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I remember meeting the detectives that investigated my case. I was just a kid in the 7th grade trying to make it through jr high and now I had to deal with going to court and talking to strangers. I can’t remember there names but I remember the guy was so tall and built and he made me feel like nothing or nobody could ever hurt me while he was around. I can remember how when we first got to the police station and I went into there office they gave me a bear and started asking me questions about the days. I remember my middle brother being there and just sitting there while I was telling them what happened. I never really told them much in detail they just kinda ran with it. After I told them that one time they got a warrant for his arrest made. I can still remember coming home from school one day and they had ransacked my room and took a whole bunch of y journals (which I never gotten back) I was so devastated because they were all I had that kept me sane and from doing stupid things. One day my mom tells me to get up and get dressed and that I wasn’t going to school and I never asked why I just told her okay. It turned out we had went to talk to my lawyer. He had my journals and had went though them asking me all these questions about what I had wrote. I felt like my life had been dissected into little pieces and I had no more secrets and that I couldn’t hide anything else because he had all he needed. I can remember a little while after that my mom took me to this building and a whole different town and said I was going to the doctor. Turned out patty( the doctor) ended up doing an examine I can’t remember what it’s called cause it was after a year so I don’t know if it’s still considered a rape examine or something else. Now that I’m older it actually similar to getting a papsmear they both used some of the same tools ( btw I absoulutly hate papsmears) I remember laying on the table with my legs open wide and her asking me if I’ve ever been sexually active. Like seriously at that time sex was the last thing on my mind let alone letting some random women I’ve never met exploring my vaginal area for whatever she was looking for. Afterwards she had me sit in What looked like a big confrence room and it was kinda dark while I waited for her to talk to my mom about whatever she had found. A week later maybe longer I remember missing school again and we go to another weird building and this place a lady gave me a pamphlet and told me to take my time and fill it out so I did then she gives me another one to take home and finish and then mail it back to her. Turned out it was a physic evaluation to see if I was able to stand trail or not. I remember when court finally came around it was the pretrail first. I remember walking into the court room and going to to this little waiting area and seeing his mom and sister there and all they did was make fun of me and talk crap to me and about me. I had took along a teddy bear that I’ve had since I was like 5 years old and come to find out they made such a big deal about me having it I couldn’t even take it with me I had to leave it in the room. During the pretrail all I had to do was point to my abuser and let them know I knew the difference between rape and molestation. So that was over with finally and then we had the big trail. I don’t remember much of it all I really remember was the judge claiming a miss trail because he had failed a lie detector test (which he asked for) and switched lawyers in the middle of the whole thing. So since it was a miss trail they asked if I wanted to try again. At that moment all I could think of was his smirking face he gave me when I got on the stand and how he turned to his lawyer and started laughing. At that moment I knew I wanted him to go down I knew I wanted him to suffer as much as I had. So I decided to keep fighting. At the next trail this Time the big y’all male detective stood right in front of me but across the court room so I felt a lot safer. I told them what had happened and yes I knew what the differences were and I didn’t let anything stop me.that trail ended up being 2 days long and the second day I was so exhausted I couldn’t stand it. I didn’t understand why it was taking so long. I felt as if they didn’t believe anything I had said. Now that I’m older and actually went through all the court files it turned out they were also trying to convict him of incest and indecency of a minor so something to that affect but nothing stuck but the R charge. Even though those days were one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do I would t change anything about them. I stood my ground and I defended myself when nobody else could or would. Theres so much more i want to put but I don’t even know how to continue from here

Today’s session went really well. This time I went in prepared. I had made up my mind that I was going to talk about some of the hard stuff. So this morning when I woke up I made a list of all the things I wanted to talk about. I gave her the list and let her pick what ever order she wanted. I felt like it was way more progress then we would of with out the list. I felt like I finally opened up more to her and I’m glad i did. I’m ready to heal and move forward. We actually got to start talking about my Csa. And I finally start vocalizing my story for the first time ever. I’ve writren it out and posted about it but I never actually said my story out loud. Saying it out loud is a lot tougher and I realized some things I never realized before. It was all kind of over whelming and I couldn’t stop shaking I don’t know if it was because I was couldn’t of becaus I was so upset. I’ve been wanting to cry all day but i haven’t been able to.

Sometimes I just want to cut. I feel numb all the time like I have no real emotions if that makes sense. I’ve even had really rough sex (I usually like it) but I didn’t feel anything It didn’t even feel like we were doing anything. So I just cut it’s like it’s the only thing I ever feel anymore. So when i feel numb or just blah I just cut. I know it’s not a solution but it’s the only thing that I seem to actually feel and I don’t cut because I want to die or anything just so I can feel. I don’t know if it makes sense or not but that’s what I feel.

I talked to my middle brother today and he started talking about my oldest brother that Sa me and he kept taking his side and kept talking about he’s his protector and how he’ll always be here for him no matter what and I just stayed on the phone and didn’t say anything I wish that I could of just told him what happened and maybe he would take my side and maybe he would actually protect me sometimes I get so mad because I always wanted my middle brother to be there for me and even when my dad R me all I wanted was for him to be there for me and he wasn’t but it’s not like I can really get mad at him because I never told him I wanted him there I just kinda wanted him to be like hey I’m here for you but maybe one day I’ll tell him or maybe not I’m having such a bad night I don’t know what to do anymore I just want to start cutting and hope I start feeling something instead of feeling numb all the time and it sucks because I want to go talk to my counselor but she’s out of town right now till Monday and she said can call her but I don’t want to bother her maybe I can make it till Monday and then I get to have another session ugh I just want to scream!!🤯😭

