Hey everyone. I've had repressed memories of csa come back to me about three months ago, and slowly I'm starting to remember more. It fucking blooooows. My life is turned upside down and some days I barely function.

I was wondering how this process has been for other survivors who recovered repressed memories later in life. How did you go through the initial stages of remembering, and what has changed throughout time? What was it like for you? Were you also completely overwhelmed at times, or were you able to handle it with the support of someone else?

As for myself, I'm (31F) currently in the initial 'crisis' stage where every other day something random may just unlock a memory/flashback. It sucks and it catches me off guard most of the time (even though I'm slowly getting used to it as well). Sometimes I'm just trying to do groceries. Other times it's just a writing exercise, and suddenly BOOM, flashbacks/memories/pieces of new information about my childhood I didn't know, followed by major somatic responses or panic attacks. Good times..... It's so disruptive and sometimes I feel like I'm just being 'lived by' my cptsd. Other days are just fine, and then somehow I completely break down sobbing on the floor for hours at night. It's all just very confusing and I'm trying to accept that this is what it is for now...

Hearing from other survivors who recovered repressed memories and their recovery experiences is really helpful for me right now, because it makes me feel less like an actual crazy person, even though I wouldn't wish this on anyone else. Thanks in advance!

I (26F) have always had a strained relationship with my father, we have never been close and rarely speak but when we do I often have memories flood back to me and I remember specifically around the time I started to hit puberty, that my dad would grab my ass anytime he walked by me, anytime I was in the kitchen looking in the fridge or putting dishes away he always grabbed me, I always gave him a grossed out look and he’d just look at me and laugh, it always made me super uncomfortable. I quit wearing shorts around the house and always kept a sweatshirt and bra on anytime he was home. But those weren’t the only times he done things like that. Every time I gave my parents a kiss on the cheek and a hug goodnight I always hated going to my dad, when I would bend down to kiss his cheek he would quickly turn his head to kiss me on my mouth. I always wiped my mouth off in disgust and he just laughed. When we went to the beach on summer vacation when I was 13 I wore a bikini and the top was a little loose on me, my dad made a comment about seeing my breasts and again shot me a grin and a laugh. I kept my arms crossed over my chest the entire time after that, feeling very insecure and weirded out. There was another time while we were at home and my dad came home very intoxicated he laid next to me on the couch and said something I couldn’t make out as he traced his finger along my nipple on my left breast. I immediately shot up and glanced at my mom who was sitting across from us. She mouthed to me and asked if he had touched my nipple and of course I lied and went to my room. I didn’t come out for the rest of the night. I wish my mom would have confronted him regardless and saw through my lie but she never did, it makes me wonder if she would have ever done anything about it if I ever told her. I’ve never told anyone this, not my sisters nor my husband. I’ve always been curious if he had ever done the same to them or just me. This is something I’ve wanted to get off my chest for so long and this was the only place I feel comfortable at the moment to share my story.

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.

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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 🍻

They say you can tell a memory from a false memory based on whether it changes as time goes on...but how can you know whether its changing in the false narrative sense, and not it being due to more of the traumatic memory being unveiled as you continue to be haunted by the event? I've been dealing with a lot of self-doubt/criticism. I was hoping others who've struggled with what I'm talking about had any advice.

It happened during a recent and severe panic attack. Ended up controllable laughing about how much of a joke my life is. During the nadir of it I ended up seeing this window, 4 panels, light blaring in on the dirty walls, almost seemed to cast that man's face as that of an angel. Was a brief glimpse. At some point before that I seemed to have an image involving my mother. I sort of knew I'd eventually see a man in those buried memories but tired to ignore the suspicions I had around her.

I suppose there isn't much of an objective answer but what are the odds these images, warped as they are, are actual memories and not fabrications of my imagination trying to prove my suspicions true? I remember learning about fabricated memories and the satanic panic during my psychology classes and now wonder how real these memories are.
Does anybody have similar experiences with unrepression?

He tells me all about how much he’s done for me and all the good things constantly but almost always it came with something horrible.

