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I feel anger toward my father. To me, my father is a monster. He's bound by patriarchy. He's been a very problematic person since I was a child. He was verbally and physically abusive toward my mother. He had a big attitude at home. He put on a good face. My father moved around a lot due to his job, but I ended up skipping school. I was sexually assaulted in high school and went to a mental health clinic, which led to him calling me weird. I loved creating, but he said that was weird too. My older sister was also a victim of my father, but she was always smiling, no matter what my father did to her. He was emotionally attached to her. He was like a lover or a mother to me. I was rebellious, so he ignored me. My father used me and sexually harassed me (he did the same to me), and even when I told others, I was only victimized. He sometimes spoke as if he were some kind of great person. He was abusive toward my mother. Weird women give birth to weird children. Women become weird when they get their period. I myself wondered why I created art, and at times considered getting tested for Asperger's syndrome. I quit, but... My older sister was exploited by another man, married him, and committed suicide on their wedding anniversary. As my father gets older, I feel nothing but anger toward him, and in Japan, there's a culture that makes it seem like we have to take care of our fathers. My father deserved it, and I want him to take his sins to the afterlife, but unfortunately, he has surprisingly not changed his behavioral principles. Perpetrators never change. My mother's cognitive function is declining slightly. I may be the one who survives in the end, even though I'm the only one who's completely devastated. I'm wondering whether I should be present at his end or go to his funeral, but at this stage, I don't have any plans to be present or go to the funeral. I also have some memory loss about where my father's hometown is. On exhausted nights, I sometimes wish I could die. My doctor recommended that I publish my creative work. I'm considering my interests (Western music, etc.), the fact that I've earned a certain number of credits from a correspondence university, and the fact that I took the Eiken exam a long time ago. Taking these factors into account, I'm pondering how I want to live the rest of my life. Part of me is social anxiety, so I'm a recluse. Is my life worth living? There is still no answer.

I am Name years old single mom of two beautiful kids ages 10 and 12 years old. I was once a victim of abusement, harassment, assault, defamation, and rudeness of other people when I am just a simple, kind and silent person. Until now, they still look down on me and I don't know what have I done why they hate, angry and so rude to me. They are treating me like I am not an educated person when I am and they keep on look down on me because we are just simple and in a middle class person or family. And they think that they think better than me and I don't have any complain of it but they keep trying to argue with me that I am a better dumb person to them. And it's kind of abusing to think of that way that they think like that to me and that's insult me of my human being. I don't know what to do right now on how to express of this. My family I dont know if they doesn't know about this or they know about this or just hiding from me that they know everything but they really dont agree with me all the time or don't believe in me. What help should I seek for this matter of existence!?

At the tender age of 9 I was molested by a family member. This went on for 3 years. When I did mention it to my immediate family I broke down and was admitted to the hospital for a period of 48 hours. I was truly saddened and really felt alone. I carried this burden on for over 20 something years where afterwards I befriended someone that physically abused me. I ignored the red flags and in order to keep my children safe I told the perpetrator that I will stay. He would hit me in the back of my head many times to this day I have a small protruding disc in the back of my skull. The last incident when I knew that I couldn't take anymore and that my children would be safe is when he tried to throw me down my stairs after straddling me while choking me. I prayed and I asked God for strength. This was in Date. I found the strength to heal, seek therapy and start my own nonprofit (Nonprofit name) which serves Women and Children of domestic violence with temporary shelter, counseling, and 10-week trauma sessions. I now know my Worth and I know that I am a Woman that matters.

He would break up with me and then win me back. This went on for over a year. We were staying at a local hotel for the weekend to celebrate his birthday. We got into an argument in public so I went back to the hotel room by myself. I didn’t let him back in the hotel room when he first got back and instead, packed up all of his belongings. Once I let him in, he threw some of his things. I asked him to leave. He got on his phone. I asked him to leave again and he pushed me down onto my back. He proceeded to punch me over and over again in my eye and head. After the first punch, I said “I’m sorry, please stop”. His response was, “so NOW you’re sorry”. When he finally stopped, I immediately ran to the wall and got crouched down, as blood gushed out of my nose. I again pleaded for him to leave as he cussed at me. He did leave after that. He broke my orbital floor in my eye and my finger. I filed a protective order and was granted it for a year.

When I was 16, I was attacked by a mutual friend. Duct taped and tied to the bed, I've never felt so scared. I just froze and I hated myself for a long time because I always thought it was my fault and I should've protected myself. I later learned that freezing is a natural trauma response. He raped me, I didn't ask for that, no one does. I couldn't speak about it to anyone because no one would listen, everyone just thought I was making it up. It took a long time and lots of therapy to be where I am today. 8 years later, I found my people and am thriving. If it weren't for the other survivors around me, I wouldn't be here today.

