I'm really not sure what to think anymore, if maybe I'm just going crazy or what. I've had so many symptoms for so long, so many things I tried to ignore, scared of being an attention seeker or a liar or a malingerer, even just straight up flashbacks, as fragmented and disjointed as they were, where I told myself I just wanted attention or was some kind of pervert.

But in the past month it's been different... I feel like I'm losing my mind... These things can't have happened to me. I'm actually not sure if I'm going crazy. I won't write out anything in detail, but the flashbacks I've been having these past few weeks... It's nauseating to think about. Being pinned down, choked, orally raped, molested, fingers stuck inside me, and how young I was in these memories, and in different places at different times... Trying to sleep has become so terrifying, when I feel that sick panicked feeling coming back I know what's coming and there's nothing that really helps, and I don't know how to live with it. And I don't know whether any of it's real, every time the moment the flashbacks stop I feel like I made it all up. And maybe I did. But then I've lost control of my own mind.

I don't really know how to deal with this, or what to tell myself or what to think. Whenever I think about it I start to feel like I'm dreaming, like I can't find my body almost. How to begin to reconcile with it I don't know. I feel guilty not punishing myself for even entertaining the thought that these things really happened. But I can feel it, it's killing me. Every day I feel like it's happening again. I'm a college student. I'm turning 21 soon. I don't know what to do.

A user Dm me and must have confused my post with another.

They brought up church and some other stuff and said that I was broken but Jesus can save me.

I’m not against it. But I said I never mentioned the church in any of my posts.

Then they said they read it and that I must have DID or multiple personalities.

That kind of got me a little mad and I spent a couple of hours looking through my posts.

And I’m not happy about being called broken. I’m trying, I am.

I’m good with buisness and work and freinds. I’m single but that’s not a bad thing.

Some people might call me broken. But I’m trying. I don’t need validation.

I’m fucking trying. You can’t call me broken, I’ve done stuff that a lot of others can’t, I have succeeded. I have people that thank me.

I am written into wills. I have friends that love me.

I am not broken cause of my childhood, I turned it around.

You can say I’m not perfect and that’s ok.

Sorry, I’m just freaking out

The day after watching the film ‘The Perks Of Being A Wallflower’, I told my dad that I believed I had been inappropriately touched by my mother as a child. I was 14 when this happened and have recently turned 18. Watching this film was the first time that I realised women could be sexually abusive towards close young relatives.

Perhaps that sounds strange. As a kid, I thought that pedophiles were men and that women weren’t sexual predators outside of the common narrative I’d seen in the news which was within the context of inappropriate female teacher and male student relationships. It never would have crossed my mind to think that a mother could be sexually abusive towards her own daughter.

My mother was SEVERELY mentally unwell. My father tried to convince authorities to section her multiple times, only to be told that there was nothing they could do unless she wanted to accept help herself. She had bipolar with severe manic tendencies and suspected schizophrenia. It wasn’t uncommon for her to talk to or laugh into space (presumably seeing things that weren’t there). She was largely unable to care for herself and often had severely matted hair, would go without eating, wear her clothes the wrong way around and even on one occasion left the house on her cycle with a red stain on her jeans which our neighbour had to point out to my dad.

She was never really ‘there’ if that makes sense. She was always lost somewhere in her own head which frustrated me a lot as a kid as I could scream until my lungs hurt right infront of her and she wouldn’t even acknowledge me. Not because she didn’t want to (at least I think of it this way) but because she just wasn’t there. She would simply stare into space.

It wasn’t uncommon for her to have fits of rage and break things or throw hot drinks at my dad. She could also have very productive phases where she would manically clean the entire house.

My mother would on multiple occasions have her hands down her trousers and on or around her private parts whilst my brother and I were sat in the living room with her. Neither of us ever thought much of this as it was rather normal behaviour from her. Nothing shocked us much.

My needs were rather neglected as a child and I wasn’t taught basic life skills. My mother insisted on showering and bathing with me up until the age of 9 which is when my family experienced her final manic episode and we became homeless when she forced us to leave the house. I was also very embarrassingly unable to use the bathroom alone up until my mother was removed from the picture as well. I wasn’t taught how to wipe or clean myself properly so my mother often went to the bathroom with me.