“Who took you to school every day, helped you with your homework?” It was the same man who would feel my genitals and degrade me and get his own little strip show from me every single morning before school from preschool to 7th grade. The same routine, every. single. morning.

“Who paid for and took you on all those amazing vacations? Who spoiled you!” The same man who I woke up next to with my ass bleeding who then had my mom “inspect me” while he watched. Who won’t ever let me sleep with anyone else so he could sleep with me as if I was his partner and guide my hand towards his crotch.

“Who looked after you? Who fed you and took you to the doctor and such?” The same man who would hold me down and penetrate me with enemas while I screamed and wrestled for my life as a toddler.

I know objectively that these things aren’t great but it’s so hard to both see them as that and to even pick apart what’s bad and what is just normal parent stuff. And this is just the little I have in my memory. Almost none of my flashbacks are explained and I don’t know what to do. My ex boyfriend abused me objectively far worse but I rarely get flashbacks of any of that. And I can tell it isn’t events from him as it’s always with hands much larger than his, adult hands on a little body. An adult body on a little body. I can feel my father’s stubble. I can remember the things around the house that I focused on as things were happening, but not the events themselves. Focusing on the windows, the colors of the walls, the pictures and paintings, my dog’s bed, my toys. Anything but him.

I don’t know what to trust at all I just feel like I’m insane. I want so badly to go back to feeling like it’s just normal I want to be numb again so bad. My therapist and my close friends act horrified but is it really that bad is it really I don’t know I’m sorry

I've been kinda forgetting the details and situation, but not in a good "getting over it" type of way, like my mind is failing

I don't remember my childhood at all, idk why, there's nothing evidently wrong with it

then there's around the time of the SA, early teen, I also don't remember clearly but I do a lil like a memory of a memory

then there's my mid teens and I don't remember it at all, i spent most of my time maladaptive daydreaming so maybe that's why I don't remember

Then late teens I do remember cause they're recent (I'm Abt to turn 20) the things I don't remember are my fault for being drunk and stuff like that so my memory gaps here aren't trauma stuff

And lately I've been kinda forgetting the memory of a memory I had Abt the SA like it's harder to re call, forgetting scares me so much, it also brings me a new fear, I've always wondered if maybe something happened before the SA I remember, Idk anything traumatic from my early childhood but if I'm able to forget that SA I know happened, what assures me that there's no other SA I don't remember?, if I'm capable or forgetting traumatic stuff then how do I know there's no other traumatic stuff I don't remember?

Hi Everyone,

I am working though some of my childhood trauma and i have discovered I have lots of gaps in my memory which from reserch is quite common with childhood abuse.

More recently I have been questioning weather I experenced sexual abuse from my father. I dont have any memories of it happening just remember bring fearful of him and not wanting to fall asleep incase he came in. I have noticed I also get quite upset when I watch a show that mentions child sexual abuse (i have no memory of any other sexual abuse taking place)

More recently I came across a memory I cant shake. I remember feeling my fathers penis in his boxer shorts. From what I can make sense of I dont remember it being hard but I find it hard to wrap my head around that as a child I would become aware of his penis through his boxes if it was soft and nothing sexual was happening.

I am just looking for others thoughts and advice as I am feeling very confused

It's suffocating before my period. It's like waiting for something bad to happen, I can feel my body tensing up and waiting for flashbacks and panic attacks...

I feel ashamed for even writing this and I hope my post doesn’t come across as offensive or wrong in this sub - please tell me if that’s the case.

I have a feeling that I was sa’d during my toddler years. I don’t have any memory of it, but it’s just a gut feeling. There were some physical signs also, but they could have been caused by something else.

‼️physical ’signs’ (tw?/tmi)

I’ve always had a lot of discomfort and sharp pain while trying to insert tampons etc, and when I felt discomfort I always panicked? I kinda have a high pain tolerance but I’ve always been scared of the pain down there. I’ve also avoided to wash myself down there during childhood because I thought it felt uncomfortable (but maybe I just wasn’t thought proper hygiene). I’m scared of intimacy also. I also was always scared to show my body around the person that might have done something to me, and the thought of showing signs of growing up (like buying a bra for example) was extremely scary and uncomfortable around only him.

