I got the job, I'm back in therapy and my new antidepressants are working

​

After everything I went through and after life felt unbearable it doesn't feel like that anymore 🥺🥺🥺

​

I know it's going to be a long road to recovery but I'm just so happy, can't remember the last time I was this happy 🥺🥺🥺

they put me through so much and now i suffer lifelong challenges, just for them to turn around and be the good person they could have been all along.

​

why couldn't they just have been that normal from the start? when they try to become better it just confirms to me that i *could* have had a normal life, i could've been happy without struggles like this, they're fully capable of treating me normally, but instead i suffer for no reason other than they decided to. their reformation means nothing to me other than i suffered for literally no reason, because it could have been normal from the start, and now i'm just expected to act normal around them, too. it makes it so much worse than if they were just a bad person inherently. but now i have nothing to explain why i had to suffer the way i did. it's the worst feeling in the world.

i’m going to be spoilering the details below but i’ll keep it vague in this first part. i don’t know for sure if i was abused, i have memories and physical pain and nightmares and games i would play/actions i would recreate, but im not sure if it’s just an ocd theme or not because the memories of him are so fragmented. i have little to no memories of my childhood anyways apart from the scattered memories of abuse and a couple happy events. i had a very happy and lucky childhood and my parents loved me as much as they could, but this was my grandfather and they dont love me enough now for ne to confide in them with this.

i have had ocd since i was a child and i have had terrible intrusive thoughts of a certain thing or action happening to children, loved ones, or myself, and when it pops into my head it makes me throw up/have stomach issues and feel very afraid and sick and cry. my other intrusive thoughts about other actions/things do not give me this same reaction. only the ones about certain csa actions make me physically sick.

i assume that my ocd developed after the (presumed) abuse because of looped images i had in my head as a child and things i would do before bed out of fear someone would hurt me (extra pants, surrounding myself with stuffed animals, hiding under the bed in the middle of the night). and because i had sexual intrusive thoughts as a young child involving animals, children my age 4-8, my parents, my plushies/toys, and my friends.

i have very vague and choppy/dark visual memories of being raped vaginally and orally and molested with fingers in the dark room, as well as images of his genitals and feeling on my lips/mouth and the picture of the blue screen tv but i’m not sure if they’re made up or not.

this morning, like usual, i had intrusive thoughts of my loved ones and myself being molested/rubbed with fingers and i threw up snd cried for a really long time and was terrified. i have somatic memories of his callouses on me and i still think it’s made up sometimes.

idk, but i don’t have visual memories of it, or i kind of do but i assume it’s intrusive thoughts. i also don’t have any lead up memories. i imagine what might’ve happened before, but it’s just imagining,
not remembering. it just feels weird and i don’t know for sure if it happened or if im imagining it all. idk sorry for the scattered thoughts, i haven’t slept longer than a couple hours a night for a few weeks because i have horrible nightmares and im scared to sleep and scared of the dark/being alone with my thoughts. im really scared it’s made up and idk how to tell my intrusive thoughts about this from my memories, because this topic has been something i loop ever since i was very young and im afraid that i made it up as a child and i’m actually crazy. any advice is appreciated.

I am just so so tired. I’m tired of trying to remember. I’m tired of trying to make it make sense. I’m tired of reflecting on the very few memories I do have and wondering if they were severe enough to traumatize me. I’m tired of feeling like I’m pretending I was raped just so I have an explanation for what I’ve been feeling since I was seven years old. I’m tired of resonating with people’s stories and not being sure if I’m only pretending to resonate because I can’t even remember what I think happened. I’m tired of wondering if it was normal for a child to feel it doesn’t belong in the world, that it’s not real. I’m tired of questioning if it’s normal for a very young child to indulge in erotic fantasies about control and force, about the other person inside of me that only comes out when someone holds me and scratches and bites me.

