Holli's Triumph
Over Tragedy
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Share Your Survivor
Stories
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These are the stories of some very strong survivors of abuse, what
happened to them and how they're dealing with it. Maybe you can
identify with the writers. Maybe you can learn from their stories.
I intend to not stop short of ending the cycle of abuse!
When you're done reading, you can
share your story too.
| Name - Nickname - Email Address |
Sexual Assault, Rape Survivor Stories-HealthyPlace.com Abuse Issues
Community-Sexual Abuse, Physical Abuse, Emotional Abuse
| Foxy1 - valford1@bellsouth.net |
| Comments - I did not love myself. My
husband had rejected me for another woman and what I would later learn was
a heroin addiction. I didn't have a clue. All I knew was he had been gone
for four months. No wonder he left me. I had ugly purple stretch marks and
my stomache looked like a bag of jello after the baby. Sex had been
painful after a difficult birth and the more I tried to sexually respond
the more elusive the orgasm. He made me feel like a performing seal.I
hated having sex with him. It was my fault if he couldn't hold an erection
(drugs, alcohol) I wasn't sexy enough. I wasn't responsive enough.
"There is something wrong with me," I thought. He said so.... I
am a lousy wife, a lousy mother, a lousy lover ...it had to be my fault
because surely it wasn't his fault. Both him and his mom told me so. I
didn't believe in myself. My mother taught me that my perceptions were
invalid. No one told me that if he loved me he would be patient and wait
for me. I felt inferior to others. I could not bring people home because
of dads addiction. Later girls could not stay at my house because of my
dad and lack of a mother in the house. I felt ashamed of him which created
something shameful and inferior in myself. I was embarrased by his
behavior.I felt like I had leprosy. I was abandoned by dad to a bottle and
by mom in death. \ I called an old boyfriend to party and go dancing and
of course, have sex. The very next night the ex was on my doorsttep
demanding to know what went on, as if he had any right to know. I
innocently and defiantly told him exactly what was what. He knocked over
the refrigerator, the stove, broke every window in the apartment and would
have killed me had I not managed to get out the only door to the
apartment. To this day, I do not remember where we stayed after that. What
I remember is his girlfriend saying "I didn't think he would do
anything like this". They called it Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Loud noises still make my stomach tighten up and throat go dry. Little
unexpected things make me startle. It was my fault that I didn't want to
be his dormat. I got a job after the divorce and looked forward to
socializing with other women. They would not have lunch with me because I
was "divorced" when they told me that I went into the bathroom
and cried at work. How could I have been so popular in high school and
turned into such a pirranha in less that three years? I felt like soapscum.
Nice girls did not marry and get divorced. Nice girls did not have sex
outside of marriage. I had sex to see if I could respond normally. Then I
had sex to relieve tension, to be next to a warm body even briefly. It was
easy to pretend that sex was love except it made you feel badly about
yourself after. Love was too risky. I didn't have a clue what it meant to
be loved; after all, I had tried all my life to be perfect so my daddy
would love me and he still had loved alcohol more. It made me feel
inadequate, inferior and unloveable. He was violent. He was abusive to my
mother who taught me to tolerate abuse, indirectly. It was not what she
said but what she did. She made excuses for him. I married a man like dad
although I would have denied it at the time. I loved my dad. So, I was
having sex with multiple partners (losers) cause I didnt love myself. I
looked for love in all the wrong places. I thought that it would heal the
big hole I felt inside of myself, it screamed out in despair. It was a
deep, tunnel where all the scarey things lived. Even during sex that
despair never left. I had sex with my girlfriends boyfriend. It wasn't
personal. I didn't like him. He was there for the taking. So, I took. His
friend figured he should be entitled to a bit of the action. I blamed
myself for putting myself in that situation. Sex deadened my pain just
like someone might self-mutilate, overeat, undereat, do drugs, or
overdose. I had to have sex. It was like a drug fix. I was a sexaholic. I
was always the one who picked them. I was in control of an obviously out
of control situation. I had no choice this time. His friend raped me at
knife point. All I could think of was that I will die, I am trapped, how
will I ever get out of this apartment without him killing me or my child,
ran through my head? This time I had really got myself in hot water. From
bits and pieces of conversation I put two and two together. He was the guy
the police were looking for because he had raped a girl in the park the
night before. He had not admitted to it and I surely wasn't going to ask
him. He broke her nose, her arm, beat her to a pulp, tried to drown her
and raped her repeatedly. She was lucky to be alive. I was terrified. I
would have done anything to stay alive. I had a young child who needed me.
So, I did what it took to survive it. I do not feel badly about that. I
did what I had to do because at that point I decided I wanted to live. A
light bulb went on. I didn't want to die. I didnt know that I had wanted
to die before. Oh, I felt like that when my mother died but I had thought
it had gone away. It was a revelation. I took a shower. I couldn't get the
water hot enough to clean myself. I felt dirty. He went downstairs. The
swat team came in all doors at once both in my apt. and the one
downstairs, and arrested him. The spot lights from the Television News
Camera illuminated the front windows. I stayed out of view, relieved. I
was a coward. I never came forward. I turned my life around though. I
moved out a.s.a.p. I went back to school. I moved to the other side of
town out of fear that he would get out of jail and find me. I thought I
had covered my tracks. About two months later, to my horror, I received a
letter from my rapist. I was terrified that he had found out where I
lived, I had no family to protect me. It was from prison. I was relieved
when I realized the letter had merely been forwarded by the post office.
He went to prison for ten years. I never saw him again. I started talking
to a counselor at school. Logically, I can say it was not my fault that he
chose to act the way he did but in my heart I don't believe that. If I had
known how to love myself I would not have put myself in that position. I
could blame my parents, I think that they really tried but were ignorant
of the effects of alcholism on children. Children were not thought to be
effected by what went on in the home that did not concern them directly.
Obviously, they were wrong. My mother didn't intentionally abandon me, she
had a terminal illness, yet it still felt the same to me. I knew I could
not blame her for leaving me but I hated her for dying. My dad was an
alcoholic he was oblivious to the effect it had on me because he was too
busy trying to deaden his own pain. I think I blamed him because as an
adult he could have sought treatment for his addiction and did not. I
could not control the person I was up to this point but as an adult, I had
the power inside myself to effect changes and make my life better, more
loving and everything I wanted it to be. So, I feel I am responsible for
becoming that person. I know the difference between sex and love. I like
who I am. I have a wonderful husband and I am happy. I think that when bad
things happen to you, that good can come out of them. For me, it really
changed my whole life. I think we all have it within our grasp to be happy
and are capable of learning to love ourselves. Foxy1 |
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| Kenneth Robertson - krob4399@yahoo.com |
| Comments - I am a male victim of
spousal, judicial and mental health abuses. I have Post Polio Syndrome
(PPS) that was (mis)treated as a mental illness at my wife's insistence. I
want to publish my book and poems about my abuse and the PPS. My book
tells how I came through all the abuse and mistreatment through my faith
in the delivering power of God who sent a nurse to my rescue, a woman I
was engaged to be married to when I was forced to marry the perpetrator. I
almost died from the last beating I got from my ex-wife and her family. I
had emergency surgery for it, but I never told anyone what had happened
until the nurse rescued me. You would think that, as an abused husband, I
would be unable to trust women, but most of my friends are women. I do
have male friends, including Leonard Westerman, who with his wife, helped
me overcome the problems the abuse caused. Ken Martin is a rancher near
Moriarity, NM, who is probably my best male friend. These friends are very
compassionate people, and they supported me when I was overcoming the
problems caused by the abuse and mistreatment. Angel, the nurse who came
to my rescue gets the highest honor in my life. Angels have THAT habit
When I was in a doctors care I prayed each day that God be there. Let an
angel with me abide Until I'm happy deep inside. Let something good occur
again And end this judgment of my sin. Roll back the clouds of darkest
drear And please acknowledge that I'm here. My life has lain in ruin three
years, And a river I've cried of tears. In Angelic apparition, An answer
to this petition In the form of a friend, a nurse Saying, "My cousin
shares your curse, Hers is the survivor's sin, Her turmoil rises deep
within. Her accusation's surely false, You'd need only feel her pulse To
see the torment in her mind. This thing, repression, you will find Only
exists within the cult That makes its money on insult." To her my
story did unfold How this deception had its hold, And patiently she did
listen As I glimpsed her halo glisten. Then once again she spoke to me,
"Go back to God, now don't you flee. Don't seek for credibility.
Receive again your sanity." She connected me to my past With
information very vast. Using a scrapbook, now dated, Pictures, letters
antiquated And reminders of that old car I had driven so very far Just to
take her with her brother For a visit with their mother. She arose, left
and closed the door. Would she return? My heart would soar! She made me
happy, that is so, Angels have THAT habit. You know! I enjoy hiking,
camping, backpacking and the humanities, especially the performing arts.
My family of origin was a fully functional one that is presently shattered
because I revealed the battering by my ex-wife, the mental health
professionals and a judge and because of my recent diagnosis of Post Polio
Syndrome. My own sisters do not believe that I had a mild case of
non-paralytic polio. My sons abandoned me in order to protect their family
secrets: the multigenerational abuse of men by their mother and her
family. |
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| Athena - motion@rmi.net | | Comments - I would like to talk with other women who have dealt with abuse/sexual misconduct by their minister. I was abused by my grandfather as a child, and now at age 23, am involved wih my minister who is married and twice my age. It's so nice to be able to write that. I am sick of keeping this secret. I see myself repeating patterns of victimization that I have acted out my entire life. I especially go for the spiritually powerful men. Anyone else out there who does this too? |
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| Stephanie - stephanie_77478@yahoo.com | | Comments - Hi my name is Stephanie I am 23 years old living in Texas. I have not spoken to anyone since I gave my police report because I really hoped it would all go away if I just forgot about it. But I feel I should tell my story to let others know that they are not alone and in hopes that maybe I can help someone. It all happened about 3 months ago. I was shopping at a local mall during my lunch break at work. I went out to the parking garage to make a phone call when a man came from behind me and put a gun to my back. He then proceeded to walk me to his van where he threw me in the back. He then proceeded to tie me up at the ankles and wrists with rope and tape. He then blind-folded me and put tape over my mouth. He drove for about 45 minutes and then got in the back of the van a began to abuse me. This went on for about 2 days, with him stopping the van every 2 or 3 hours. Unsure about how much time had gone by or where I was, he threw me out of the van and told me that he was going to find some fresh meat. I couldn't believe that he was letting me go. I was too weak to walk and my eyes were very sensitive to the sun so I didn't know where I was and just sat on the corner crying until someone stopped to help me. I ended up in Las Vegas.