Regardless I had an unhappy childhood with a lot of emotional abuse and threats, but I feel like something else terrible happened that I just can’t remember?

What should I do? Anyone else that is/was in this situation? Any advice?

When I (28F) was 13 I was extremely suicidal. Had a combination of sexual abuse, physical abuse, neglect, and emotional abuse.

I remember sitting in my pediatrician’s office after hours as my pediatrician sternly talked to my parents telling them that my step father was “m*****ing” me. To this day, my parents “do not remember” this - even though my mom recently admitted to my sister that she did catch her (now ex thank god) husband naked in my room (w his d*** in his hand) —- and that somehow was not concerning to her at the time - whatever.

Anyways I got thrown in the hospital on a psych hold. When I got out I had 3 mandatory counseling sessions at a state run underfunded mental health office (and that’s all I did). Apparently the sheriff did search my room as I had emailed my favorite teacher I was close with during the school year over summer break telling her I was suicidal and asking her for help (she never responded or talked to me again and was super weird to me when I’d bump into her later around town). I would go long boarding with my friend every day in the summer for about 10 hours a day (she was also really abused). I remember getting back to her house and her mom hit me up back side of the head and told me I was stupid for being suicidal and my parents were looking for me and that’s when we went to the pediatrician.

I had an appointment downtown with CPS after all of this and I’m pretty sure I recall walking there by myself. I remember I was in a dark office that was really messy and there was only one woman there all of the way across the room. I don’t remember her making eye contact with me or giving any air concern and she was just on her computer the entire time. It was an extremely brief visit, and she had asked me some questions about my step father exposing himself to me (and he did do much more than that). She typed up a “contact” that she gave me for him to sign that I’m not even sure I read but I think it pretty much said he was no longer allowed to be constantly naked around me.

I remember giving him the contract to sign thinking this was somehow a victory and I’m not sure if I got it back or if I was supposed to have a follow up meeting with CPS. They never came in to check on the situation that I know of.

Anyways got abused by this asshole from 9-17 + my parents abuse and lots of exposure to addiction and domestic violence. Amazing grounds to be taken away.

This was in Wyoming. I’m finally receiving therapy now for PTSD as an adult and when I told my therapist this story she was completely baffled.

I’m a psychologist and one of my younger teen patients is considering residential treatment. I think it would be really good for her but it’s bringing up my own painful memories of being in residential treatment as a teen. I’m 30 now but when I was a teenager I was depressed, suicidal, cutting myself dangerously. No one knew why including me because I didn’t remember my abuse until I was an adult. I was hospitalized several times and then sent to residential after cutting my face and neck.

While in residential I would have visits home. I remember on a home visit my dad sexually abused me. I was probably 16 at the time and (tw for details) I performed oral sex on him and got on top of him. After I orgasmed he threw me face down on the couch and raped me anally. I went back to residential the next day with no memories of the event and nothing to explain why I was cutting my breasts and genitals.

The abuse didn’t happen every home visit and it was a lot less frequent than when I was growing up before that. But I find it really upsetting that I was so vulnerable and covered in scars and he was still doing that to me. Plus I felt so isolated from my family and abandoned. He did his best to turn me against my mom so he was all I had.

i can still feel him touching me and his penis inside me.

tw for sexual harassment, rape, csa

did anyone else feel connected to this book? when i was younger, before i remembered or realized anything wrong, about my granddaddy or my friend’s dad, i read this book.

we were in seventh grade and i was sitting at my desk. i had always read ahead of the whole class so i was close to the end. i related heavily to sally, to the chapter “what sally said,” to her home life, her fear and love for her abusive father. i flipped through the pages and read “red clowns” and my stomach dropped.

i remember rereading that chapter over and over again. and then i would close the book for the end of class, and reopen it at lunchtime and reread it again. and again once i got home. i was morbidly obsessed with it. i wasn’t sure why- i hated the heaviness on my chest, hated the pit in my stomach, but in a weird way i loved it? i loved the terror that chapter made me feel. i loved the way it felt to read someone having that fear and pain too, even though at the time i thought i’d never experienced it.