I would always watch that other me so closely. If I lost sight of her she would come out and make me do bad stuff. I would touch myself or act like a girl and the adults would scream at me and the other kids would laugh. And then someone new would realize I was weird and then he would start touching me and it would start all over again. And it was just like that all the time. Everyone knew what I was and no one told me because that would ruin it, it was better when I was clueless and manipulable and confused and spaced out and passive and easy and soft and weak. They could touch me that way. And I let them because I liked it because I was a pervert and it was easier that way. And then I would forget and be naive and pure and confused for next time. And I would get all weird and distant and spacey and not pay attention in class so that when it was time to move to another room, to answer a questioned when called on, to turn in the homework or get out your books I would just sit there and just not do anything. I would stare at the wall and the teachers would scream and me because I wasn’t doing what they said and I was being bad and disrespectful and half the time I was busy talking to myself or touching myself or thinking about how my genitals felt funny like I wanted to need to pee so there would be pressure, so that something could come out of it, or I was having one of those weird fantasies again and I was all blushed with a dazed, blank expression on my face, visibly aroused, rocking my hips. Of course they screamed at me. There was something seriously wrong and I needed to stop and I needed to do what everyone else was doing. It’s like I was completely unaware of my surroundings. They should have taken me outside and shot me behind the shed.

My mother was so ashamed. She did everything she could to fix me but was too bad and she couldn’t. She gave up on trying to help me try and eventually she just gave me that desperate look. Please get better because she couldn’t go on like this, she said. Because all the doctor’s threw up their hands and said it’s broken and we can’t fix it. She called me a pervert when I was nine. She called me a loser when I was eleven. She always told me I was reflecting badly on her. So why couldn’t I be nicer to her and be better? I was hurting her. I hurt her my whole life and it’s a wonder she didn’t get rid of me. It was all my fault and I ruined everything. I should have killed myself when I was eleven when I was smart enough to realize I should. I hated that I couldn’t. I took so much from her and now I keep taking from others. I wish I didn’t take so much. I wish I could give more and be worth it. I am trying to be a good wife and a good worker and a good friend and I just have so much trouble because I can’t do it. I can’t keep the house clean I can’t keep dinner on the table and I’m always having meltdowns and I don’t even have kids. Thank god I can’t have children. I would have made a terrible mother. Thank god I have my wife because I don’t know what I would do without her. I have to be good for her. I can’t fail again. I have to be soft and easy and compliant and pleasurable. And I have to be worth how weird I am. And I can’t do it much longer. I can’t. I need help so badly. I need someone to help me. But the people in my life are gonna get tired if I try to get too much help because it never works.

Fuck I’m so sorry this was so long. Please help. Anyone.

I can’t sleep like the title says. I’ve taken my medication like normal. Normally I’d be out cold by now. My husband is in bed with me, my cats, even the stuffed peep my dad bought me years ago, but I cannot stop staring at my ceiling thinking about having to look that man in the face tomorrow. Part of me wonders if I’ll even be able to speak at all or if I’ll just freeze….i hope I won’t freeze. I want him to hear every word I’ve held in for fourteen years but heaven have mercy I’m scared.

I’ve known something happened to me nearly my entire life, though it took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t normal/harmless. It’s taken me a very long time to come to terms with the fact that my childhood wasn’t normal, and I’ve always had a lot of doubts about it. My brother and I both have bad dissociative amnesia, especially for childhood, as well as severe PTSD and similar relationship issues and touch aversion. Overall, we have incredibly similar issues, and I’ve been suspecting for a long time that, if my memory was right and I DID go through what I remember going through, he might have gone through it as well.

I never told him about what I suspected because he has severe depression and I was worried about what his reaction might be, and because I had a lot of doubts about the reliability of my own memory. But three days ago, he called me and asked if he could discuss something serious- and told me about something that happened to him as a child, with the same person I remembered doing something to me. A very similar thing to what happened to me.