In the months following my assasult, I grew so angry. Poetry was my outlet, to not be quiet and be as angry as I wanted. 100 pages of poetry marred by tears, anger, betrayal, hope, and happiness. On the 100th page, it was dedicated to survivors, I hope that whoever reads this, will find some degree of comfort as I did when writing it. Dear Survivors, You are more than enough. You are worthy of all the stars and gold combined on this Earth. What happened does not define you, you are more than that. From one to another, it’s tough, it’s difficult. You’ll have your ups and downs, happy moments and miserably haunting ones. But, I’ll say this; Thrive. In all honesty, thriving will be tough. But it’s the best reward there ever will be. You deserve to thrive and live and have fun and experience life. What happened to you does not define you, but it is a part of you. What happened to you is not shameful, what happened to you is not your fault- it never will be. Do not let those around you shame you and beat down on you, quieting you and your story. You are the writer of your own story. You decide if you want to forgive. You decide if you don’t want to forgive. You decide if you want to be the bigger person or not. You get to decide. Don't let anyone else tell you any differently. C.P.

I felt so alone until I watched it ends with us. It was the first movie I saw alone in a long time. I walked in thinking it was some sort of romantic comedy until I was watching the movie and realized I was lily bloom. I married the man that I thought was this incredible and passionate person, who only ended up cheating on me and physically and mentally abused me. The scene of being pushed and her thinking she fell is exactly what I experienced. Shortly after my own personal experience I realized I was pregnant and wanted so badly to fight for my marriage until ultimately I had no choice but to leave. I’m 8 months pregnant now and have had the hardest time connecting to the life inside of me until I watched this movie. When I saw lily setting up her baby’s room, and the words she said to Ryle in the hospital was exactly what I needed to accept what it is I am going through and realizing I will never go back to the abuse I endured. And truly it ends with me and my new baby that I have yet to meet. Thanks to this movie it gave me strength to set up things for my new baby. I gave him a new name. And I am ready for a new chapter in my life. Thank you to Justin baldoni for bringing awareness to people like me. I left the theatre crying not because I was sad but because God brought me alone to that theatre to watch this movie that I felt was made just for me…

I thought that sexual assault victims had it easier in usa or in Europe. Easier than us in Middle East and arabic gulf countries but i was so ashamed when i realized that sexual assault is hard anytime anywhere. I was sexually abused by two of my cousins , once from a stranger worked in nearby Deli and the fourth time by my private tutor . I was only 13 years old first two times , 15 in the second time and 18 in the fourth. and here in Middle East if it’s happened to you and tell your parents and family there is only two scenario either your dad, uncles or your brothers kill the man who did it to you even if he is family member or they will make you feel that’s it’s your fault somehow and neither is working. Because of my young age in first 3 times i was afraid and I didn’t told anyone until now even my best friends or girlfriends later . The only time I disclose my fourth time by my tutor i told my mom and she told my dad he threatened to kill him but I bugged him to calm down and this was the only abuse I don’t remember all the time and have no effects in the long term maybe because my family helped but the first three time was a hell and still is I have many mental illnesses depression, anxiety, ADHD and insomnia and I can’t help to think maybe if I told them back then that maybe they helped me and I won’t have this pain untill now . This is the first time I’ve had talk about it and it’s hurt alot . Im 39 now and still struggling with it and im not seeing any light in the end of the tunnel.

After seeing 'It Ends With Us', I felt I wanted to share my story. I saw this movie alone for the first watch, brought my Atlas to the second, and my bestfriend to the third. Watching it left me feeling empowered to anonymously share my story of abuse and violence. The film and the book brought back so many raw emotions, ones that I still struggle with today. My story started when I was 16 years old and I was with my first 'love', everything was OK in the beginning - but suddenly everything changed. I was constantly told how worthless I was, I got pushed down his stairs - but I wouldn't leave - and I didn't know why. He was controlling and did not like other people talking to me, going to extreme lengths to stop this from happening, and making sure my friends did not see me - people who he saw as a threat. I ended up in the hospital because of him, where he broke my hand. He got that mad at me once, we were in his car and just before I could shut the door and put on my seat belt, he started driving recklessly to scare me. What scared me more was when I was sleeping and I felt his hands around my throat - with no explanation. There were many times that I would say stop and he would carry on because he told me he was in control. I had cigarettes put out on me -multiple times, and was told that I was disgusting and looked like a sl*t, even telling me I was 'fat' - which led to further health issues. When I ended up with a bruise, my friend who is now my Atlas noticed - we worked together. I confined in him, and he was the first person to properly listen to me, and let me share my experiences. Throughout all this, it brought me overwhelming anxiety and depression and even the lengths of having to have therapy because to me it was a nightmare even when it was over, and reported multiple times. My parents never understood, asking me why I didn't just leave, telling me I must've wanted it to carry on. I didn't. I'm nearly 10 years later now, with my Atlas of 5 years, feeling happier and in a better place physically and mentally - I'm still healing. This movie brought me to tears and I related so much to Lily Bloom - some of it felt like my experiences - but the film also brought me a type of feeling of freedom and happiness. Thank you for letting me share my story. ❤️