This is a letter for my future self whenever I am PTSDing hard and start blaming and getting angry at myself: It's not your fault that he texted you again out of the blue It's not your fault that you went to his apartment to ask him to stop texting you It's not your fault that you started to get intimate with him after he manipulated you saying that he "liked you and liked spending time with you" It's not your fault that he was not listening to you when you verbally made it clear (with valid reasons) that you did not want to have sex It's not your fault that his roommates, in the living room, heard the two of you and started to cheer him on and yell out "take her virginity" It's not your fault that he felt pressured to impress his bros and continued to push you for sex It's not your fault that you were just in your underwear with him as you made it clear to him multiple times you didn't want sex It's not your fault that you were confused and not processing things fast enough, and that you were not able to simply get up and leave It's not your fault that he went around your underwear and went inside you for a bit until you pushed away It's not your fault that he repeatedly tried to slide his fingers down your underwear even though you fought it off every time It's not your fault that your mind decided to shut down because it was trying to protect you It's not your fault that you cannot remember how the assault ended and you have no idea if he committed worse things, like, actually rape you It's not your fault that his degenerate drunk friends saw you as a piece of meat and encouraged him to rape you It's not your fault that he and his friends were trying to change your 'no' to a 'yes' It's not your fault that the toxic & boisterous side of frat-like culture fuels rape culture It's not your fault that you were not able to recognize for a long time that you had been nearly raped (maybe even actually raped) It's not your fault that you went to a small college and had to see him everywhere around campus (library, dining hall, classroom buildings etc.) after that night It's not your fault that you were subconsciously silenced when you heard victim blaming talks all around you saying things like 'these girls are lying and regretting their escapades' It's not your fault that you did not realize, at the time, what about him caused you to be so severely traumatized It's not your fault that you reached out to him again because you were in so much confusion & pain that you had to look for 'closure' It's not your fault that he continued to play his manipulative games, played the carrot or stick approach and had you on his hook It's not your fault that you got infatuated with him, your sense of boundaries were lost and you let him repeatedly play with your emotions for a long time It's not your fault that his memories have been haunting you for over three years now It's not your fault that you have to battle almost everyday with minor/major episodes triggered by emotional & visual flashbacks It's not your fault that you have to pretend to the outside world that you are fine and that nothing is wrong with you It's not your fault that he, along with his degenerate friends, broke your soul and made you feel like your worth was less than human It's not your fault that you just can't get over it None of this was your fault. You will get through this! Just meanwhile be gentle with yourself

So starting this month I've been on one dose of Wellbutrin right when I wake up and two doses four hours apart of Adderall, each per day. I've noticed I get really anxious and depressed if I am alone after my second dose wears off. Some nights almost suicidal. Two weeks ago over the weekend meds wore off and I got so anxious and hopeless that I self harmed for the first time in years. The next morning I had to have someone talk me out of committing suicide (as in, I was seriously considering it but I worded it to them that I was just triggered and tempted to self harm) and walk me through some grounding techniques. Then the next day in the evening I was feeling ignored by some friends and didn't wanna walk home alone, so I kept trying to hint that I couldn't walk home without someone to stop me from thinking some REALLY BAD thoughts when crossing over the bridge to my house. They were able to talk to me and calm me down (even when I wanted the two of them to tell me how much they hated me and wanted me to go away permanently). My mood has been all over the place this last week. At least the last two days have been good. I got one exam grade back Monday that I failed, two more exams on Tuesday that I failed. Wednesday morning I just did not want to see or be seen by anyone. I went to class anyway and got back the exam itself, but was too self conscious to ask for help from ANY of my classmates. I was feeling ignored again by the same friends and had to leave to go to my car and cry. But then once the friend that I am seeing casually messaged me and walked with me around campus, I felt better. They (singular) are still hung up over their ex (the other friend) so I understand them being in their own little world and not paying attention to me. I expressed to them my concerns and we were able to compromise. Their ex is also my roommate, so it's really hard to say if I am jealous of my roommate for having someone who loves her so strongly or if I'm jealous over my casual partner because I'm catching feelings for them. My weekend is looking up. I didn't sleep much last night but I am still feeling the (platonic) love and affection from last night, which is enough for me. I have a lot of projects to do, but I actually feel confident I can do them compared to the weekend from two weeks ago. I hate being so dependant on my friends for love and affection, but I've been alone for such a long period of my life that I need constant reminders from my friends they appreciate me. I've always struggled with the fear my friends secretly hate me and are just tolerating my existence, but not when I am around my casual partner or some of my other friends. My fears have been assuaged more and more over the last month the more I talk about my feelings of paranoia, and people have been inviting me out more it seems. So that's nice. It's hard to say what effects from the meds have been helped, worsened, or have stayed the same. Like, they say "alert your doctor if you have suicidal thoughts." But I have always had them, and my PTSD and focus are so much better on these meds. It only gets that bad if I hyperfocus on my anxiety and feelings of worthlessness, which I have successfully avoided this week through friends and therapy.

