved me. They were arresting her for not reporting it. So both my mom and big brother were going to jail. My stepdad took us to the car when he got in. He was on the phone with my grandma telling her what had happened. The whole way home he was apologizing telling me he was sorry but he couldn’t stay what I hadn’t realized till he dropped me off at grandma's was he was packing up and leaving taking his kids and leaving me all alone. I might have had the rest of my family but not my parents or siblings I was by myself. I hated him for that hell I still do. I understand why he left but who just takes off like that. My Own House Now that it’s years later I don’t see the stepdad or his kids at all and Name is still in jail. A lot has changed. I am slowly learning to love myself for who I am. I got married and live in my own house with no bad memories in it, only good ones. I am working on loving my life, and It mostly gets better, but it's not right away, or all at once but I'm trying to sort through everything that happened so my life can move forward. But as I've gotten older I realized that so much more needs to happen. I need to be able to tell my story not lie. I need to do things for my benefit, Not everyone else's. I know I have so many people who will support me and stand behind me. This has been a long journey, but maybe someday I will not have to worry so much.

My memory is no longer present. Attempted molestation as a child by a cousin, luckily my grandmother told me how to get out of these situations. Once he began to undress I made up a story and ran out of the room to let her know what had happened. I still had to see him at family events throughout the years because his dad supported him and did not believe me. My grandmother always believed me. At 16, my first time (if you can even call it that) was a sexual assault in my own home. My boyfriend at the time assaulted me, his cousin saw and I locked eyes for help but he just walked away. I had to hold this secret from my mother, afraid she would blame herself. I ended in a relationship with my perpetrator out of fear until I was strong enough to break away with support from friends. A few months later I was assaulted again by a college student on campus. My friend at the time had walked outside and he threw me down. Once she came back in, she was yelling for us and I threw a pen into the next room, which hit something to make a bang, as she came closer, he finally stopped. So much coercion I couldn't even tell you, sometimes it's hard to remember what was real. Now I try to be the person I needed. I support survivors with whatever decision they want to make, but let them know they are never alone. Thank goodness for our local sexual violence resource center to be there to provide healing. I wish I had known about this service when I needed it.

I love my self no matter what!

Cease suffering from abusive relationship and you cease to live like a schmuck Why do we tolerate abusive partners? Do we like to suffer or we are just not so right in our heads? Or both? I am so mad at myself for being so spineless and weak, for letting somebody treat me like garbage and make me swallow my pride time after time. It’s on me and this is the most difficult to accept. The fact that the closest and the most beloved one in your life humiliates and manipulates you is terrible to become aware of but what can be worse than that is realizing that you, you let all of that happen even after your eyes got open and you saw that you live with and love a monster and whatever he feels about you it isn’t love for sure. And you just throw your pride and dignity to the garbage, breaking your own boundaries, forgiving things that you always said that you would never tolerate. You let somebody change you, make you not who you are, play with your life and feelings like it’s nothing. But if it is nothing for him, whatever the reasons are, why should it be nothing for you? Why would he possibly change his attitude towards you if he is testing you and checking how far he can go and how much you gonna tolerate and you are simply following his rules and playing his game? So what if you are trying to protest once in a while and showing that you are pissed and hurt, in the end you forgive him anyway and he is a winner, he broke you one more time and it worked. So why not to do that again? You are expecting that he will suddenly start caring about your feelings and cease to neglect you but why on earth would he? Why to keep living in a fairytale and believing that one day shit will smell like flowers? You are a grown woman, you lived before him quite a while and you learnt some things about life, right? So probably you understand that the table will never become a chair. You may do whatever about it: sitting on it trying to convince yourself that it’s comfortable and pretty good for that purpose, you can believe a table playing a chair for years but in the end it will remain a table for the rest of it’s days because this is what it is. Nothing will ever change in this kind of relationship because your partner is simply not empathetic, at least towards you. And it should be more than enough for you. He may be a prince charming with others and everybody maybe sure that he is such an angel, amazingly nice person, always polite and easy-going, joking around and so on, such a likable guy, all his exes are trying to be back to him, checking his stories on the instagram and dreaming of catching a piece of him, whatever. He is using that