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“You are not alone. It was not your fault. It is possible to heal. It is not too late.” As a survivor of trauma and abuse, I am learning to cope with strategies – such as denial, self-blame, an unconscious reenactment of unresolved traumatic experiences, and normalizing sexual exploitation. When I was hurt being sexually traumatized by my father, secrecy, shame, and self-worth boundaries did not matter. No one could be trusted, and the world was not safe. Emotions from my childhood were complex and confusing. There was no single method or pattern of remembering a traumatic experience. I went through my life trying to satisfy everyone, and always forgot myself, but God blessed me by helping me get through my adulthood trauma. With faith in the Lord, everything comes to light. Yes, good is the light that shines within ones-self, and that makes you attract and remember that any trauma can be overcome, as-long-as you remember that we can teach ourselves appropriately how to feel about ourselves. And, that we all deserve the best. Remember we are born to love, to express love, and feel happy about living. Remember, God has our back, and always remember, He sees all. Amen. I experienced that shame and defensiveness throughout my childhood and all through high school. I kept moving, and I kept attempting to ignore the fact that I had this massive entity inside me which I needed to get out of! Today there are many times I do not feel comfortable expressing my emotions and attempt to cope through self-destructive behavior which then impacts my life. I have finally shared my story publicly, and have started feeling some real, significant relief. I’ve expressed my emotions, and no one has reacted negatively. No one has judged me nor have they thoughtless of me. But now I think, “You know what? My family doesn’t know this about me.” I have been afraid to tell my family for so many years! And, finally, it is time. Here is what I want you to know: If you’ve experienced any kind of sexual abuse or trauma, you do not have to feel guilty! You can forgive yourself, and you can forgive others for their behavior. You no longer need be a prisoner of these experiences. Focus on what you have. That may be easier said than done. But, when you’ve lost something so important, you need to focus on what you have, and make the best of what you have, and do not fall into the trap of self-pity! One neat trick is to find at least one positive thought and focus all your energy on that premise! At first, it may feel too little, but once you maintain focus and all your energy on that one thought, you’ll find coping with the present setting a much more positive experience. Take small steps to make subtle shifts, “The journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step.” – Lao Tzu. Again, in dealing with trauma, healing will not happen quickly. You must remember to be patient and gentle with yourself while allowing the process to unfold. It is important not to be harsh with yourself. Indeed, you’ve already experienced enough. The good news is that there are very effective ways to cope with and treat the effects of trauma. I have found these actions quite helpful. *Lean on your loved ones. Identify friends or family members for support. If you feel ready to discuss the traumatic event, you might talk to them about your experience and your feelings. You can also ask loved ones to help you with household tasks or other obligations to relieve some of your daily stress. *Face your feelings. It’s normal to want to avoid thinking about a traumatic event. But not leaving the house, sleeping all the time, isolating yourself from loved ones, and using substances to escape reminders are not healthy ways to cope over time. Though avoidance is normal, too much of it can prolong your stress and keep you from healing. Gradually, try to ease back into a normal routine. Support from loved ones or a mental health professional can help quite a bit as you get back-in-the-groove. *Be patient. Remember that it’s normal to have a strong reaction to a distressing event. Take things one-day-at-a-time as you recover. As the days pass, your symptoms should start to gradually improve. One final thing: The Sexual Violence Survivor’s Bill of Rights: 1. No one has the right to abuse you or anyone else. 2. No one deserves to be assaulted or abused. 3. You have a right to stop the abuse that is happening to you or anyone else. 4. You have a right to pursue healing and justice for the abuse that has happened. 5. Sexual violence is wrong. The abuser is wrong. People who protect the abuser are wrong. YOU ARE NOT TO BLAME. 6. You did not destroy the family or betray their trust by speaking out about your abuse. The perpetrator destroyed the trust of the family every time he/she committed an act of abuse, Bible Quotes: Isaiah 41:10 "So do not fear, for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." 2 Corinthians 1:4 “Suffering in this life often feels meaningless. Scripture immediately brings a sense of purpose to our suffering. Those who have been comforted by God—strengthened, encouraged, relieved of the burden—have opportunity to pass along comfort to others who are suffering. In that sense, God's comfort is reproducible and repeatable. God remains the source, but believers can keep distributing God's comfort to others who suffer as they have.”

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 :)

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

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.

It was a cold snowy winter night just before the COVID shutdown spread across the country. I was attending the second-year graduate school class reception with a group of friends from the second-year graduate class. My "date" as my invitation to attend that class's event was really someone everyone knew was in a committed long-distance relationship and just using the extra ticket as a fun excuse to invite me as friend. It was a fun time to explore a historic mansion while having food and wine. An hour later, as it was about to conclude, one of the second-year's partners turns to me and tells me she would really like to meet me at a bar, and a group of people from that class are planning to go there. I turn to my "date" and we both agree to go. We drove to the vintage bar, one I never had been to before. I walk in through the snow and ice in my black high heels in a cocktail dress covered by my winter jacket, trying my best not to trip. A cocktail and a few conversations among classmates of my "date" later, I find myself in the corner chatting with the person who invited me to the bar from the reception. Something seemed off from the start of the conversation -- and it only got worse. The 30-something-appearing cis woman was a faculty member, yet seemed to serial date younger, new students at the same professional school -- a fact a classmate mentioned in passing with an eye-roll earlier. The one-to-one conversation with me appeared to go in circles, with her repeating the same stories over and over again without realizing that she was doing so. Awkward conversation, but it would just be a temporarily annoyance, my thought was. Yet it took an even more bizarre turn. She kept getting closer to closer to me as she was talking. At one point, she touched my shoulder, ostensibly to make a comment about how she liked my dress. She was mentioning her professional expertise and connections in the field I was, and still am, most interested in entering. She then started asking me awkward questions about how I was visibly trans, and then mentioned as a complete non-sequitur how she was the dominant "masculine" partner in her relationship. And then, to my horror, I noticed her abruptly lifting the bottom of my dress up and reaching underneath my dress to attempt to grope either my inner thigh...or worse. This wasn't just a slight motion; her hand was fully underneath my dress and moving fast upwards, from what I could clearly see from the brief glimpse I took. I immediately stepped backwards with a wide-eyed look on my face, in total disbelief of what just happened...and what did not happen that was mere seconds away from fully happening. She turned away in a hurry and walked back to her partner at the bar -- who was oblivious to what just happened -- grabbed him by the arm, and made an excuse to request to leave. This was not the first time I had experience attempted or completed sexual assault. Just like when I experienced rape the year of my college graduation, during a different cold winter night years earlier, I remember feeling puzzled, confused, and very much *not* wanting to put a label on what just happened to me. The events of each night leading up to the sexual assault always seem so random and not predictable as they are happening, but in retrospect, it is so easy to attempt to scrutinize every detail as a possible warning sign of what was to come. Yet I do not even want to think about the likely reality that the attempted sexual assault I experienced that night seemed to happen due to being visibly trans. When people think of post-traumatic stress disorder from an evolutionary perspective, it is typically thought of as an adaptive way to avoid situations of future danger. But when you're scared of social events and comments about personal identity, just think of how unpredictable the healing journey is.

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)

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 ❤️

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.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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,

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.

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