I was prone to UTI’s as a kid and since my mother did every other intimate activity with me, applying the medicinal cream to my genital area on multiple occasions was no exception. Looking back on all of these things feels incredibly humiliating. I was only 9 but I still feel as though I was old enough to do many of these things myself.

When a social worker proposed that my mother stop co-sleeping with me and allow and allow me to have my own bedroom rather than sharing with her, she became unhappy and resentful of her. She was the best social worker out of the 4 I had and my family was fond of her. My mother would still come into my room and sleep in my bed after this request was made.

I was on one occasion paraded in front of my father in a women’s bra when I was prepubescent and clearly too small to fill it. Perhaps this was all a joke but looking back on it I feel uncomfortable, maybe because I am now aware of how poorly I was taken care of as a child when it came to intimate topics.

My mother on one occasion accused my older brother (by 9yrs) of being inappropriate with me which is absolutely not true. My brother was my primary caregiver past the age of 9 due to the nature of my father’s disability and we have a very normal sibling relationship. My brother told me that this allegation my mother made was at my uncles house. I don’t remember this uncle very well as a child, however I do remember the pornographic t-shirts he would wear with prints of topless women on them. My father never had a positive opinion of this uncle so it was my mother who exposed me to this sort of content.

In retrospect, I don’t know if I am simply looking into things too much. The events when singular don’t sound like all that much but I have this deep feeling of discomfort and humiliation when I reflect on my childhood and recall these times. I worry that I may have falsely accused my mother of a really heinous thing that actually isn’t too serious and I’m merely being overly sensitive.

So after I very explicitly said "never contact me" and blocked all avenues of communication. They did the only thing they could which was to send the cops to my door late at night for a fake "welfare check". Like where was your concern when I was child?

My father threatened to kill me so many times when I was a child and I believed that he would kill me. And when I told in adult hood, they send a big 6'3 cop to my door with guns. To harrass and intimidate me.

Fuck them. I hope they die. The sooner the better I will dance of their graves.

Some writing:

I remembered on the 22/12/2022. The pain of the betrayal was so extreme I thought I might die from it. And I did die that day and I was reborn, my life forever changed.

I told on the 02/12/2024. Speak your truth and reclaim your power. In one fell swoop, I went from powerless victim to powerful survivor. This act cemented my status.

These past 2 years have been a merry-go round of deaths and rebirths. I think the death is in getting taken over by my abused/victim parts. My fractured mind is a sarcophagus, or a series of them like a Russian doll, for versions of me that needed to be for me to survive.

Whenever I feel threatened ( back from the dead), they will either take me over entirely, or, they will be on each shoulder - instead of devils and angels, I've got a bunch of abused kids.

They do take me over and rule me, to a great extent. Over these past 2 years - for days, weeks and sometimes months. The feelings of abuse, victimisation, abandonment and powerlessness feel like death. It feels so bad you want to die and at the same time you already feel dead.

Death and rebirth is moving between these abused child parts and the powerful survivor - the self. That is why the phoenix is so often used by incest survivors as a motif or even a chosen name. The life of a survivor is so often one of death and rebirth.

As my self grows with each rebirth, I also know that my parts will always be there. They were structurally embedded into the wiring of my tiny developing brain and nervous system over a near decade.

Knowing that I will always hold such horror inside me scares me. But maybe the goal is to get used to being a phoenix, or to learn to reduce the frequency of the rebirths. It's very hard to know.

Hi all,

I've been experiencing clitoral numbness for 4 years now off and on. (The only time I don’t feel numb is when I get PGAD, also developed 4 years ago, but that’s a story for another time. Focusing just on the numbness for now, because that takes up 97% of my life) The day immediately after my sexual abuse 4 years ago, I felt this way (completely numb). Even when mentally aroused, my body couldn't feel aroused physically. Like I just felt nothing down there.

I'm only 20 years old and so even if I'm not in a relationship anymore, I still want to feel connected to my body in this way. :( I want to enjoy reading erotica and other things I used to enjoy. I feel like I've been castrated and that my body is working against me!! I've been seeking pelvic floor therapy (13 sessions done, improvement with my vulvodynia and vaginismus but not the arousal problem) and more recently, EMDR sex therapy for it (1 session done). Hoping the sex therapy will help, my pelvic floor PT and I both think it’s psychological due to my abuse. She says if trying EMDR sex therapy doesn’t work for 3 weeks, we’ll experiment with hormones. Also, never took SSRIs in my entire life either.