I don't know what to do. I can't bring myself to talking to anyone and don't really want to talk about it at all but my life now seems to be getting worse and not better. I have shut out everyone in my life and have turned away everything good in my life. But I am now trying to change that and I want to talk about it. There is one thing that I always tell myself and that is...."Believe In Tomorrow."
Stephanie |
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| Stephanie - stephanie_77478@yahoo.com | | Comments - Hi my name is Stephanie I am 23 years old living in Texas. I have not spoken to anyone since I gave my police report because I really hoped it would all go away if I just forgot about it. But I feel I should tell my story to let others know that they are not alone and in hopes that maybe I can help someone. It all happened about 3 months ago. I was shopping at a local mall during my lunch break at work. I went out to the parking garage to make a phone call when a man came from behind me and put a gun to my back. He then proceeded to walk me to his van where he threw me in the back. He then proceeded to tie me up at the ankles and wrists with rope and tape. He then blind-folded me and put tape over my mouth. He drove for about 45 minutes and then got in the back of the van a began to abuse me. This went on for about 2 days, with him stopping the van every 2 or 3 hours. Unsure about how much time had gone by or where I was, he threw me out of the van and told me that he was going to find some fresh meat. I couldn't believe that he was letting me go. I was too weak to walk and my eyes were very sensitive to the sun so I didn't know where I was and just sat on the corner crying until someone stopped to help me. I ended up in Las Vegas.
I don't know what to do. I can't bring myself to talking to anyone and don't really want to talk about it at all but my life now seems to be getting worse and not better. I have shut out everyone in my life and have turned away everything good in my life. But I am now trying to change that and I want to talk about it. There is one thing that I always tell myself and that is...."Believe In Tomorrow."
Stephanie |
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| stacey - staceya33@hotmail.com | | Comments - I am a partner of a survivor. For the alst year my partner and i have been reading and discussing her abuse. Although we have made some progress i am at times frustrated with the progress. I know that these experiences of recovery cannot be rushed along but I am becoming increasingly weary. Recently my partner has begun to open up sexually and while these are occassions are intermittent I have recently begun to close down. My question is, is this normal for partners to go thru this? All i have wanted for the past year is/was to be intimate with my partner and now that it is happening on/off (maybe once a month we are "intimate") I feel like pulling away. I cannot see myself with any other partner, I lov ethsi person very very much but it is beginning to bother me that this has happened. Any advice would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you,
Stacey |
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| Don - donq11971@yahoo.com | | Comments - I have started the discussions to divorce my incest-abused wife. We have 3 beautiful children that we love and protect very much. I met my wife 12 years ago when she was 20 and she is now 32. She has only seen a psychologist for the past 4 or 5 years but things have not improved other than she is on anti-depressants which make her feel and act better. I have not seen much improvement. She is always angry with me but I have not been very good in dealing with this anger. I have either gotten mad back or just stayed silent to avoid the arguments, but no matter what I do or say, it's always my fault. My wife has seen another man behing my back just before I encouraged her to seek counseling 5 years ago. Now she's seeing another man and won't admit it. it seems I have lived with lies all the time we've been together. She can't be accountable for her actions. She does anything to protect herself from being hurt or being wrong by lying or misguiding the truth in her favor. She finally has decided that there is no hope and that I will never treat her right, in spite of my immense love for her. She is definitely not committed to working things our and she is not ready to be honest in the relationship or admit her wrong doings. I have confronted her on the man she is seeing and she still denies it and blames it all on how I did not care for her. I think my biggest fault has been in forgetting that she is in need of help and so I didn't ever think of how I should have acted with her differently because I don't see her actions as that of an abused survivor but as that of a selfish and dishonest person.
I was wondering if anyone there has gone through this or can offer some insight on similar experiences. Coping with divorce is going to be extremely difficult and I'm not sure how she will deal with it. I know deep inside she still loves me and will be affected greatly for this loss, but cannot admit to having a problem. I wish we could see a counselor that is very experienced with matters of this magnitude. Her current counselor is also a survivor and seems to be more interested in mking sure that my wife feels good about herself than making her face the reality of her problems. If anyone knows of any resouces where I can find a good counselor for us, I may still be able to convince her for us to attend some sessions and see how it goes. |
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| Carlos Conrad - cconrad@neteze.com | | Comments - My current partner was raped when she was 14 and endured more than 7 years of sporadic involvement w/ her abuser who also physically abused her. We have been together only 7 months but I am struggling like hell because she has severe mood swings and pushes me away... during pre-mentrsuation almost any touching is repulsive...then when her period comes she is affectionate and loving and relishes all my attention... (she may be abusing me, I realize)
Its more complex than that... but I have little time to write at the moment. Any info I can get would be appreciative. I love her a good dela and would like to be able to supprot her as she is only now beginning to realize the depth of the damage was done to her and how it is affecting our relationshiup as well as many other aspects of her life.
Thanks, Carlos
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| Max - portimax@hotmail.com | | Comments - It all started when I was 7 year old. I was in vacation in Italy and my uncle start touching me. I remember I thougt," wow, this feel good."
After that he aloud me to smoke, drink vodka or other strong beverage and see pornographic films. We had oral sex all the time we see each other. he was 35 at that time and the abuse continue untill I was 14. I do not know if I'm a victim or a survivor. Now I'm sexual addict, I do not abuse my kids and I do not cheet my wife but I foud all the opportunity to see pornographic stuff, and I ask my wife at lease every day to have sex with me. I'm on prozac medication now for help with my sexual addiction and the depression. Sorry for my english but I'm Italian and learning english. |
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| Rachel - r_pike1@iprimus.com.au | | Comments - Hi
My name is Rachel Pike. I am currently writing a book on sexual vilence in relationships. I am looking for information from women sexually assaulted by male partners, be that boyfriend, defacto or husband. I am a survivor of sexual violence by a partner, and have often been frustrated by the way society views rape in this context as not "real" rape. I hope to help change that view and generate more compassion and insight for survivors.
I have a questionnaire to send women interested in participating, and would be very grateful to anyone able to share. Women may use any name they choose. Please, if you are interested, email me at r_pike1@iprimus.com.au
*People could (and should) be wary of sending information to strangers, so please feel free to ask any questions you need to.
Thankyou for taking the time to read this |
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| Lisa - lh218@aol.com | | Comments - For years I suspected that my son was abused by his father. But, I had no proof. I was afraid to divorce thinking that he would get joint custody. Then my son would be exposed to more tiem alone with his father. I took Ben (my son) to an emergency room for physical proof. Athough rectal tears were found the doctor said it could be a large BM that caused it. I hired a PI and for a short time I had hidden cameras in the bedroom. To my dismay, my mom was in a near fatal car accident out of town and I had to abandon the camera idea.
I got myself into theropy for a few years and was diaganosed with OCD (for having obsesive thoughs of my son being molested by his father). I was given paxil for 1 year and saw theropists. Convinced it was a dissorder I seperated from my husband and worried less and less about my son, even when he went with his father.
Four months ago Benjamin revealed to me his father was indead fondeling him, After He grabbed another boys genitals. Luckely I was allerady in theropy, and i had the support from my family and my therapest to help me bring the story to the athorities...It was
touch and go during the investigation. The athorities look at me as a possible abuser as well as my husband. In the end I was belived (becaue I got my son on video explaining what his father does).
Benjamin is now getting treatment but there is so many issues that come up.
How to talk about it to Ben??
Who can I protect him from further abuse by other people? He is so vulnerable because he dosent see these actions as wrong.
Who can I leave him with? What do I need to tell the caregivers.
Now his theropy is revealing more abuse. I feel like Ive hit by a car. Athough I suspected al along I was also in denial Because when it finnaly came out I thought it may have been the only time it happend. That it didnt affect Ben much. Well it did and Im dealing with my feelings that i didnt protect him. Is there a support group to deal with all the issues I am facing. I know im not alone in this situation.
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| Lisa - lh218@aol.com | | Comments - For years I suspected that my son was abused by his father. But, I had no proof. I was afraid to divorce thinking that he would get joint custody. Then my son would be exposed to more tiem alone with his father. I took Ben (my son) to an emergency room for physical proof. Athough rectal tears were found the doctor said it could be a large BM that caused it. I hired a PI and for a short time I had hidden cameras in the bedroom. To my dismay, my mom was in a near fatal car accident out of town and I had to abandon the camera idea.
I got myself into theropy for a few years and was diaganosed with OCD (for having obsesive thoughs of my son being molested by his father). I was given paxil for 1 year and saw theropists. Convinced it was a dissorder I seperated from my husband and worried less and less about my son, even when he went with his father.
Four months ago Benjamin revealed to me his father was indead fondeling him, After He grabbed another boys genitals. Luckely I was allerady in theropy, and i had the support from my family and my therapest to help me bring the story to the athorities...It was
touch and go during the investigation. The athorities look at me as a possible abuser as well as my husband. In the end I was belived (becaue I got my son on video explaining what his father does).
Benjamin is now getting treatment but there is so many issues that come up.
How to talk about it to Ben??
Who can I protect him from further abuse by other people? He is so vulnerable because he dosent see these actions as wrong.
Who can I leave him with? What do I need to tell the caregivers.
Now his theropy is revealing more abuse. I feel like Ive hit by a car. Athough I suspected al along I was also in denial Because when it finnaly came out I thought it may have been the only time it happend. That it didnt affect Ben much. Well it did and Im dealing with my feelings that i didnt protect him. Is there a support group to deal with all the issues I am facing. I know im not alone in this situation.
