Community

Sharing my story in writing for the first time in my life- I am 61 years old now. I got pregnant when I was 21 years old. At the time I was in City - College- My boyfriend at the time and me decided to have an abortion. Abortion in City is illegal. But we found a " clinic" that said that they will be able to help me with the abortion. I remember that morning scare and so innocent. I meet the " doctor: who supposed to conduct the abortion. What this " doctor" ending doing was raping me while I was semi unconscious. I remember very clear all the things he did to me. I couldn't move. I remember waking up and telling my boyfriend, my sister but no one believe me and said that no way I could remember because I was under the anesthesia. I couldn't go to the authorities because what I have done was illegal and I thought that no one will be able to help. My sister stated that she believed me and went and tried to talk to the doctor (I do not remember that, but I do believe her). Honestly, this is the first time I am typing my story and no to many people knows about it. I am working now with survivor with DV and SA no because of what happened to me rather because I think is so important the support can provide to someone who has experiencing this horrific act of violence. Thank you for reading my story,

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.

I was so small and I still have flashbacks.

I was a teenager and I invited a boy into my room late at night. He pressured me, for about an hour, to sleep with him. Within a 15 minute period I remember him asking 10 times. I thought he wouldn’t like me if I didn’t. So I stopped telling him no; he took that as a yes. That was my first time. Coercion is rape. Full stop.

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 was in a relationship when I was 15. He was older than me. He pressured me to do things I didn’t want to. One day he pushed me against a wall after I told him I had to go home and he started to take of my pants and do things to me while I tried get out of there. Unfortunately he was much (physically) stronger than me. He would also hurt me physically. He choked me once (not in a sexual way, he actually wanted to hurt me)

You feel like you will never heal,you will You will never forget but you will heal.. It took years for me to fine my confidence but I have it and will never lose it again...there are curtain things ....like the darkness ,I have nightlight in my house....walked thur hell and came out stronger... Hate roses to this day ,but love flowers... You will one day fine your courage to leave, It took me 17 years ,I did not do it alone had help Was hard ... its been 28 years. I could not save one,but I saved two..I watch my children and now my grandchildren grow and thank God they and I are here ...I am still healing ,but I am now living ... You will heal ...

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.

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 :)

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 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.

Month Day, Year I was raped on my first day of college... then a few months later I was violently raped at my place of work. At the time of these attacks I was not intoxicated and the attacks did not happen at night. In addition I did not say no and I did not physically fight back. I thought for so long that these conditions invalidated my experiences, that I couldn’t have really been raped and that I must have someone brought these experiences on myself. Over the last five and half years, I have done so much to fill my trauma void... stay in toxic relationships, stay in toxic behaviors with food, and struggled finding the strength to continue living beyond college. In less than a month I will be graduating college and not only do I want to live beyond college, but I want to thrive and help others see their strength when they can’t. I wear my scars, whether physical or mental, like wings. While in the moment the trauma I went through was horrifying, now almost six years out these experiences have shaped me in ways that make me realize my strength and my unique ways I can help the world. Right now you may be sitting with fresh and festering wounds, but with time, community support, and vigorous self care and exploration your wounds will turn to scars, which will allow you to soar. Have grace for and faith in your journey and your strength. You are worthy of love and life. You are more than enough. You are needed and wanted in this world to share all of your beautiful gift. With Love, S

Freshman year started with the It's on Us training, all freshman packed into the basketball arena. Jokes about "drinking tea" started then and continued throughout college. He was there. Listening, making jokes about "tea." At the beginning of second semester it happened. I froze but didn't say no until damage was done, I willed myself to speak, say the 'stop' and 'no' that screamed in my mind, but not until he started to go farther did my stillness break. I said no more and he listened. I hated it and it tore me up inside but I thought I was in the wrong. I didn't realize it was rape until five years later. I said okay the first time he raped me, it quickly became not okay. If someone starts drinking tea, they can change their mind and not finish. I froze. Don't force someone to drink tea. And "tea" jokes are rape jokes. Six years later I am starting to heal, to come to terms with what happened. I have healed so much in the last few months. It is difficult and the days aren't linear, but things are getting easier.

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.