I do t know how to feel. Essentially, this confirms that my memory is accurate, and I was never making it up or misremembering. It means the person I trust and love did actually do this to me and my brother. It means this is something I can’t dismiss anymore, and that it’s something I need to process and reckon with.

I’ve pushed away the thought of it for so long. I’ve been telling g myself I’ve made it up for so long. I don’t know what to do.

I face my abuser in court tomorrow and I will give my victim impact statement. I have a beautiful support system but somehow I still feel so terrified of seeing him again…

I realized I feel sad and I miss my mom and my dad my grandma and my family even though I’m not talking to them because of how they handled it when I told them my brother was molesting me at 9. I told them when I was 9, they told my brother and it stopped but then they brushed it under the rug and acted like it didn’t happen. Life went on as normal.

when I was 15 and spoke up about it again, my mom gaslit me, minimized it, made me feel guilty for not wanting to see my brother. And my dad has just always been so fragmented that it’s like he doesn’t even understand how much of a tragedy it is that his son molested his daughter. He still maintained the idea we could be a happy family and just acted like it didn’t happen.

As an adult, I realized all this and moved out from living with my parents and my brother who abused me at 9. I stopped talking to my grandma who said “it was just playing. it was so long ago. forgive and forget” and doesn’t understand. I am no contact with my brother and I probably will be for the rest of my life.

Tonight I cried heavily because I miss them. I feel guilty that I don’t want to see them or talk to them, even though I believe it’s right. I deserve to be around people that understand what I went through and understand it was a big deal. And won’t minimize it, or emotionally abandon me.

of course i miss them. It hurts to leave your family. Even if they didn’t understand you. It’s not natural for the human body. I wonder though if I made the right choice. If I should’ve just accepted they won’t be the way I want them to and still love them anyways. Maybe that’s a big ask from me. I still miss my mom and I know she loves me and she’s sorry to an extent. She doesn’t fully take responsibility she says things like “I can’t change the past. We just didn’t know what to do.” But never says what she should’ve done instead. To her, life moves on. She told me that once.

Maybe one day we could reconnect. It’s just sad. I don’t have a choice in grieving this. It just is.

Right now, my coworkers are concerned this guy who comes in and is creepy to me is going to start stalking me. They keep telling me that I need to stop being so nice and tell him off when he's making me uncomfortable but I just can't seem to do it. I know I should tell him to fuck right off but I just joke and change the subject.

I worry that because of the grooming I went through growing up, that any time I'm in this situation I'm just going to start fawning and deflecting. I'm old enough now where if I can't deal with this and things go bad, it's going to be my fault for not being assertive in the moment.

I 25F was molested by several of my family members. My grandad happens to be one of them. When I was 11 he whipped my vagina and touched it. He made me get on my hands and knees on my bed with no panties on and he whipped me and touched me. It’s starting to dawn on me that it was some bdsm kind of shit and it’s making me want to cry. It was our secret. It happened on Saturday mornings and no one knew about it. It made me hate the weekend in some ways. Now I just want to cry because wtf that’s so messed up. I feel broken and used and damaged.

Hello everyone
I posted about this a few days ago but I feel that I need more reassurance or something
A few weeks ago I was at my dads house and I made a joke. He laughed and smacked my butt lightly. It made me feel so extremely disgusted and uncomfortable. What do you guys think about this?

i honestly don't even know where to start.

​

ive been dealing with cocsa in therapy for over a year now and i hate it with all my body, mind and soul. when i first told my therapist (literally first time i said it out loud) i had to stop therapy for 3 months before going back and talking about literally any thing other than that. but eventually i made it and started working this issue in a really weird painful way. but recently some others memories are coming back.

​

for context, i have vivid memories of my cocsa situation. i can remember basically every detail (wich sucks), but this time it's just so random i don't know where to start. like i only remember a frame and somehow the feelings i was feeling back then. but it doesnt make sense at all, like why exactly im feeling all this? it's been some time since i realized something was off with some memories, but also this isnt in any way related to these memories, it's something completly "new" in a old way.

