My father raped me from the age of 11 until I was 13 years old. When I was 14, after my father pasted away, my mom ex boyfriend’s son raped me. In Feb of 2005 I was raped again from some guy in Florida. Well I have to go now, but hope to write later about it. I am glad it didn't happened to just me. there is a lot more out there like me. Just be strong and keep your head up. Don't ever give up on hope.
by Leslieon 10 Jul 2005
I am an abuse survivor, from the age of 3 years to 18 years by several different people, all male.
Because sexual abuse and trauma leave long, deep scars, some of us still have knee-jerk reactions with our significant other, sometimes not even aware of it. I lost the love of my life because I had refused to deal with not only my abuse issues but also my Bipolar Disorder.
Now I have worked on my issues (you wouldn't believe how I've worked) and I've made a huge amount of progress and for awhile, it looked like it might have worked with this woman, but guess what?
I had a knee-jerk reaction during an argument, and I lost her. She doesn't trust me not to hurt her, and doesn't believe I have the capacity to love since I didn't grow up seeing healthy love.
We may strive to become healthy functioning individuals, but even if we do become healthier, it's still damn hard to have a relationship.
I love you ...always will. She knows who I am talking to ...
Love and Light to all,
by GypsyyWomynon 10 Jul 2005
Hi, well I guess I will just start from the begging. I was 6 years old when "it" happened.
This is a long story, so I will try to shorten it. My dad had left me home with my grandpa b/c he had to go to work. My brothers were at my other grandparents’ house. It was just my grandpa and I. I was in my room playing when my grandpa told me to go to his room and wait for him because he was going to bring a big bag of candy.( I still remember it like yesterday) and to wait laying on his bed. So I went, not knowing that he would be trying to pull something on me. I’m waiting and he comes in, but with no candy. Instead he was holding a bottle of honey and a towel. I ask him where the candy was and he said he couldn't find it. Then he said that it was time to take a nap. He came and sat next to put and me his hand on my thigh. He told me not to move or else. He started at my feet and worked his way up with his hand. He then unbuttoned my pants and pulls them down along with my underwear. He starts to touch my vagina and then he inserted his fingers inside of me. I started to move. Then he says that it was ok, and that my dad knew what he was doing. I was so confused. Then he got on top of me, pulled his penis out and started to rub up on me. I started to cry. He said I better stop or he was going to tell my dad that I was being bad and then he would punish me with the belt. I just closed my eyes and pretended that I wasn't there. I then hear the front door open, and it was my brother calling me. My grandpa told me not to tell them or remind my dad what went on. Because if I did he would make me hurt. Really, my dad did not know. After that day for the next 9 half years I had to put up with him. I couldn't really tell any one. if was scared. I was a little kid. I'm 16 now, and I have just told my first person, which was my older brother. I couldn’t tell my dad b/c he loves my grandpa so much that I couldn't see my dad hurt. So I sacrificed myself to the pain that now has scarred me. Because of this I stared to cut and got into drinking and smoking pot. I didn’t know how else to deal with the pain. Most days I ask myself “Why me? Why any girl, why does any girl have to go through something so horrible, so dramatic, so mind killing that the only way to get rid of the pain is suicide alone or cutting?” It saddens me to know that no slice is going to get all of my bad dreams and memories out and away
I am finding ways to cope with my problems, but just new things keep happening. It’s been nearly 2 yrs since "it" stopped, because I’m not living in the same house as my grandpa anymore. Like I said in the begging, I was going to try to make this short. Thank you for reading, I feel for every single person who has shared a story. Take care.