I am the partner of someone with diagnosed bipolar. He is 52. Diagnosed and treated since his 20s. We were together for 3 years this month and I have stood by and supported him for 3 years. It has been a very difficult and rocky road. He was stable for many, many years and then triggered possibly by the sudden death of his mother and forced into several med changes. He then lost 2 jobs after having the same one for 20 years, crashed his car when manic and had a terrible gambling episode. This all happened in 2023- To name just a few of the incidents…. After so much hard work, we thought he has finally "stable" - since fall of 2023- and then the unthinkable happened last week- he hit me in the face, punched a hole through my door and shattered a full length mirror. He had never been physical to me- ever. I waited a year after we met to introduce him to my 2 boys and then he become their everything, especially my youngest. They walked in minutes after I kicked him out to their mom battered, broken glass and a door punched through. They have never witnessed any violence in their lives and have a super stable home. That was 5 days ago and we are in total agony. Like grieving a sudden death. Having him hurt me is a line I never thought he could ever be capable of. He has tried to contact me, but I think he is still in an episode- his emails (I blocked him elsewhere) are about how agonizing this is for him and lack an even understanding of the pain my family is going through. We can barely keep our heads above water right now. He is the most loving, intuitive and empathetic human I have ever known- how can this be about him? Please help me with any insight. I am seeing my therapist- 3x this week already, and got medical attention....I am having no contact with him, but insight from those of you who have experienced would help so much. He is on a combo of seizure medicine and antipsych which we thought was working. seizure medicine for sleep and antipsych as a rescue. He’s never been hospitalized. I’ve let his family know what’s happening but they are 8 hours away and I don’t think doing much and he doesn’t really have anyone else locally but me. I am grieving so hard. I am heartbroken. He was the love of my life that I wasn’t even looking for. I was with someone from age 18-45- married for 20 of those years - had my 2 children with him. And I have more memories and feelings and love for this man of 3 years than for my ex husband. As hard as these 3 years have been, he was my second chance, my love. Met him by accident - wasn’t even looking. And the thought of all of us starting over (my children’s father rarely sees them- only on occasion). Well, it almost feels too much to bear. It hurts more than the hit to my face did. And that is really messing with me. I know I can’t go back. I know it will now happen again - I’m told by my therapist, I’m reading it everywhere. I don’t want to even model that to my kids. My youngest is devastated - said to me “it feels like he died in a car crash suddenly and we never got to say goodbye but he caused it on purpose”. They were best friends- the closest I’d ever seen my son get to anyone other than me or my other son. My older son I had to drop at college 6 hours away 1 day after it happened. And all he cares about is if I’m ok. That burden is so unfair. They are 19 and 15. And I’m so so angry at the same time. I can’t make sense of anything right now I guess…. I want so badly deep down to believe he was wronged as a child or that this mental illness is responsible, that he is capable of rehabilitation - and at the same time I am so angry that I went him arrested and exposed - I want him never to do this to me or anyone again. I’m drowning in my anxiety and thoughts