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| Wayne - apollo33me@yahoo.com | | Comments - I was maybe 4-5 years old at the time when my mother remarried. His name was Richard. He would take me out on fishing trips to the Napa river. There is was quiet and no one else around. Down on the river bank he would force me to preform oral sex on him as he called me faggot. At times when my mother was not home he would pull me into the bedroom and again he would force me to preform oral sex on him. TIme after time my body would betray my mind. Since my mother was a drunk it was the only time I got any attention from any of my parents accept for the occasional whispers in my ears when he called me faggot and letting me know that they had life insurance out on me and that I was worth more to them dead then alive. Even today I hear his whispers causeing me to fill my mind and soul with anger. I use to love to play with play-doah unlit that one fall day when I returned home from school one day to find a dildoe formed out of clay sitting on my dresser to surve as a reminder of his power over me and to force me to remember the abuse he could take apon me at his leasure. Now I would love to take that dildoe and shove it down his throat and make him choak on it. |
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| Becky - beck981041@aol.com | | Comments - I'm 19 years old and not doing so good. I try to kill my self many times. The pain hurts really bad. Here it goes. I was 5 years old and I live in oklahoma at that time. I use to go to a friends house and there his dad would sexualliy abuse me. I didn't know what was going on and I was scare to death that I was doing something wrong and it was my fault. He was a arrest becuase he molested lots of kids from my neighborhood. Well when I turn 9 I was living with my cousin and he not all there but still he touch me in place that I wouldn't want to be touch. then he did again when I was 12. I could tell anyone because he family. They would look at my differntly. I just let the burden stay and lay on me while it was swallowing me whole. I block out most of this for awhile. Then it happen again I was 16 and It was a friend's brother-in-law. I was sleeping over and I was quite a sleep yet when he came down stairs and he start to touch me and I lay there pretending I was a sleep scare to death if I try to do something myself he would rape me or kill me. when I it was over I never went back there again. I still didn't tell anymore. Well one day I couldn't take the pain and more I cut my wrist but not in the rigth spot so I did bleed but no bad. I know I had to talk to someone by then but I couldn't I was scared very scared that They would treat me differnt. I kept holding everything in. It hurts really bad I could take it I just completely broke down to someone and told them everything I could stp crying and shaking. I still need to talk to some proffessionaly but it going to take some time for that. I still break down or get upset. I have a very bad temper and I have nightmare where I be screaming help mommy help me and I will be crying and it scarey to live likes this. |
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| Ronie - emisa24@msn.com | | Comments - I am not a survivor yet, but I have come a long way. As I have read and researched this subjest beyond the extent of a research paper I have come to realize that I was a product of “Domestic Violence”. As a child, and part of my adulthood more than I wanted to realize. My life started in a very strict Portuguese home, with a controlling father who was abusive in all way s emotionally, physically and psychologically toward my mother. My mother soon left my father by time I was the age of three, she escaped to my grandfather’s home, which was what I believe to be a strict Italian male dominate home. Even though I was subjected to these environments I physically was never abused. I actually was treated more as a princess, but still learn to fear men, do to them dominating my life. The only way I seem to get threw their power trips was to look, act, or talk cute or even bat my eyes. This was my tool to not be beaten. Soon after, about the age of five I was molested by my babysitter husband until my mother thought I could watch myself after school which was about the end of fifth grade. Through all these years I never told any one except my best friend that this was happening and asked her to keep it a secret I guess she did because no one found out. We really never talked about it much unless something big happened; I just ignored it and so did she. I was in fear, ashamed, lonely, felt I was unloved and did not belong to any real group. I did finally tell my aunt about the sexual abuse, and she told me that I should not tell because I may make my grandfather so upset that he may have another heart attach. I did want him to die over me, and what I have already lived threw. This man was my grandfather’s co-worker, friend and neighbor. During this time my mother was abusing drugs, going out with different men, and partied a lot. My mother moved out of my grandfather’s home at sometime, I just don’t know exactly when. My mother would leave me in a locked car so she could party at the bar when no babysitter was around. Bring me to house parties and so on. I suppose that my mother was feeling exactly what I was feeling that was fear, being ashamed, lonely, felt unloved and did not belong to any real group. My mother soon found a man that she wanted to settle with. This man did the same abuse to her father did except that this man more emotionally, and psychological abuse than, physical abuse. The last night I stayed at my mother’s home, I jumped out a second floor window and ran threw the projects to find a phone; I called 911 and my grandfather. Soon as the police and my grandfather came to help my mother from getting another beaten, she did nothing but curse me out threw the window, because I told. I was always brought up to think that nothing leaves the home, but somehow and some way I needed to help my mother, and that was the last measure I thought I could take. We’ll needless to say after my mother stopped cursing me out for calling the police, I left to be with my grandparent’s. My mother called the next day to ask when I was coming home, I told her that as long as he stayed there I would not live there. She picked him over me and now on top of all that I was holding in about my past I was now rejected by my mother. Not to mention my grandmother was not happy that I made that discussion without asking her; she never liked me being there, so there is some more rejection. I only stayed a couple of years before I became a uncontrollable child in their eye. I was soon sent away to shelters, placements, and juvenile jails. I seem to get in deeper trouble
as I was locked up. I would soon run, and live on the street and board out with friends. I became pregnant at the age of sixteen years old by a twenty-one year old man that did not have much more that I did. I soon found a way to get my own apartment and income. After about one and half years I kicked my boyfriend out. This was the best thing I did to start a new life. I have had many battles to overcome and still do today, but I am now a great person, who needs to heal all the wounds that have been infected and neglected. I have not solved much of my problems, but have choose to ignore them untill now. I need to move on a grow beyond who and what I am today. I am not sure how to do this yet. If you know of some way this may help or if you can relate to this story and whould like to talk give me a click. see ya |
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| Jeri - katlady_jerimarie@hotmail.com | | Comments - I grew up in an abusive home along with my brothers and sisters. My father was very abusive tword my mother and then as we got older he became abusive to us. My father sexually abused me as a young child and I found out recently that my other sisters were abused also. We were physically and emotionally abused by both parents. To this day I am still told that I am no good and I do nothing right. During my senior year in high school and until my twenty first birthday I was sexually abused and raped by one of my brothers. Six months after I left home, becase of the situation with my brother, I was raped by a guy from work. I have worked through alot and I know I have lots more to work through but it has been almost one year since the rape and I know I have become a much better person and I know I can make it I am not saying that I think it will be easy because I know that it wont be but I know I can heal and become whole again. |
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| steven - philbo1965uk | | Comments - hi my long term partner was abused as a teenager,we love each other very much and plan to marry ,everythings been so wonderfull for us,i was dealing with what she had told me about her life ,but recently i have become very confused.i need help so i dont let stupid thoughts ruin our perfect relationship.please help |
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| Helen - snow_kissed_rose@yahoo.com | | Comments - My name is Helen. I am 22 years old and am a survivor of Sexual Abuse. Those are the hardest words I think I have ever had to say... Well besides the words I had to use when I told a favorite teacher that I was a VICTIM of Sexual Abuse. But I have tried very hard to over come what has happened to me and that is why I say I am a survivor because I refuse to be a victim any longer. Now here is my story....
It all started when I was 12 (at least that is as soon as i can remember anything happening) and ended one fatefull day when I was 13 and was learning about sexual abuse in my fifth grade class and I decided I needed to speak up. A lot of good that did... no one really believed me... they all just thouht I lied or made it up.. or that it really wasn't as bad as I was making it out to be.
But let me tell you it was WORSE!
It starter out being what I thought was simply misplaced hands... My grandfather would go to kiss me goodbye and his hand would rub against my breast. I didn't think he was doing it on purpose at first, But then it started to happen EVERY time he kissed me goodbye. Then slowly it went on that when he kissed me he would try and stick his tongue in my mouth. I didn't say anything because after all he was my dads father and the only grandpa I had ever known. I thought that that would be where it would stop... he wouldn't dare do anything else to me would he?... But I was wrong. One morning while my family was visiting him and my grandma, he came down stairs to the couch where I was sleeping (everyone else was still asleep too) and he first pulled the blanket off of me and started to rub my breasts through my night gown.. but I guess that wasn't good enough for him so he lifted my night gown and started to fondle my bare breasts. I thought to myself this could not possibly get any worse..but once again I was dead wrong... he lowered his mouth to my breasts and began to suck on them... well I guess he was afraid someone might wake up or something so he pulled my night gown back down and covered me back up and went about his buisness making coffee and such. I lay there pretneding to be asleep but in reality i was laying there dying inside.. My soul began to die right then and there and I knew if i said anything no one would believe me.
After that I started trying to avoid him as much as possible but that wasn't easy seems we went to his house every other weekend to visit them. The nest time something really Serious happened it was just before hunting season here (Mid-November) I was interested in hunting and had taken a class in hunters saftey at school and showed a real gift for archery and my dad was showing me his bow when my grandpa came in the room and asked me if I wanted to go up stairs and see if i could better handle his bow... I didn't want to go and I trie pleading with my dad with my eyes not to make me go but he told me to go ahead... So I reluctantly went dragging my feet up every step trying to avoid beig alone with him in his room. As soon as we got into his room he pulled me close to him and "french" kissed me. he then took my hand and made me fondle his penis. while he fondled me "down There". After that he decided he wanted to see my breasts so he lifted my shirt and started fondling them and sucking on them. I retreated inside of myself until it was over and then went back down stairs and went outside to be alone. That was the last time I remember any details about the abuse ..after that I simply blocked out any contact with him.
When I finally did tell My fifth grade teacher there was an investigation and my mom and dad were the onlu ones who "kind of" believed me. Everyone else thought i was a liar and out to get my grandpa for some reason. When I came home from school the day I told and told my dad what had been going on he asked me if I wanted him to go down to his parents house and kill his own father. That tore my heart out and a little more of me died. I told him no and eventually no charges were filed because of my grandfathers age and the fact that no one really believed anything had happend. After that we resumed going to my grandparents house for weekend visits and I was treated as an outsider as someone who betrayed the family. When I refused to go in my parents would yell at me and tell me to get over it and get out of the car so even the people who I thought had believed me turned out to be just like the rest they thought I made it all up in my head. So for the past 10 years I have lived alone with the pain and the hurt.
My grandfather has since died. But he still haunts my dreams I wake up with nightmares at times. I have since found a wonderful man who treats me with the utmost respect and love and we were married March 18, 2002. I now fight off the demons of severe depression and the desire at times to take my own life to end the pain that I know I will have for the rest of my life. But at least I have someone in my life who believes me now and who will stand by myside no matter what. So I wake up and face each day as it comes.. I lean on My husband when i don't think I can make it any more and he gives me the support I need. But recently i realized I needed to find others who share my pain. Others who know exactly how I feel and that way we can help each other. So that is why I am sharing my story with you.
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| jean kraus - midajoaaju@aol.com | | Comments - also: mgrdirector@aol.com
Holli..please please call me 212-319-1195..
jeannie |
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| ALAN - autumnman3000@yahoo.com | | Comments - Both my sister and I were sexually abused by our Father at a very early age. Whe I was 11 I began sexually abusing my sister and this went on for about 4 years until I was 15 and she was 11.
My sister has suffered from severe depression since her teenage years and has attempted suicide on a number of ocassions. We were just recently united because her therapist indicated that he felt I had been sexually abused too.
When I met her for the first time in 18 years she told me that her Father had abused her and that I had as well. I really did not have a strong recollection of any details of the abuse but it was devistating to learn that my father had abused her and possibly me.
I felt guilty about believing this horrible thing about my own father. I am 66 years of age and have been acting out a sexual addiction and leading a double life. My first marriage failed because of this and I remarried but continue to act out on more limited basis.
Am I to old to put this behind me and have a few years of piece and to forgive myself?? |
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| Jan W. - jtree@wf.net | | Comments - Holli, I am worried about you. I keep getting my e mail back when I send it to the minn.address.