against your accusations every time you are having an argument just being like, ‘wtf are you talking about, I am toxic? Toxic my ass, look, all my exes want to be back to me’. But you should not listen to all this brainwashing talks because the only truth is that he is abusive and cruel and all those poor girls are chasing after him for the same reasons you are doing that now: he charmed them, played them and left with a feeling that he is the best thing they have ever had in their lives and ever gonna have and they are too neurotic to reject it. And why are all his exes neurotic? Because a woman with a good mental health would never tolerate even 1% of his behavior and he is used to be a winner and the one who runs the game, not vice versa. The person is breaking your balls and your heart at the same time and you are still thinking that he loves you, he is just a complicated person. But what does it have to do with love? Is it love to humiliate, neglect, gaslight, cheat on, lie constantly? Is it love to abuse verbally and physically? To ignore you, laugh at you, breaking promises all the time and making you feel like you are nothing? Is it love when every situation where he is wrong is turned upside down and in the end you have to apologise? Ask yourself all of that and then ask yourself, so what are you still waiting for? What is your non-return point if you already forgave him literally everything including cheating, beating, cursing and manipulating? I am gonna tell you something that you gonna understand that I know what I am talking about and not just getting annoyed about women that just complain and don't want to change their lives. I’d been in this kind of relationship for 2 years. I got beaten plenty of times, cheated on with hundreds of girls including my best friend, I have never seen respect from my ex. My story is a bit different from most of the stories of that kind, he wasn’t playing a nice guy for too long in the beginning to charm me, it lasted for not more than a couple of days. After that he began to show me how little he cared and he hasn’t stopped until today. I cried, I was hurt and I tolerated more and more and things got only worse. Why didn’t I just go? I tried to, I really did but every time he called me back I ran back, no matter what happened before. Just because I couldn’t bear the pain of losing him and I wanted it to stop. For the sake of being next to him I tolerated endless abuse. He pushed me away and kicked me out of his house plenty of times and our relationship was like a circus for all the neighbours that heard us yelling and saw me sitting on my luggage downstairs, crying. After he bit me again we finally found ourselves in the police and I was an idiot enough to protect him because he asked me to lie to save him from spending 6 years in a cell. And because I lived with him in his country illegally (my visa expired 6 months ago and we decided that we will fix it later and that I am gonna stay like that for a while), going to the police station to protect him from absolutely fair faith and from what he really deserved led to problems for me and in the end I was taken to immigration jail for my visa problems. And while I was there guess what happened? He’d been cheating on me with my best friend for a month, doing drugs with her and having fun and simultaneously been talking with me on the phone every day and listening to me crying and telling him how much I loved him. Without even blinking. What do you think about this kind of love? And do you think I said, ‘oh it’s too much, I am done with him’? No, I forgave him after he cried and begged me to have mercy on him and give him a chance. He swore that he would never let me down again, never hurt again, that the purpose of his life from that moment on was to love and protect me. Guess what happened next. I got deported and he just took all his words back saying that what was said yesterday stayed there and doesn’t mean that he owes me keeping his promises. And simply kept driving me crazy with cheating and playing me like I was nothing. But I really was nothing, I let him make me nothing. I abandoned myself and my principles and was expecting of a tomato to squeeze grape juice out of itself. What the hell happened to me? I keep asking myself, how could I let it happen, how could I let all of that go so far that I completely lost myself in a person that couldn’t care less about me. I thought that all of that was worth it just for the sake of good things that we had but I completely forgot that it doesnt matter at all what good things you have if at the same time you have constant abuse in your relationship. There are things that just don’t get along with love and abuse, violence, cheating and betrayals are amongst them. And I made myself blind about it and refused to take off those pink glasses that made everything look acceptable while all the people who cared told me that I was completely insane doing that to myself. I lost all my friends, didn’t have my own money anymore, became completely dependent on him and his will, was chasing after him even when he found somebody else and started a new relationship, posted pictures of her and two of them together and sent me intimate pictures of how great they spent time. I forgave everything and forced myself to be ok with things I wasn’t really ok with. And of course it couldn’t work this way. The story ceased to be after I got pregnant and he again promised me the world and in the end behaved exactly the way I expected him