That unbearable and stubborn silence all started as early as age fifteen. It was a silence so reluctant to be heard that I thought it was worth the suffering until the age eighteen. I am now twenty-two years old and I am here to say to you that YOU ARE HEARD. I BELIEVE YOU and THAT BREAK THROUGH IS RIGHT AROUNG THE CORNER. My partner was fifteen as well when the abuse started. Many find that unbelievable but sickness and evil doesn't have an age. Sickness lies within the person that has endured it themselves or for God knows why...There is not one valid excuse for emotional, physical or mental abuse. The abuse didn't start abruptly, it didn't start off with broken bones, bruises and cuts... The abuse started mentally and emotionally. Something as small as him telling me what I could and could not wear. The jealousy of another guy looking at me or myself looking at another guy. His comments and remarks that I was secretly proud of because I felt as if I was something he didn't want to lose, until later I found out I was something he wanted ownership over. Over these few years leading up until my high school graduation the abuse escalated from verbal to physical swiftly. However, there were many times I made excuses for him because I "loved" him and he "loved" me . For every hit. For every slap. For every punch. I forgave him and I believed his "I won't do it again." Not to sound like a broken record but if you didn't know; they always do it again. There were many occasions where I'd hide my black eyes with piled of foundation and powder. One thing I learned is; it's hard to hide a busted lip. I'd cry my eyes out to sleep until my eyes felt like sandpaper. Physical , mental and emotional abuse eventually put me into a state I couldn't describe until the age I am now. The word I associated my trauma with is disassociation . A physical feeling of being in the present but my mind was elsewhere. I suffered this for so long and never spoke up. My fear of being caught dead because I spoke up for help buried all of these emotions of anger, resentment, betrayal etc. I ended up losing my virginity to this boy. Not purposely but out of fear. That has been my biggest regret ever because virginity was something so precious to me... More than often I'd be forced to have sex with him every time or the threat of being punched in my face and beat. This went on months until I couldn't hide the fact that I was literally breaking not just emotional but physical. At the young age of fifteen, he punched me one time and broke my jaw. After the fact he threatened me with a gun. Where does a fifteen year old even get a gun from? Undergoing surgery was definitely something I couldn't hide from anyone. The fear of speaking up overcame me so much until there was no more hiding or lying could do. When I woke up after that surgery the feeling I had in the pit of my stomach is indescribable. I was more than broken. My mouth was wired shut for 30 days. No solid foods. No birthday cake. I spent my seventeenth birthday with my entire mouth wired shut with brackets and rubber bands. Fast forward, I continued to stay because of the threats of exposing secrete naked pictures he'd taken of me while I wasn't looking and threats of killing me. Hell, he threatened me with a gun; was I supposed to think he was lying about actually killing me? I can count the times he's broken into my parent's home woke me out of my sleep. I can count the times he's punched me while driving my car. The abuse got worse and the more I stayed the harder it was to hide once again. At the age of seventeen after he beat me, he raped me. This time I completely lost myself. I didn't want to eat. I didn't want to get out of bed. I didn't want to breathe. I thought I had it bad then until I found out I was pregnant... I absolutely was numb during that entire time he forced himself inside of me. I couldn't feel a thing until the doctor walked in and told me those results. I was mortified... I ended up not keeping the baby after a deep talk with my mom and asking God for forgiveness. Now that I look back it was the best thing I could do for myself at the time. I couldn't stand being with him and the fact that I'd carry half of him for nine months would have destroyed me... I shouldn't have shared the news with him but I did. I couldn't believe the fact that I was pregnant because I have endometriosis. A medical condition that makes it difficult to even become pregnant. Of course the threats came that he would expose that I had an abortion if I didn't respond to his text and NO CALLER ID calls... But would leave the part out that his penis actually got hard after beating me , so he raped me. But guess what I did? I stayed. The police didn't believe the threats, there was no way to trace it from the no caller identification. So I continued to stay involved with him for about a year and a half. After I completely dropped him, the threats got worse. The days I feared the most were happening. The following me and chasing me in public places were insane! Eventually he began to create a paper trail for himself. I ended up getting restraining orders placed against him since the age of fifteen but do you think that stopped him? There would be calls all day and all night, that I was literally on the edge of losing my insanity. There were many times I begged God take me out of this world...I didn't want to be alive anymore. The harassment had me on edge 24/7... the PTSD was so real. BUT by the grace of God I am here today to say it gets better. I am now twenty-two still trying to figure out how to work through some of these emotions I feel. There are a great amount of good days, but then there are days I question God about my situation at such a young age. I just want you to know that everything is working out for your good. I want you to know you are not ignorant to stay in an abusive relationship due to the fear of losing your life over it. I want you to know that things get worse before they get better and most importantly you are not the person they treated you to be. This is your story and you have the pen and white-out to make it over. I love you- Name & Email

At a young age, I started therapy. I found through therapy I grew up with narcissistic parents, and my sister developed narcissistic traits. I was the scapegoat in the family. My parents taught my siblings and I that family comes first. My family took advantage of my sensitivity. They expected me to do everything for them. If I did anything for myself, I was told I am selfish. After years of therapy, I learned that explained a lot as to why the relationships I had felt similar to what I had with my family. I never knew my childhood trauma linked to my relationships. My daughter's father abused us emotionally, mentally, and physically. Hitting, slapping, belittling, name calling and more. A lot like how my family treated me, but minus the physical abuse. Eventually he left. Before he left, he pinned me to the wall and threatened to hit me. He left. I got a restraining order. He broke it by coming to my house. No one was home at the time, but he was there because he left a note on the gate of my house. That happened two more times. After awhile, it stopped. A few years later, I attempted another relationship. I ended the relationship last year. I had to. He was a combination of my dad and my daughter's father when it came to narcissistic abuse and domestic violence. After finding my current therapist, my therapist said she she is proud of me. She said I was able to break the generational chain of abuse. It was scary to break up with my now ex, but I wasn't happy. The healing is scary, emotional, but necessary. Both my Down Syndrome daughter, and I are blessed to have each other.

We lost our family dog to domestic violence. Yes family, because he’s family to us. After that our abuser drained every single account, sold things, hid things, stalked us, and more. Then he left both me, and our child homeless and struggling a lot. What followed was zero help, and support from the police, DA, DV Unit, and the judges. In my wildest dreams I never imagined that nobody would help us. We spent 7 years waiting to get housed, and each day I think are they going to kick us out today, and will we have to sleep in our car again. Understandably that’s an extremely uneasy feeling, not to mention the toll all of these things have taken on our mental health. Yet another thing that isn’t taken seriously enough. Besides all of the abuse, including the post separation abuse, there’s coercive control, and our judicial system needs to acknowledge, and do something about this too. As parents we want to protect our children, but we can’t do that without help from our Congress. We can no longer rely on our individual states to properly help us. We need a nationwide Act that protects all victims of abuse, but this will not work unless there’s accountability. It must be required to be enforced this. We need a Serious Crime Act. I strongly believe that if the United Kingdom can enact this so can we. The day that I had to tell our child that her own dad abused, and killed her dog is something I will never forget. Everyone situation is different, but the one thing we have in common is we’ve experienced abuse. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, especially not on children.

