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To my friends, who are coming to terms with traumatic events: 

life is cruel. It takes us and it beats us and it breaks us. We carry this pain with us because we are  too afraid to process reality. We cannot process reality. How do we deal with what has happened to us? Such different events have broken us in ways we cannot even begin to understand ourselves. And how can we even begin to express what we cannot put into words? 

But I understand. And you understand. We cannot fathom what the other has been through. But the process of recovery, this my friend, I can relate too. I am further along then you- I know the road and I will be here when you fall, if only you let me. Do not be ashamed or afraid to ask for help. I have no judgement. I cannot judge, for I have been there too. 

I have nothing but the deepest love for you. If I could take this burden away from you I would do it a thousand times over. I would do anything for you to be healthy and happy and free of this suffering. 

I cannot take away your pain, but let me help carry your load. 




‘Too bad another guy spoilt my fun’ 


’your so broken no one will ever love you like I love you’


’never speak of this again with anybody else - no one should know this about you’ 


’you are being over dramatic, get over it’


’you are not fun anymore’


words that follow me and shape my life. Words that people have said in response to me telling them what happened. 


Words hurt 


Hello once again,

Two years later and here I am again!  I hope life has treated you well these past few years. :) This is going to be quite a long ramble about where I am in terms of coping with what happened. 

It was quite a bizzare feeling to read the words I had written two years ago.

And do you know what’s really strange? The same trigger that caused me to start writing two years ago caused me to come back here - intimate, long term, relationships. (For some reason this seems to be a huge issue for me - probably because I crave it and yet fear it all at the same time) 

And reading the words that I wrote two years ago was shocking. It was like nothing has changed. 

But actually, my mentality has changed- I will try and outline this change (maybe you have experienced a similar  progression?) 

So, as coherently as I can, here goes:

 - so initially (~ 3 years) utterly and shocked and numb, pretend everything’s fine because I was completely unable to accept what had happened. An example of this would be getting angry when someone told me I had been r*ped - far too terrified to actually admit it. 

- ( 2 years ) slowly realising everything’s not fine - I have to face what happened, and realise that it’s changed me. This realisation that it didn’t matter if people believed me or not, it had changed me dramatically. No matter what others thought or said, they couldn’t change how I felt and what I felt was real. 

- (1 year - current state) mourning my past self. I’m no longer going to be who I was before and I should not try to be who I was before. It’s time to relearn who I am.

So currently I feel very naive. I’m finally ‘awake’ and have no illusions. I was raped, struggled to cope and pretended I was fine. I am not fine, I won’t be fine again, but maybe that’s okay.

It’s time to learn how to live with this new normal.

It’s hard though. It’s hard to let go of who I was before (6 years ago... it’s crazy) and it’s hard to reconcile who I feel I am now with societal expectations and pressures.

For example, I think that I don’t want a long term, committed relationship right now-  and maybe never will. (Because I am scared of how vulnerable it makes me and don’t think I am ready for it yet) But, I’m a 24 year old women, many of my friends are starting to build futures with their partners. And I’m starting to get questions - why are you not dating? Why are you not looking for someone ... you will be alone forever!

But secretly... I think I do want it. 


So here we are again. I met a person and I really started to like him a lot. These feelings of love (?) / loneliness / desire (?) have brought me back here. Because how can we cope with these things?

Of course relationships (and I really do only mean this very committed long term intimate relationship when I use this word) will be a huge hurdle- physical intimacy is terrifying, the power dynamic is terrifying, the ‘oh wow sorry I’m so messed up I’m not worthy of love and too inadequate for your love’ situation is terrifying. 

So terrifying, that just feeling physical / emotional attraction and desire is enough to reopen old wounds



Content warning: Sex




I was talking with a guy, and he told me about how he and his ex were able to have simultaneous orgasms. He smiled as he told me how he could feel her body shake, and her legs tense up as she reached climax.

Another friend, telling me how his ex had been amazing at pleasuring him, and she had loved sex. "The best sex I ever had" he sighed. 

My guy friends often talk to me about their sexual experiences.

And each time I get told about how good a girl is in bed, I break a little inside.

I can never be that.

No matter how much I love and respect a guy, I will never not be broken. Maybe I will be mended, but I will never be new and undamaged again.

How can I love a guy, when I cannot match the standard he is used to?



A simple Question

Content warning, sex, fetishes.




A simple question, asked by a friend "do you have any fetishes?". This friend does not know my background, and, in her eyes, as  promiscuous person, I am a good person to turn to for advice. I like to help her. I vehemently warn her to be careful, yet to have fun, I so desperately want her to have the freedom and the security of being able to explore herself with men that she loves and trusts. So even though talking about sex can be painful, I encourage it. 

But this question surprised me.