Please get in touch with me. I need to talk to you. My story is almost finished now. I love you. Prayers and Blessings,
Jan |
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| Deirdre Lynn Dolan aka Phoenix - wildfireessence@aol.com | | Comments - I was emotionally and physically abused by many family members. Ritually abused with severe emotional torture by family members who agreed upon me as their target. The term scapegoat only touches the surface and ritual abuse is more appropriate for this evil family's disgusting behavior. My mother frequently called me "a dirty little animal" and a "mutt". My grandmother was a scary woman who was fond of calling Black people niggers in her own home and to the neighbors pretended to be colorblind. My grandfather had the nerve to admit to their abuse when he said to me "no wonder the whole family hates you". I was a sensitive and anorexic sixteen year old when he made this very selfless and typical comment. I am angry that i walk around with this abuse that they got away with because there was no one to protect me- essentially because they could. I am angry because my grandmother put up a front pretending to be such a kind and wonderful neighbor when she was abusing her granddaughter horribly. My grandmother would routinely tell me as a little girl that I was a lost cause. I will never forgive these people. I cannot. I suffered 32 years before getting angry at the atrocities of these people. The things I mention here pale in comparison to what I had to deal with on a daily basis living in proximity to these people for my entire childhood and how not one of them apologized to me but instead criminalized me and made it okay to abuse me, making me a "bad" child in their sick twisted minds. Please rise from the ashes as I have. I have reclaimed my pure, and strong self. They were never successful in their attempts to destroy me and they never will. |
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| jackie dickson - dicksonjaa@aol.com | | Comments - Because God loves me He is slow to lose patience.
Because God loves me He never forsakes me even though many of my friends and family might.
Because God loves me He keeps on working patiently with me even when I feel like giving up and can't see why He does'nt give up on me, too.
Yes, that greatest of all gifts is God's perfect love! |
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| reg - giraffe510@earthlink.net | | Comments - I am the partner of a survivor. We have dated for one year and he has been doing well. He is in AA and has faced and confronted his abuser. Over the past few months, he moved out of his house of 14 years and into a new home(stress), he visited is family in AZ(stress)his father is the sexual and emotional abuser, he has stress at work and last week I noticed he'd been on dating sites and participating in cybersex. I got angry, scared and confused all at the same time. I am letting this consume me because I have a tendency to be obsessive in my thoughts. I have struggled with panic attacks since I was 14 and am now 37. I have them under control. My therapist had suggested I see someone who specializes in this area, he also practices about 1 hour from where I now live.
My boyfriend and I origionally thought we should separate for about 6 months, my suggestion, or I should say my sister's advice to me. But I really truly love him tremendously. We have had an absolutely wonderful year together and I want to be there for him, and I know he wants to be there for me as well. He is a great person, and I hate to lose such a wonderful relationship. I am looking for suggestions for myself, so I can learn to deal with my problems that this has resurfaced for me. I come from a good home but have little things I always have felt guilty about, sexually. This has brought that to the forefront again and I need to deal with my stresses and also want to be there as support for him. I know I can't do anything to make him better, that is his work. But I do not want to lose our relatioship. I will stop rattleing on. I hope someone can help me. Thanks
Reg |
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| Everett - EVdemorier@aol.com | | Comments -
My name is Everett De Morier and I have been working on the biography of a Una Lee Green Monroe, who was raped by her brother when she was thirteen years old. This rape produced a child, Harriet Ann Green, who died when she was two years old. This crime was kept secret even to the point of protecting the brother --- who is now on his third term as Mayor of the very town that this occurred in --- and punishing the victim, Una, up until the time of her death in December of 2002.
When Una, was forced out of her home, her daughter, Dana, gladly took her in. While working long ten-hour days to keep the family farm running, Dana managed to care for her sick mother. Dana would do anything to keep her mother safe and her farm going and succeeded in both until the day of her mother's death.
Last night, on August 28, 2003, from her farm in Andrews, North Carolina, I received a call from Dana. While returning from another ten-hour day in the fields, she first saw the smoke, then she saw the flame. A fire had started in her large hay barn and as she ran to get some of the equipment out, the first diesel of the tractor blew, knocking her back. Then the diesel from the truck went. Then the second truck. She managed to get back far enough before the hundred foot flames exploded above her and took the building.
In the world of farming, hay is life. You work all summer long just to get enough hay to feed your animals for the long winter. Not only is all that food now gone, but so is the barn, all the farming equipment and their personal vehicles. In North Carolina a hay barn can not be insured. It's too risky.
I recently read recently about a young women who charged $20,000 on her credit cards on a shopping spree and then tried to decide how to pay for it all. Surrounded by Gucci handbags and Vatan shoes, she sent out hundreds of e-mails, asking for help from strangers. There was an enormous response and this women soon paid off her credit cards and even received a publishing contract to tell her story. Although I applaud this women's ingenuity, it irks me that her irresponsibly received so much attention when the innocent must carry their own burden. I'm not much on causes, but Dana has dedicated her life to trying to get her mother's story of rape and abuse help others, and now she is forced to play the victim once again.
Dana would never ask for help, so I will ask for her. Please forward this e-mail on to as many people as you can. If they doubt the validity of this, please have them contact me at (607) 725 4284 or at Evdemorier@aol.com. If you can financially send anything, nothing is too small. If you can't, please forward this.
Dana's Address
Dana Luther
1386 Stewart Road
Andrews, NC 28901
Thank you,
Everett De Morier
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| special1 - prayer2@bellsouth.net | | Comments - My husband went on disability 1year and 4 mos. ago I've been keeping his doctor appts for him, working and taking care of our kids. He started out being very verbally abusing once I was laid off my job. The bills just recently went behind on payments. He's getting ready to return back to work thank God because just the other day like all the other times he became upset with his conditions he would take it out on me. By calling me ugly names over and over and over again. Until I just couldn't take it anymore the other day I slapped him so hard and told don;t ever call me those names again. Well wrong move he hadn't hit me in over 12 years. He beat me in my face so servely even now it hurts. He apologized and asked me to forgive him put i know I want ever. I'll be glad when he's back to work and away from me and my girls for a very long time again just like it use to be. The girls had never seen him fight me before and they're very afraid of him now. They want him to go away to. This truly makes me sad because I grew up in a family setting with parents married for 32 years with no violence every. This what I want for my girls one is 15 and the other just turned 12. I only have 5 more years to go then I can leave him if he is still abusive without changing my girls life so dramatically. I left him before when my youngest child was only 3mos the beatings were so bad. We stayed apart for 5 years. He acted as if he truly changed and like a fool I believe in him 12 years later the beating and verbal abuse is present. I have no job alot of bills an two beautiful girls to continue raising so I will remain in my own world hoping to beat this men man for good.
Sad and Lonely one
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| Anne - mainegirl011@msn.com | | Comments - Hi. My name is Anne Marie Byrne. I am a student at the University of Southern Maine in the Social and Behavioral Science Program. I am working on a “Service Learning Applied Social Policy Project.” The Social Policy that I have chosen is Domestic/ Family Violence. As I am sure you know, this includes Child Abuse. I am hoping to facilitate a local community awareness campaign to the epidemic of domestic violence throughout the US and Maine. I wish to display in a gallery format print posters that call for the prevention, education and consequences of domestic violence in the atrium/gallery at my university. My goal is to draw attention to this issue through community awareness and demonstrate how domestic violence affects all members of society and bring about social change to victims, survivors, abusers, and all community members- individual and corporate.
If you have any posters that can be used towards the recognition and prevention of domestic violence that it would be willing to donate towards this display, it would be an extremely valuable contribution. Also, if you have any information on where I am able to find additional poster donations, it would be a valuable resource.
I thank you in advance for your response and your consideration.
Sincerely,
Anne Marie Byrne
e-mail – teambyrne@msn.com
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| Anne - mainegirl011@msn.com | | Comments - To all members of this bulliten board. My greatest apologies, I posted my request for resources before realizing, this was not the appropriate spot to do so. |
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| Kimberly - silveroleander@hotmail.com | | Comments - "All of my life men have been attracted to me....ALL my life."
A Quote from "Patch Adams" as spoken by the character Corinne Fisher.
Unfortunately, this statement is something that I can really relate to. Having fallen victim to abuse beginning at a very young age, I have been incested by my intermediate family, raped by a neighbor, molested by other men, and sexually assaulted by women.
One year after the brutal rape I experienced by my neighbor I became very sick. I stopped eating and became extremely depressed. A friend of mine betrayed my trust and called my high school and spoke to my guidance counselor who hooked me up with the school psychologist. Months after seeing her, I finally disclosed the rape, leaving out the other abuse. Only shortly thereafter I developed one of my most destructive, yet most effective coping skills: self mutilation.
During spring break, the school psychologist, Sara, called my parents in for a meeting. Surprisingly, they already knew eachother because Sara had been treating my little brother after 2 years of molestation by my best friends brother. Thier communication went on for a while as Sara urged me to tell them my story. I refused. No matter what she told me, I was NOT going to tell them. I wanted to badly to tell her why, to tell her that they wouldn't care, but eventually, after I became extremely suicidal she called my parents and I into her office, and began prodding me to tell them. I didn't, so she did. I was so incredibly angry, and left my parents house to stay with a friend that night.
Sara and my parents starting discussing the possiblilty of putting me in a psychiatric hospital. I hated the idea. They supported it a lot. It was originally planned as a very neat and organized thing that would take place after school ended, but I ended up becoming too out of touch and was committed a week before school ended. I missed my sister's graduation, and was very sad about that, since her and I are close.
Over the summer I stayed at that facility for about 2 weeks. Than again for 3 weeks, and then again for 1 week. There I learned many new things, such as how to find an object to self injure with in any setting, how to prostitute myself, and the most effective ways to find and use drugs. At night boys would sneak into our rooms and the girls would take turns using the bathroom as a place to have sex with the "boyfriends."
The last time I was in that facility I tried to kill myself. My roomate had tried to catch my hair on fire and we got into a huge physical fight. As a result we were split up and put on room restriction (we could not leave our rooms). After 3 hours of sitting there alone, I rummaged through my things to eventually find a paper clip that my tutor had accidentally left on my homework assignment. Impulsively I began digging at my wrist until the wound became so deep there was too much blood for me to continue. When the staff discovered what I had done they wrapped my wrist with a gauze and called my psychiatrist at home. The next day my parents arrived.....I was discharged.
My parents sent me to live with my grandparents, but after 7 days, I overdosed on paxil, and was again committed, but to a different facility. This place was much more organized and professional. However, in the time I was there I saw such horrifying things, that I believe I left much more traumatized than I was when I went in. I saw children try to committ suicide, adolescents stab children with pencils, pre-teen girls break the limbs of grown men and women, and watched a friend be carried away after killing herself in the bathroom.