to. After you were there plenty of times and suffered from all possible kinds of pain you know what to expect. You already know he will do it again but you still want to believe his nice words because they sound so sweet. He can be persuasive but you will not eat it anymore because there is nothing new about it, it’s just all and the same goes around. You know the scenario: he gives a promise and doesn’t care about it when the time comes to keep it. You know the rules: he will blame you for him breaking his promises and you can either quit or play his game, apologise, beg and maybe, after he is gonna have enough fun with other girls, he will come back by ‘giving you a favour and forgiving you for your disgusting behavior’. And you will accept him and this sick neurotic swing will keep moving. And I always chose the latter but this time was different after he did that again because he did it not only to me but to our baby as well. I made a decision that I am done after he told me that he was putting everything with us on hold and it’s up to me if there gonna be ‘us’ again: I need to make him feel that being with me and the baby is worth it and until then he will be considered a single guy that can see other girls. It’s my fault that he is doing that and because of that I don’t need to complain. First thing I felt was shivering and being terrified. But then I just realized that it was stupid of me to think that he wouldn’t do that to me because I am expecting. He has never had no morality, why would he behave like a normal person now? Even if there were five babies he wouldn’t change for one simple reason: he doesn’t care about me and he’d been with me all this time because he got used to having me like his pet that he could feed with shit as much as he wanted. And I just said to myself that if now again I let it go, if I say to myself that I need to prevent him from cheating to save our family or if I believe him (rather not believe but make myself let it go) after he comes and says that he didn’t do anything, I will be the most idiotic and stupid person in the world and the worst person ever to be a parent for my baby. I quit. And somewhere there deep inside under the pain I feel a relief, feel that I finally did the right thing. I know that whatever he says that it’s my fault and I am immature, stupid, useless and ugly it’s all nonsense. He is bad to me, it will stay like that forever and furthermore, he will be bad to our baby and our family will be completely dysfunctional. Nothing will ever change about this relationship and even if he is what my sick head wants, he is definitely not what I need. And neither does our baby need a father that can abandon him every single day for a sake of having fun with girls from tinder and instagram. I was scared all the time that he was going to leave me and in the end he did everything, literally everything for me to leave him. And now it’s going to be a very difficult period of time of learning how to live without him, becoming a normal whole and alive person again, making money, fixing relationships with friends that got forgotten by me completely or making new ones. It’s gonna be hard but it’s the only way. And I want to tell everybody who is getting abused by their partners and can’t leave them: a shitty ending is better than endless shit. Now I know that too.

In the quiet corners of his heart, how to heal from childhood/familial sexual abuse is appalling. He carries the weight of a haunting secret from his childhood – a dark and painful trauma of sexual abuse within his own family. For years, the shadows of that unspeakable experience have cast a gloom over his life, shrouding him in a veil of sorrow and isolation. But one fateful day, something changed. A flicker of determination ignited within HIS eyes, fueled by a newfound courage to confront his past and embark on a journey of healing. He sought the support of therapists, friends, and support groups, while slowly unraveling the tightly wound threads of his trauma. The process was not easy. Tears were shed, long-buried memories resurfaced, and the road to healing proved to be a labyrinthine path fraught with setbacks. Yet, through each hurdle, his resolve only grew stronger. With every step forward, he chipped away at the prison his past had constructed around him. As time passed, He discovered the power of his own voice. He began to share his story, first with a trembling whisper, and then with unwavering strength. His words became a lifeline, not only for himself but for others who had experienced similar pain. He became a beacon of hope, a living testament to the transformative power of resilience and the possibility of reclaiming one's life from the clutches of trauma. He found allies who stood by his side in the warmth of understanding, offering unwavering support as he navigated the uncharted waters of healing. Together, they shattered the chains that had bound them for so long, allowing him to emerge from the darkness into the light of a new beginning. And so, his story of He became an anthem of triumph over adversity. The mourning that had been broken paved the way for a profound healing – a healing that not only stitched the wounds of the past but also transformed his pain into a source of strength and inspiration for others who walked a similar path. In this forever-changed world, fellow survivors learn that, although they cannot change the past, they can rediscover their capacity to mourn, and in doing so, they find hope for a brighter future.