"Of course I do" came the automatic reply before I could even think of it.

She smiled, and began to list a few, asking if I had done them. She wanted to bring them up with one of her men, but was worried of how they would view them. I reassured her, told her that many people welcome the ability to openly discuss their likes and dislikes

"But what are some of yours?" She asked.

I thought over my sex life. I thought about what I request of men, what I consider to be 'good' sex.

"I like to be submissive," I replied, "I like when a man uses my body and doesn't try to please me. I like it when I am just a body to him"

I lied.

I like being used in that way because its easy. I don't want any attention on me because I am scared that they will see that I am not enjoying it. I cover my face in sex. A guy once got annoyed and kept pulling my arms away from my face. I felt so exposed and vulnerable. I cried.

Eventually, the men who I see more regularly get used to me pushing their hands away, their faces away. I try to disguise this by pretending I am just desperate for them inside my body.

Some are curious, asking me why I won't let them pleasure me. "I don't cum with guys", "I only do that with boyfriends, not fuck buddies" are the easy lies.

"Do you have any other fetishes?" asked my friend, a little disappointed. I think she expected more from me. She knows I have experimented with things. I searched through my mind, trying to come up with something feasible,

I turned to my thoughts ...

What did I want from sex? What did I genuinely want?

My thoughts were not even about fetishes anymore. Unbidden, a hidden memory came to the surface of my thoughts:

"You are too damaged for anyone else to love you! You need me!" An ex-boyfriends words, spoken in the midst of a painful (for both of us) break up. I am sure that he has forgotten those words. I am sure that when he said them, he didn't mean them. But they won't leave me.

"too damaged"

My hidden fear is that it is true. That if I let someone get as close as I let him get, that if I start breaking down the walls that stop me from relaxing with a guy, that they will see the broken pieces. So I keep going through guys, not get attached, staying distant. But still going there, for the warped validation that i am still 'sexual', that i am still 'attractive', and to perpetuate the lies that I tell myself. "I am not broken. I am in control. I can have sex. I chose to do this, so I want to do it".


My friend was looking at me questioningly.

In my head, I wanted to say, "My secret fetish is to be able to cum with a guy I trust and like. To feel safe. To look forward to sex. To get horny. To be "unbroken""

I smiled even though I felt like crying in frustration and hurt, and out loud I said, "Oh, well, I like to have sex in public",

I lied.




Screaming silently

I have so many good friends, a caring tutor and loving family.

But  I am unable to even mention my secrets to them. The words don't come. I skate around the issue. Even when I'm breaking down and I'm unable to get out of bed because I am so scared of the world, so frightened, so vulnerable... I cannot say it. I cannot admit the extent of what happened. Many of my friends know what happened, many of them offered me help. But I am ashamed  to admit how much it hurts. "Oh but that was months ago!" for them, a distant memory. For me, an ever present reality.

I want help, I need help. But I cannot ask for it.

Even reading back this blog, I feel a frustration at my inability to express myself.

It's like procrastinating for an exam. You busy yourself with the little things, and you tell yourself you are making progress. Whilst you are not studying for the exam, you are still being "useful", e.g. cleaning your room/ doing your groceries ect. Meanwhile the deadline for the exam gets ever closer. And the closer the deadline is, the harder it is to start. The amount of work that you have to do to prepare yourself for the exam is so big, and it gets bigger and bigger, until you either panic study the night before the test, or you decide to give up. 

This analogy seems to fit with my recovery process. I feel like my mind is slowly waking up from the shock of what happened. And I really cannot deal with it. So little symptoms of the real problem start to develop. Depression, anxiety, eating disorders. Okay, lets try and get healthy first. Yes, I managed to go out and go to class today! I did something "useful"! I am slowly getting better!

But deep within myself I know I am not. In fact its getting worse. And I am scared. Because inevitably there will be a 'deadline.' Either I get help. Or I break.


Seeking safety

Content warning:



Ever since the event (the second event),  I feel so broken. My confidence, my security, and my innate sense of self was shattered.

And now I am just existing. I am so different. I am promiscuous. It doesn't make sense. I don't really enjoy it. Yet I still actively do it. With new people, different people, people I don't really want.


And then, it hit me. I am not after the sex. I am not even after the people. I am trying to find something. Something unobtainable. I want the thing that broke me to fix me.

I want to feel safe again. To feel loved.

But I am too vulnerable to love.

I shield myself from pain, from hurt, from emotion. To the point where I shut off everything. And I am just existing. Looking for anything that might make me live again.



im breaking. im lying in bed crying and i cant get up. only the fear of failing keeps me from closing my eyes and forgetting the world. Im so emotionally drained and exhausted. i dont want to have to fight all the time to do what i need to do, what i want to do.
I'm so scared.