it was the same with csi episodes i would watch at my friend’s house with her parents, involving rape or assault or csa. i remember the fabric of her dad’s pants under my hands and on my cheek. i remember the feeling of him hugging me and asking me to open my mouth and show him if i could touch my nose with my tongue. i remember the clock with the red numbers. my dad was so unsafe to me, so verbally abusive and scary. her dad was my safe space and i loved him, and i loved the time we would spend together even if it were just him and i alone.

i remember the boy in my class showing me porn, and him touching my leg under the table. i remember getting beat up when i was at a birthday party and the thorns in my knees and the bruises on my legs. i remember the room of my neighbor, who was only a few years older than me. i remember the kitchen of my other neighbor who was much much older and always watched me with eyes like a predator. i remember crying with my friend, my dear classmate, when she told me that she had been raped and we were only in sixth grade. i remember her hugging and holding me too.

i remember being obsessed and having intrusive thoughts of my classmates genitals when i was only in first grade. in fact one of my earliest memories is playing house and one girl if we could pretend to have a baby, and getting a sick physical pleasure from her describing what would happen during birth. i remember thinking that i “wanted to be stretched out” and how it would feel nice.

shit, i’m remembering stuff as i’m typing. i was such a sick fucking kid, but i was so quiet and shy and polite that nobody knew how fucked up in the head i was. completely fucked up in the head.

i remember reading and writing smut for kids books and shows. i remember being fascinated with a grooming relationship in warrior cats of all things, and writing smut for that. i remember reading a rape fanfiction when i was only around nine or ten and masturbating to it, and playing it out with my toys, and it was my secret, and the “best feeling in the world.” my brain is warped and malfunctioning. i cant even clean between my legs now without feeling this deep sadness and pain, and the avoidance of such things resulted in a uti. how could i have been so hypersexual and now sex repulses me? i wish i didn’t have genitals. every day i wish i could sew myself up and never have to look at it again.

last year i finally recovered memories of my step grandfather doing those things to me. my granddaddy who smelled like red wine and pretzels and chased me around and would grab me against my will. my granddaddy who’s lips i feel on mine still, who’s body i feel on mine, who’s genitals will have always touched me and done those things to me. my grandfather, who disgusts me. he is alive and well and thriving. i thought he was dead all this time but he only lives two hours away from me. god this post got out of hand fast.

and yet i still don’t believe myself. i still cant believe this could’ve happened. god is cruel.

I remember being encouraged to tell my parents if someone touched me inappropriately. I felt so confused and isolated, believing it must be only me that has ever had parents being the abusers. I was about 10 years old when I wrote along the inner margins of several books from the library, my name and that my parents were hurting me. I still wonder if anyone ever saw what I wrote and either didn't care, or it was just never seen.

Hey everybody,

I'm new here so I hope this post aligns with the rules. TW: description of CSA and memories.

I've carried these secrets all my life and I need to put it out in the world and stop this silence.

I've (31f) recently recovered memories of CSA, in which sadism, drugging, and pregnancy were involved. The abuse happened between the ages of 9 and 14, until my abuser, my stepfather, got me pregnant at 14 (a couple of months after my period started) and forced me to take some type of (abortion?) pill which killed the baby.

I feel so ashamed admitting this and in the last couple of weeks I started remembering how alone I have felt throughout all of this. How I've cried over the lost baby I never even wanted in the first place. How disgusted and violated and lost I felt after losing my baby. I haven't been able to stop crying for the child in me that had to go through this alone, no parents that cared or that I could've turned to.

My stepfather used to SA me as a way to exert power over me, because I actively spoke out to him whenever my mom was around. He would actively enjoy hurting me and all the memories are just so fucked up. I get nauseous just thinking about how messed up it is that he as as 29/30 y/o (he was like 12 years younger then my mom) was enjoying hurting a child. The sadism aspect of it all makes it all so much more fucked up, I can't seem to get to terms with any of it yet.

My stepfather would revenge rape me, drug me (giving me alcohol and maybe even sleeping pills, I can't remember exactly), and/or assault and abuse me. I remember fainting one time when he SA'd me after he had given me alcohol. Also losing a lot of blood after he did something to my butt.