I left there in extreme pain and shock. I was out for about 2 months when I wrote a bomb threat at my school and was committed once again. At first I was kept at a "holding" hospital for about 6 weeks. At that place, I was very much younger than most, and I was attacked by 2 different men, and was treated very poorly by the staff.Then I returned to the second place I had been.
This time around wasnt quite as dramatic, but my behavior ended up resulting in a lot of physical encounters with the staff. Under rediculous circumstances I was dragged to a time out room, slammed on the floor, and held down by sometimes 300+ pound adults. If I didnt calm down right away, I got a shot of thorazine or haldol mixed with ativan which would knock me out for days.
Things went well for a while after I got out of there. My diagnoses ended up as PTSD, bipolar, and borderline personlity disorder. I was passed around from doctor to doctor and therapist to therapist, but I found a great one, and calmed down a lot and became more focused. But it didnt sustain itself long. Almost overnight I became severly worse and noticed myself relapsing. I went to my individual therapist and told her that I thought I might have to go back in the hospital, which was hell, but I felt like I was going insane. I committed myself this time around. I ended up at the adult ward in the original hopital I went to.
It wasnt nearly as bad as the adolescent ward. I had a great doctor, and a wonderful counselor. The other patients there were good too. I feel like I progressed a lot during that 6 weeks or so. I went home feeling very confident.
About 8 months later my PTSD began hitting me very hard, and I developed severe insomnia. I felt hopeless and deperately needed to sleep, so my therapist sent me back to the same hospital since it had worked so well. WELL, it wasnt the same. It started out wonderfully. I was put on some good sleeping meds, and immediately recovered from my small relapse. But the weekend before I was supposed to be discharged, I got a new roomate. She was nice, and a lesbian about twice my age. We got along nice until she attacked me one night and began sexually assaulting me. Well, all that progress I made.....right down the tubes. After about 2 days I was right back where I had started a year ago. It was too much for me to handle. The staff was great at first, and I filed a complaint against her. The police came. They refused to disarm, and obviously would not be allowed on a psych ward with firearms, so I was interviwed in the lobby. The other girl was on ward restriction and could not leave, so her interview was dismissed. A week later I called to check on my complaint, and there was no record of it at all. That was not the best news I could have gotten. She left to go to a different place about a week later. I guess I wasnt recovering fast enough because the staff was getting very frustrated with me and were very cruel. I ended up staying for about 3 more weeks, and when I was discharged I had lithium toxicity from the large dose I was on, and was still on suicide watch. In fact, I wasnt even allowed to have my shoes until I walked out the door. Nice. Real effective, huh?
That was my last hospitalization. That was also 20 months ago. On that day, which was ironically my brithday as well, I decided that I would never go back. And that it was enough, I was done being treated like shit.
That day was the last time I have been in a psych hospital. It was the last day I self-injured, and it was the last day I ever let mental health professionals walk all over me and threaten my well-being.
At this point in my life I am a college student. My major is psychology, and my G.P.A. is 3.6. I am healthy, on great meds, and fully functioning on my own with a new car, and a wonderful apartment.
But I am not perfect. I still get depressed, I still shut people out, I still have strong urges to cut myself, and I still have immense trouble with intimacy. My therapist of 4 years recently moved to Hawaii, and I am taking a break from that to grieve that loss and adjust to her being gone. I still have anger and fear, and still struggle to get along with my family.
But overall, I have triumphed. I have won the battle against the effects of abuse and trauma. In only a few more years I believe that I will have beaten this monster completely. And my ultimate goal is to get my doctorate in psych and be able to practice myself, and help individuals like myself to win the war as well. I want to make a difference, if only in a tiny portion of the world, and I want to increase awareness of the true horrors of psychiatric hospitals.
My story is not here to gain pity or mercy. I have no intentions other than to share my pain and trauma, and encourage other girls to realize that although they may have spent their lives being treated horribly, it is not forever. I hope that they can find the beautiful woman that lies within them, and begin to grow as a new person with respect and confidence in themselves. I hope that they can regain the control they lost, and begin to love themselves. I hope that they can accept their pasts, and begin to move on. There is nothing to be ashamed of, YOU are not wrong, you have BEEN wronged.
And most importantly, I want them to know that we are here for them. They are not alone. And that there IS a way out.
Good luck girls. I know you can do it. Stay strong. |
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| Camellia - Flowerbuuds@yahoo.com | | Comments - Holli, your site is inspirational. I was physically & emotionally abused as a child, although it is still very hard for me to say that or allow myself to accept that. I know a great deal about child abuse, and spent some time working in child protection; I know that how my parents treated me was not healthy, but I still have a hard time saying "I am a survivor of abuse." It is something that I am working on healing. For me, the most important part of my healing is learning to live and be wholy me.... The events of the past aren't as important anymore at this stage of my own healing, as are the events of my future. I want to take back my life & myself, so that I can find peace and contentment in my future. I hope that one day I can comfortably call myself a survivor and not be ashamed that I maltreated.... and instead be proud of my life & who I've become. My heart goes out to all of you. Love, Camellia www.geocities.com/Flowerbuuds & healing bulletin boards at http://flowerbb.proboards2.com |
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| Tracey - traceyrmay@shaw.ca | | Comments - Hi there,
I am in a relationship with a male survivor of abuse. He is the most kindest and beautiful human being I have ever met. It took months to gain his trust and still working on it. Sometimes I get tired and so very sad for all his losses. Most times it hurts me to see his pain. I notice his need to have control and I let him have it. I see his fear and how he is scared I will leave. Most times he imagines I am the abuser so I have to be extra gentle with him. I stay because he is so beautiful. I stay because he is so deserving of a healthy relationship. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by his sadness. He is beginning to share more of his experiences with me now. He is really opening up and I feel honoured that he chose me to do it with. I don't think anyone has really told him how beautiful he really is. That to me is so sad to be discounted, unvalidated, unbelieved, abused, alone, and to have your hopes and dreams shattered. I am staying with him. Though he is struggling and sometimes it is so difficult but I do believe that I am learning a great deal about myself through him. I am learning to be more patient, open, trusting, soft and gentle. He brings the very best out in me. We are growing together. I love him.
I now know that people who have been severely abused are very special people. |
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| hilary - hilary.helsby@ntlworld.com | | Comments - I was abused by my father and many of his friends and neighbours from the age of 6 to about 15 , after so many years of abuse I was highly sexualised and would go with anyone for sex ,I was never faithful to any of my partners , this stopped after I found out that my daughter had been sexually abused by her elder sister , my step-daughter .In facing up to what had happened to my daughter , I started looking at what had happened to myself , this turned me off any sexual activity for a long time until I went to a friends house and ended up in bed with him , I fancied him a lot but the episode sent me into breakdown. I am now recovering memories of my abuse and learning to cope with them , I have also got divorced after hearing my ex-partner had been accused of molesting a young girl of one of his previous girlfriends . My daughter and I have recently moved to be near my mother. I am lucky as my mother believes and supports me and I also have friends around that I feel I can talk to , I hope all you out there have someone to turn to in times of stress , keep strong , and good luck in your future. |
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| - echrebeca@ hotmail.com | | Comments - I am a 25 year old female who was sexual abuse by my older sister.I need to know if there is anyone who can tell me who or how I can deal with this. I only told my mother after high school and instead of being there like i needed her. She told me not to tell anyone and that is destroying me. I need to talk to someone but at some level iam embassed and ashamed that it was my sister that did this. Because,I cant trust anyone my life is getting really hard for me.I have a 3year old girl and i dont trust anyone to watch her. I have not worked since she was born. And I need to have some life beside always watching my daughter. She attends head start now ,and ever time I drop her off my heart sinks because i cant watch her all the time.Iam always checking on her at school and she only attends 21/2 hours a day.I really need to let go and move on. Not just for me but for my daughter. Can anyone HELP ME GET HELP??? |
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| tammy - angel1966_1@yahoo.com | | Comments - THIS IS GOING TO BE REAL HARD FOR ME BUT I WILL DO THE BEST I CAN.
HIS NAME IS MAC MCGLAUGHLIN, HE KNOW LIVES IN SILVERTON OREGON.
IT STARTED WHEN I WAS 5 YEARS OLD AND MY MOM TOOK ME TO BEND OREGON TO STAY WITH AUNT FRAN AND HER HUSBAND MAC AND THERE WAS 2 OTHER GIRLS MY COUSINS, MAC WAS NOT THERE REAL DAD AND MAC WOULD ALWAYS GIVE US KISSES GOOD NIGHT BUT THEN HE STARTED PUTTING HIS TONG IN MY MOUTH AND IT JUST WENT FROM THERE. ONE NIGHT US GIRLS WERE CHANGING INTO OUR PJS AND WE TURNED AROUNG AND THERE WAS MAC LOOKING AT US THROUGH THE WINDOW.
WHEN I WAS 6 I THINK FRAN WENT OUT AND MAC STARTED TOUCHING MY PRIVATE PARTS AND WHEN THE OTHER KIDS WENT TO BED HE CAME AND GOT ME AND TOOK ME TO HIS ROOM AND RAPED ME. I DID NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO HE SAID IF I TOLD HE WOULD KILL ME SO I KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT. MY MOM WOULD ALWAYS MAKE ME GO OVER THERE EVEN WHEN I CRYED AND SAID I DID NOT WANT TO GO AND I WOULD BE GOOD BUT SHE MADE ME GO ANYWAYS AND THEY MOVED TO EUGENE OREGON AND I WILL NEVER FORGET WHEN US 3 GIRLS WERE LAYING IN THE FRONTROOM TALKING AND ALL OUR MOMS AND AUNTS WERE AT THE KITCHEN TABLE TALKING AND I OVER HEARD THEM TALKING ABOUT MAC RAPING US AND IT WAS BECAUSE HE WOULD GET DRUNK AND IT WAS NOT HIS FAULT, I GOT REAL SICK TO MY STOMACK WHEN I REALIZED EVERYONE KNEW BUT DID NOTHEN TO HELP US. AT THAT POINT I KNEW THERE WAS NOTHEN I COULD DO. THE OLDER I GOT THE WORSE IT GOT I WOULD RUN AWAY FROM HOME JUST TO BE FOUND AND ALWAYS PUT BACK WITH HIM AND MY MOM ALWAYS CALLED ME A SLUT. HOW CAN A LITTLE GIRL BE A SLUT?? THE LAST TIME I EVER SAW HIM WAS WHEN I WAS 16 AND MY MOM TOOK ME THERE 4 DAYS AFTER I HAD MY SON AND MY AUNT PICKED UP STEVEN AND WALKED OFF AND TOOK HIM TO MAC AND I FOLLOWED AND TOLD HIM IF HE TOUCHED MY SON I WOULD KILL HIM AND TOOK MY SON AND WALKED OFF. THERE IS SO MUCH HATE AND PAIN STILL THERE. I DO NOT SEE HOW FAMILY CAN LET THIS GO ON. |
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| nick - | | Comments - I am the partner of a survivor. We have been together for a year and a few months and I recntly moved in with her. We are educated, succesful people living in San Francisco but our sex life has taken a dive and I now see much mor eof the evidence of the trauma still in her life - drinking, frequent nightmares which wake her up and leave her sleepless, depression, crying fits, distrust of me, and when she's drnking, a boiling rage just beneath the surface.