A mistake


alcohol, abuse


I am a drunken fool.

I was leaving a party and was offered a lift to the station. A friend was going in the same direction, and said he would walk me the rest of the way to the station.

He didnt take me to the station. he took me to his house. "Its not safe, the last train has left, you cannot get home. This area is not safe"

"you stay here, I will look after you"

I didn't know where i was, where the station was. Was it really dangerous outside? I went into the house.

I was uncomfortable. I tried to leave. he restrained me.

physically stopped me from leaving. and, as i drunkenly passed out, he used my body for his pleasure.

i would come to semi-conciousness and feel him on my body. Pushing him off. telling him no. drifting into unconciousness.

The cycle repeated.

and afterwards, lying there. In shock. Frozen.

I dont know how long I was lying there for. But eventually i came to.

I ran. It was 4am, in a place I didn't know. But it was safer for me on the streets.


TW: intimacy

Feeling the need to write! Feeling the need for release!


I apologise to anyone who may read this: warning, its quite explicit.  But this seems like a safe space to be able to vent.  To admit the darkest secrets without judgement.  Its so nice not to be alone!

TW: intimacy/ sex



The other night, I had sex with a long term friend and parter.  We were in a relationship, but as I became less and less able to handle the intimacy, we moved to an open relationship and  we have been falling apart ever since.  I don't care.  I love him so much, but I feel too damaged for him.  He is perfect, and sweet and gentle and so caring.  I feel like my past and my pain marrs his perfection. 

He is so understanding, but I treat him so badly.  I lie about sex all the time.  Sometimes intimacy, even hugging, is hard for me.  It hurts him to see me keeping my distance or shying away.  He needs hugs, he likes to be able to feel close to me.  So I give him what he wants, to make him happy.  I don't mind, a hug is just two bodies touching.  But somewhere, somehow it triggers my mind, and I have to hide my tears. 

The other night was especially bad.  He wants to pleasure me, so I let him touch me.  He thinks I can O with him.  I haven't ever been able to do it.  I lie.  When the pain of being touched becomes unbearable, I pretend I have finished.  He believes me.  I am a horrible person.  When he had sex with me, I hid my face so he couldn't see the tears.  I wiped them away when he didn't notice. 

This man is so gentle, loving and caring.  He deserves better than me.  I wish I could tell him the truth, but I have gone too far down the pathway of lies for him to forgive me or himself for hurting me. 



Reading the posts on here, knowing I am not alone gives me strength.  I have never felt more validated for my feelings than here.  So, thank you to everyone. 


Strange to be able to find a safe place to write and vent, without fear of discovery.  It's taken a few weeks of writing and deleting things before I have found the courage to publish my thought.  It's a little odd to write this as a first post.  I have been triggered recently, and have not been able to reset to normality since.  My mind keeps returning to my past, and in turn, I force myself into the future.  Don't sit down! Don't relax! Go out, meet people.  At all costs, do not be alone with your thoughts! 

But this forced way of living has to stop at some point.  And when I am alone, the inevitable panic attack and anxiety begins.  The inability to eat, the vomiting and the crying.  I hope that writing will help me to settle into a routine again. 

I want to share a story about something that happened recently, something simple, something that most people take for granted.  But for me, it was significant. 

My coping strategy has baffled many of my friends, they don't understand that I need crazy, spontaneous, reckless moments to vent my pent up anxiety and anger.  They don't realise that I need the danger and the excitement to remind myself that I am alive.  They don't understand why I still want sex, why I still seek it.  And it makes sense. Why would they understand?  How could they possibly know?  They don't understand that sex is, for me, not about pleasure, but about pain.  Recently, I have been going through a period of one night stands.  In a way, its a wonderful way to self harm.  The knowledge that I am able to have sex, the very thing that destroyed my life, is power.  And each time I have emotionless sex, I think about how little it means.  It's just a body and a body.  What happened to me was not that bad!  Get over it! I am over it! Look, I am having sex! 

And then, of course, reality sinks in.  I am not okay.  My life has been forever changed, and the mind needs healing.

After a quick succession of one night stands, i met an unusual guy.  In another life, in another world, we could have been friends.  He was also reckless and fun and loved adventure.  I was drunk, of course, we went to my place, and sex happened.  And during, and after, his sweet gentleness, and his kindness calmed me.  I was shocked.  The simple act of kindness, so unexpected during my night of pain and punishment and self harm, changed everything.  For a night, lying in his arms, I felt peace.


Of course, he left, and I, alone in my room find my thought travelling down dark paths once more.  How could I recreate that safety? Was it even possible to get that back?  And WHY is my peace seemingly dependant on a man?

Feeling vulnerable.  Feeling alone. 

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