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I didn’t realize that what happened to me was sexual assault until a few years after it happened. I had always felt weird about it, something was off. Until I was in a Facebook group with a bunch of girls, sharing stories about how we lost our virginity or something, and one of them privately messaged me telling me she was a survivor as well... at first I was kind of confused, it still didn’t register, then after talking it out with her, it hit me... I was raped. It was right before I turned 21. I didn’t drink, but was at a party with several friends who were all drinking. It was after a concert, he was in the band. I had known him for a few years, had always had a crush on him. He’s about 4 or 5 years older than me. He was always so nice and everybody loved him. The party was dying down and everyone left except the people staying there(it was about an hour away from where we lived). We started making out, I was into it of course. But I was a virgin, so when he started to try going further, I told him. He backed off a little, then started again. I thought, I’m 21, I trust him, I like him, maybe I might as well finally do it. So I let him. I got nervous and scared though and asked him to stop. I tried to gently push him back a little. He wouldn’t. He kept saying “just the tip, I’ll just put the tip in.” I still tried to push him back but he wouldn’t stop. So I gave in. Then he kept wanting to go further, longer. I started pushing back again, trying to back myself away. “Just a little more, just a little longer, it’s okay it’s okay.” I don’t remember what I did or what happened after. I felt so weird. I didn’t fully understand what happened. I told my two best friends about it, not all of the details or anything, but they knew I slept in the same room as them so I was just like yeah so I finally lost my virginity, and they were excited for me. Again, we all loved him. I never would have imagined he’d hurt me. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. Back then I thought it was only considered rape if it was a stranger attacking you in a dark alley or something. Not someone you’ve known, you trusted, you liked... but he did. He literally took my virginity from me.

I was a college student working a part-time receptionist job and we went out to happy hour with a group of colleagues. After a few drinks, a smaller group of us went to one colleague's apartment to hang out. You kept mixing drinks and begged me to try them - just a sip, just to taste. I started to feel a little dizzy, and you told me I could crash upstairs for a bit. I woke up in the middle of the night to you removing my clothes and touching me, but I wasn't lucid enough to do anything. I asked you the next day why you did what you did. I was passed out. You told me that it takes two.

Hello, my name is Name and this is my story... The abuse was rather physical, starting at a young age, as early as I can remember. EMDR has taken me back to memories around two-years-old where my dad was physical, large, and just scary. While he was a very abusive man physically, this is about what he did to me starting at 13. The sexual abuse started off simple when I was just a young woman, but it progressed to beyond a living nightmare. This man had not only asked me to marry him and be his wife over three times, he also didn't let me leave after the age of 18 when I tried to move out. The abuse was more than just inappropriate touches, he made me share a room with him after I turned 16, and I felt life was over then. When he started to make me sleep in his room, he then had full access to me and didn't have any boundaries - at all. Many days and nights I was stuck at the house for him because he would let others in the family go out and explore life, while I was grounded so he could keep an eye on me. I was not allowed to talk to boys my age, and if I did, it would make him jealous and angry. I had a constant phone check and had to prove where every text message went. I won't go into the detail of the things he did, but he did everything to me that a man should only do with his wife, not his daughter. I was very scared of this man as he spent every moment watching me and what I did. He even threatened to end both of our lives if I didn't comply, which is something all survivors feel or go through. When I turned 18, I left that night and walked from City, State, to the airport in City, State 2 in middle of the night. I was desperate to get out, and he wasn't going to let me go. When I arrived at the airport and started begging for money, shortly into the morning, I turned around, and there he was. Walking up to me, taking me back to the car. I was too scared to scream out. He was mad at me, and took me back to our home in Citywhere he locked me in his room for 2 weeks where I wasn't allowed to talk to family members, my phone was taken away, and food was served to me. At 19, I tried again. I begged my mom for help and she took me to the City Greyhound bus station and bought me a ticket. She told me to lay low and be careful and sent me off with a wifi capable phone. After 32 hours of travel on the bus, I got a call from my mom stating my dad found out and he was on his way. When the bus pulled into the City, State 3 station, he was there, again, to take me back. I tried to fight this time, after he broke a promise. He told me he wanted to make sure I was safe and promised to go take me to my grandparents. Tired, hungry and needing the ride, I believed him. Instead of going North, he started driving south. I started screaming and he turned up the music, eventually I passed out due to exhaustion and woke up back in NM. I finally escaped at 21 when we moved to TN and a friend, I met out there understood what I was going through. He helped sneak me out of that house one day, and I left with nothing. My father found out where I was again and came to kidnap me again. This time, cops were called, and I went in for protection. My father didn't let me take a single article of clothing at that time when he knew I was officially out of his hands. For the next few years, I didn't know how to navigate life or around my family. I held my story in, carrying shame and guilt for things that were out of my control. I wanted a family, so I tried to pretend things didn't happen and in 2015 I moved back to UT to be around my family again. When I did this, I couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort and ick. I eventually met a boy who let me move in (because I was broke and living with my family wasn't working) and started to help me out. We ended up dating and becoming a relationship and having a little boy. In this time frame, I started making boundaries with my family and telling them who my father was, no one believed me. In 2020 I woke up one day, it was national siblings' day, and I was feeling hurt. I was sad they all took his side and that my 5 brothers, mother, and little sister all believed him over me and called me really bad names. I posted on TikTok about my story, and it started to blow up as many others started to feel a similar way or went through similar things. This was the start of my healing journey. I said, I don't have to feel shame for my past, and I can take control of who I am today. The past doesn't have to define you, but who you are can be up to you. While it was and still is hard correcting bad or unwanted habits, I am grateful for who I am now because of the pain I've been through. Because of the suffering I endeared for the first 21 years of my life, it has made the 32-year-old woman bright and positive. I have spent years in therapy with EMDR, ART, Mindfulness, breathwork, and many other courses through the years have gotten me to the warrior I am today. I take pride in my story, and I own it. I can't change what I have been through, but I can make the changes to better my future and be a better mom for my son. After seeing my mother take the abuse from my father, I told myself I would never be like her. After 10 years of living with my child's father, I have become stronger and recognized the signs of domestic abuse that I too, was going through. After years of triggers, and realizing he is life my father, I gained the strength to go off like I needed. I am now a single mother who loves her son, works with a large corporation in their Behavioral Health division, and creating my own business pathways to help other survivors thrive. I know the healing journey is hard, and it can be hard to start, but you got this. We all do!