My mother is a social worker who works with deeply traumatized women, most of whom have been subjects of sexual abuse, so the territory is not unfamiliar.
I have very gently brought up the issue of my partner going to therapy but she is distrustful of it and does not see its value.
Of interest to me, this is not the first serious relationship I have had with a woman who has been abused. Today I am reading for the first time the stories of others on these sites. |
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| nancy - rowe@execulink.com | | Comments - My Story
I am a 33 year old female. I live on a reservation, in Ontario, Canada. I grew up in Hamilton, Ontario. I am a status Indian. At 30 years old, I began on my healing journey. At 30 I just couldn’t function anymore, my upbringing had finally paralyzed me, I just couldn’t cope anymore. I truly believed I had gone crazy, and wasn’t sure why. I was tormented daily by memories that I carried of childhood. I was depressed, and addicted to booze, but had no idea as to why. I never gave any of my childhood credit for keeping me depressed, paralyzed or addicted. I began taking anti-depression medication, and started counseling with my family doctor. I began to talk about what I could never get out of my head, my memories. They weren’t flashbacks, because I had always remembered the way I grew up. In 30 years of life and other counseling not once had I been told that the way I thought as an adult, could be connected to my childhood. I was useless, worthless, unwanted, disgusting, crazy, a waste of time, ugly, fat and in chronic physical and emotional pain. I felt like a maggot, a whore, a cock sucker, and a dog constantly. To understand why I felt such shame and guilt for living, I had to voice my memories. I relived over and over, various beatings from childhood, there were several because it was daily for the most part. My mother and father beat myself and my sister with extension cords, two x fours, frying pans, straps, belts, and basically anything thing that was available and close at hand. My father was an amateur boxer, didn’t need too many weapons he already owned a pair. The reasons for the beatings would range from being five minutes late getting home from school to the floors not being kept ‘spotless’ (my mothers favorite word) or my father and mother were arguing and needed to physically release anger. Our days were full of work to maintain the family home, go to school in pain; but don’t tell no one, and be beaten when my parents arrived from work to find their dinner not on the table. The beatings were no secret within the extended family, nor were they hid when family came to visit, it was just accepted. Some of the family would take my sister and I aside and say how bad they felt about the way we lived, but not one felt quite bad enough for us to do a thing about it or to help us. During these confusing times, uncles, and cousins would be hired to baby-sit during summer holidays, or my sister and I would be given a vacation at various relatives houses to go clean for them, because they admired our ability to clean house. Not one summer passed when we were safe from sexual predators, we would be fondled by my father’s brothers, and their children. It began so early we accepted this as life. I would be molested and raped into my twenties. In ways I believe my mother knew because she was quick with her words of; your nothing but whores, cock suckers, and dogs. We were. We were useless cunts, maggots, and never wanted, those were her favorite descriptions for us. As we got older around 8 or 9, the beatings were accepted as life and we would try to hold back the tears, so they got worse until we did cry, we would have to strip naked, and lean over chairs with toes touching one side and fingers touching the other. If fingers came off, more lashes would be administerd. The lashes would range from at least 10 to 60, depending on how many times your fingers came off the floor. If the extension cord was used your fingers came off the floor more because it hurt more. If they got tired of beating you like this and your fingers came off , and you covered your back, you would be taken like a rag doll, and held and whipped anywhere the cord or strap landed. This was a hard time of life, and accepted again as life. Constant pain, sadness, confusion, guilt for being born and making our parents life miserable because we existed. We would suffer gashes, and I’m sure broken body parts, but would only visit the hospital once. I wasn’t beaten when I had my first visit to hospital. I had idiotically got my finger caught in the clothesline pulley and needed stitches. It had been my own fault because my mother told me I didn’t put enough clothes on the line, so I placed them very close, and the line became to heavy for me to roll out, but I knew I didn’t want to get a beating, so I tried to get more on and the line was too heavy and snapped back, I was too little, to pull it back, and my finger caught the pulley. I didn’t cry, I found strength to avoid a beating for being too useless to hang clothes properly, and I got my finger out. It was 3 a.m. and I quietly tried to repair my finger with cold water to stop the bleeding. My mother found out, and for the first time ever I remembered, she didn’t beat me, she took me to the hospital, and I got stitches. The doctor asked why at 3 a.m., was I doing laundry? I said I don’t know and it was left at that. At 13 my father finally raped me, it confused me, because somewhere in my brain I knew it wasn’t right, but couldn’t tell no one, because my father said my mother would leave him, and we wouldn’t have a family anymore. I believed and I never told. At thirteen it was a confusing year. My aunt had called child services, because she suspected my father was molesting me. My sister and I were placed in care, for a short period. My little brother never went because he told child services he had never been beaten, and it was the truth. All the horror my sister and I lived, was never extended to our brother because he was a boy. He never once was beaten, he was admired, loved and wanted. I still to this day try to be a boy because they are better than girls. At thirteen it was too late, a foster home with no beating, or incest wasn’t normal to me. My sister and I returned home, she continued to be beat, and I continued to be fondled by all the old molesters, plus my father now. Until I ran away and got married to another abuser. I became tired of being molested and beaten at the age of 21. I divorced my husband and became a single mom, and remarried. I tried hard to forget all the memories but they still haunt me. The way I thought as a child is still the way I think today, I have tried to get a psychiatrist , but no one seems to think I need one. I do, I don’t think you can live through this and not require that kind of help. I continue to try to deal with things through an addiction’s counselor, and some psychotherapy administered by an RN. Its not enough, and I still only exist, I do not live, I don’t enjoy life because I was never taught how, I want to learn how. I don’t want to be fighting depression, post traumatic stress disorder and dissociation anymore. I want to be rid of these illnesses so I can finally live free, be happy, and love myself, instead of waiting for the next episode, memory, or depressed period to arrive. Its still just like I’m not worth it, and I don’t deserve it. If after you read this story and you have any ideas for healing, help, or just comments please email me at rowe@execulink.com. I thank you for taking the time to read this.
Nancy
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| Elizabeth - Sweetkisses4726@yahoo.com | | Comments - I NEED ADVICE! I am 17 years old and I have no idea what to do. I need someone to talk to and I need some help. I have been going out with a 20 year old for the past 2 years. It took me almost a year and a half to realize that he was emotionally abusing me. I dont know how to get out of it. Everytime I try to break it off with him, he cries and I feel bad. People tell me that he's not crying because he's loosing me, he's crying because he knows I'll come crawling back like I do everytime. He shakes me and throws me around sometimes but then laughs about it and claims its all in good fun but it hurts. I tell him to stop and he doesn't listen. If he wants to have sex I have to have sex with him or he makes me feel guilty. He has to know where I am all the time, who I'm with, what I'm doing, and when I'm comming home. No one believes me because he doesnt do this in front of anyone else. For example, one night he was telling me how horrible I was and that he can't stand to look at me but he feels bad for me and as soon as my dad opened up the front door, he hugged me and told me he loved me. I love him, but I hate him at the same time. I feel like I'm all alone and the only person that believes me is my mother because she overheard him talking to me. Just last weekend he punched a hole through his cabinet and broke dishes because I didn't pick up my cell phone. He claims that he is going to hurt himself if I break up with him. He makes me pay for everything, I just dont know what to do. I just want someone to talk to. I'm scared that next time it may be me that he's punching instead of the cabinet. When we fight he drives like a crazy person and I get scared. When we fight he gets in my face and yells. I stand up to him but it doesnt matter. I'm so tired all the time that I dont have the strength to stand up to him anymore. I feel like I'm falling apart. I can only talk to my mother so much. Right now I am in school typing this so that he will not see it. He goes through my phone book in my cell phone, and he ripped out a page in my actual phone book that had my exboyfriend's phone number still in it. Please, this can't be normal. Please, I need someone to help me through this. I can't imagine my life without him, but I can't imagine my life with him either. I did love him at one time, but something horrible must have happened to him because THIS IS NOT HIM!!! He gets this all from his father. His father is a billion times worse than he is. I just dont know what else to do. I have soo much to say but only so much room to say it. Last night I spent 4 hours crying. I am so unhappy I dont know what to do with myself. His parents think that it is my fault and won't allow me at the house any more. Anyone who has been in my situation or something like this.. please help me to get out of it. I just want my life back. |
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| Stepahnie - soianyhc@yahoo.com | | Comments - I had a breakthrough about myself in general. Here I was sitting in a psychology class just to complete a general Ed requirement and it hit me. We were discussing child abouse at the time and my professor decided to show us a video of sexual offenders. Seeing these men (their faces) on this tape triggered something in me, what I now learned was a flashback and I finally came to grips as to what happened to me as a child. I have PTSD so I have blocked out a majority of anything about these events but then it was coming out. Things I did as a child started to now make sence. I was molested from the age of 7-10 by my neighbor. The only notion I could recall before this was I thought my father coame in at night when I was sick and putting vapor rub on me, but I was wrong, that was jsut my mind playing tricks on me to cope with this trauma. I never understood for a long time what was wrong with me, why did I have so much anger and guilt in my life. As strage as this sounds I'm happy that I realized what was done to me so I don't have to live anymore feeling like I'm insane. From that moment on I decided to help myself and get passed this point to take my life back once again. |
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| Leliny - leliny_b@yahoo.com | | Comments - I don't know where to start there is too much in my head to put in words here, I just want to say I am glad I found a place where I can go and not feel alone anymore. If you are sensitive to trigger then dont read this but i will try my best to explain some of the hurt I have inside me and where it came from.
I don't remember alot anymore but memories of some words my step father said have stuck with me till this day, I am now 23 and still remember my step father asking me If I love him, and I always replied yes, and after that, asking me if I wanted to know what he and mum did in the bedroom of a night. we had a large shed in the backyard, and he was entrusted to care for me when I was age 5 till around 7, while my mother worked and spent long hours with me alone. he had built something in the shed and used to put me on my knees and tie my ankles down and my wrists, and perform anal penetration on me. I remember after I was tied he would come around to the front of me and look at me in the eyes and say that he loves you me very much and that it was ok to cry if it hurt, before doing it really rough. I cannot go into any more detail only that i can tell you this was the most awful experience I have ever known and my feelings of guilt because I deficated so many times while he was doing it bring me my disgust beyond words.