“Imagine an ending”, said the counsellor. “See it as you want it, as you need it to be. Write your story and those in it as it should be in a just world”, she suggests. I think “no!”, it needs it to be real; a conversation with live faces across real tables, with a hug, a strong handshake, and a glance that lets me know it really happened in amongst the unreality of it all. Those conversations, as yet unsaid, will anchor me in truth, bathe me in facts and create a storyboard with pins and thread for me follow home. Those people, as yet unseen, will interpret it with me, a Watson and Holmes quest - in the room together as the facts reveal themselves. The institutions, as yet faceless, will now permit me to be a fly on the wall of those interviews where untruths were told. I need all this, I think, so that finally the lost threads are found, and I can write my story, now coloured with the gaps I have craved to fill; revealing me to myself. The words shared will help me to find my own. ……………………………………... Us women are left outside a system hoping that something or someone will ground us in the facts held at arms lengths- the facts about us, our assault, or experience. Many women who report sexual assault to the authorities face multiple hurdles. Some remain open to responding to this system that offers no guarantees for all we give to it. Others shut down before the act has concluded, resigning themselves to a painful silence in the hope it will be less so than the alternative public ordeal. The burden of proof lays solidly with us as we concurrently grapple with processing our own trauma. If we are able to share a palatable version of our story with other women, we soon realise how much worse it could have been. But we knew that already. Grading our experience with a perfunctory “at least”. It lives in us: this learned and inherited shame. We carry that burden before we are assaulted, and it is further cemented by the knowing glance or stern word spoken before we leave the house in those clothes. Later that night we are escorted to a beige room and asked to remove them all, still sticky with fearful sweat and told that without us in them, these articles might determine his guilt. There is always some authority acting as sartorial dictator, taking away our carefully chosen outfit with worried words or procedural hands. As such, we continue to hold the weight of their assigned moral value, and determine little of their impact, for that is decided by the viewer, whomever they may be in the room that day. ……………………………………... I am caked in heavy layers of dread, pending success or failure. Why did I start this thankless task? I enter another world, an office of sorts, where you catch a glimpse of the story not told to you, because by knowing you may contaminate the truth. Despite my bodily contamination, I am not permitted to know the full facts, as they say. The most personal and invasive event, prolonged by paperwork. This manufactured situation demands intimacy and yet requires, by law, complete professionalism. Their job, an often-thankless endeavour to find and prove the truth to a wig not made for this century. I try to picture my good egg behind the mask that doesn't fit his face. I saw more of him than ever before on our day in court. It was our day. I needed to see his eyes as he spoke; for the real-life connection to mirror the intensity of our past dealings. He is the only one who knows who I am in this. Until this happens, I float here, suspended in the delay, waiting to be anchored to the tangible earth beneath. To feel the bench and smell the varnish. To be present and audible. To be where life is being lived. We leave court and enter a room with my sister-in-assault. Kept apart for many months to protect us from further injustice. Unsure of the protocol and fearful of our matched pain, we join hands. We hug on my request – despite our fear of emotion and viral spread. How odd to have a thing such as this in common. To be joined together by an act of harm by a man with less years than us, so far away from home. We all came to this city with hopes - for opportunities – for a life beyond the limitations, however different, of our respective hometowns. Joined by this recurring act, we three meet again in a room filled with wood and plexiglass, unable to see beyond the thing itself. This dirty touch has smeared us all with a single colour, marking us out as dirt. Her wide face and open eyes meet mine in tears, a flood after a personal drought. Guilt shades my face pink – I wish she would cry. We share past fears and eventual overcoming and know from this moment on we are allowed to let go. The words have been spoken, by us, the good eggs, and the wigs. The ordeal is over, and permission is granted to lock our fear away with him in the middle of our land, far away from the hopes of this Eastern city. This is the end and the beginning.