Have any of you here experienced something similar? Thanks so much.

I'm not sure if I belong here, so if in the wrong place please let me know and I'll delete.

I'm 27, and already estranged from my parents. My father was physically and emotionally abusive towards me, especially in my younger years. My mother was an enabler but didn't abuse me directly. As a result of the abuse I have CPTSD and DID.

I don't have any memories of CSA, my memories of childhood are patchy at best, but every few months I get a spike in PTSD symptoms. I have nightmares about rape and sexual abuse where I'm still a child. I can't have sex with my girlfriend because either I start imagining I'm being raped, or I dissociate. Once another alter fronted and starting crying uncontrollably. Even if the psychological symptoms weren't there, my body just does not allow sex to happen in the traditional way, it just shuts down. I had a smear test booked in once and the same alter as before ended up fronting, cancelled the appointment and didn't let me front until the surgery closed. The only time I've ever had anything medical happen, they were unable to complete the exam and I had panic attacks for the rest of the day.

There are other things too - I remember as a kid being afraid to go to bed at night and being terrified someone was in my room. Inappropriate roleplaying with teddies. Having to bring spare changes of trousers to school because I had issues going to the bathroom when I needed to. Constant constant nightmares.

I've been having intrusive thoughts about sex and rape all day, it's making me feel so nauseous and like I want to throw up. I don't know if I'm sick in the head for having them, or if something really did happen that I don't remember. I'm not expecting any answers or "you definitely did" or "you definitely didn't" I just wanted to vent because it's been a bad day.

i had a gyno appointment today and planned to show her my scarring because i have concerns towards it. my anxiety was going through the roof beforehand but thankfully it went fine. she talked about my transvaginal ultrasound results (they were normal but i could have endometriosis so im being given bc to stop my periods) and i showed hee pictures of my scarring. beforehand i told her about my past experience with csa and fgm and being told by past gynos that it looks like my abuse never happened. she was mortified hearing both and told me gynos cant determine if ive been abused or not because how long ago it was. i showed her pictures of my scarring. parts i thought was scarring (like transections and a potential periutheral tear) was actually normal parts of the adult hymen except for a specific part that i pointed out and she said it looks like it has been severely torn before (which i have a memory of being 5 and my abusive aunt taking a mirror and showing me the fresh tear profusely bleeding and telling me "look at you, you're ruining now"). that specific part i also deal with severe pain at and it even hurts to touch which she's giving me pain relieving gel for.

overall the appointment went fine. i almost cried telling her my trauma and it looked like she was holding back tears. and was relieved to hear that im not making up my scarring and it is there. and im very satisfied with this gynocologist because she was way more professional than my last two.

The dude didn’t explain it super well and I’m utterly terrified of them not finding anything. I reported the trafficking I went through and I can’t even give absolutes on things. Makes me feel useless and I think them not finding my CSEM will plunge me permanently into denial.

-- My blocks are lifting from my cptsd freeze.

Within that i am getting bits of thoughts of - "it wasnt so bad"....etc etc

But on the flip side, i am finally seeing some things as very harmful that are not trauma but my environmental factors....that tell me a bit of a bigger story i dont yet feel as its too much.

TRIGGER WARNINGS

• my dad used to distribute porn (pre online). He got me to help him from age 12. He knew i started to watch. It was in our home. It included quite extreme and illegal sex (not children). He didnt care. He ended up keeping the porn in my room when i was 15/16.

• my brother tried to kill himself, my dad did nothing to help but i helped my brother (which near broke me). Years later my dad denies it happened then he blames me for it.

• i was always shunned to silence or the corner.

• i was mugged at 14 but i didnt tell anyone as i knew i would be blamed

• i started drinking and clubbing at 15/16

• wasnt given any money, was told i had to get a job from age 13

• i was only gifted anything if my gambling addict dad won something which was rare

Anyway, i have lost my intention and gotten rambling

Sharing for feedback as i cant see the harm

I was rescued from my abusers a year ago. I promised myself that I would do something special on December 1st to celebrate but it just came and went and I didn't even notice because of how awful my mental health has been the past few weeks.

I just want to give up. What's the point of freedom if I'm broken forever? I feel so empty all the time. I'm not even a person anymore.