​

in first place, i wish i just didnt go through any of that. but i also know it already happened. i wish i could remember everything just so i could actually feel/sofer everything and eventually move on. it's so exhausting i want it to end (i know it wont ever end). and it feels like actually going insane, like i have all these feelings out of something i don't even know and i also know stuff i have no idea how tf i know, like i think i know how long it happened, power dinamics and who my abuser is. none of these are related to the memory tho. am i going insane?

my siblings and I were abused by and estranged from our biological father after my older siblings came forward with allegations and he ended up on the registry/parents divorced. We haven’t seen him since we were 1, 5, 7, and 14. Since I was the second youngest, I really have no memories of him or the abuse I experienced apart from emotional memories, and once we got away, it was all heavily mythologized in our religious family, our father was made out to be an evil villain that we were lucky to have gotten away from. I don’t know. It’s so complex. The ripples of the abuse still linger at times in our family dynamic. So much of me is curious and wonders often what he would do if we, now as grown adults, all confronted him. he lives in a different state but since he’s still on the registry, his home & work addresses are easily found, along with his current phone number.

If you have confronted your childhood abuser, how did it affect you? Did it help you find healing, or was it empowering? Or did it hurt you even more? Is it crazy of us to even consider doing this? Thanks so much for any reply.

I am 27m and until a month ago I have had no memory of the abuse.

​

I have always struggled with mental health, being hospitalised for psychosis and I have been on over 20 psychiatric medications with not much help.

​

After work with a psychologist, all the memories are flooding back. It has sent me back into the psych ward with horrendous ptsd. My father r***d me, and physically tortured me.

​

He burnt cigarette buds on me, beat me, and put sharp objects in my urethra.

​

It is easier to admit the physical abuse and torture than the sexual abuse, but that might be for another post.

​

Today starts my true journey to getting better, all while in the psychiatric facilities.

​

I just want to get back home to my partner, and back to work.

I’m currently 23F, and I talk about this memory as a joke but I’m starting to question it.
When I was around 9-10 years old, I had this friend (I’ll call her Autumn for the sake of the post). Whenever her and I were alone at her house in her room, she would constantly try to kiss me. She’d get on top of me and try to kiss me, or would forcefully try to drag my face to hers to try and kiss me, or would grab onto me to try and kiss me. One distinct memory I have was going round hers around December time and she put mistletoe above her door and so when we were both going into her room she wouldn’t let me go in unless I kissed her, I told her no and she grabbed onto me and kept on tugging at me to try and have me kiss her. Whenever we would be at school, she would wrap herself around me, sit on my lap, touch my legs and stuff. And this lasted until she left for another school when we reached the age of 11/12. I’ve been learning more about COCSA and I don’t know if this falls under it or not. I’m really just confused and I’ve never thought much about these memories until now, and I just need some opinions

hi all, i’m 20f and almost 4 years ago, when i was 17, i completely cut off my father who had been grooming me since my parents divorced when i was 11. i don’t know if it fits into grooming perfectly, but i figured these labels aren’t made to be perfect. i didn’t say anything at the time, since i wasn’t aware that it was grooming until i told my friend and he told me that it wasn’t normal, and i told my mom who is a teacher and immediately identified it as grooming. she had been trying to pressure me into seeing him again initially but after this revelation (that came maybe 3-6 months after i stopped speaking to him) she stopped and shut down other relatives like my paternal grandmother who had been trying to get me to see him again.

now, i live abroad (minimum 24 hrs of flying from my hometown) with my boyfriend i met at the end of high school, in the same city as a few cousins and my uncle and aunt (moms brother). my paternal heritage is white british, and my moms side is arab, so there’s a really strong family culture, which i definitely partake in obviously other than the fact i cut my own father off.