he was like an older brother to me; my first best friend from birth, friendship formed from being neighbors. 4 years older than me. when i was 9 he wanted to play a game. he took me into a room away from his niece, younger than me and another close friend. he pulled down my clothes. denim shorts, i remember the feeling of them. once he got in, i had a gut feeling and ran. he let me, and when i went back to his niece, he took her back to the same room. i sat down and couldn’t move. i carry that guilt with me every single day, of not stopping him from taking her. i’ll never know what happened, but i know what he did to me. i would give up myself a thousand times over to go back and make sure she never feels that. i often feel as though i am more scared now than i was back then, as a child. i didn’t have words then for what it was, but now that i finally know what to call it, i can’t say the word without feeling like i’ll break. the more memories i gain, the more numb i become. i want to be a survivor; i want to feel like this isn’t destroying me inside and out. i want to survive.

Why did you have to be so good at manipulating me. You flirted with me in class, you complimented my outfits when I thought no one cared. You told me you wanted to treat me right, and I'm the fool for beliving you? You told me we should go to the bar, so we did. I felt alive, I felt happy and you just wanted me to keep drinking so I did. You took me back to your place and honestly I don't even remember anything. I woke up and, I've got to give you credit, you were smart to say we had sex right away. It blindsighted me, I liked you so much I didn't want to assume the worst. But of course my little paradise I had with you fell apart. A month later you ended things, said I wasn't right and you wanted to be alone. I felt so destroyed but that wasn't even the worst of it. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together. I'm not coherent when I'm blacked out, if anything I'm demonic. I scream, I vomit, I sieze, I am in no way able to have sex but that didn't matter to you right? Because I wasn't someone you actaully liked, I was just a trophy. I found out only weeks after you left me that you and your football friends had made a bet, a stupid bet to see if you could sleep with me because honestly you weren't that cute. So I hope you're happy, I hope you're proud of yourself for what you did. I hope you never forgot your conquest because you have cursed me to never forget you. -Name

I was thirteen. He was my boyfriend. I never thought of it as a form of sexual assault because most of it was online, I blamed myself because I felt as though in the end I was the person in control and no one else could have been blamed. He would force me to touch myself, I was thirteen; I was not ready. It was ongoing for two years. It continuously got worse. I never understood how to deal with it. He had convinced me that he was the only person who cared about me, no one else would want me or even love me. It was a traumatic experience.