To my fellow survivor, I am a 9 year survivor of sexual assault. I am proud to be sharing my story, and hoping my words can provide comfort and courage. Something that was very important to me was reporting my rapist. Fear takes over our body, and we feel numb. I wanted to cocoon myself in a blanket and stay there forever. The thought of contacting law enforcement was terrifying. Taking that scary step can make you feel empowered. I wanted my voice, my story, and my emotions to be heard. There is a quote “speak the truth, even if your voice shakes.” This quote carried me through one of the most difficult times in my life. When we speak our truth, we are no longer carrying this alone. You are being heard and taking back the power. Share your story, heal with love and care, and most of all surviving is the bravest of all. “I now see how owning our story and loving ourselves through that process is the bravest thing that we will ever do.” Brené Brown

I awoke the morning of July 5th, year in a bed I don’t remember going to sleep in, next to a person I’d never even met. When someone violates your trust and your body they become a different person to you. Almost instantaneously. I had been in his bed with him before, but I really noticed it then. The voice I heard stung my ears, his laugh made me cringe. But it wasn’t that I knew right away what happened to me, and what he did was wrong. It was the fact I thought I made a mistake I had to live with forever. I thought it was a “misunderstanding”. The fact I didn’t say yes, I said no. I closed my legs. As I got up out of that bed, I have no memory until I was in my car driving home. When we talk about the combination of trauma brain and 27 28 probably at least six drinks in my system. All I wanted was a shower, maybe that would erase all of this. Maybe it was a mistake, people regret having sex all the time, not like this. I began to have panic attacks while I was alone or when his name came up. He later became very angry at me, and humiliated me. I was forced to engage in sex against my will. My very, very, stumbling, blurry, intoxicated will. I said no, why wasn’t that enough? Why was that the first time I did that with a man? Why did it feel like my heart was broken? Because my heart was broken. Trust violated, and I didn’t know how to tell anyone what happened. The person you used to call in these situations became the reason it happened. I never thought anyone would ever believe me. I also really didn’t identify it as anything other than a mistake, ick. The next day when I came home I proceeded to take off my American Eagle brand blue Jeans, White T-Shirt, and maroon-colored American Eagle sweater. I sat in the shower for an hour. Later that fall I found those clothes in the trunk of my car, that makes me think I remember even less than I do and that fucks with me. I donated that sweater about a year ago. I should have burned it. About two weeks before it happened, you told me that you were no longer attracted to me anymore. And that's fine. We were at a party. That party was for our friend, Name (Name is a story of another time), but I was intoxicated by the time you got to the party. I think I arrived at 4, and was too drunk to drive by 5pm. When you got to the party, I drunkenly told you how much I was attracted to you, and you rejected me. You told me that you were no longer attracted to me. In those words. But why would you then do this two weeks later, if you weren’t attracted to me, why sex? 29 The following spring, I had moved into an apartment with a few strangers, and that is when the memories started to really come back to me. Laying in bed one night, thinking about my experience, I casually G-O-O-G-L-E-D what is “non consensual oral sex”. The person that I am today cannot believe that I was in this much denial from all of this, that I had something done to my body and didn’t even know. When was it going to let me know? When this thought prompted, I knew I didn’t consent to what happened to me, but I didn’t want to admit that it was sexual assault. So what was I looking for? I wanted some middle-ground answer to pop up, an answer like, ‘you’re not wrong, but you weren’t sexually assaulted’ but there really is no in between. I acted as if my experience did not warrant the title of the experience of others that I thought might be “worse” than my situation. Non-consensual oral sex. What became of this fucked up search history that I’m sure someone somewhere can see what I”m looking up and say ‘damn, that’s fucked up’ what came up was R-A-P-E. I stared at the computer screen, started to shake and look over what sources and what people say, what the law and science says. That is an uncomfortable word. It doesn’t just come out, it is a dirty word that is said, and it doesn’t just come off the tongue, it sits there and lingers and anticipates the reaction you know is coming because the person you told also knows the person who harmed you. I looked at state law, by law, these dirty words I’d hate to make you uncomfortable to read, is rape. That was the most validation I had ever needed. I had issues with relationships after that. I had one bad memory from him, and all the other memories from him would shatter. This was unfortunately a common feeling for me because he attempted to rape me a few months back. Looking back, that was way worse than I ever imagined. Today I educate people that attempted rapes are almost as traumatic for your brain as the sexual assault. Your brain 30 recognizes the same thing, but in my mind, eventually my no was taken, so I had the power right? Why did he listen to me then? My body became uncomfortable in my own skin. I wanted a new body, one that had not been touched by yours, one that didn’t have your mouth on it, hands that did not touch yours, and gone through something, I'm sorry I can’t tell you everything because I don’t remember. You hear that? I don’t remember. I used to say, if someone that didn’t have my psyche came up to me and told me exactly what happened to me, happened to them, and then told me that they were unsure if the feelings they had in their own body, the only thing we truely own, the only thing we can truly love, I would say definitely it is sexual assault. I would probably be inquisitive to the fact that what they are telling me is in fact, sexual assault. I would tell myself that I didn’t consent, and that question would automatically be answered. But when it happens to yourself, you know that feeling. Again, the feeling of disgust, nothing has ever fit that feeing more and that was a fucked up comfort and validation that I had been looking for. Oh my god, someone else actually knows how I feel, it wasn’t just me, I am not completely and utterly alone with these thoughts. This was rape. If that word makes you uncomfortable, imagine how uncomfortable it makes me. It doesn’t slide off the tongue, it sits there and anticipates the reactions it knows is coming, because the person that you’re talking to also knows him. This person is also under the assumption you were still attracted to him, which is disgusting that you ever even took the time to entertain. Trauma is stored in the body. It’s unfortunately, and to me, accurately described as a rush of sharp energy that rages through my body, and makes me hypervigilant. Not only that, Every year, my body freaks out at the same time of year, every year my body freaks out with the warm weather. Around the time of year I met him, May or June. Unfortunately as this story continued, that became more and more relevant to my story and even morphed into other parts of 31 the year associated with him. Like we have fall time, attempted rape occurred. We have wintertime, a few days before christmas one year, attempted rape occurred. However, especially spring/summer time of year breaks me apart, and it has affected a lot of my physical relationships, and feeling of safety. I guess July 5th changed me. Changed me into the woman I am today, but I am happy to say the woman I am today helps others that need support and advocacy. Out of all this bad, all these years of feeling trapped, I am finally able to set some of myself free from what happened to me.

