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I know who my abuser is and where he lives, but I do not want to see or confront him. I might try to hurt him and I would be no better than him. I am sure I would be met by denial and I would feel freshly abused. I do wonder how abusers feel, but I do not really want to know how their sick minds work. It is like he killed part of me and I can do nothing to him. It took me a long time to identify and modify the antisocial behaviours and concepts that I internalised whilst he abused me. Perhaps one day I will want to challenge him and he may regret what he did to me, but I doubt he would admit i
I used to work as many hours as possible and became tired out from it. After I understood my abuse better I felt more entitled and got better jobs and worked less hours. You need to work with your family or colleagues, not for them. I am not afraid to tell people I was sexually abused for years, but do not offer the information. People cannot look at you and discern that you have experienced something traumatic, but I used to feel that everyone could see right through me. I learned at school that I could be entirely opaque and no-one was able to tell whether I was lying or not. It was a r
I used to become emotional when someone did something nice that benefited me and did not expect me to do something in return. I had become used to physical, emotional and sexual abuse and it surprised me that anyone would be good to me. I always expected the worst and often got it when I was a child. Being looked on as important, appreciated or respected was difficult for me as I was used to feeling sad, hurt or angry.
When I was 11 I was having panic attacks when in groups of boys and saw that one of my abusers was regularly watching me. He tried to corner me when I was alone in the changing rooms, but I ran through another door and escaped. I was increasingly afraid to be at school and of being alone in the town and I was afraid of further abuse. I asked my mother if we could leave and live in the county where my father worked. We soon left and I was not abused by the youths again. Once in my new home I stopped thinking of my abusers, but my fears when with older boys and men remained, as did my anxiety. A