Sexual abuse is a surreal experience in my mind. I used to ask myself if I was really abused or imagined it. I am fortunate to be in a constant state of healing over the years, rather than let abuse continue to drag me down. That isn't to say I only have good days, there are bad days too. In moments of pain or confusion or anger I remind myself to be bold and make a stand. When I say, "At this moment I am hurting over the abuse of my past" really helps me to let go of the past while acknowledging my whole self at that moment. Some days are hard, and I wonder how I can make a difference in this world. There is hope, and hope is within each one of us. My heart goes out to each one of you, and I offer the hope within myself to you too. By holding hands with our own pain, we can then hold hands with each others pain and heal together. Today I am planting seeds of love and hope within my heart, and I am scattering them in your hearts too. The seeds will grow whether you water them with tears of sadness or tears of joy.
by Allyon 17 Feb 2006
I know it sounds stupid, but I never really thought that real people were raped; they were always fictional characters in magazine articles or faceless silhouettes on TV shows. So, looking back, I guess I just always took my mumís worrying with a shrug and casual nod any time I went out clubbing or drinking with my friends. Probably like most of my friends still do today. The night it happened, I was still in a post-break-up/teenage phase of drinking too much and having a good time with my girl friends. I was 18 and probably quite naive. I had only ever had one serious relationship before, and it was a happy, respectful one. There was never any pressure to go the whole way, and we never did. We were both young, and things gradually came to an end in our relationship anyway, before we took that step.
It happened at a school friendís birthday party, surrounded by the people I had grown up with through high school and 6th form. I felt totally at ease, in a fun and giggly party mood with people I trusted. I had only gone out with a fiver, but friends bought me drinks, as we always did whenever one of us was broke at the time. This is including the guy that did it. Yeah, we were friends, we had gone through high school together, been in the same classes, shared jokes and songs together in the past, celebrated each othersí birthdays. It makes me sick to think it now. I can literally feel it in the back of my throat as I write.
This guy bought me quite a few drinks throughout the night. We danced, got a bit flirty due to the alcohol, and kissed on the dance floor. I donít actually remember this bit, I was too drunk by then, but a couple of my friends filled me in days later. Anyway, he then took my hand and led me outside ďto get some fresh airĒ and I foolishly followed without a second thought.
What happened next I can only remember in pieces really, painful flashbacks in my head like something from a horror movie and two things that he said that will stick with me like a never-ending echo: ďsuck my c*ckĒ and ďyouíre over him now, arenít you.Ē It wasnít a question, and I can only assume he was talking about my ex, who he had always been quite good friends with as well. I could hardly stand, never mind cry out. All I could manage was a feeble slur ďowĒ when he was doing it, slumped against that cold brick wall with my tights and underwear pulled down as he had left them. I didnít even know what was happening until I felt the sharp pains. It knocked the breath out of me. When he finished, I think I must have gone straight into shock. I numbly pulled up my tights and he took my hand and took me back nearer to the entrance of the building, then told me heíd see me later and left. One of my friends came up to me looking worried. Apparently people had been looking for me for ages. I blurted out what happened. She had no idea what to do. I wouldnít have had either. She hadnít been drinking that night so that she could drive, and the pre-arranged plan was for her to drive five of us to a club in town after the party. I sat in the front with three others behind us. Apparently my mum called my mobile at that point to check up on things, and I answered it and sounded normal. I almost didnít believe my friend when she told me about that after. I have absolutely no memory of it whatsoever. Looking back, I know I was in total shock.
My friend didnít know what to do; she asked if I wanted her to take me home, I apparently just shook my head numbly, so she drove to the club like she was supposed to. I feel so bad for her now. She must have been at such a loss as to what to do. I didnít speak a word the whole time we were in the car or in the queue for the club, just stared straight ahead, not seeing anything. When we got inside I burst into tears and we told my other friend what had happened, and they took me back to her house. We went to bed.
Next morning I lay there with my eyes open for god knows how long. My friend made me call the doctors but they were closed because it was the weekend. I hung up and told her I had to get home. As soon as I was home I told my younger sister, who was 16 at the time. I was so frightened and humiliated; I just did exactly what she told me to. I couldnít think. She was so good. She took me to get the morning-after pill, which we had to buy from a shop in town, and looked after me all day. My mum and dad noticed something was wrong with me later on. I told them I didnít feel well. Later in the evening I told my mum with my sister. I think itís one of the hardest things Iíve ever had to do, but somehow I choked out the words. She was hysterical, distraught. She called the police, and they confirmed it could be classed as rape, and it was up to me if I wanted to press charges. There was no way I could make any decisions, I just cried. My mum told my dad the next day for me, I couldnít do it again. My sister slept in my room with me for the next few nights; I just didnít want to be alone.