The night started in the local Rite-Aid parking lot. "If only I hadn't have used the restroom," I torment myself. the little things. I warmed up to them and we hit it off; they even joked about me joining their friend-group. After a while, the self-proclaimed ‘leader’of the group asked for my number. Innocently, I gave it to him. After making small talk with the boys for about an hour, I decided to head home. “What a cool crowd,” I thought. Shortly after arriving home, the boy–Simon–texted me and asked for my snap-chat. The conversation continued, which included his casual, light-hearted requests for nudes and my virginity confession. I didn’t overthink the sexual content; it’s typical teenage conversation. Plus, he said “LOL” like every other message. Soon the messages became about we still being ‘strangers’ and how we should hangout that weekend. I was excited! I wanted to expand my tiny social network. Eventually he invited me to his house that night, but I told him I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I didn’t think it was wise to go to stranger’s home, but I appreciated his hospitality. He offered to meet me at the neighborhood elementary school playground instead. “Sure, that’ll be chill! Lit, now I don’t have to be home alone on a Friday night,” I thought. I changed from my slacks and sweater into a black jacket over a black tank-top with blue jean shorts–appropriate dress for beautiful Southern California weather. I threw my hair in a messy bun, slipped on my flip-flops and grabbed my phone, keys and backpack with a water bottle. I said goodbye to my dog and headed out the door. “Just left!” I messaged Simon. In no longer than 5 minutes, I approached him sitting at the picnic benches, anxious as usual. I removed my jacket, set my things on the table, and sat down. He asked me if I wanted to tell anyone about this, and confused I replied, “Uh, I don’t know?” Before I knew it, he kissed me. Surprised, I kissed back, and he slipped his hands behind my butt. I was perplexed, but fine. In all honestly, I was flattered that he found me attractive enough to kiss me, and I was comfortable with making out with boys. I shyly touched his hair and he felt me up. I was still okay. But before I knew it he was tugging at and removing my clothes–first my shirt, then bra, then shorts and underwear at the same time–before undressing himself. He pulled my onto his lap and things went in a new direction. I was no longer okay. Immediately he rammed his fingers in me, quickly advancing to finger-banging with who knows how many fingers. All I knew was it hurt. I was too speechless to tell him to stop yet, so I insisted he be gentler and slow down, but with no reply he laid me on my back and I was submissive. I didn’t know what else to do. “This is happening. Okay, this is happening. You’re okay, Tiffani. You’re okay. Just be still,” the voice in my head repeated. I scanned for cameras on the building–none. I felt the cold metal against my bare skin and clenched my eyes. I should have left, but I didn’t know how. I should have fought harder, but I didn’t know how. I should have just let him do what he wanted, but I didn’t want to. Over the course of the next 25 minutes, Simon exercised power over me by ignoring my contentions and pleas. Anytime I moved, he repositioned my body the way he wanted: when I lifted my hips in a flinch, he pressed my pelvis flat on the bench. When he wanted to touch my torso, he lifted my arms from my side. When my legs bowed, he spread them. Simon continued thrusting his fingers in and out of me, ignoring my demands to be more careful. Still, I was fearful of what he might do if I protested more–even though I wanted to. I stared at the sky and drifted in a daze before I felt a massive amount of pressure and sharp pinching. I looked down and realized he was forcing his penis in me, which I did not consent to whatsoever. “No! No! No!” I argued, but he did not stop. Wait, is this sex? Am I having sex? Whatever this is, it hurts. I didn’t agree to this– how is this happening? Why did I come here? This isn’t supposed to be happening. I don’t like it. I want him to stop. “Stop!” “It’s okay,” he tried to solace me. His coercion ploy was to no avail: “No! Stop, stop. Please,” I begged. “Come on,” he insisted. “No! I’m saying no!” After however long, he pulled out and scowled at me. “Will you give me head at least?” he requested. Frustrated at my refusal, he yanked on the roots of my hair, jerking my neck forward. He was dominant over me, and he knew that as much as I did. He returned to aggressively jabbing at and twisting my insides. More finger-banging punctuated his grinding against my vulnerability. I closed my eyes and wondered how I could get out of this situation. My thoughts raced. “This can’t be the ‘R-word,’ is it?” My heart raced faster than my thoughts. “No. Rape happens behind dumpsters in dark alleys. No. Rapists are hooded men that lurk in the shadows. No way. Rape can’t happen to me–ouch!” He spread my labia and soon came that all-too-familiar pressure again. I opened my eyes and saw his naked body hovering over mine. Confused, scared, and overwhelmed, I resorted to more verbal denial and repeatedly demanded triplets of “stop; wait; don’t; no; I’m not ready,” but he only thrusted deeper. My words were not convincing enough, but I was too scared to be physically violent. I bowed my legs to obstruct his entry, so he spread them again. “Stop!” He tried to conciliate: “Just the tip, just the tip; come on, let me please.” Aw, what a gentleman. He said ‘please.’ “No, stop!” “Come on, just like it was before. You have to let me get the hard part over with.” “No, I don’t want you to!” “Okay, okay I’ll go slower.” My mind shrieked, but anxiety silenced my words. “No! That is not what I said. I told you to stop. I want you to take your penis out of me.” “Quit!” I protested sternly. There went that voice in my head again: “What does he think he’s doing? Why is he doing this!?” I wanted to leave; I wanted to go home; I wanted to get away from him. I wanted him to get off of me. More finger-banging. I lowered my hands to my pelvis to gain control. “Stop!” I said. “It’s not my di*k.” “whatever.” “I know. But I don’t care; you’re hurting me,” I said. Unrelenting, “It’s–,” he began. “No, don’t!” I plead. “It’s not ‘it‘” “I. don’t. care. Hell, you can’t even say what ‘it’ is,” my mind shouted. But I said nothing, because what more could I say? For the third and final time, he inserted his penis in me. I felt so helpless–so defeated. I stopped staring at the black, starless sky and watched his body thrust erratically. “He’s not wearing a condom!” my conscience reminded me. “Dammit, do something, Tiffani!” ‘Fight’ mode: on. I tensed up and sternly commanded, “No! You’re not wearing a condom!” My right hand pressed against his chest and my left pushed on his stomach. “What?” he asked, thrusting. “Stop! You’re not even wearing a condom!” I exclaimed. I wanted to fight, but I felt like all the power I had was to beg and try to push him off. I wanted to know what diseases he was giving me and how I was supposed to raise a child at 16. I wondered what I did to deserve this and what made him think this was okay. “No! Stop!” I demanded. I pushed harder on his torso but he didn’t budge. My hands pressed against his intimidating abs. He looked me dead in the eyes and initiated a series of pitiful persuasion: “It’ll feel good, I promise; I won’t cum; I won’t nut; it’s okay; I will pull out; I always pull out; you have to trust me.” The voice in my head groaned and ferried with questions. “Grrrr. Do I look like I am enjoying this? What does he mean, ‘I have to trust him’? I just met him! Will he ever stop? Am I still a virgin? Did I allow this to happen? Can he not–“ He interrupted my thoughts with collisions of his lips against mine. I closed my eyes and squirmed my face away from his. He thrusted against my persistent demands to stop. My legs quivered. “No, I can’t, I can’t! I’m sorry, I can’t! Stop!” I contended. “You can’t. You’re hurting me,” I whimpered. “It hurts the first time. You just have to get it over with,” he told me and crashed his lips into mine. Nevertheless, my mind submitted to reality. It became clear to me that he did not want nor need my permission: he was going to have sex with me whether I consented or not. I was no longer confused. I lost all consensus of time. I remember wondering if I were capable of making him stop hurting me, but I was so overwhelmed that I forgot it was an option to scream, scratch, kick, punch, or show any physical violence. And frankly, I was too petrified to. I laid there on the cold bench protesting and begging him to stop, flinching against his thrusts. I felt his cold hand pushing my pelvis down. After what felt like an eternity, my phone rang—I knew it was my mom’s text message. I asked him to read me the message since my phone was facing upright closer to him. He did: “Hi, be home in 15 min ” That was my excuse to leave. I told him I was worried about getting home, and he asked if I wanted to get dressed. I said yes, but I sat frozen. He quickly re-clothed, starting off almost immediately. He left me there on the bench, abandoned. I hated myself for idealizing his company, but it sounded better than sitting naked, abused at an empty school playground. I ceased my loathe and quickly redressed and grabbed my things. Nonplussed, all I could think to do was catch up to him to ask if he came. “I didn’t. I’ll text you tomorrow.” “What?” I thought to myself. This exchange of words was seriously confounding and left me to feel like he did not just rape me. “Well, did he know? Was I not clear enough? Did he enjoy that? Am I overreacting? Why does he think I want to hear from him again?” Trembling, I began my walk home with a flood of questions and concerns. I had no idea what to make of what happened, and I did not have time to think about it. I just knew I had to get home. “Ok! ,” I texted my mom back. On my way home I tried calling my friends out of state, but no one answered. Time zones made it too late. I decided I was not ready to decipher this alone, so I would block it from my mind. “It did not happen; that did not happen. It was not rape: it couldn’t be,” I convinced myself. I was on a mission: get to my condo on the second floor—may I add unrecognized—and prepare for my mom to get home. I unlocked the front door and blabbered nonsense to my dog as I rushed to the bathroom to pee, because my virgin research taught me to pee after sex to prevent UTIs. I was too afraid to inspect myself, but I cleaned the blood and discarded my clothes in a pile in the corner of my room. I went to the living room and sat on the couch, priming my stellar acting skills. I greeted my mom and put on a façade. She asked me what I did, and I lied. I asked her about her night in attempt to divert the attention to her. Luckily, it worked. For more than 24 hours, my mom thought I was entertaining myself with YouTube videos, when the truth was I was being raped. I woke the next morning after a restless night’s sleep in denial with an aching neck. I desperately needed some sort of closure, and the only way I could think to get that was through a friendly message from him. I thought it would reassure me that all was okay—that he was not a rapist and that I had not become a rape victim. But in reality, all was everything but ‘okay.’ I snap-chatted Simon twice, both opened but unanswered. I wanted to convince myself that that night had just been an ‘experience,’ not rape. So I blamed myself. “You cannot rape yourself,” I repeated. But the truth is, he raped me. But did he really? Yes, he did.