by renne dixonon 8 Jul 2005
I went to a Christian school in the southeast my entire life. I was 18 and right out of high school. I didn't date much in high school. My sexual experiences went as far as French kissing. Anyway, I decided to take my first semester off from college to "find myself". One weekend, when my high school friends were in town from college, we decided to go to a party. I met a guy there and we seemed to hit it off. My friends went back at the colleges of their choice and I stayed home with my first official boyfriend. Although he is from my hometown, it turned out that he was living in the northwest and was just in town visiting for a while. We dated for that month he was in town and it was great. He later decided to go back out west. He invited me to come with him. I did not have a job and wasn't in school so, despite my mother's pleading, I agreed. At the time I thought it was going to be wonderful. I thought I was in love. So, I moved in with him, thousands of miles away from everything I knew. I was an 18-year-old virgin living with a 22-year-old stranger. The first night I was there he started pressuring me to have sex. I pushed him away the first couple of nights and told him I didn't want to. The third night I gave in. I felt horrible afterwards. I didn't want to have sex and thought it was morally wrong to do it before marriage. We continued to have sex while I was living there. Although I "gave in" before, I refused many later times he tried to have sex with me. But, it didn't matter, he forced me to have sex with him at least twice a day. I remember crying during sex and pleading for him to stop. I thought he loved me so I convinced myself that this was ok. At the time I did not realize this was rape. I tried to rationalize it in my head. Being a Christian, I convinced myself that this was my punishment for having sex before marriage. This was God's plan for me. This went on for a couple of weeks before he started physically abusing me in other ways. He would push me up against walls, throw me to the floor, slap me, and pull my hair. I would wake up with bruises from head to toe. This was a point in my life when I really hated myself because I had always thought of myself as a strong person. Four months had gone by when I told him I was moving home to my parent's house in the southeast. I thought this was my way out. I was wrong. He told me he would kill himself if I left. I knew I had to go, so I convinced him to move back to the south with me. I got on a bus alone and headed home. Two days later he was there, on the doorstep of my parent's house. Of course, during the time that I had known him, I had not told anyone (not even my mom) the abuse that I was suffering. My mother is a warm-hearted woman. My boyfriend told her he did not have anywhere to stay so she let him stay at our house. Now I was living with my abusive boyfriend in my parent's house. I thought with my parent's there it would get better. It got worse. Although my mom gave him his own room, he would come into my room at night and rape me while my parents slept. The rape and abuse continued. After about two months of him living with my family, I decided I was going to break up with him. I told him I didn't want to be with him any more. He threatened to kill himself. He owned a shotgun that he kept in his car. There were many times that he would get it out and put it in his mouth to let me know he was not joking. After many weeks of trying to break it off, I decided I had to leave my parent's house to get away from him (because he lived there). I moved in by myself to a one-bedroom apartment about 20 miles away. I attempted to forbid him from spending the night there. This was my apartment, in my name, that my parent's were paying for. My parent's let me move out on the condition that I would go to college and he would not live with me. I think they realized that our relationship was not good, but they didn't know what to do. Anyway, I did not give him a key to the apartment but he always stayed there. About two years passed. I had received a broken wrist, a minor concussion, and numerous cuts and bruises, not to mention all the psychological damage. One night we got into an argument. I told him I never wanted to see him again (and I meant it!). He threw me on the floor and slapped me in the face several times. Then he grabbed his gun from the closet and a bottle of rum, got in his van and drove off. Because this had happened so many times before, I knew that my words ("I never want to see you again") would have no meaning in the morning. I knew I would find him standing at my front door in the morning. I called a male neighbor I had met and asked him to come over. I told him what had happened and asked him to sleep on my couch. He did. When my boyfriend showed up the next morning my male friend answered the door. My boyfriend assumed I had cheated on him. The next time I saw him was a couple months later in a restaurant with his new girlfriend. All I wanted to do was grab her and tell her it wasn’t worth it and to get out now. But, I didn't. I pray for her often and hope that her relationship with him is better than mine. It has been almost three years since I got out of this relationship. I coped with it with the help of my family and a few great friends. It took a while before I could date anyone else. I feel like my emotional wounds are healing, but I believe I will always have scars.
by Leigh on 7 Jul 2005
Our family had just moved into military housing in VAB. The neighbors all seemed to be nice. We started a "tradition" on the weekends, as the kids played...we'd drink and hang out. One Friday I had way too much and retired to my room, where I made it to the bathroom. I was on my period at the time, and after changing I decided my best bet for a happy Saturday morning with my 4 kids, was to vomit now and feel it less tomorrow. I passed out kneeling at the toilet. I remember a lot of voices around me. Later to find out they, hubby and some neighbors came to talk about me not being able to hold my liquor. I remember telling them to leave me alone and that I was done for the night. I woke up the next morning with my pants to my knees and blood all over my thighs. I knew I had sex, but I thought it was with my husband. After arguing back and forth with my husband about getting what he wanted and leaving me on the bathroom floor, he swore up and down that we had not engaged in any sexual act. So I then started doubting myself and thinking of other possibilities. My friend and my husband said to me that I could go to the hospital to find out if I had sex that night. After doing a rape kit the nurse told me, "I hate to tell you this, but he wasn't nice about it either". There was only one other male in my house that night, my neighbor Rick. His wife and I had become good friends, had coffee every morning together, our kids played day in and out, and now I not only have to think of what that twisted soul did to me as I lay there totally unconscious. I also grieve the lost of a dear friend, and will always wonder if he did this to her daughter too.
Here some of our troops our fighting a battle for others rights to a fear-free life, and a soldier at home has violated one of our own.
by Christyon 7 Jul 2005
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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.