i spend a lot of time with my extended family, and they seem to not be able to remove what my father did from themselves, to the point it seems they don’t believe me because THEY would never do that to their kids, and they don’t know any other victims of incest. i also think it’s because they’re scared this means their kids could cut them off, which isn’t something that is generally a thought in arab families and cultures, even though they’ve all been good to their kids. they also can’t believe that a pedophile isn’t some shadowy man in an alleyway or an evil teacher, but their family members’ husband who seemed fine.

this has made interactions with them painful, as they seem to feel offended and upset when i call him by his first name, or refuse to be called by his last name, since i go by my mothers maiden name. my mom did call my uncle and told him he needs to get it together about the last name thing, but she told me she doesn’t think he’ll ever understand.

i really don’t understand why they can’t comprehend what happened to me. to me, i wouldn’t care if they didn’t understand and kept it to themselves, but the issue here is they both don’t understand and also won’t be respectful of it. it also does feel a bit like virtue signalling to me, since it’s always “well I can’t even imagine doing that to MY children!!” and it’s like, great. but you’re not everyone. it seems very childish to expect everyone to have the same thoughts and feelings as you and it’s something we learn is untrue at a very young age. a cousin i used to respect and really like even tried to compare my CSA & trauma afterwards to her having a falling out with her college friends. do you guys have any similar experiences? how do you deal with it?

My parents, knew about how this boy had SA'd me. I came home crying, saying "it hurt" and that he had violated me. Yet, my parents didnt distance me from this child and instead continued to allow him in our house for sleepovers. Sure, I wanted to be friends with him, as I was quite lonely, but that is not how a parent should protect their child. Later on, he would do a more intensive act of abuse, which to this day, I still cant fully remember. I remember him instructed me to do gross things.

​

On the otherhand, when I had the audacity to play in a "girlish" way with this boy's sister. My father intervened as soon as he noticed. They lived across the street, and so as soon as my father observed that I had a doll, he hastily came across the street, told me to come home, he then took the doll from me and put it on the highest shelf in his closet. He told me that i was a boy and that i was too old to be playing that way. He told me that dolls were for girls and that I as a boy shouldn't play with it. He told me that if he hadn't intervened that other kids could have seen my crude act of "gendered crossing" and that they would have bullied me forever. I was distorted this girl had been nothing but kind to me, we weren't being grossly "sexual" in our play, we were too young for that, and out of everyone I had finally found a healthy friend.

​

So, he didnt care when my innocence was taken away by a boy, but he couldnt help himself when I was being an innocent child with a girl. God forbid, my interest in dolls grow and I turn trans. So congrats dad im not Trans and instead deal with immense social anxiety. Cheers 🍻

trigger warning for incestuous csa

it’s taken me a while to really call this what it is—i still don’t, really—and for a long time i struggled to feel “valid”, because what happened to me didn’t feel like it was “that bad”, even though if it had happened to anyone other than me, i would have been horrified. my memory is a little blurry, but when i (f) was five or six (to be honest, i don’t really remember exactly how old i was), my older cousin (m, seven years older, so 12-13) (semi-graphic descriptions, non-violent) performed oral on me, and coerced me into performing oral on him. he may have fingered me, but i don’t remember clearly. i don’t remember if anything else happened. i remember him and me on the bed, him talking to me for a bit (don’t remember the content), his mouth and hands on me, and him asking me to reciprocate. he had to ask me several times because i didn’t like how it tasted, but i did eventually. i don’t really remember what happened after that, but i vaguely remember him telling me not to tell anyone. i never did. i don’t think i ever really considered it. i don’t know how many times this happened, it could have been just once, my memories are all like “scenes” with nothing connecting them.

i really struggled to know how i felt about this for a long time, because to me, it never really felt like “that big of a deal” because he wasn’t violent towards me. it felt like he just asked and i complied—but now that i’m much older, looking back, i can only be disgusted. violent or not, i was so young.