Today I talked to someone on the RAINN crisis chatline. I had a really honest talk in a way that I never have with someone about my most scarring trauma. We discussed how my sexual preferences don't change the way consent is experienced. I for the first time ever felt confirmed that I did experience SA. I don't know how I feel about it. I mostly just feel numb. I realized that I need to work on getting a better support system and that I can do that by being honest and letting some people in. I think I have moved past day 1.

My life is kind of in shambles right now. I'm in a temporary job situation where I have to live at a summer camp with 16 adults and 60 some children, away from my boyfriend. In my first few weeks there I got moved into a building where it was me in one room and a male stranger in another and we were sharing a bathroom where the door didn't lock. He seemed like a nice guy but being alone with him made me anxious based off my previous experiences in similar dorm style situations. I had too tell my boss who didn't react in the way I needed him too and ever since I've been realizing that I may not have dealt with some things in my past that I need to face if I'm going to live. I told a friend about this, and he helped me confirm what I already knew which was that I needed to get some serious help. I haven't gotten that help yet but I have been here for a couple weeks now and I feel like I understand some things a little bit better having talked to people who have been in similar situations. I hate feeling pitied. I hate people looking at me like I'm broken. I really just want to escape and not feel anything anymore because the more I feel the less happy I am.

He told me to lay back....I did. He rubbed my stomach....He put his finger in the middle of my chest and drew an imaginary line down my stomach and belw my belly button. I was wearing jeans. He undid the button and I didn't stop him. I should've pushed his hand away or hugged him to get him to stop. He undid the zipper and I didn't fight him. All I could do was bite my lip as I started to cry. His hands were so soft and warm. I could feel them inching closer to what I valued most. He moved around and I hated it. I couldn't wait for it to be over. I didn't understand how anyone could possible enjoy that.

when i was 12 yrs old and told someone i was being raped everyday, it was not believed because i was a good student and a good kid. when i was 14 and asking for help with drug addiction and alcoholism, i was not believed because i was too smart and had so many things going for me. i am 43 now and asking for help with depression and gambling addiction and not taken seriously because i go to work, help other people, haven't lost my home or my husband and seem to function as normally as everyone else. what people dont seem to realize is i find myself doing the most drastic things. this morning i had a hand full of pills ready to just end it all. ive been up to the flood waters thinking about just stepping into the current. i gamble for hours every day to make the world go away. i punish myself with unwanted sex, intentional sleep deprivation and cutting. i have lost what little joy i had in life. i no longer smile when the birds sing in the morning and i dont look forward to hugs from friends. i see myself as some hideous culmination of the things that are wrong with me and i need to put that beast away for good. my life is no longer under control. i am at the whim of my husband and mother. im not sure i have anything left to save in this life and yet i keep asking for someone to help. Last night my husband and i finally talked after a fight we had a week ago. he said he would start taking some responsibility around our lives and take over some of the work that i do. he is a good man and tries but sometimes falls into old habits like he has done lately. its nothing horrible, just drinking and playing video games and ignoring everything else in the world. he deals with depression and stress and shuts down sometimes and that is what he does when it happens. maybe, just maybe, he will pull out of it and step up for things. he is younger than i am and not so used to responsibilities but i think he can do it and will be better for it. my mother..... i have such contempt for the woman that gave birth to me. she gave up custody when i was three but still had visitations and seldom used them until i was older. when she did take me for a weekend, she gave me to men, gave me alcohol and drugs and left me to fend for myself. she laid in the same bed i was being raped in and never did anything. just pretended nothing was happening. i was given back to her when i was 15 and sold to the highest bidder every weekend and summer. a few years later she became disabled and dependent on me and i have had her every since. though i take care of her basic needs despite her motherly love, she still set me up as an adult to be raped again. i was 40 yrs old and raped in my own home by a man with a long history of it and she is the one who invited him. it takes so much self control to cook and clean for this woman and help her with bathing and self care and deal with her being hateful without just walking away. she is a worthless mother, lousy friend and pathetic human being but she seems to be doing ok with life. why is that? I just want out of this life but there are a few people i dont want to outlive me.

After wring my story the other day, there were other thoughts I wanted to get out as well, but writing it all at once would have been way too long and way too draining. I'm writing now about the fact that I was pretty much surrounded with the point that my body does not belong to me and that I was not allowed to refuse beng touched. Besides the two I wrote about there were other little things that just served to drive the point home. 1) there was another family friend who would watch my sister and I when babysitter 1 could not. They had two children themselves one was a girl about a year or two older than me and one was a boy 2 or 3 years younger than me so when I was about 8 he was 6 and the girl was like 10. The parents in this case were pretty useless. They would have the TV babysit me and I was in charge of my sister. I'd get yelled at if she cried and I would feed her, change her, and play with her. The boy decided he had a little kid crush on me and would constantly try to kiss me and hold me and touch me which made me really uncomfortable. Now I don't blame him really cause he was so young I don't think he knew what he was doing. But I do blame his parents who encouraged him to touch me and then they'd get mad when I would push him away. Basically saying if he wants to touch and kiss you just let him what's the big deal? To me it was a big deal! If I don't want to be touched then they shouldn't encourage it. It also didn't help that this little kid had the same name as my primary abuser. 2) At the same house as above. There was a time when I was playing truth or dare with the girl and some friends. It got to my turn and they said I had to chose between taking my shirt off and showing my not there yet boobs to a guy friend that was there and letting him touch me or letting the brother touch me without pushing him away or protesting for 5 minutes. I refused both and they tried every persuasion they could to get me to take my top off (as that was what the guy friend wanted - also he was older like maybe 12 or 13). this time I really put my foot down though and I just kept saying NO and that I just wouldn't play anymore. They eventually left me alone but sheesh it took forever just to convince some kids that no, I will not be violated AGAIN. 3) My primary abuser had a friend who was a girl and lived next door. We used to go over a lot and the girl would play with me. I considered her a friend and while the boy would constantly say sexual stuff to and about her she would usually respond in a way that would either shut him up or would make him mad enough to leave (which I enjoyed). Then came the day when she too turned on me. I had convinced my mom to let me go over by myself just to play with her. She knew the family and said yes. When I arrived she had all the toys ready and told me that we could play but that there was something she wanted. She then told me that she wanted to have sex with me and that its ok that we're both girls that doesn't mean we are gay. I spent the whole time waiting for her to touch me but we ended up just playing with the toys. I was confused and that was also the last time she invited me over. I'm thinking maybe she felt bad? Idk but I was glad she never touched me but sad that I lost a friend and an ally against the boy. All these experiences just basically made me feel like it was normal. People are going to touch you whether you want them to or not or they will at least try. Adults will be no help and they will not care. I also felt like maybe that's just what it would be like when I became a teenager too. That all teenagers were just thinking about sex and that's just how it would be for me too.