This is a interactive blog I created to share my sexual assault story, and my journey to healing. I only hope that others will have the courage to speak their truth. We all have a story and we are all in this journey to healing together.

i was fifteen when the very first boy i dated raped me. and then i turned sixteen, i got into another relationship (with someone i trusted even more than my first ex) and he also raped me. and every time i slept, i thought the rape would swallow me in whole because i didn't feel like i was really living after. however, i'm not their ex. i'm not a rape victim. i'm a survivor. i have a name. and the only thing that'll engulf my shores are the waves of healing drowning my sorrows away. i am in a healthy relatiuonship now, two years after all of that, and i am so proud of myself. i'm working everyday trying not to guilt trip myself over experiencing real and consensual pleasure and at the same time getting justice for myself (in my own way) for the fact that i was too scared to report back then.

I had my first kiss when I was 18, on a post high school graduation trip to Europe. While I was somewhat embarrassed it didn't happen earlier, I felt the experience of having my very first kiss in Paris outweighed the delay. Besides, I was mostly just relieved it happened before college. I didn't want to be *completely* inexperienced. 2 and a half months later, I went to a frat party with a group of friends. I was drunk, like I frequently was on weekends that first year, but not drunk enough to forget. I remember making out with a guy. It was my third kiss, the second one having occurred in a sweaty bar, the kind of place that accepts fake IDs from college freshmen. After that one, with a guy in a blue t-shirt, I wandered around the dance floor, looking for my roommate and friends amidst the hordes of 18 year olds. I felt strange, dirty, and alone. But back to kiss #3. Like I said, I was drunk, but not the drunkest I'd been in that inaugural month of college. I came to the party with my roommate and a group of friends - guys and girls. I remember slipping on the beer soaked frat house floor, and my friends pulling me back up to dance with them. And then I was making out with him. His name was Colin. He was 2 years my senior, a junior studying economics, I think. I can't remember what he looked like really - roughly my height and brown hair, but that seemed to describe every guy at our school. We were making out pushed up against the wall, in public, under the glaring lights. Of course, I watched similar debauchery at nearly every party I attended that semester. One of my friends mentioned she was going to the bathroom, and told our guy friends not to let me leave with him. But I wasn't their responsibility. Before she returned, I was gone. I remember stumbling from frat row back to his upperclassmen dorm, a tall, imposing building. I thought only well connected freshmen were invited in there. We were in his living room, making out on a crappy dorm provided couch. I remember my confusion at the lack of other people. "My roommates are out of town", I think he explained. Or maybe they were still at the party. He suggested we move to his bed. I don't remember walking there, but there I was. He was kissing me, and suddenly pulled my tank top up over my head. I whispered, or muttered, but most definitely said the words "nothing below the waist". My lack of experience seemed embarrassing and juvenile, and left me frozen to what came next. I was laying on my back, and he pulled my pants and underwear off. He went down on me, and fingered me, and I wish there was a way to word that to make it clear it didn't feel good. His fingers hurt, and I tried to pull them out. He retorted, "what, don't you like it?" and continued. Some time later, maybe just after, or maybe upon waking up later that night, I walked to his bathroom. The toilet paper came from between my legs stained with blood. My alarm went off early the next morning - a weekend, but I had to report to my work study job. I was wearing nothing but socks. I fumbled for my clothes, and pushed open the door into the claustrophobic cinderblock hallway. He followed me. "We should hang out again sometime!" he called down the hallway. I stepped into the elevator. In the lobby, I took note of the hickies that covered my neck, feeling dirty and mortified passing the security guard. Was this just what college hook ups were supposed to be like? I wondered. The temperature had dropped overnight, and I shivered in my tank top and shorts on the walk home. I arrived at work on time for my shift, barely, my neck's marks from the night before shrouded in a blue scarf I'd purchased in Europe that summer. I remember my supervisor complimented it.

My parents had never allowed me to date someone before so when they told me they trusted you I was so excited. You made me believe that love was pure and that you were honest in your intentions. I was so young when you taught me how easy it is to be drowned out by lies and false comfort. You used my friends and family against me until I had only your support to go off of. You never heard my cries or my plead to stop. You always did what you wanted. When you wanted. I will never forget you for teaching me how horrid someone can be. Even so, I will heal and grow without you in my life.