I felt so sick, humiliated, ashamed, angry, and alone and frightened, despite people being there for me. There were only a very few people who knew about it, including my ex and another mutual male friend. They had taken the guy home, as had been planned before the party. My friend told me that in the car the guy had laughed about it. Thatís how they knew something had happened. Later on I told my male friend about it. He said he hadnít realised, so I donít know what the guy actually said to them. He denied it was rape though.
Apparently my ex didnít know who to believe, he was torn between one of his best mates and his ex-girlfriend. It killed me that he was still in touch with the guy, still spoke to him. Months later we talked about it to each other directly for the first time. To be honest I donít even know today exactly where he stands with it, even though he did apologise and tell me he was there for me. I donít think I want to know though. It would destroy me if I found out he was still friends with that evil, twisted son of a b*tch.
I trusted that guy. We had all been friends. I was so deluded. He had a bit of a reputation with girls, but I always thought he showed a different side of himself to me. It was like he was a bit of rough with a soft side, and I trusted him. Obviously I was stupid and wrong. He has caused me more pain than I ever thought possible, and I wait for the day that he gets what is coming to him, what he deserves. Since this happened 11 months ago, I have caught glimpses of this guy a couple of times, when I have been out in town at home, back from university in the holidays. I donít think he has seen me. When I saw him, even for those split seconds, I froze for a second, numb with fear and went stone cold all over, feeling like I was going to be sick and faint at the same time, then turned and ran to the nearest toilets and locked myself in a cubicle, shaking all over and crying. It makes me sick that I had to see him again when he should be in jail for what he has done to me. But itís my word against his. What can I do.
Everyday I think about what has happened in some form or another and I donít think it is going to go away. They say ďtimeís a healerĒ but as the months go on there are always going to be those little things that remind me of him and what he has done. A million different things can trigger something and Iím brought back to that night in a second and it hurts so much. Without fail it leaves me feeling so desperately alone and helpless again. No one knows what to do or say, and it is so frustrating, because I donít even know myself what I want them to do or say. I feel guilty, too, that they have to hear about it. It sounds ridiculous.
Sorry this is so long, I had to get it out. Iíve never tried doing this before, but after reading othersí stories, I hope that it is going to at least help me try and let it go. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.
by Anon girlon 13 Feb 2006
One of my first memories is when my brother molested me. I was about four, I think, because I wasn't yet in school (which I entered when I was five). My parents were never home, my mom was always working, and my dad was always out getting hammered. He babysat me everyday, and everyday I would come home from the daycare (or school, once I started attending) and I would be forced to take my clothes off. He molested me almost everyday until I was in fifth grade, because by then he had got his girlfriend pregnant and moved out. The last time he molested me, his pregnant girlfriend was two rooms away sleeping. A few of my friends know about this, but that's all. Since then, I have horrible nightmares and freak-out attacks. I am slowly coping with it and everyday it gets better. I survived, although barely, and am now telling this story to give others hope.
by To whom it may concernon 6 Feb 2006
My name is not really Joe, but I am a 15-year-old guy. I will admit that I was not looking for a support site when I came across this, but it was what I needed.
I wasn't raped, nothing violent, not older sex-hungry people taking advantage - just a disturbed brother. I have never talked about this, and I probably never will again. When we were younger, he would ask me to play "doctor" when my parents weren't home. Basically this entailed him pulling down my pants and, playing with me. This still kind of bothers me sometimes and I wish that I had the courage to talk to my parents to get a therapist. Thank you to whoever created this site, I needed to say something.
by Joeon 6 Feb 2006
I had no choice, I had to submit myself to do IT. He had a knife and held it up against me as he pushed me up against my bedroom wall. It was my mum's friend, we all trusted him. For years he had been manipulating me getting me to do things I didn't want to until one day he raped me. I was feeling all sorts of emotions and still am. I feel like it's all my fault even thought it's not. I haven't been able to tell any-one except my one best friend she has been supportive, trying to get me to go to the police station but somethings stopping me. He still comes to my house, as my mum doesn't know i feel sick inside me and queasy I can't look at him. I use any excuse to make sure I am not left alone with him. He phones me up and starts talking dirty. He made me preform such a disgusting act when he raped me. I've thought of telling my mum but with me being muslin I would be putting shame onto all my family, and they would blame me because he is a family friend. I'm scared of what they might say. I pray and pray to Allah that things get better but they just seem to get worse.
Thank you for listening
by Kirren on 4 Feb 2006
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This site is offered for support of other survivors, it is not meant to be a substitute for any kind of professional help. I don't have any qualifications or training in therapy, I am by no means a professional. I claim no responsibility for the use of this web site, use of content, or content of any links leading from this site. If you are in a crisis situation I urge you to contact your local rape crisis center or health care professional.