So the blog is a pretty cool idea, I honestly just noticed this was a feature. I think it might serve me well of just being able to write things mostly for the sake of having to get it out and others may read at will or not. I guess I'll start just by telling my story and whatnot. I've told it a few times before, but it does help just to get it out. Plus the image keeps running through my head so I might as well give it a place to land for a while. ***TW*** I'm not holding back on details!! I was SA by my babysitter's son from the ages of 6-9 (approximate ages based on pictures I have that were taken at his house). He was maybe 12 or 13 (I remember him being in middle school) I was always a shy kid and I guess he saw that or whatever I don't really know why he started what he did. But either way, while I don't remember every time he abused me, I do remember the first time pretty clearly (I guess cause it was new). The first time was within maybe 30 minutes to an hour of me being there. His mom pretty much introduced us, closed the door, and was gone. He was playing video games and I wanted to play too. He offered the control to me and had me stand in front of him (he was siting on his computer chair). As I was playing, I noticed he started to unbotton my pants and I remember asking "what are you doing?". I remember thinking it was weird cause no one had done that before. He didn't say anything and just kept taking off my pants and then underwear. I didn't say anything after that either and kept playing Mariokart. Afterwards, I remember him picking me up and putting me on his lap at which point I noticed that he also didn't have any pants or underwear on. I remember him moving me up and down and basically rubbing his p***s in between my legs. I honestly had no idea what any of that was, but I had the sense that it was probably something bad and that I shouldn't tell anyone about it or else I might end up in trouble. It continued from that point on for the three or so years that his mother babysat me. It was the same scene every time although after a while he got comfortable enough to not need to distract me anymore so usually I just sat there and stared at the wall while he was doing what he did. I don't remember if he ever penetrated me although I don't believe so, but I also wouldn't be surprised if he did. The worst thing was always afterwards, I always pretended to have to use the bathroom so that I could wipe his c*m off of me. I didn't know what that was at the time though, however I know he enjoyed watching me go to the bathroom since I guess he knew exactly what I would be doing. He'd always get dressed and go to his bedroom door and open it with a smile on his face. He also started to be an overall jerk. He emotionally abused me as well as sexually abused me and was just an all over bully. He would constantly tear me down and lie to me to the point where I had no idea if anything he ever said was a truth or lie. This cause a lot of anxiety as he could tell me that his mother called me for dinner and when I went, she had never called me at all and when he was telling the truth and I thought he was lying, I'd get in trouble for not listening. He called me all sorts of names and standing up for myself always just made the name calling worse and I didn't want him to know he was getting to me so I made sure I didn't cry in front of him so eventually I just learned to shut up and take it. On the other hand I do have memories of him being kind of nice and buying me candy and letting me play with his stuff and trying to teach me to yo-yo. It made everything all the more confusing. I could go there one day and have candy and play games and have a lot of fun, then the next day I'd get called a p****y every five minutes and yelled at for basically being alive. He sexually abused me no matter what mood he was in though. Towards the end when he was like 15 or 16, he ended up getting his girlfriend pregnant and his family moved away to another part of town so it wasn't as convenient for me to go there anymore. There was also another kid in the neighborhood who used to touch me and have me touch him. He was maybe 3 or 4 years older than me and lived in the same multi-family home as my grandfather who just so happened to live around the block from my babysitters. With him, he started off just as a normal kid playing tag and what not. He was never overtly mean to me and was just like any other friendship I'd had, just a little older. At some point, I guess he was curious or I don't know, but he did start to get sexual. One day we were out back playing in the yard and he told me he wanted to show me something in the garage. His dad had this beat up truck back there and he said we could play in it. We got in and started playing "house". He said we were married and were going on a drive then he "parked the car" and said that if we were going to be married we needed to act like we were married. He said we had to kiss, but not like how kids kiss, we have to kiss like married people (we had to french kiss). He told me to kiss him in the mouth and use my tongue. At this point, what did it matter I was used to being used sexually I didn't even try to protest just did what he asked. The next time I was over he said he wanted to continue the game and this time we had to get naked. He put up the hood of the truck so that no one could walk by to check on us and see us naked. This time I did protest and said that I didn't want to get in trouble if someone saw us. He just kept saying no one would see us and basically wouldn't let me leave til I did what he said. So the shirt went up and pants went down although at least with the babysitter's son, he did all the work and I could mentally go away, this guy wanted me to actively participate. He made me lick his p****s and his behind and he licked my non-existent breasts and between my legs. After some more touching he said I could get dressed and then we went into the truck and he started kissing me again. He only did this again once more and then my great-grandmother died and my grandfather moved to Florida so I never really saw this kid again. To be honest, I think this is the most detail I've ever given regarding these incidents. I was feeling really anxious and angry and worked up prior to writing it down and it helps to write it all down when I feel like that, but it's also emotionally draining and takes forever cause I keep tuning in and out in my mind.

So i'm new to this forum, but I've discovered blogs. I'm a little happy about that, as I can express myself freely without triggering myself or others of course. Today I'm meeting with my counselor from the women's shelter. She's an amazing woman, who encourages and inspires me. We made an intervention plan together that involves 4 consequences of what I've been through, and the means to help me overcome them. The two biggest and hardest ones to overcome are suicidal thoughts, and flash backs. This past weekend was very difficult for me, I ended up calling a suicide crisis line....someone talked to me for 20 minutes, and I never felt like I was bothering them, or annoying them; which is a good thing for me. It was very difficult though to reach out for help...especially since i feel that the reasons I wanted to hurt myself are so stupid. I find it would be easier to consider killing myself than breaking up with my abusive boyfriend. I'm not ready to let go, even though i'm hurting badly, and so deeply tired. My friends and social worker are pushing me to break up with him, and I know that they all have my best interests at heart, because they truly care about me and my well being. And they give me examples of the things I shouldn't put up with, and despite how much i AGREE with them, I still can't seem to find the courage to let him go. Despite how much i know I will be better off, happier, and healthier, I still can't do it. Despite how afraid I am that things are only going to get worse...despite how much i know that things are only going to get worse, i just can't do it!. This makes me so frustrated with myself, so angry and annoyed at myself it hurts. I feel like a failure, and a disappointment to everyone around me.

my husband's laughter has changed or maybe its just me. i dont know but i hear that laughter and i am flushed back to being buried in that basement or being passed around. im so sick at my stomach and so angry i feel like i could rip the flesh from my own body. the husband is good hearted. i tell myself when he forces things to happen that i dont want its not his fault, its just my issues. normal people should enjoy that stuff and i want to be normal. i tell him it makes me want to vomit and his response was he was ok with that. wtf?!?!?!?! i feel like i married my rapist.