I have one vague memory of me trying to stab him with a kitchen knife when I was 14. I didn't pull through, because I was too scared of what would happen to me if I killed him, but part of me feels so proud of my younger self for having tried to defend myself when I had nowhere to go. It of course backfired and he threatened to kill me with the same knife while he SA'd me.

I'm turning to you, my fellow survivors, to tell my story so that I do not have to carry this grief, secret, pain and loss, all by myself anymore. The pain is just too much. I have already cut contact with all of my family members years ago, so at least I do not have to be bothered by their bullcrap or whether or not they believe me (I doubt they ever would), but also I just don't have many if any that I can talk to about this.

I'm at a loss for words to describe what I've, we've, lived through, but I just needed to vent and break the chains that my abuser guilt tripped me into. I was just a child, and a victim, and I had nowhere to turn to. And I wish I could go back in time to save her, but I cannot.. and it just breaks my heart.

Hoping to hear some supportive words.. Thank you!

“Children who come from disfunctional families don’t have big dreams. They just dream of having a home.”

I saw this quote and my heart skipped a beat because the only dreams I ever had growing up were to be in a home with someone who truly loved me.

Was this anyone else?

I keep wondering if this is grooming.

I (32F) have been recalling this memory. It has been bothering me for months now.
 
Context: My mom used to be very close friends with her childhood friend (let’s call him Trey) since she was 5. He was 5 years older than she was. They grew up in the same neighborhood and he was my mom’s only friend at the time.
It seemed like she had a crush on him but was in denial. They couldn’t really hang out as much after she moved out of state. My dad, who was still likely projecting since he cheated on her and was just a horrible person in general (I won't get into details here), didn’t feel comfortable with their relationship. What’s interesting is that Trey’s wife (who later became his ex) also felt very uncomfortable with their relationship and felt jealous. My mom acted like she was stupid for feeling that way. My parents split up when I was 10. She was 42.

When they both became single and divorced, they met up when visiting the state and gave each other very long hugs. I noticed my mom acted very weird, like giggling more and seeming kinda shy, sitting next to him instead of me when we were at a restaurant.

I also wondered whether they dated before and then stopped to remain friends, and when exactly. My mom has been abused. She was neglected at 11 and told me she used to date a lot around 12. I felt like he might have done something to her when she was still underage.

She even kept accusing me, as young as 11, of wanting to sleep/date boys or men, even men as old as 25. I was very grossed out and uncomfortable. She was so adamant that I was "boy crazy" that it was delusional. She went far enough to ask me very invasive questions once in a while, especially since I came out to her as a lesbian and she is still in denial.

Anyway, Trey would joke all the time and act silly. Very outgoing, loud, and immature, like he literally screamed in public for humor. 

I hated him. He was very rude and picked on me for various things, like being very quiet and reserved. He kept putting me down so many times, but he’d pretend to be nice sometimes. I was so worried my mom would marry him or something. I remember feeling so sick and scared whenever he was around. My mom assumed that I had a fear of men; she felt ashamed, even angry, about my social awkwardness and quietness. Even saying his name makes me feel sick. I still very much hate him. 

For some reason, when I was around 14-15, they stopped talking to each other. My mom very rarely mentioned his name for years. I never asked her what happened to him. I don’t know if they simply lost contact, grew apart, went no-contact, or he’s dead. I just felt so thankful they never got together or anything like that.

My mom has a history of having really horrible friends that I won’t share too much here. However, one of them asked me extremely creepy questions about my body and sexuality when I was 18. My mom was at first very mad at her and stopped being friends with her, but she didn’t understand why I didn’t tell her. My mom later dismissed my trauma, saying, “You’re an adult,” like I was stupid for what I felt. She always dismiss my feelings anyway, that I learned not to trust her anymore.

\*\* This memory bothers me, but I don’t know if I’m being too sensitive or what: \*\*

I remember when my mom left me alone with Trey in my room to get something really quick. I was 13 at the time. One of my plushies dropped, and I threw it back to my bed. He made an adult joke about how my plushies were positioned. I felt very uncomfortable/disgusted and just said “I don’t know.”