I don't even know what I've been doing the past year. It's just all blurs in my mind like the rest of my life. I can barely make ends meet. I can't even hold a job. I've spent hours every night just sitting alone trying to make sense of it all. I don't want to think about it but it worms its way into my mind at the same time every night.

I feel so worthless. I was born to be a victim. I was born to be trafficked. And now that I'm free I'm just a burden to everyone around me. So I guess it's no wonder why I didn't care enough to even remember my special day. I'm ashamed of myself.

For almost 10 years I have suspected that my father molested me as a toddler. I began suspecting after being told of a police report that was made based on allegations I’d made about him when I was only 3. That he’d touched my privates with a bat and chased me around the yard

My mother denied it for so long but she finally admitted that something may have happened, and that she agrees I was abused in multiple ways by him as a child, and she didn’t know how to stop it. Not long after this conversation I uncovered what I know is a legitimate memory ~ it flashed into my mind clear as day, and it was something I had remembered before but forgotten for so long, but it was so brief and so strange

There he was, my father holding a baseball bat up between my legs and pressing against my privates. He looked focused, he looked mean. His tongue was sticking out of the side of his mouth in concentration as he looked down at me. I was 3 and left alone with him. That’s all I can remember

I don’t know what this means or if this thing is even molestation or sexual abuse or something else. His physical and emotional abuse was controlling and stern and this felt the same way. He wanted me to hurt and squirm and be uncomfortable, he was angry that I would protest. But what was he actually doing? And what does that make him, and what does that make me?

Hi! I am in college. I am a loser because of my trauma. I ruin all of my relationships. I was sexually abused from around kindergarten to sixth grade. At the time I thought no one knew but as I get older it became more obvious that my parents did. I don't remember the bulk of my trauma but recently an older cousin (50F) has continuously confessed to my mom that she used to touch kids and the kids she watched. She used to live with us. My mom asked if she touched me and I said that 'I wouldn't remember if she did.' I remember mostly my cocsa. And things that just made me uncomfortable. I grew up to be curvy and my mom said to me around the time I was 17 (after that I told her her new boyfriend was super creepy) it was normal for him to look at me and mostly likely my own father wanted to sleep with me bc of how busty I am. I am disturbed by that to this day (now I am 21). Also my stepdad used to give me money, I'm not sure why but when I told her she told me she thought he was sleeping with me and paying me for it (I was around 16). Idk I'm trying to paint a picture of how my home life is. Outside of that, my mother doesn't really talk to me much, my dad only reaches out when he feels like it. I don't go outside, every so often I have a new psychological melt down. I've had many therapist all of which don't really seem to understand how to handle someone with that kind of trauma. They always tell me stories of how someone got abused then told then at some point was helped. I was never helped. I had every sign in the book, fuck I spent my middle school years buying adult diapers and sippy cups and regressing to age 4. I started watching porn in second grade, probably before but I can only remember the time in second grade. My dad told me when I started college that my mom wanted to send me away to get help but my grandma said no. I could only be filled with anger, because everyone fucking knew. I liked it better when i thought no one knew bc the truth is everyone knew and no one gave enough of a shit. I'm isolated from my family, I did porn at 18/19 and my cousin who sa me found me and tried to show it to my young niece, luckily I was private at the time. Do you want to know how I found out? My niece was pissed I wouldn't teach her how to send foot pics (age 16) and told me basically I was a hoe and I shouldn't act better than her bc cousin told her all about me. Yall. So that completely devastated me. I can't make any friends bc of the constant stress my brain is in apparently so actually, unbeknownst to me, severely mentally ill people who haven't experienced someone giving a shit about them, make kinda shitty extremely codependent friends. I developed a sex addiction, i genuinely feel like i have no control. I cheat anytime i feel like i don't matter, fun part is, the people i cheat with couldn't give less of a shit about me. And I love it, reminds me of home! I fuck out of this pathetic desperate need to have someone make me feel like the old times when people kinda gave enough of a shit about me to sleep with me. Oh wait, they also didn't give a shit about me because as soon as I stoped sleeping with my cousins they would immediately bully me in front of my entire family all the time. I am the black sheep in both sides of my family. I live in a home where my mom doesn't talk to me. I have non epileptic seizures which most people believe are directly caused by my trauma. I run through therapists. I self harm. I cheat. I'm a bad girlfriend. My trauma has ruined my life and the only reason i haven't killed mused is because i genuinely think that dying while my life is so shit is a disservice. I imagine in my past life I was the shittiest fucking human being ever, which oddly makes me feel a bit better because in this life all I ever did was be born. I can't even tell what's trauma and what's my own actions because when I think about why I did something I get flashbacks. I don't deserve this I promise I don't. I don't deserve hallucinations, I don't deserve any of it. I tried to chill out smoking weed and had hallucinations so bad I don't remember my life before smoking. I can't drive because I can't remember enough to actually drive (taken drivers school for about 3 years now and test about 4x) I'm just a fucking loser. I worked but every time I do I get so sick, seizure every night. And the seizures are fucking scary, and I'm alone and I know it's a dumb excuse and this probably all sounds like a million excuses but I'm scared. I'm alone and I'm scared. Is there anyone like me out there? No one gave a shit enough to help? Feel like your life is ruined ?