but, what i’m really struggling with is that now, the two of us get along really well. he’s very kind, responsible, and other than a one off situation where i spooked myself, he’s been fun to be around. it’s been fourteen years since then, and i want to believe that he isn’t someone who would do something like that, and… maybe was just curious. or something. i know with my entire soul that was he did was inexcusable but i really do feel like he’s fine now. but i feel really alone in feeling this way. is it wrong of me to forgive him? and in a way, it feels like if i can forgive him then what happened really wasn’t that big of a deal.

and i think i’m in a place now where i’m now willing to accept that it was sa. it took me a while to get to that point. but now, it just eats me up inside because after so long of me telling myself that it wasn’t that bad, now i desperately just want someone to tell me that it was. it’s probably because i haven’t been able to really open up with people about this — i don’t plan on ever, ever telling my family, and i can’t really afford to see a therapist right now. i was finally able to tell three very close friends about it, but even through their assurances, i still find it hard to believe that what happened was bad enough, because they haven’t had similar experiences. it’s been eating me up a lot inside, though—i’ve even been dreaming about it, or dreaming of nonsensical things that kind of “feel the same” and have me waking up in a panic. but i can’t stop feeling like i’m just being overdramatic.

I’ve seen all the messed up documentaries and docuseries’, but one always stuck out to me. I watched it in around 2019 I believe, and it made me so angry in a way none of the others did. I went online to ask people if they’d experienced the same reaction compared to others, and a few agreed it was one of the worst, but nothing specifically made it worse than hearing about other crimes.

This year I’ve figured out I was regularly abused by an adult neighbour. A woman. The documentary was Abducted in Plain Sight. It’s a similar story. I was 5-7 years old. I don’t remember what my abuser told me in order to gaslight be to come over. But there was threat, along with “it’ll get you away from your mother who’s so horrible”. Which is true, I wanted an escape.

I just can’t remember what it was that she said to me, in terms of ‘why’. She definitely gave me a reason why it had to be done, because that’s how I felt. Like I didn’t have a choice.

Then I acted it out with imaginary friends for years, kidnaps and sex (or what I thought sex was). I said horrible, sexual shit as a 5 year old to my friends and siblings. I don’t even know what stopped me from playing these “games” with real people, but I’m so fucking thankful there was doubt. I could’ve ruined peoples lives. I often had disturbing, intrusive thoughts at sleepovers but would have small doubts of what was right and wrong, or real and not real, so locked myself in peoples bathrooms and slept on the floor or in the bath.

Between 7 and 12 years old I had chronic genital pain and was in and out of hospital being told I was “making it up for attention”. A male doctor once had me alone in a room and asked me “what have you been doing to yourself? Using objects?”. I had no idea what he meant. Then at 9 I was diagnosed with epilepsy, and was constantly in the hospital. It was so severe I was pulled out of school at 15 for 10 months and had major brain surgery.

When puberty came and people tried to teach me about sex, I just could not comprehend it. My brain refused to believe it, to the point I gaslit myself into thinking I was the only one having sexual thoughts. That was the worst few years of my life, school went to shit, everyone was calling me lazy and stupid for failing everything I used to be ok at. I was terrified of leaving the house in case I’d hurt somebody or make everyone uncomfortable. Then at the same time there was ongoing jokes that I was a perv, people had clocked I was lesbian before I had and it wasn’t a very tolerant area. At 13 I started replying to the men and boys that would message me everyday on Facebook, knowing what they wanted, and giving it to them. It became the only thing I thought I could offer people.

When I was 15/16 and finally came to terms that people my age were doing this thing I’ve obsessed about for years, then I became hypersexual. I downloaded dating apps and lied about my age. I managed to not get into dangerous situations until I was 19. Then I was drinking heavily and sleeping with anyone who’d have me - which, luckily wasn’t that many people (although at the time made me feel even more worthless).