My dad . Violent , physically , verbally , emotionally .He turned my home, my family into a war zone . The screaming, fighting & horror lived on for almost 42 years until I walked into a police station and the legal system saved me from further terror . I’m tired still 2.5 years into no contact . He still controls my mom . This is just a small part of a story Ive waited to share but I’m not fully ready .

I never knew what true love looked like, my father is a narcissistic abuser. My first ever relationship made me relive the horrors and traumas I endured growing up, I was 16. At 17 I met my ex-fiance and we were engaged by 18, she was also a narcissistic abuser who didn't show it until then very end. I thought at love hurt, no matter the price you had paid to be with someone. I’m now 24 have have been single for 3 years after multiple sexual assaults from 12-21 on top of those two abusive relationships. Now I know that love doesn't hurt because the love I show myself is the love I deserve from another human being. It gets better and I chose to end the abuse with me. Lily’s story has touched me in ways I never thought possible and has reminded me how strong I am to end the cycle with myself. Never again will I go through abuse at the hands of someone I love.

I’m 20 now; when I was 13 a childhood friend started to see me in a more (clearly) sexual light. I wasn’t very attractive as a child (big curly hair, acne, too tall for my age), so when he began to show interest I didn’t discourage it. I even flirted back. We met at our old middle school, once, before our freshman year of highschool. He didn’t want to look at me, he only wanted to touch me. He kissed me in a way that’s irrepetible because of how violating it was. Once we started highschool, he asked to come over to my house. I thought he was just joking because it was 9pm at the time. He took me behind my apartment complex and wouldn’t listen to me when i said stop. I told one of my sophomore friends, who reported it to the school as a sexual assault. He and I had separate meetings with the school, and our schedules were changed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened, because of how popular he was. He began going around our school telling everyone he had r***d me (he hadn’t). Then he flipped the narrative that, of course i was lying. I would hear girls talking about me when I was sitting right in front of them. I wanted my story to be heard. I wanted everyone to know what he did to me. Nobody listened. Nobody cared. Nobody apologized to me. “He didnt do it to me, and he’s still my friend, sooo….” is what I heard from 80% of the girls that I told. That experience cracked me. When I was 15, I was (ACTUALLY) r***d by a 34 year old man. I felt like I was ruined goods. I felt like nobody cared about what happened to me, nobody cared that I was so traumatized that i didn’t care if i lived or died. Later that year, I met a 19 year old who got me on fentanyl. I would overdose 4 times in front of him. After the last one, he told me I had wasted money and product with my overdose. We stayed together until I was 16.5 and he was about to be 21. He ‘cheated’ on me with a 14 year old and countless of his friends. By 17, I realized my Prince Charming was never going to come save me, and I had to do it myself. I decided to start my own life. Stop living in the past, and get my shit together. I enrolled in community college hoping to get my nursing degree eventually. Realized that wasn’t the right path for me, and now I’m 2 months away from graduating from a prestigious cosmetology school & am the executive assistant at a 5 star salon. For some of us, it’s on ourselves to pick the pieces up and put everything back together. Now that I am 20 years old, I feel that i’ve lost so much time suffering in my silence, so much youth wasted as an anxious puddle who didn’t want to be perceived. Live for your future. Live for the laughter and the smiles. Every day we make it through, is a day we accomplished. Some days will be better than others, but we’re always moving forwards, never backwards.