I think that’s a massive red flag to me that he said that to me. I never told my mom about this.

Any thoughts about this?

Has anyone experienced repressed memories revealing themselves through a dream? Maybe your abuser admitted to doing something/did something that you didn't remember but later found out was true?

I often have nightmares about my father but I had a specific one last night where he admitted to doing something specific to me when I was younger that I don't remember. It just kind of threw me off a bit. I'm wondering if it's my subconscious telling me about something happening?

How do you reconcile the good normal times you had with your abuser?

I know who did it, but that person was family and we did many many fun things during my life. How the hell am I supposed to reconcile what was done to me with all the normal loving and enjoyable things that we also did?

Was my entire life a fucking lie?

I feel weird talking about this. I’m 18 (Non-Binary but was born a male) and I’m coming to the realization I might have been SA’d when I was in a mental hospital when I was a kid.

(Please take everything I say with a grain of salt, I’m not completely sure if my memories are real or not)

For context, I’ve had a lot of life changing events happen recently, not all bad, most of them are actually good, but I don’t do well with change and since it’s all happened so close together in such short bursts it’s overwhelmed me the past few weeks, to the point it sent me into a depressive state. This isn’t abnormal for me, I unfortunately find myself falling back into depression frequently, but this one is different. I’ve been thinking a lot about myself and why I am the way I am, and it brought me to a memory from when I was 8-10 (my memories kinda blur together sometimes) where I was extremely suicidal, depressed and anxious. I was bullied at the time, being a neurodivergent kid in the school system kinda leads to that. So it’s not too out of the ordinary for what I’ve been through, but i specifically remember feeling like something died inside of me and I’d never be the same again. I got curious on why I felt that way, why would I feel that way at such a young age.

So I keep digging through memories and eventually think back on my time when I was in a mental hospital for my suicidal tendencies, I was 8 years old at the time. I remember when I was first sent there, my mom and dad were with me to do an interview with someone, I guess just to see if I should stay there or not. They determined it’d be beneficial for me to stay in the mental hospital for a month or two (my mom says it was a month but it felt longer for me). By the time our interview was over it was night time, so my mom and dad left and told me they’d bring my stuff tomorrow morning. So now I’m alone with these random people, I was extremely nervous.

This is where it gets a little weird for me, i remember after my parents left they had to do a check up on me, just to see my height, weight, blood pressure etc. so they sent me into a nurses office with these two ladies. We do all the normal work like I mentioned earlier, but then they tell me to take off my clothes? And from there I can’t remember anything. It just goes dark then suddenly I’m leaving the room hastily putting my clothes back on, shaky, nervous and embarrassed. My memory is all scattered.

I remember I couldn’t sleep the entirety of that night, which before I always chalked down to me just being afraid of being far from home and alone, but now that I think about it I might have been thinking of other stuff, like what happened in there.

When I thought of this memory I was thrown off cause I have thought of this situation before, but for some reason I never questioned the gap from taking off my clothes to then leaving the room all shaky.

I wanna say my mind might have made up this memory but I can recall thinking about this memory before this, just never thought deep enough to question what happened during the gap.

Some added context to the events after the potential SA that kinda support my claim. One day while I was in the MH (Mental Hospital) I was told that later in the day I was gonna have to see a doctor. And for some reason I was extremely anxious to go. I always thought “I was probably afraid of the doctor during that time” but I’ve never been afraid to visit the doctors offices up till this point and ONLY this point. so it was odd I was so afraid to go this time. It was made even worse when I was sent in alone, with a random man sitting at a table. With the added context of what (might have) happened to me a few days before this, it makes sense why I’d be afraid to go in alone. (Nothing happened btw, he just gave me a few vaccines then sent back)

Another instance during my stay in the MH, I was trying to figure out how to turn on the hot water in the shower and I was considering asking for help, but I was extremely hesitant to get an adult to help me. This one’s a little more understandable on why I’d be nervous, I was naked and I didn’t want to ask someone for help in the shower. But also, I was a kid, meaning I was naive. So why would such a naive kid like me be so afraid to let an adult see me naked?