Back on April 6th 2019 (yesterday was 2 years) i was dog/house sitting for a family member of mine when on of their family friend came over. He kept having me try a bunch of different alcoholic drinks until eventually I was drunk. Without going into too much detail he took advantage of me. The next morning I woke up feeling so numb and stuck. I eventually told my mom later that night when I was picked up and they kept trying to contact the guy. My mom hadn’t heard back until the next day when she told me he took his life. The wave of guilt and sadness that hit me in that moment felt so unbearable. For the next few weeks after I remember not leaving my bed unless it was to use the bathroom. Then (thankfully) my mom was able to get me put in therapy. Where I was put with the most amazing therapist. After a few months of one on one I was put into group therapy as well. Where i got to meet the most incredible and strong women. Therapy had taught me so much and helped me so much. It taught me (and this goes for everyone who has gone through something like this) that it was not my fault. It taught me that healing isn’t linear. That you’re gonna have bad days months and maybe even years after but that’s okay because that’s still healing. Therapy taught me that I’m strong, but its okay to not always be because we are human. To anyone who reads this I want you to know you are not alone and you’re doing amazing. I’m proud of you. You got this :)

I was married and attending a wedding with my now ex husband. His friend came up to me shoved his knee between my legs, grinder on me and backed up and said, now who wants to smell my knee. I was humiliated and my ex and his friends dismissed me and said that's just how he is. I pushed thw issue and my ex verbally attacked me for telling a guy friend of mine who was taking up for me. I was beaten down emotionally and my ex pushed me to apologize to his friend. And I did. I have healed now, I am able to talk about what happened without fear of what could happen. And that had made me feel powerful.

You are not alone; you are a survivor. Hebrew 10:17-18 You are not partially forgiven. You are perfectly forgiven. Revelation 21:4, "And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away." Joel 2:25, "God can restore what is broken and change it into something amazing all you need is faith. I hope this will be my final chapter of letting go of what on my heart regarding being sexually abused. This has been a journey for the past 40 plus years of my life. Been sick in tired hold it in my heart, I had no one to talk to about the abuse. I held it in for years, one day in late April of 2020 I spoke with name from Men Passionate about Christ that was the first step. The guys from MPAC were there to listen and guide me through the different bible verses. This helped me to get over some of my issues. So I want to say please speak with someone about it and do not hold it in for years or months all it going to do make you sick. It also gives you a flashback from someone abusing you. One thing some people will not believe you that you have been sexually abused ignore them. Try to get help by speaking with someone professional or good friend about it. Isaiah 43:2-3a: "When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you. For I am the Lord, your God." There one question I ask myself all the time, Is why my father sexually abused me for years. I cannot get the answer because he has passed away. I have been doing some thinking for the past month. Trying to find the answer through studying and asking questions. The bad part of my life I will never know the why, so this could haunt me for a long time. I was not prepared to cope with repeated pain and fear of sexual abused. I could not understand the sexual activity that was being done to me. I suffered emotionally for years I experienced shame and self-doubt. Not all sexual abused children will be gay. That goes for both males and females. One of the biggest problems was I never disclosed my sexually abused to anyone. I developed low self-esteem, a feeling of worthlessness, and an abnormal or distorted view of sex. I become withdrawn and distrustful of many people in my life. Sexual abuse is no joking matter, It happens every day in someone's life. It could be a family member, a close friend, or even your next-door neighbor that did this to you. Age does make a difference I was in my early teens when was abused, I had all three. I was too young. I lost my childhood. Here are some stats that I found on the internet regarding sexual abuse of young males and females: 1 in 3 girls are sexually abused before the age of 18 1 in 5 boys are sexually abused before the age of 18 1 in 5 children is solicited sexually while on the internet before the age of 18. Some of my hidden problems when I was growing up were, feeling shame, not being believed, lack of vocabulary, and fear of consequences. The list goes on. Here are some of the Immediate and lasting effects that I had growing up and experienced as a child. Low–esteem or self-hatred, depression, Guilt, Shame, and blame. The biggest problem I had was flashbacks of the images of abuse I still experience flashback nightmares. I have forgiven my father for he has down to me. It did hard to do for so many years. Now I understand forgiveness and peace. In the last three months, I have seen a difference in my life. I feel at peace and the pressure has been lifted off my shoulders. I was a prisoner of my memories, I was lying to friends and family members about everything. I have started making peace with my brother and sister-in-law. For the past year. we had been talking on the phone every Sunday. To all that read this article: I do understand we you are coming from. Some people do not believe in you that you have been abused and some do. All my life there people do not have to believe in God is the only one that will protect them and give them strength. Jesus does listen it may take time but, he is for you. (Quote) Be patient with yourself, over time you might notice small pleasures, small moments that make you feel like you are coming back to some parts of yourself that are not lost. Forgive those who have hurt you, trust is a process, yes but forgiveness is an instant choice of your will. You can begin to reclaim the peace and joy in your life when you can move from the pain. God's Promise to you is….STRENGTH The lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid? I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness. Palm 27:1 Isaiah 41:10 Roman 3: God extends grace to us instead of judgment. Some of my references came from rain.org, 1in6.org, the bible, and Michelle Bowdler author and advocate