Hi whoever reading this, I’m a victim of online harassment when I was 19 the incident goes like that I was one day scrolling through my Instagram and one day I get a request from this guy and I accepted it since we had a mutual didn’t think much of it even if I replied one minute late he would spam me that same night we video called he made me do stuff I was totally uncomfy with made me bend over or get undressed on that call I didn’t want to do it at the same time I was like nothing could go wrong he kept asking for my Snapchat password since we were sharing pictures and I told him I was tired and wanted to go to bed he said oh just send the password I promise I won’t save anything or any picture and I thought doing this will make him leave me alone and so i did I think I blocked him on WhatsApp but not on Instagram or Snapchat coz I forgot to do that I think one day I was on a family trip and I fell sick he texted me but I didn’t repspond coz I was sick and then came the message “I’ll have your nudes I’ll share them okay?” And with that message came an attached pictures that he saved on his phone of my nudes the thing is I wouldn’t take pictures of my face when I sent stuff like that but he saved pictures normal mirror selfies I took that showed my face I texted him coz I was sooo scared I took my phone to the bathroom my mom thought I was puking and what not he told me if I didn’t do what he said he would leak those pictures so I did what he made me unblock him on WhatsApp (I said something like oh u weren’t talking to me that’s y I blocked u for some sympathy) he made me gave him my passwords for all my social media accounts he made me get nude on a video call and insert a toothbrush in me I didn’t want to but he was blackmailing me so I did it after that when I told a friend of mine I was advised to block him which i did I came back home from the trip I redownloaded my telegram app same text “Y did u block me do what I say” “I’ll share those pictures on the internet okay?” I blocked him again and then a few months later I get a text from the same country code and the same emoji “🩺 “ in the bio I blocked that number too he’s studying medicine and I know his Uni name since he has it on his Instagram bio. I’m still healing from it I have so much anxiety whenever I think about it I live in this constant fear that he might leak them or already leaked them I wish I could go back in time and just stopped myself from giving that password I wouldn’t be dealing with it maybe if I thought enough I wouldn’t be in this situation but I took steps which were: blocking him everywhere Deleted my snap chat and telegram And also deleted my Instagram account I told my friends to not question the block this guy and they did and after I deleted my account I made an new one first thing I did we blocked him