I cannot remember much of the years in my childhood it seems I blocked so much of it out to survive this. Towards the end of elementary school it stopped, as my step father was takin away, following disclosure of this to my school teacher and the embarssing and disgusting investigations that followed.
Thats all I want to say, to other female survivors if you can get over your feelings of guilt and feelings of shame, I would like to know.
L |
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| paulaskyy - paulaskyy@yahoo.com | | Comments - hi,my name is paula skyy.i am 38 years old.i am an
incest survivor,although sometimes i still feel
like a victum.it started when i was 9 and lasted till i was 16 (when i moved out)i was the middel child out of 3.i was the quiet one,the one who never left the house.my family refered to me as the lazy one,i walked lazy i talked lazy,i had no motivation(i wonder why)it started when my father was out of work for 6 months(i guess i was his
amusment)he was bold and forcefull,he said "it dosnt hurt" who was he kidding.he told me if i told,nobody would believe me,they would think i was crazy.i would be locked up. when those threats no longer worked,he said he would kill me
and as mean as he was i believed him.my mom sick alot she had ms and was a manic deppresive.she was physically abusive towards us(daily beatings)
very angry woman.but still i loved her to death.
she new about my dad and me.i know cause she walked in on us on many occasions,then shewalked
back out without doing or saying anything.in my teen years i was always in trouble,i started drinking and druging at age11,got in lots of fights.by age 16 i tried to kill my self 3 times.i had also started cutting.also sleeping with anybody and everybody.i moved away from home at 16.that day was my last sexual encounter with my father.i did remain in contact with my folks until my mom died 10 years later.at the funeral
i forbid my father to ever see me or my boys again
i felt very powerfull at that moment.ive been in 2 abusive marriages,relationship after relationship mutipal sex partners.im a recovering alcholic and addict,im a manic deppresive and a recovering cutter. since my youth i tryed to take my own life on four other occasions, all stemming back to my past. Im on the road to recovery, but it just seems like its one step forward two steps back. i still have flashbacks and panic attacks, out of the blue usually brought on by a smell, taste, sound or emotional reaction. oh i almost forgot, my relitivs were not supportive at first, but they seem to be coming around now. i am a lesbian with a partner, we have been togeather eight years, (the longest relationship ive been in). shes also a survivor of incest, weve had alot to deal with over the last eight years. were not there yet but were coming along one step at a time.
blessed be to all
paula skyy |
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| Tanya - totally_Tanya@yahoo.com | | Comments - It happened when I was 15. I had met a guy in school (he was in two of my classes) and he invited me over to study for the proficiency test one afternoon. I went, and was surprised to find that we were the only two people there. I was supposed to meet his family.
We went upstairs to his room and he tied my hands together with rope. He ran his knife down the crotch of my tight corduroy pants. "Scream and I'll kill you, bitch" he whispered in my ear. He then forced me to unzip his pants with my teeth. he put his penis in my mouth and pumped in and out slowly until he ejaculated. I squirmed and gagged and tried to spit it out but he held my mouth shut until I swallowed. He then patted me on the head and said "Good bitch. Do you want some more?" Before I could answer, he was swelling in my mouth again and pushing toward the base of my throat. He came again and forced me to swallow again. Then we took a shower together and although he never told anyone at school, he always winked at me in class or gave me a coy look. To this day I can't brush my teeth and look in the mirror at the same time because I think of that incident. |
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| jp - | | Comments - Hi,
I"m a survivor myself of childhood abuse, yet I"m writing regarding my husband with whom walks with so much pain in his life. He was not sexually abused as a child, but negelected, felt unloved. He carries this with him till' this day, has never dealt with it, has never seen the light of day. He's afraid to deal with it, afraid to go there. I love him dearly yet if he doens't start dealing with his demons soon it's going to rip us apart. He's a beautiful man with a beautiful heart, with whom hasbeen hurt time and time again. He deals with his hurt by outwardly showing me anger, frustration at the simplest of mistakes I make. Making them larger than life, usually when he feels unloved, unappreciated, or controlled is when he has an episode I call them. I want to help him, yet i don't know how and that's what's killing me. |
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| Allie - alic0610@aol.com | | Comments - Hello to all, and i hope I find everyone willing to respond to my cry for help doing great! It was just last Sunday, May 30 I officially found out my husband and several of his male cousins were molested by an uncle as children. It was a tearful moment for everyone, and i can't remove the pain and guilt I now carry. I need help healing, however I'm afraid my husband has a brick wall up and trust has become an issue. He does not talk about the issue with me, however he shares it with family members. Should I pressure him to talk about the family he called family, that betrayed him? I need lots of help and suggestions on how to help my husband heal and mend the pain.
Thank You,
Allie |
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| ashley - ashleynel222@yahoo.com | | Comments - My stepfather started "touching" me when I was young. I was 7 when he & my mom married & I'm not sure exactly when it started, but he would wake me up ea morn by putting his hands between my legs. I never told anyone till much later. I told my sister, who is his natural daughter & asked if he'd done it to her. She said No & that I prob imagined it. I told my husband & he asked my sister & was given the same answer she gave me, so he believed her. One nite around 11pm she called at my soon to be husb.'s house even though I was NOT suppose to be there that nite. She sounded drunk & asked if I was there. When he said yes she told me that she suddenly remembered that Daddy had done it to her too. Some time after that my husb asked her what she thought & she again told him it was my imagination. This is causing me more harm than the molestation. It's killing my marriage. I asked what about my sister's call saying he'd done it to her & he said he didn't hear her side of the call. My husband is now in SA and has been having sex w/strangers he meets on the internet after one email. He doesn't understand how this hurts me. |
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| mag - qtmag07@yahoo.com | | Comments - hello, I just wanted to let everyone know there is another great website like this one for Survivors of Abuse, it offers support and it is facilitated by trained facilitators. It's called, "www.yesican.org" just click on the "Chat" box when you get there. Thank you. |
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| Tracy - send_ahug@hotmail.com | | Comments - Hi
My name is tracy I am 25 years old and I am here today to look for a friend so I can talk to about my past as I am unable to speak to my own family about because they feel the pass is the pass I should get over it. You see I was abused at age 13 to 16 and after that I hid the about for many years to come well up to the year 2003 it all came out and I was placed in the hospital many times that year and now I have myself a great counsslor but you know she is unable to be my friend so I hope to make a friend through here and I above all care for you and your story thank you for your time my email is send_ahug@hotmail.com |
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| Jennifer Smart - Lady_Godvia_co | | Comments - While I was working in Iraq, I was Raped by a KBR Employee who worked as a fueler on Camp Slayer. KBR was aware of my claim and did not do anything. He (Gary Wilks) even made fun of the fact he was untouchable being in Iraq. Well he was right! I came home to seek medical attention and he continues to count his money in the bank.
I am still recovering from the what has changed my life forever. I am not even sure if I can ever recover. My life is now different. I was an open and full of life person. Now I stay in bed all day....and hope that the morning does not come. I just want my life back.....and soon. |
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| Brittany Biggs - LMSoccer24@hotmail.com | | Comments - this isn't a rape survivor story... but my friend is getting abused. i dont know what to do really, we're all afraid to say something. It's not my place to stop a grown man from doing this. I'm a fifteen year old girl, and he's a sixteen year old boy, he doesn't deserve it. I'm afraid that speaking up will only hurt him more, and that people will get mad at me for standing up to his father. What should i do? |
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| Candace E. Barnes - goddessmpd@yahoo.com | | Comments - I am a fifty-three-year-old survivor of severe sexual abuse by my father from the age of three until my parents' divorce when I was seventeen. I have just published an autobiographical collection of poetry dealing with the abuse, but more importantly, with recovery. It is possible. The book, JOURNEY FROM DARKNESS by Candace E. Barnes, is available at amazon.com. I think you will find it to be hopeful/inspirational. Love and light to you all. |
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| M - mlk566@aol.com | | Comments - My story is very personally difficult for me to relate. I have a frightening childhood memory that, fortunately for me, only happened once. It was traumatic enough once, and greatly affected my self-confidence for the remainder of my life. I have struggled since the age of 6 to overcome feelings of inadequacy and of feeling all alone in the world, not matter how fulfilling a friendship or personal relationship I culture. The sad result is that I had so many things done to me that there is literally no sexual act I can engage in other than self stimulation that is not connected to how I was violently introduced to sexual contact. I am a 38 year old man and all of my life, in the very few instances I have tried to talk with someone about it, even professional, their sympathy completely dissolved into cruel rejection and disbelief as soon as I started to tell my story. My wife of 14 years has been the only sympathetic ear I have ever known, although she cannot stand to hear too much about what happened because it really upsets her. As a result, I have never been able to fully unburden myself to anyone. This website seems like a perfect venue to begin taking full steps in the direction of self healing. The reason for peoples negative response has been in each case a complete disbelief that anything like that would ever happen to a child. The rape counselor I went to see as an adult who ejected me from her office told me that she was there to counsel rape and incest victims, not to allow patients to indulge in their sick fantasies. What happened to me sounds as if it was scripted out of some pornographic movie, so it stands to reason that the perpetrators likely got all of their ideas from such a venue. My introduction to sex, which occurred before I knew how babies were made, consisted of me being the victim of a sadomasochistic three-way between a babysitter and her boyfriend. I was literally beaten, choked, emotionally terrorized, sodomized and forced to perform oral sex. I have always had an excellent memory, with exception to peoples names, addresses and telephone numbers, but about half the details of what happened to me took years to surface, one by one. Though my story may be a bit long, I have intentionally left out a lot of details that are excessive and not necessary to get the point across. I lived in Austin, Texas at the time in 1973 and I was 6. My parents were invited to a dinner party, as they often were, but could not get our normal babysitter. My mother called several of her friends who also used our babysitter and one of them gave her the name of two mothers they knew who also used another girl to sit for their children on occasion. My mother did call each of the other mothers, whom she had never met, to receive glowing reviews of how well their children liked the girl and that she sat for them often. I am going to refer to the babysitter as the girl, since I cannot at all remember her name and I never saw her again. Perhaps regression therapy would bring a name out, but I tend to forget the names of people I meet now, so the prospects are not good. On the night in question, the girl, about 16 with long dark hair, was dropped off at our house around 5:00 and my parents went out, telling her they would be home sometime after midnight. My sister and I were finishing eating our dinner at that time. The girl played a couple of board games with us and then let us watch television. She began asking me if I like girls, had any girlfriends in school, ever kissed a girl, would I like to kiss a girl. The girl then announced at 6:30 that it was time for bed. My sister's bed time was 7 and mine was 8:30, so we were not interested in going to bed and protested, but the girl insisted. She told me I could watch television until she came back and took my sister to her room, tucked her in and read her a story. The girl came back and took me to my room down at the end of the hall from my sister's room. She told me to get