I dont understand the need for sex. i dont have it but my husband does and sometimes it becomes an issue. i do love him and i want to make him happy but sometimes the only way to do that is to do what i dont want to do. i fake it and do everything i can to get it over with quickly. sometimes i cant even hold back the tears but he either hasnt ever noticed or chooses not to mention it. i cant understand the frustration he seems to have when he doesnt get it and he cant understand my lack of need for it. sometimes, like now, i feel like i have no way out and i am back in that dark dirt and stone hole in the middle of the woods waiting for the rocks to be moved only to see the shadow of the devil himself pulling me out to use like a tool and then put back in the hole. i get so sick. it takes a lot to keep going through this every day. sometimes i wonder what is the point. i can feel the shattered parts of me falling out of place.

soooo.... husband and i have been at odds over a few things for a while. we both avoid because it is easier. tonight, apparently, i did not want things easier. i brought up a touchy subject between us. it didnt go well as usual. feelings were hurt. i left. later, i tried to call to smooth things over. that made things worse. husband pissed me off so i made the trip home to address it. worse to horrible. things came out of my mouth that i had kept to myself for two years. i feel miserable, not because i did it. i knew i would at some point because things have just bothered me for too long. i feel miserable because i'm not sorry for doing it.

These memories will not leave me alone. I just want to break down and cry. Honestly, I want to die right now. I don’t think I can handle this. I keep remembering and it doesn’t stop.. Round and round in m head, I’m on a carousal and I’m not allowed off. I keep seeing my uncle. It’s summer and Tyler is baby-sitting me again. I keep wishing they would stop letting him watch me. It’s night time and still no one is home. I am starting to believe they will never come home. Tyler comes into the room and I know one of his games are about to start and even if I pretend to be asleep he won’t stop. There is no stopping him. He walks over to me and pulls my shirt up over my head, causing my hands to be pinned behind me. He then latches onto my underdeveloped nipple. When I try to push him away he hits me in the head and threatens to tell on me (I had accidently spilt juice on the carpet earlier because I had a drink where it wasn’t supposed to be). So I gave up and let him win. I hoped it would be quick and that he would leave me alone soon, but like most nights I was wrong. He pushed me to the floor and pulled out this bottle of I think it was shampoo or body wash. I wanted to ask what it was for but I knew that I’m not supposed to talk. He then pulled my panties down by my knees I think… Things start getting kind of fuzzy from here. I don’t know where they go they are just gone. I cant move my wrists no matter what I try. He’s forced me to have my bum in the air in front off him… I can feel my heart beating out of my chest and my ears are ringing and its very hard for me to sit still… He starts to pour the liquid on to me till it’s all over… Then he rubs my back side for what feels like forever… He says something to me but my ears are ringing so bad I cant hear him at all. Then he sticks a finger in.. He was gentle at first all I could feel was the pressure… But he yanks it out and the shock of the pain makes me yelp. He then shoves something into my mouth and starts yelling at me saying I need to be punished.. I hear his zipper and he rammed it in.. All I remember is the pain. I felt like I was being ripped in half.. I could actually hear my flesh ripping and I swear he moans at that… He just kept thrusting at me so hard that my body gets getting pushed even though he’s hold me.. I can feel and see I’m bleeding on him yet he doesn’t stop…I know I should have been hurting but my entire body feels numb and detached.. It’s the first time for that to happen and I’m grateful. I can feel myself floating away… I remember starring at the window just wishing to be dead.. That the pain would stop and I would no longer exist.. Next thing I remember is him throwing me on the bed and I’m clothed again and I smell cleaning supplies. My entire bod is cold and hurting. I’m scared to move because I know it is just going to hurt so I just lay there… and slip into the darkness…

TW-swearing My best friend officially told me goodbye yesterday. He said he couldn't handle me anymore. I just wanted to tell him....I told you that! He said he would never leave....LIAR He said he was there for me no matter what....LIAR He said what happened was wrong....LIAR He just invalidated everything he ever said to me.....LIAR He knew he would hurt me so badly by leaving me......LIAR He knew I will self destruct....LIAR I no longer trust anyone because everyone lies....they lie to get what they want from you and then leave like fucking parasites!! I hate him but understand! I feel nothing and I am numb but I cry endless tears. I've no idea how I'm going to handle this because now I'm over the edge.......LIAR!!!! I'm so sorry.....it's quite a ramble but I'm beyond upset. I'm shattered and I don't think I'll ever be the person I was again.

I'm 100 emotions but feeling none of them. My car's power steering when out tonight. I'm supposed to go someplace tomorrow and I just don't want to. I miss my friend and a few other friends. I'm just sad and all over the place! I just want to curl up in bed and cry but I can't cry. At some point, I think I need to process what I allowed to happen to me over the weekend but I don't know when. I keep seeing the guy's face in my dreams but I've no one to blame but me. I put myself there so I deserve everything. I know I'm acting out but I can't stop myself. Sorry

I'm warning that this post is about sex......TW.....please be safe whilst reading this I never posted my story. I can't...I've written it once and copy and pasted it ever since. I read it when I send it to a friend but I forget it immediately afterwards. Suffice to say that my ex husband was my problem. He was my first and only until this past week. I've lived like a nun for over 20 years....my friends understand the joke. I'm quite the innocent and never ever considered a one night stand or Tinder.....so I joined Tinder....well a part of me did. I met a guy and we hit it. He said that I was in charge and if I said stop, it was over. He was patient with me. We went at my pace. I know that I was extremely lucky and so fortunate!!! We met up 2x whilst he was in town. He got sick whilst here. He sent me a message saying that he enjoyed our time together. Here's the best part, I've been so scared all these years that it would always be the way it was with my ex but it wasn't. He straight out asked me if I had been r***d. I told him that I didn't use that word. He was so upset and extra gentle after that. I couldn't believe it. The crazy thing is he is British. It's funny because I'm planning to move to Europe in the fall. I guess my point is....he let me do things that I've not done since my ex forced me to do them. It was freeing to not be scared and enjoy doing it. I let him hug me....that's huge! I let him kiss me....super huge!!! Thank you for letting me share...I hope you are safe reading this and have a good night!!