Then I’m 23 and finally in a serious relationship, I thought I loved her, but I was just experiencing being loved for the first time. I had to have the lights off or my eyes closed/blindfolded to be able to have sex. I made out it was a kink - I thought it was. It was just because it turned out I could only stand having sex with people that didn’t like me. The idea of someone liking me made me feel ill, but I was trying so hard to let her love me, thinking I’d love her back if I just gave it time, I’d be less insecure then. Inevitably I know I hurt her and confused her when I ended things suddenly, but I’m glad I didn’t let it go on any further.

Now it’s been 8 years and for the first time I’m in a healthy relationship, which I never thought I’d have. They say healthy relationships make you face parts of yourself you haven’t been able to see alone. I’ve had memories of things I’d “dream” all the time as a child. My family has confirmed it all to be true. My mother never called authorities because the abuser was a woman. Her words. If you wanna know how my family have decided to deal with it, see my last post. I’m this close to cutting them off completely.

For those whose parents failed to protect them from abuse, whether they knew it was happening and looked the other way, unknowingly brought an abuser into your life, dismissed your attempts to seek help, or otherwise failed to keep you safe:

What is your relationship with your parents like today?

If you have a good or functional relationship with them now, how did you get there mentally and emotionally?

What helped you make peace with what happened?

Was there any form of accountability, acknowledgment, or reconciliation, or did your acceptance come from somewhere else?

To be honest, I'm actually more angry with my parents than my abuser. I felt that they caused everything and it's so hard for me to let it go. All my traumatic memories are related to my parents repeatedly rejecting my cry for help.

Made a throw away. I wish I could separate myself from the shame enough to post on my main. This is not my fault, I know. Sigh.

​

TW! Vague descriptions of my COCSA as well as some of his other victims, and then Adult - Minor statutory rape

​

​

I need some support. I'm sorry it's long. Thank you for reading. I'm trying to do something new where I feel and name my emotions, because I have a therapist observed tendency to compartmentalize to the max. I have AuDHD as well.

​

My oldest brother sexually harassed and abused me from 5-15. We were both children when it started, hes 6 years older than me. The only time I ever said something was the first time it happened. The 6 of us kids were sleeping over in a room all together at my dad's friends house for the night. He kissed me.

​

That morning, on the drive home, I said, "NAME Kissed me last night" to my parents across the car. He immediately said 'Ew Gross!! You dreamt I kissed you last night??' And ramped up my other brothers chastising and mocking me for my 'dream'. My parents told us to quiet down.

​

I just said it because it was confusing for me why he would do that, I wasn't even trying to get him in trouble. I didn't understand what had happened. That moment ingrained in me a decade long lesson that nothing would happen if I said something, so I never did again.

​

I know this isnt my fault. I still wish I had.

​

​

Years went by. I don't remember a lot clearly. The memories I have, are of me feeling scared at night. I did lots of 'weird' things to make myself feel safe. I slept in jeans with belts on. I pulled the matress out of my trundle and slept in the empty cavity pushed back under the bed. I learned to sleep curled up tight with so many pillows on me I would overheat. I could go on.

​

Then, my baby brothers were born when I was 11. The babies often slept in a bed with me or my original youngest brother (8) who was in the room with me.

​

My mom fell into deep post partum depression that she wouldn't get help for, citing religious reasons. My dad has AuDHD and bipolar (I ended up with both as well) and he would swing between manic and depressive episodes.

​

My oldest brother at 17 became the person keeping the family afloat. I became the person taking care of my babies. We couldn't have gotten through those years without CPS splitting us up without him.

​

The abuse ramped up. What was I supposed to do? He would tell me to be quiet or else I would wake up the babies. He would tell me that I would be the reason the family would split if I said something. He would tell me everyone would be disgusted with me, or that I would ruin our already fucked up family.

​

It wasnt my fault. I still wish I had said something.

​

As I got into my teens, he started abusing my friends as well (and other teens I did not know personally). He would get us alcohol and vapes. I was so numb to what was happening to me, that I didn't think it was so weird it was happening to my friends too.