For any survivor reading this, you are not alone. I come from a quite large family where abuse and neglect happened on a daily base, the abuse happened starting from 2 to around 13, I was very isolated and had a lot to learn when I was saved. I wasn't aware of all the dangers and knew nothing about healthy boundaries. I learned to be invisible and submissive. I quickly learned that my past caused me to be revictimized, I felt no self worth and thought the only way I was loved was by giving away my body to strangers, strangers who took advantage of this. When I was 16 I met this boy online, I trusted him and told him about my abuse history, he was very understanding and supportive. But the moment I turned 18 he wanted to meet me and he raped me for 3 days straight. I was naive and thought this was love and this continued for 6 months. I'm trying to heal and learn that I have worth outside of what happened to me and that it doesn't have to define me. Although my healing journey is nowhere near done I won't give up, because I am worthy of love and care that doesn't involve hurting me. I deserve to be treated with respect and so do you. Please don't give up on yourself, you will heal and you will get through this. We can do this together ❤️

Over 2 years on and I’m only realising the impact of what I’ve been through. I was 19, just had my heart broken by a cheater after being together for number long years. So of course when this guy said he’d buy me a drink I took it, danced with my friends at a local festival with my home only being a 5 minute walk away. He found me in the nightclub later on and asked me to go for a walk, and I agreed. I left the nightclub and first thing made it clear, all I want is to talk and most I’ll do is kiss you and he said that was perfectly okay, he offered me some of his drink and I had a few sips. We talked and talked, we sat down on a flat rock and had some laughs and shared some kisses when things started to change. A lot happened, a lot that I asked him to stop doing, my mind felt fuzzy and I felt numb. At one point I couldn’t move and could barely breathe, there were a few moments where I wasn’t sure what he was doing to me, or if he was recording it. I’m not religious but I prayed that I wouldn’t be found dead the following day, I didn’t want my parents to lose their baby at only 19. I don’t know how I got out of the situation, but I did. And I rang my friends straight away, was hysterical and guards found me. I ended up going to the hospital to the sexual assault treatment unit and the women were lovely but that has traumatised me. It was the only time I was ever in hospital and there I was alone. Every day for over 2 years it comes into my mind at least a few times. It happened in the month and in month I started college, I sought college therapy but I’m not sure how much it helped. I disassociate a lot and my emotions are easier to switch off now, but every few hours that night plays into my head. I felt as if I had the worst beginning to college, but I also felt that it was a new chapter and a new experience. I struggled with alcohol abuse for a while and I wasn’t scared to say no to drugs. Thankfully that only lasted a few months. I hit some really bad lows, but I’ve also turned from a caterpillar into a butterfly in a sense. That Christmas I cried, I cried because I was glad to be alive. That I survived what he did to me, and I also survived my mind. But him in my mind still affects me to this day at 21 and a half. I haven’t gone to RCC as I’ve always felt this shame and guilt, I feel very alone as none of my friends were supportive and the news broke out the day after it happened across my small town, and having that victim blaming comments or remarks “like oh wasn’t he apparently younger” going around made it even harder to talk about or the “it wasn’t that bad and it could’ve been worse”, yes it could’ve been worse but it is the worst thing I’ve experienced. I have reached out to therapists and I am considering visiting the rape crisis centre as I have been struggling these 2 years really, I’m happy and have a brave face but that night intrudes and invades my thoughts an awful lot. I’ve also been struggling with my sexual life, after the incident I slept with a lot of people most of it which I can’t remember. And I regret it and feel so much guilt and shame, especially when people ask “oh what’s your body count” well I never tell and I never will as it’s my business. But even after I calmed down, I either get attached easily or I run away, and then feel the shame and guilt around sex, believing that I rushed in. I’m slightly better, but reading these stories reminds me I’m not alone and that I won’t be judged by others and people willing to help. I hope one day, I can feel “normal” again and live the rest of my life as any young woman should.

Remembering childhood sexual abuse has been instrumental in my journey of wholeness. Little me has been patiently waiting for me to call her home. It's taken a long time and a lot of healing to get where I am today. I can now say I actually love myself, and I even enjoy my own company!