TW for talk about sex When do I cross the line? I haven't had sex in forever and now I can't stop.(Ok, it's only been 2 guys so far) It's like I have this pent up, I don't know what and can't get it out. A guy that wants to get with me tonight asked me what did I like about sex......I told him I don't know. I'm trying to figure it out. I feel like I'm using it as a way to self harm myself. I can't cut but I can have sex with strangers....what the hell is wrong with me?! I've never been this way and now I am. I don't even feel anything. I'm not attached to them. I'm not having mind blowing sex. I just don't know what to do. I know I should stop but I'm not sure if I really want to......have I crossed the line? Just for the record, the total number of men I have slept with is 3. I know that's not a big number but why do I feel like a sl*t? I'm sorry because I'm always rambling but I need to get this off my chest. Have a safe night

Trigger Warning-Please read if you are in a safe place.......I'm going to use swearing and talk about sex. I'm self destructing! I thought I was doing good but I'm not. I have to stop myself but don't know how. If you read my blog, you know that I've tried Tinder......the Virgin Queen has now officially been with 2 men besides her ex husband....actually I used to call myself a nun but now I've left the convent! =D I already talked about the first guy and how great he was. The second guy was fun. We had 2 days of fun. I still don't understand why guys need to kiss and complement women when they already know they are getting sex but they still do. It's very weird to me to be told that I'm pretty....the ex didn't say these things. The new guy liked my breasts.....couldn't keep his hands off them, no surprise because guys do that all the time & no I don't consider that unusual. He apologised when he saw them the second time. I was a mess for him the first night, I felt horrible but he asked me to sleep next to him. I was fine with that until he put his arms around me. I started to freak out and he stopped immediately. I still don't think that's normal for guys to stop when asked to but I'm learning that real men do. Anyways, the next time I saw him and he saw that he had been rough on my breasts, he apologised and said he was so sorry. He left to go home Friday. My best friend isn't talking to me & I don't know why. I'm spiraling out of control....no I can't blame him but I am because he knows that he's hurting me. Today, I went on Craigslist to look to hook up with someone.....ja I know...I said I'm self destructing! I met up with a guy tonight because he said he just wanted to suck my breasts, nothing else. He was old and that's his thing. I thought ok, I mean it's nothing really bad, right? I'm missing the guy from this week and thought what the hell? This guy didn't understand no. He kept going and then when I said I've had enough....he walks with me to get my clothes....he grabs my nipples again and pulls them. I was/am in pain! It was so intense that I was having problems standing! He was pulling me up by them and then down. He seemed to enjoy it. I moved backward and he followed. Finally he said I'd had enough....no shit Sherlock! He seemed to get off on my pain. This is when I really realised that I can't keep this up. I have to get control of myself! He tells me that I seemed to enjoy myself! I'm like how the fuck do you figure? I'm saying OW, NO, It hurts.....but I liked it? No I won't be going back...he's too freaky for me and please don't bother with the lecture....I already know I was stupid. Anyways, I'm sorry for rambling but I had to get it out. I can't believe me! Have a safe night!

I can't anymore I just can't. I want to go to leave this planet. I'm so alone right now. I'm so useless I'm a waste of space on this this earth, why would I want to go on. This is stupid. I'm sat here, alone, distrort, clueless, scared, sick to death or everything. No one cares about me, and if they did or do, I'm either unaware of it, or I'm successfully pushed them away. I'm alone. Alone, alone, alone, alone alone - always alone. I was born alone, and I'll die alone. I feel the deep hurt again tonight - it's surfacing. I can't supress it tonight and I'm not in control. I don't know where to go with this. It's crazy. All the 'therapy' things I've been told about say 'you must sit with your emotions' - sit with it? I'm going to explode. They're developed by scientific people who have no idea what trauma is or does to you. Utter geeks! Enough ranting I think for now.

I'm not sure where this is going so I figured I'd put the tag on there in case..... My first time was with my ex husband and I hadn't been with anyone else for 20 years. Then recently I joined Tinder (a hook up site)....I didn't know what to expect. I've horrible problems with men and have been afraid forever of having sex. The first guy who responded straight out said he wanted hot sex....it freaked me out and my others came out to take care of it. (They are the ones who signed us up for this site) I had a bad feeling and just didn't follow through. The next guy, the one I enjoyed 2 nights with, he gave me a different vibe. I was lucky and know it. I trusted myself and everything turned out well. Then this weekend, another guy texted me. At first, things seemed ok but then he said a few things that I knew I couldn't do and I told a friend that I was a bit scared. Did that stop me for texting him & arranging to meet him, no. Here's where that entity watching over me comes into play.....we never met up this weekend. I'm glad because I think I was going to let myself get into trouble. So my question is, could there be someone watching and making sure that I make better choices this time? Could they be making the universe not line up when things could turn ugly? If so, I appreciate it because I didn't have a good feeling about this guy. Does it mean he's a bad person? No, just not right for me. The guy I spent the night with, he was just what I needed and I keep looking for that again. He was perfect for my first time since my ex. I hope I can find someone again and that whoever is watching out for me continues because I need it. Thanks for listening to me ramble. I hope you have a peaceful night.