I made a plan, got organised and realised I was ready. Did it and then immediately made myself uncontactable to them. They could find me here I guess but if they do maybe it will open their eyes. A lot of tears about my youngest brother, there is so much pain there, but otherwise I feel ok/nothing, exhausted and ready for a rest. I just really hope I got through to the mums (my brother's wives) as I believe they're the most likely to have the capacity to believe and protect the kids.

*I'm telling you this for 2 reasons:

1. First and foremost, to do what I can to protect the next generation of children.
2. Because I'm tired of hiding their disgusting secret.

I'm telling everyone for this reason: Child rapists and their complicit enablers don't like it when their victims speak out = DARVO

The truth is that my "father" (XXXXX XXXXX) started molesting me when I was a toddler. This progressed to rape which went on for years throughout my childhood until I got my first period soon after my 12th birthday.

My father is a child rapist, a perpetrator of incest, and a criminal. He should be in prison. Unfortunately, the only person who could give evidence against him in court is XXXXX XXXX.

XXXXX XXXX knew that I was being raped and she did nothing. This is despite the fact that, as a school teacher, she was a mandatory reporter for child sexual abuse. Legally, she was required to report it and she broke the law by allowing me to be raped.

This is to say nothing of a "mother" who condemned her own daughter to years of sexual abuse instead of protecting her.

"DARVO" - deny, attack, and reverse victim & offender.

I was a powerless little girl when he made me his victim. They were adults. Nobody accidentally rapes their child even once - let alone for years.

There are powerless grandchildren being born who will be at risk of child sexual abuse from XXXX XXXX. I've alerted you to this risk.

I don't know if he rapes boys too or if it's just girls.

Listen to the No Laughing Matter podcast Season 4 Episode 1 - "Incest - The Silence and The Suffering". GRACE TAME says it all in under 15 minutes.

Protect those kids at all costs. Don't gamble on their safety. Don't put your fingers in your ears and say la la la like Grace Tame says, at the expense of their safety.

I am blocking you now because I don't have space in my life for people who don't believe survivors when they come forward and/or people who stand by child rapists and their enablers. If you are NOT one of those people, feel free to reach out to me in the future via social media. If you are, never contact me.

I sincerely hope he didn't/doesn't get to your kids too.*

I was hurt, three times in my childhood by a friend who was 3 years older than me. She used to tell me, "it feels good." "tell me it feels good." "shut up and don't say anything and I'll make you feel good.", she wouldn't release me until I started participating on myself, abusing myself for her. She didn't want me to touch her, only her touching me. Now I have these awful intrusive thoughts and slight, arousal when I see, I think I was supposed to enjoy it. What if I did, like it? What if I'm lying to myself and I was... I was what she said. "You like it don't you? If you ever tell anyone what I'm doing to you I'll hurt you."

The only thing that reassures me is when I was intimate with my ex, and she was so gentle, sweet and caring, just what I wanted, and needed and it was a night and day difference.

Many of my earliest memories from CSA (6-14yo) include me thinking I was going to die, but there are at least two that was a lot worse than the others and I clearly remember that intense fear. I was absolutely sure I he would kill me either by choking me to death or beat me, stab me or in some other violent way.

I’m in therapy but it is so freaking hard trying to talk about these memories without feeling like I’m physically there and reliving that out-of-this-world level of fear and panic. Does anyone else have the same experience with thinking you were going to die during CSA?