Noone has the right to invade your personal space. Rape and Sexual Assault is wrong. Speak up. Report your incident. Get Mental Healthcare. Know that YOU matter and you are not alone. Help is available. Do not keep silent any more. Tell someone. Ask for help and accept it. You are loveable and capable.

When I was 18 I was raped and physically assaulted by a friend of mine at the time. He was 3 years older than me and it was his 21st birthday. It took me a year to accept what happened, and 4 years to get help through counseling. I used to feel a lot of guilt for not getting help sooner and the way my trauma affected other people in my life/people I was in relationships with. I also hated and still sometimes hate the way it affects me 6 years later, but I’m learning that things don’t always go away on their own and it’s okay to reach out for help, no matter what stage you’re in or how long has passed. You will find people who love and believe you, and you’re more than worthy of that. They say skin completely regenerates every 7 years, so by this time next year I’ll have a body you’ve never touched, and that’s comforting.

A little more than a year ago I was raped. It was my first month at college, my first month away from my parents, my first relationship, and it took part of me. The past year has been trying to cope and overcome, and I just want to say, it can happen. It takes time, I mean I’d say it took me a full year to fully process and reclaim myself. But you are strong, your aren’t alone; and you will overcome this.

I was just 3 years old when it started, my mom walked in on my older brother telling me to get undressed to play the love doctor game. He is my half brother so we had different moms. My mom told my dad to keep his son away from me. Unfortunately it continued for 11 more years. He would hold me down, cover my mouth and touch me or rub up against me. He would wake me up in the middle of the night by touching me. He would even do it when my dad was in the same room asleep but I couldn’t move, I was frozen. I fought everything at first but he was bigger than me and stronger than me so I soon learned that I was powerless. I would lay there crying and then I eventually went numb and would derealize. One time, I was wearing a bathing suit and my brother proceeded to tell me that I put it on to tease him. After that I hated wearing bathing suits. We went on a family vacation with my whole family, we were in the lake, and he started touching me in the lake, I couldn’t do anything but freeze. Those are just a few times it occurred given it was almost every day. He did it in front of my little cousin who then thought it was okay to grab my butt and try and kiss me. I came out about my abuse my sophomore year of High school, so about 2 years ago. I spiraled very fast starting high school, I began drinking a lot and getting into drugs to cope. One night, I was at a party and I got extremely drunk and high and was passed out, my ex bf dragged me into this supply closet and raped me. Everyone called me a whore for it and blamed me. I then went on a date with a guy later that year, for Valentine’s Day, he asked me to give him oral, I said no, multiple times, then he forced me, I cried the whole time, and still to this day he sees nothing wrong with it. I was told I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I am still forced to be around all of these people and struggle with my mental health. I have PTSD, Anxiety, and depression, and they have no consequences for their actions only I do.

I am proud of so many parts of college. Of work I have done and relationships I've built. I am proud of the many ways I have reshaped and reimagined the opportunities before me so that I could continue to reach further. But I am back, drawn back again and again to the floor lost in the horrors of what these four years have held. I am angry with professors who didn't know, who kept breaking me more and more each day by pushing me harder. I am angry with the people who surrounded me because I needed connection but the cold hard interactions I found let my fingers slip from the lip of the cliff. And I fell further. It got worse. and each time I catch a new edge I know it can crumble again someday too. I have asked for support sometimes. I have wanted to find love. But I've never felt seen. I grapple with the same things. Stay up all night, lost in memories of hell. I need to be seen. I need to be seen. But for some reason, from the first week of freshman year, all I have been is a body. They have seen me, men. they have taken my softness, my love my heart and left little. I have little to offer for the love I ask for.

I was only 6 years old when I was sexually assaulted. The first time I talked about it with anyone and said it out loud was this year. I'm now 22... that means it's been 16 years later. But I am so thankful to have the support system I do have - the support system who has been strong enough to give me the courage to finally speak up for myself ❤️