into my pjs and surprised me by coming in the room with me. I tried to tell her that I put on my pjs by myself, but she insisted that she had to watch me do it to be sure. The girl told me to take my clothes off, then took them across the hall to the bathroom and put them in the hamper. She came back into the room and took the pjs from my hand, telling me I was not allowed to get dressed until I was ready for bed and put my pjs back in the dresser. I didn't understand this at all and said that I wanted to put some clothes on. My sister got up from her bed and was calling down the hall that she wanted another story, so the girl told me to sit on the bed and wait and that I was not allowed to leave the bed or put any clothes on. I put my pjs on anyway. She went to read my sister another story, tucked her back in, then returned to my room and ordered me to take my pjs off. She took off all her clothes and asked if I wanted to kiss her. I said no and she reminded me that I said I liked to kiss girls, then she knelt down in front of me made me kiss her a few times and shocked me when she stuck her tongue in my mouth. She then told me I have to do what she says, because my mother said so, and that she was like my mother when my mother was gone. The girl had me kiss her in several places on her body, then had me kneel down beside the bed between her thighs and told me to kiss her on her vulva. I am not going to use expletives or sexual terminology here. She told me to do it just once, then I could put my clothes on. I closed my eyes and just made myself do it, although I could not stand the smell. She then told me I had to do it several more times and began pointing to specific places she wanted me to kiss. After a couple of these I refused to do anything and tried to get up. She acted as if she was very disappointed in me and made me feel ashamed for not doing what I was told. The girl grabbed a pair of my underwear and stuck my hand through the leg, twisting them tight and putting my hand through the other leg. She then shoved my arms between the mattress and box spring of my bed up to my elbows and sat down in front of my face again, telling me that I was not allowed to pull my hands out. I did anyway and she became frustrated with my behavior. The girl got up and told me to stay where I was. I heard her go to the garage and then down the hall to my parents room, then she returned with a collection of my father's belts and some ski ropes. She proceeded to put my twisted underwear back on my wrists and other pairs around my ankles and knees, then followed by wrapping and buckling belts around the underwear. I was told to be quiet and did as I was told, thinking that this was some kind of game. She tied the ski rope around my wrists, stuck my arms back up between the mattresses to my elbows and tied the rope to the opposite corner footboard post. I tried to get up several times and she kept having to put me back into the place she wanted me. She took the other rope and tied it around the belt at my knees, then tied the other end to the opposite headboard post. The girl sat down in front of me again trying to get me to do it, but I refused and I was struggling to get loose. She now seemed to be happy to have an excuse to add more things to immobilize me and put a belt behind my neck, in between my arms and wrapped it around up and over my arms and buckled it. I still struggled, told her I wanted to get up and kept bending my head down and out of the belt, which she put back several times and told me I was not allowed to take my head out. When I still would not do what she said, she got some things out of my dresser. The girl sat in front of me and wiped her crotch with her underwear, then went around behind me and ordered me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. When I did, she grabbed by tongue with her panties, wrapped them around my tongue and shoved my tongue back in my mouth followed by a pair of my underwear and a bandanna tied across my mouth. She then told me I was bad and would get a spanking and proceeded to spank me really hard with a leather belt. I kept pulling my head out of the belt and was really crying and screaming, but she kept putting my head back and beating me. When I would not hold my head in the belt, she twisted up some of my underwear, threaded it on a belt and wrapped the belt around my neck through the belt buckle and held it like a leash and beat me furiously, telling me all the time that I was a bad boy and would do as I was told. My sister got up once or twice to ask what was wrong with me and the girl took her back to her room, telling her that I was being spanked because I had done something wrong. She also told my sister to stay in bed or the "It" was going to get her. The girl eventually stopped spanking me and asked me to stop crying, adding that I could not tell my parents about this or she would spank me some more. I tried to stop crying as much as I could and she pushed the bandanna up over my nose, took out the underwear and asked me to swear not to tell my parents. I started crying uncontrollably and told her that I was going to tell my parents just as soon as they got home. She stuck everything back in my mouth, pulled down the bandanna and pulled tight on the leash so that it hurt my throat and began beating me in the rear with the belt again until I was screaming and sobbing and my nose was running. She asked me again if I was going to tell my parents and I nodded yes, then she said something to me that chilled my soul to the very core. The girl said that if I did not do what she says, she would call her friends who have a car and that they were not nice people like she was. She said that they would come to the house tonight and take me away to a place where my parents would never find me and that she would leave me with them for a week, then come visit me and make me do this to her every night all night long for weeks, then leave me with them and never return and just forget about me. I was so deeply scared, after that I agreed to do anything and that feeling of what she said still scares me to death today. She took the stuff out of my mouth, sat on the leash belt in front of me and pulled on it. The girl then asked me what it was between her legs. I said it was her weenie and she corrected me telling me that girls don't have weenies. She called it a name and told me that I was going to kiss and lick it for as long as she wanted me to do it. She asked me if I would and I said yes. She then made me ask to do it and told me what to say, having me say it several times with pretty please. The girl began directing me to kiss or lick her vulva in different places, giving each one a name. She watched as I kissed, licked or sucked each part as she called it out to me. I was really scared and trying to keep her happy so she would not hurt me but I was not doing anything the way she wanted and I told her my tongue was getting sore. She left me there and I heard her go to the bathroom. When she returned, she had shaved her pubic mound and had me continue. When I got tired and would not do any more, she said she was going to call her friend, gagged me as before and left the room. She was gone for awhile when I could hear the front door open and was really relieved that my parents had come home. It was not my parents but her boyfriend. My sister got up again and the girl put her back in her bed, telling her about the "It" again. The boyfriend went around the house making monster noises, then went outside to the side of the house and scratched and growled at my window. The girl told him from my room to go to the next window and he scratched and growled at my sister's bedroom window. All through her childhood, my sister was always scared of the "It" after that. I would tease her as brothers do, gasp and say "Look! There's an It" in sunny broad daylight and my sister would freak out. The boyfriend came back and they had sex in the hall just outside my open door, which was behind me. They laughed at me, then started making strange noises. I fell asleep during all of this to be awakened later by the girl sitting in front of me again. She had me clean her, as she put it, and pointed to all the places that she wanted me to suck up, then had me stick my tongue into her vagina and suck for awhile. I had almost gotten used to the smell and taste of her before but she now smelled strange and tasted really gross. I started panicking and screaming when I felt another pair of hands on my my rear. She pressed her thighs around my head and told me to be quiet, reminding me about her friends with the car. The boyfriend said something to her and she put my underwear over my eyes along with the bandanna. She turned my head with the leash belt and I told me to open my mouth. I felt her boyfriends erect penis go into my mouth, knowing exactly what that was, and struggled as they held my head. I bit down and they grabbed my head hard and told me not to bite, to open my mouth. Her boyfriend had me suck on his penis for several minutes, then told her that it was not good. The girl pulled my face back between her legs, pressed my mouth into her vulva and pulled the leash belt really hard so that I could barely breathe, then pressed her thighs firmly around my head. I felt something cold and wet on my anus, which started me struggling, crying and screaming at the top of my lungs, but almost nothing could be heard. The boyfriend pressed his erect penis to my anus and took some time entering me, probably to keep me from bleeding and providing some physical evidence. He started humping me from behind and after awhile started doing it faster. The girl began telling me to ignore it and just pay attention to sucking her and that if I was quiet, she would open her legs and let me breathe. I told her that I promised to be quiet. She had me go back to sucking on her vulva and putting my tongue into her vagina. At one point, she shook and grabbed the back of my head and pressed hard and put her thighs together around my head hard, as her boyfriend started making really angry sounds and ramming me into the mattress really hard. He sounded so loud and angry that I was really, really scared. Then he rammed into me really hard and stopped, then shook all over and making really loud, scary angry noises above the back of my head and sounded like he was a monster. I had been knocked down and attacked my a dog before and I thought at the time it was like having an angry dog on my back and I did not know what was happening or why he was so angry with me. This terrified me and I wondered what he was going to do to me. After a couple of minutes, I felt him pull his penis out of my rectum and I guess he left because I heard the girl kiss him and say goodbye. The girl then opened her thighs and had me go back to licking her. After awhile, she rolled over on to her stomach and pressed hard back into my face, hurting my neck, but continued to pull on the leash belt hard and told me lick an area she named her "bud" earlier while sticking my nose into her vagina. She had to jerk on my leash belt every so often to keep me awake while she got off because I was so tired. The girl then untied everything except my wrists and the leash belt had me get up on the bed. She tied me down spreadeagle on my back to the head and footboard posts, tied the belt around my neck to the headboard, then began sucking on my penis. I started to scream and quickly put her hand down hard over my mouth and nose, then stuffed underwear in my mouth and tied the bandanna around it as before. She went back to sucking on my penis and I freaked out, crying and trying to scream thinking she was going to bite it or eat it, so she pulled the bedsheets up over her head so that I could not see. Eventually, she sat up and straddled my hips and tried to push my penis up into her vagina, then went down to suck on it a few times and came back to sit on it. The girl pushed my penis into her vagina and began grinding her pubic mound me, telling me that if I promise to be quiet, she will take the underwear out of my mouth. I nodded that I would be quiet, then she removed the bandanna and all the underwear and began kissing me on the mouth. She told me to open my mouth and that I was to stick my tongue in and out of her mouth. The girl then began kissing me while she ground on my pubic bone until she let out a loud vocalization and fell over on top of me. She just laid there for a long time pressing down on my until I fell asleep. I woke up halfway through her taking everything off of me, then she and lead me to the bathroom to wash me with a washcloth. The girl brushed my teeth and tried to be really nice to me as if everything were okay and kissed all my "boo-boos", then led me back to the bedroom to put on my pjs. She put me into my bed and climbed up on top of me, pinning my arms at my sides and kissed me on the mouth, making me kiss her for a few minutes like before. She told me to remember our deal and not tell my parents or her friends would come and get me, then picked up her clothes, wished me sweet dreams and left, turning off the light and closing the door. The alarm clock on my bedside table said 12:30. I fell asleep and woke up when my parents came through the door at 1:30. My mother said the next day that they were going over to the so-and-so's house again next weekend and I would be going if other kids were there, otherwise she would call my new babysitter. She asked how I liked her and I told her I didn't. I said that she made me take my clothes off, then she took hers off, then she made me do things when my mother cut me off and told me that what I did was very dirty and very bad and that I should never, ever do that again. She said I was not to tell my father and was never to talk about it ever again. The boyfriend came back to the house late at night, app |
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