Im so sad I'm crying I'm not a person who cries a lot because I'm never sober sorry and I'm not sober rn but I'm crying so I'm so exhausted it just happend too much for me rn like there was a big trigger and then the flashbacks came those memories are so painful and I'm kinda drifting away rn

I've been having a lot of intrusive, disgusting sexual thoughts lately. Probably a byproduct of my abuse. It depresses me that something I managed to block out of mind for decades can have such a profound effect years later.

I loathe myself for harboring such fantasies. I have the gym and a couple hobbies I should be doing but gooning all day makes me feel like I belong in the dirt where I belong.

I’ve had some realisations about my father, who got in trouble last year and was found to have shown interest in looking at babies online.

Before I found out about this, I had dreams that he had graped me. I’d been depressed my whole life and chose partners who abused me.

I am having suspicions that I was abused at a very young age, and I wondered if it’s possible to have lasting vaginal damage that could be seen into adulthood?

I have a long and deep groove running the length of my vagina. I’m now wondering if that’s a normal occurance or evidence of trauma as a child.

Thanks in advance 🥲

I think I'm finally ready to move on. To put the past behind me and let it go. It wasn't a choice I made or anything, just somewhere inside me knows that I'm finally ready to move on and let it go. I'm finally ready to burn those damn pictures of him that my family gave to me when he died back in May. I thought I'd feel happy or excited, or something at least, but I just feel numb. I've only gotten 6 hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, and I've eaten a total two meals in the last three days. I don't feel hungry or tired or anything. All I've been doing is reading really dark romance novels (please don't judge me) and crying. It's not even a sad or upset crying. I just lay there completely numb, staring at blurry letters on my phone's screen while tears fall from my eyes. Is this how moving on is supposed to feel?

What the title says. We are experiencing this right now (not the first time but I think the worst so far) and it’s extremely distressing. To be blunt- it feels as if my body is reacting to being violently raped over and over again. My hips, low back and thighs are in the most pain and won’t unclench as hard as I try. My pelvic area is burning so bad like I have a uti but I know I don’t. My shoulders and neck are so tight. My stomach aches so bad im doubled over rn it literally feels like he’s inside me again or shoving househould fucking objects inside me while laughing histaricly looking down at me again uuuugghhhh ! I stg this shit makes me wanna end it all so bad. I feel so fucking dirty and disgusting. God I wish he’d just come find me and do it again already but he’s not gonna. He hasn’t since I was 11 years old. I’m too old and used up for him now. Yet somehow he still has total control of my body even thousands of miles away. It hurts so much 😖

I feel so revolted by myself, by my history, by what I am connected to.

I feel as though the root of myself is thoroughly rotten. That I am connected to a completely rotten tree, no fertile ground, just something really disgusting and wrong.

To free myself from it is to disconnect myself from everything. No ancestral heritage or wisdom for me. A lost soul afloat the wind, nothing to ground or guide me.

Cut it all off, stamp it all out and fly away.

A baby bird flown forcibly from the nest. The nest has nothing good for me.

I don’t know what to do. I feel so ungrateful and evil for wanting to leave. He’s being so nice to me these days. He’s so nice to everyone and almost no one in my family believes me or cares bc how could such a good father do that? He is successful these days and he says he’ll pay for most of my college. I’m 20 and tried to go to college once in the past and I had to leave bc I have DID from what he did to me and also he was still controlling my life and I couldn’t handle it. He says I have to be going to college or trying to go to live with him and everyone else in my family is somehow worse to live with so that’s what I’m doing.

I guess I just have to be contented with trying to become independent after college and rarely seeing him. But I don’t know if I can make it that far. I have to live with him another 8 months even if I do get into college and he’s starting to question why I’m acting so weird around him. I get very intense flashbacks all the time and they make it hard to work or do anything. I’m writing this from the bed I’ve been lying in awake for several hours having constant phantom sensations of him assaulting me. It rlly hurts and I can’t get up or make it go away. One of my strategies in the past has been faking panic attacks when I’m actually having flashbacks in the car with him where I can’t get away because that’s more explainable and allows me to mask the shaking and whatnot. But I can’t do that for everything and also being around him can make me spiral dangerously because when I’m triggered or think I’ve done something wrong, I self harm by hitting myself very hard, and he encourages this because he thinks it’s self discipline.