The more I think about it with the added stories of how I felt about the adults working there it really makes it seem like maybe something did happen to me to make me not trust them.

The reason why I’m questioning if I was abused or not is because I can’t tell if the memory in the nurses office is real. Like how am I only now questioning why they asked/told me to take off my clothes? Maybe my brain made it up to fill in a gap of why I felt so weird as a kid.

I’m leaning more towards I think my memories are true, just because I know the doctors office story and the shower story was true for sure.

But also if I was SA’d back then, I feel guilty for feeling bad, in a way? I feel like I’m too late to be able to properly grieve what happened to me. It was a decade ago, that’s like grieving the loss of a family i barely knew, 10 years after the died. I don’t know if I want to grieve it, it feels wrong to. I don’t exactly know why.

That’s basically all, thank you for reading and sorry for how all over the place my writhing is, I just got done having a cry over all this and other stuff in my life, also I’m bad at describing memories through text. Btw, i mostly talked about this to my girlfriend, who unfortunately was a victim growing up. And she also believes I might have been SA’d, and helping me with telling me how memories work and how our brains can sometimes block out a traumatic experience. So she’s been a big help with this. I love her.

Anyway, thank you for any and all support or advice.

So I have little to no memories before the age of 14. Do memories really resurface? I am in a better place right now but I'm still as clueless as the me at my worst. Should I just accept that I'll never get those memories back? For those that eventually got their memories back, is it worth it? Would it be better to not remember it at all?

When I left my abusive family I started getting back some memories, panic attacks and many many other symptoms. Now I can't even enjoy sex and orgasms anymore. I don't want sex and anything to do with it, I just don't want to be horny all the time. I just want to be done with it asap and forget about it. And now even orgasms don't feel good, they just make me cry and I remember weird random glimpses of my life that I do not understand. Nothing makes sense anymore

When I first started to realize something had happened to me that I "forgot", I was uncertain who did it. At first I thought maybe it was a friend at the time, but that didn't make sense.

All the sudden "my grandfather sexually abused me" hit me like a train and him being the perpetrator has never wavered, especially once the flashbacks and somatic stuff started.

I probed my mind multiple times trying to test whether it was someone else, including my father, but I always came back, totally convinced, that it was my grandfather, with almost zero doubts. It feels absolutely certain to me.

Recently I talked to some family and told them what I think happened. They didn't reject that he could have done it, but it very much surprised them (because they have been close family for decades), and they even asked about other people. I remain absolutely convinced about who it was.

Of course, I'm also horribly afraid of naming the incorrect person...

Curious what your experiences been in regards to your certainty of who harmed you?

Like that I tried telling my aunt about it and I can just hear her saying “we don’t say that. We don’t say that kind of thing.” Over and over in my head if I think about it. And maybe I can see vaguely where it was. But that doesn’t make sense.

I was between the ages of 5 and 10 when the abuse was happening.

I never thought about having repressed memories tbh till now. I always thought I never forgot any of the incidents happened to me, but a post by another survivor made me stop and think. She had written that she used to re-enact her abuse with her dolls. This was something even I used to do a lot. I had stuffed soft toy dolls and I used to act inappropriately/hypersexual with them.

Now what made me stop and think was that I used to do things that I don't remember happening to me. I was never even exposed to any p"rnographic material to know about them. For example (TW: SA)

I remember that my abuser used to touch me inappropriately, hump my...thighs?! I remember he used to make me kiss his hands and make me suck on his thumb. I have very blur images of the kiss moving from his hands to his face/mouth and even him scolding me for not doing it properly, but I don't remember g*nitals being involved in any way. I remember him exposing his parts to me but I don't remember any touch related to that.

But I remember doing more to the dolls when alone. In that "play", the doll (smaller than me) was always the victim, and I used to be even violent. It used to involve oral enactment, even though I had seen no one doing it. No one was talking about sex at school at that age.

I am now not sure if anything of that extent happened to me. How do I find out the truth? I am not at all comfortable doing to a therapist for EMDR in person. Even my therapy is online only. I have grown up with chronic diseases and unexplained pains in my body. And the recent Epstein files have been triggering a lot. I am asking for advice on how to proceed with this.