We sat next to each other in class. We became friends immediately. But that’s typical your Freshman year of college. One day, these speakers came in to talk about sexual assault on campus. You had your headphones in and were watching a movie. I tapped on your arm and said it was important and you should pay attention. You told me you didn’t need to because it would never effect you. Would you still say that now? I hope it was a good movie. I hope it was so good that you couldn’t have possibly taken a second to learn about consent. I sometimes wonder if anything would have been different with your movie off and your attention on the speakers. Would I still have been raped? These are the the questions that I desperately try to push out of my brain because the answer truly doesn’t matter. What’s done is done and I pay the consequences of your actions. How was your fucking movie? Is it like the sad movie that replays in my brain every day? That movie that’s in black and white? You know the one where you assault me and it takes me months to really find out what you did to my incapacitated body? And I’ll still never truly know. That’s what you can live with because I don’t think I even want to know how far it went. I already saw the bruises on my inner thighs and arms. Did you know that in the ER they re-enacted how I may have gotten those bruises? That image doesn’t leave my head. I’m not sure where I’m going with this. Is it a poem? A letter? Or just somewhere in my notes to vent? Will anyone hear me? I feel like Hobo Johnson when I sit down and try to write about my pain, hurt, disgust, anger, and regret. Again, will anyone hear me? Regret that I ever became your friend. But how was a Freshman girl from a small town in the middle of nowhere suppose to know how to figure of who stranger danger is versus your friend. Because maybe there were some red flags that I missed, but maybe it’s really because I’m nothing like you. I don’t see people and think about the horrible things I can do to them. How could you hurt me like that when you knew how kind my soul was. I’m sure that just made it easier in your mind. Every part of me… the essence of me… made you do something disgusting to me. That’s still not my fault. It’s not my fault that I lost weight and became “more attractive”. It’s not my fault that I am a proud pansexual woman and that became a sick fantasy for you. It’s not my fault that I let you in and you chose to hurt me. It’s not my fault that you became obsessed and possessive. I just wish I never became your friend. When I said to you, “We can’t be friends anymore, I think you raped me”, did you think I’d get over it? Did you think it would all go away? I wish I could get over it and it could all go away. Every second of every day I wish that. If you haven’t figured it out yet, we will never be friends again. I may see you again one day… in a courtroom, but that is it. I hate you. I don’t hate myself anymore. I am healing. I am learning. I am growing. It’s like I never knew who I was until now. And I love who I am. But boy do I hate you. You took away my schooling during my Senior year. I was too afraid to go to my own damn classes because you needed to get off or something I guess. Those are years of my life that I’ll never get back. I could sit there and tell you my story step by step, but that will all come out in court. I’m also tired of repeating it. It’s written down in a journal already. But that’s THE story, not my story. My story started when I was born, but there was a new chapter that began the day I woke up and started to realize what had happened to me. I stood up and I fought like hell. I still fight like hell. I will have my day in court. I will make sure you need to think about this more. Title 9 wanted to protect the school. Not me or you. But I want to protect myself and every other woman you come or may come into contact with. To do that I need to keep talking and keep sharing my story… and THE story. I was 21. I was allowed to drink at that tailgate. You were not allowed to take advantage of my incapacitated body at your fraternity. Fraternity at University. Shame on you for taking advantage of your “best friend” in such a disgusting way. Shame on you for taking advantage of our friendship. Shame on you. Shame on you. Shame on you.

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.

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 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.

It happened during my second year of graduate school. I traveled from Boston to Connecticut to attend a friend's birthday party. I had other friends that I knew who were going to be there, so I decided why not. The party took place in a private room in the back of a lounge/restaurant. Most of the people who attended where either in the same sorority as me, were a friend, fraternity brother, or fellow military officers of the birthday boy. We all were either dancing, drinking, and grooving to the music that was being played by the DJ in his corner. I remember the birthday boy asking me to take a series of drinking shots with him and a few friends---all custom made by the bartender. "Give us your best shot! [laughter] Surprise us," is what I remember him stating to the bartender over the loud music. The two shots we took at jägermeister mixed with a few other liqueurs. Black out. I woke up naked in a hotel room laying on top of and kissing another female friend surrounded by at least four other men in the room. They were encouraging us to continue to make out and grind on one another, including the birthday boy. In the moment, it looked and felt like that scene in a movie where a group of drunk college boys are at a party and egging each other on to do something stupid--but in slow motion. The slow motion became faster and reality sank in. I remember becoming fully aware of what was happening and jumping back and off of her. I remember her passing out. Black out. I woke up again. This time on the floor in front of the hotel bed. He was having sex with me as I woke up from my unconsciousness. I remember looking up to his face and looking to the left of his face realizing that the hotel tv was playing in the background. I remember telling him "no" and "stop" and pushing him off of me. I ran to the bathroom. I was still naked. As I entered the bathroom and shut the door, the first thought that came to my head as I looked into the mirror was, "How the hell did you get yourself into this situation? Is this really you? Are you really here right now?" I started to cry and then quickly reminded myself of where I was at. I then said to myself, "Wash your face. Find your clothes. Find your phone. But don't make a scene." So I washed the darkened mascara off myself. Walked out of the bathroom to find my clothes and phone. I realized that everyone except him seemed to be sleeping and there was another person who was sitting on top of the bed watching tv. The same tv that I saw to the left of him. The same bed that I woke up in front of, on the floor. "Was he just watching this entire time and didn't do anything?" That's what I asked myself. I found my clothes and phone. Phone was dead. After some time passed, everyone started to wake up and I just sat in the chair and waited for everyone to get dressed. We left the hotel room and went to a local IHOP for breakfast. I wasn't sure how to process what happened just hours before. I wasn't sure if I felt safe enough to ask them what happened. I felt disgusted with myself. I also wasn't sure if what I experienced was real. I was hungover. They all were in the military, including the female I woke up in my consciousness to the first time. They drove me all the back back to Boston and dropped me off at home. There was no mention about what happened. Goodbye. I entered my apartment, went upstairs, got in the shower and cried. After the shower, I crawled in my bed. Black out.