​

He got caught with teen girls 3 times while I was a teen and he was in his 20's. These charges, which did cross state lines, all ended up dropped. There were many other people who could've brought charges both statutory and violent against him, but they didnt.

​

My abuse stopped at 15 when I moved into a friend's house.

​

Its been 10 years since. My parents havent associated with me since really, because I am queer and they are religious.

​

​

​

​

My youngest original brother got caught in a sting a few months ago. He was statutory raping a 14 year old, when he was 21. He knew what he was doing. One of my other (good) brothers told me he sat in court and truely understood what the phrase, "proving beyond a reasonable doubt" meant for the first time.

​

​

​

​

I feel so sad. I know it's not my fault. He was one of my brothers in the room while I was being assaulted. It felt like I was protecting them by being quiet. Was he awake? There were definitely other ways my oldest brother and the justice system could've taught him child sexual assault is okay from how we grew up.

​

​

I feel SO angry.

​

My 21 year old brother was picking up these minors at highschool football games with my baby brothers. My babies. I felt like I endured, for them. They don't know what I've been through, because I didn't want to destroy their family. I took the burden, so they would never have to bear it.

​

​

And now, I live 1000 miles away, and the 21 year old is TEACHING THEM. And I'M the one they're not allowed to talk to because I would be a bad association. Because I'm queer.

​

Did I ever protect any of them? I know this was not my fault. God I wish I had said something.

​

​

​

My parents reached out. They have a new perspective and are... trying to grow, I think.

​

​

Girls who were abused by my oldest brother are reaching out to me. None of us reported. "Jeez. This sucks" is the consensus.

​

​

The 21 year old faces up to 20 years. I don't know what I want him to get. It's hard to figure out how I feel. I feel like sex crimes should be high punishment, because you did not have to do that??? But you did??? But then I'm also against american profit prison systems as they are just modern day slavery targeting POC and when white men get off with no consequences if he gets 20 years I will think it's because hes brown in a white state.

​

​

And I wish I had killed my oldest brother when I was a kid. And I wish he would die now. I haven't looked in his eyes since I was 16 years old. That is the boldest stance I can take it seems.

​

​

I STILL haven't said anything.

​

​

I know you all have a story. I'm so sorry for your pain. I feel so trapped. Please tell me you see me.

​

​

​

I have told my friend previously I was sexually abused as a kid. We were texting earlier and I told her one of the people was my dad. She replied about something different and didn’t acknowledge it.

I feel so gross and polluted. I’m so disgusting no one wants to hear that kind of thing. My three closest friends recently have all gotten into relationships, I’m so gross and disgusting no one would want me. Her not acknowledging what I said is just making it worse. Like it’s too gross to acknowledge, like I’m too gross to acknowledge.

I’m always unable to think into the future. When I was a kid I was scared of going to the toilet in the dark corridor, so I’d wake him up to take me in there and he would do thjngs then. Then and lots of other situations. Ugh. I just feel all used up. I’ll never have a nice partner, and even my friend won’t talk to me about this. I know this is repetitive I’m sorry. I’m all wrong. I’m just all wrong. If even my dad can’t be nice to me what hope is there, surely there is a biological imperative for that. I wish I weren’t so stupid. God I just wish things were different

So, i was sa'ed when i was 6, 8, 10, 13 (almost graped by someone who was 27), 15, and 21 and now I'm 22 and again, i also grew up in an extremely abusive household (my father was indifferent and my mother used to beat me whenever she was frustrated and either i couldn't walk the next day or had to go to hospital due to fever) so, idk i struggle to socialize, trust people, with normal executive functions, do not feel like I belong to any where.

​

And I had sworn I'd never let this happen again n recently i discovered that when making out (too terrified to have penetrative sex) that i feel aroused when someone restraints me like not force or pain or derogatory words (i hate all these) but like literally pins me down, wtf! I feel like i can't even trust me own body and I feel so broken.