You hear it all over the news. You see it in films and tv shows. As women, we are often warned, and we hear comments about ‘safety in numbers’ when you go to the toilet. ‘Watch your drinks’ when out and about. ‘Don’t show that much skin, cover up’. ‘You can’t wear that.’ ‘Get a taxi home, it’s not safe to walk’… unfortunately words can not protect you from the intentions of others. I went on a night out with friends, a reunion that started off so well. I remember the dancing, the constant flow of drinks…pints, gin, vodka, sambuca to name a few. Yes, it is not ideal to mix however, when you are reminiscing, and your group had a booth with a table full of drinks; you would probably do the same! Anyway, the lights flashed, the music bounced off the walls and suddenly a trip to the loo mixed with alcohol on a busy autumn international night in Location…makes you forget what floor you left your friends on. Fast forward to the smoking area alone on the phone, where I swayed and debated leaving. “A taxi home would be safer than walking in the rain”. Before I was allowed in, I had to pay by card, he insisted on no cash. I entered the taxi behind the passenger seat in the back and it began. The looks through the rear-view mirror were instant…my memory of the journey is absent until we reach my corner. My directions at this point were now ignored but I trusted him. He parked, away from my house. He locked the car with me still inside. He looked back. “Kiss me”. He had hold of my wrists and climbed through to the back where he began to sexually assault me. I am unsure for how long this lasted but he later broke away and asked to use my toilet. This enabled me to get out of the car so…I said yes. Why I ever thought I could get into my house first in a pair of heels whilst heavily intoxicated I do not know, but even so, I looked back to see how ahead I was…even now I can see him running down that pavement to reach me at my door. In my own home, he was in control. He stole my breath, he stole my voice, he stole my body. He raped me. No one ever prepares you for an event like that, or even how to tell your parents. I went to SARC, I did the forensics and repetitive questions, and I was told it would take years of my life away if I were to take it further. So, I went back to work the following Monday as I had a responsibility to fulfil. It weighed on my shoulders. I knew there was an expectation. Many google searches informed me of my next steps…I made an anonymous complaint to the Police, and everything began to move. Everything became intense…I was living out what felt like a BBC drama. Months later he denied it in court, so we went to trial. The support I received was minimal. I was still working, taking unpaid time off. My close family and friends were those who got me through the days in court, the days in-between and the days I live now. I took away the screen during my time on the stand, I answered every insulting question and remark. I looked him in the eyes, he held eye contact for only a few seconds before breaking into a smirk; as I broke down in the stand. I was torn to pieces in front of a judge, jury and courtroom. In front of him, who proceeded to spin his web of lies which were the complete opposite to the ones he had said in his initial statement. “To be a good liar, one needs a good memory” …He was found guilty. It took 2 weeks for me to be seen as a victim and believed. Fast forward to the sentencing hearing where my main pillars of support accompanied me…I read out my victim impact statement… He got 11 years…a minimum of 8 ½. I got a lifetime sentence, anxiety, depression, dissociation, insomnia, scars and PTSD. February 2024, 2 months after the 1st anniversary; I made my 3rd attempt. A phone call from a friend pulled me back to reality, who later pulled me off the bridge. A mixture of anger, tears and confusion filled the next couple of days, and I knew I needed to take back control of my mind and body. Which is hard when his monstrous hands are imprinted, his poisonous breath echoing in and flooding my ears and the pain weighing heavy on my body. This time I had to do something different. I could not bring myself to hurt anyone else further, so I searched online. I came across The Survivors Trust and after a quick scan through what they had to offer, I instantly thought ‘why wasn’t I told about this sooner?’. Talking can feel repetitive especially when you cannot explain how exactly you are feeling…which is ok in this sense because of their ‘Survivor Resources’. They echo that everyone has a different healing journey and they have sets of resources that have been put together with the survivor in mind…whilst also having a section for those who are looking for help on how to support a survivor they love in their lives. The Survivors Trust then became an outlet for me because even though I am very much at the beginning of my healing journey, I felt responsible and motivated to raise awareness for this charity. No one should ever have to face a traumatic event like this but sadly, the actions of others are something we cannot control. Therefore, I created a Facebook page called ‘Name’ and started promoting my quiz night followed by live music and started a Just Giving Page. I never anticipated a big response; I had a goal of £1000. A goal of raising awareness for the charity, fellow victims and survivors. A goal to inform. The CSEW estimated that 1.1 million adults aged 16 years and over experienced sexual assault in the year ending March 2022 (798,000 women and 275,000 men). 15% of girls and 5% of boys have experienced sexual violence by the time they are sixteen. Every five minutes in the UK someone experiences rape, attempted rape, or sexual assault by penetration. ‘On the face of it, something has to change’ (Prima Facie, 2022). Date he was sentenced. Date 2 I raised a total of Specific amount from site.. People have different opinions on the length of time to which I will be ‘fixed’. “Sometimes, it takes a few days”. A few days, a few weeks; a few months to fully grasp what happened, to trust myself? Living in and out of my own body, not knowing when it is truly me or what is now left. The sleepless nights, the nights that repeat every detail. Every once in a while, my ears go out, ringing as I simply stare into thin air, dissociating and remembering each and every detail without speaking a word. Sometimes it only takes a smell, a name, a piece of clothing, a sound to take me back to these moments. It does not take much to remind the brain of the agony. It’s hard. I float throughout each day, each night, as each aspect of the memory replays every time, I take a second to think…no matter where or who I am with. It is currently day 630…I have finally started EMDR therapy, I am still at times in denial of the events, and I am very much at the beginning of my journey. I am beginning to understand there is no timeframe on healing and with the support of this charity, my close family and name, taking time to self-care and keeping up with my medication is all I can do for now. Everyone is different. Therefore, it is totally natural to heal and deal with trauma in different ways. I work and like to keep busy…some say to avoid/escape the flashbacks but unfortunately, they do not escape me. However, although I have tried many times not to be…I am alive, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure things change. No one should live in the fear of not being believed. No one should be put into situations where they experience a type of sexual assault. No one should have to go through something they could not control and feel guilty for the rest of their lives. No one should feel alone. Don’t get me wrong, I still feel shame, guilt, embarrassment, regret and the list goes on but I will get there. I am alive today because of the resources and support presented on The Survivors Trust site. My journey is very much at the beginning, and I so wish I knew about this charity sooner. Therefore, this is me giving back as well as letting others know about the charity, not only the victims either…Survivors Trust helps everyone impacted. Raising Amountp is just the start of the work I will be doing for the charity. It is okay to talk, there are people who will believe, who will support in any way they can. Together we are stronger…you do not have to face this battle alone. I have recently continued to share my story and been a listening ear to others on my page Name on Instagram and Facebook. I don't want anyone to ever feel alone in their trauma, in their healing, in their journey. I am far beyond cured. My EMDR therapy has been completed but its like a bomb has gone off...I've accepted what has happened, happened. But it'll forever be part of who I am no matter how many steps forward I take. He gets out in 5 years and is then under watch for 3 years as he is eased back into society - that support has been planned for him. However, if I didn't attempt to take my life 5 times...I would never have been put forward for MH screening by my gp who then referred me for EMDR. I wasn't given any support from SARC or Victim Support - and it's honestly made me feel so defeated yet again by him. Yes, he was found guilty and went to prison in 2023 but I am the one serving the life sentence.