I have a job but it doesn’t pay well at all. And I get very few hours. He won’t let me get any normal jobs because he says it’s for my own good, I need to be doing internships or whatever and I couldn’t handle a normal job. And he controls my bank accounts.

I already owe him so much. My fucking surgery from last year would’ve sunk me financially if I was on my own but he and his insurance covered it. And he helped a lot with my college the first time . I would be a bad person if I ever went no contact with him but I want to so bad because oh my god. The flashbacks feel like re experiencing hell but also I can never be sure if it even actually happened because of the DID. I want to die, but I don’t actually want to do that. I just want to feel safe but I feel so stupid for wanting that and I don’t know what to do.

I can't even tell my therapist. I can't tell anyone details about what happened to me because I know it will change how they think of me- I know it will. I will go from being me to being disgusting and evil before I even finish explaining what happened.

I can say it very vaguely: "childhood sexual abuse". I try not to get any more specific than that. I just feel like if anyone knew the specifics they would hate me and immediately decide to never talk to me again. Or even go so far as to hurt me, maybe even in the same ways.

I'm afraid if I tell anyone, they will want to kill me out of disgust and hatred which doesn't even make any sense because I want to die, so shouldn't I just tell everyone?

I was exposed to sex too early (I was around 5 or 6 I believe) by my father. And since I was 13 I was asking myself if I really like girls or is it just my trauma response to being abused by men. Then, in my twenties I convinced myself that I'm probably bisexual, which kinda saved me from further frustration for some time. Even though I never dated girls. And now, after few years, I started questioning myself "what if I actually don't like boys and I'm lesbian, but I was forced into having relationships with men and I didn't want to admit it?".

As I said, I never had relationship with women, but I always considered them much more attractive than men. And to be honest, I think I didn't even like most of my exes, I probably was dating them just because they were giving me the feeling of being seen, cared and protected (which I was lacking my whole life). I remember that I was not interested in them intimately most of the times. Gosh I feel terrible for saying that, but quite often I would look at them and be like "ugh they are so disgusting". But sometimes I had strong desire for them too.
Right now I'm having a boyfriend, and I don't feel like I want him most of the times. But I do love him! Often I'm thinking is it because of my trauma and my healing that started almost a year ago, or I really don't find him attractive in sexual way.

It's so fucking complicated. I'm just tired of feeling like a fraud. I want to know for sure, but it feels like I'll question myself till my life ends.
If anyone relates and already figured out this for themselves, please reach out in comments

How to bear the lies, the gaslighting? My parents claim that nothing “this bad” happened to me, they downright lie or euphemize things to the point it’s utter distortion of reality. They deny I was left unattended so often with my incestuous abuser. And do not believe the sordid acts I remember.

TW cult, medical fetish, CSA, incest, intergenerational abuse, trafficking, organized abuse, cardiophile abuser and dark cardiophilia, narcissistic personality disorder.

I went through incest at the hands of a grandparent, and we lived a whole year when I was aged 3 to 4 in the very house of a dangerous cult flagged as such in my countries since several decades. I have a full time job now, responsibilities and a household on my own (albeit we still lived with my parents, we are just moving houses to have independence for the first time ever, which is causing massive arguments).

My mother admitted to have been csa’ed by her parent, precisely my incestuous grandparent! The cult we lived with was highly dangerous. I’ve displayed severe csa symptoms at different points of my life, ranging from suicidal ideation and almost attempt age 3/4, self harm starting age 5, anorexia at trauma anniversary dates each year, compulsive bathing and hand washing, fear of being a criminal when I was aged 10, terror of being sedated at night and made to hurt other children (aged 10, I was telling that to medical providers in desperate attempts to get helped!)

Still I went to uni and had various degrees.

Still I brought them A+ all the time, I was the head of the class cause reading was my lifeline and my sole identity, no matter how deep the emotional turmoils and symptoms that I soon learnt to ignore or not to dwell on because it was the only way to survive. I displayed autism and cpstd symptoms always overlooked. I never gave up, in spite of the school harassment some years, in spite of being parentified at home by my traumatized and traumatizing mother.

But since a bit more than a year, I see a bit clearer in the puzzle of lies that was my childhood.

I know that I am not delusional, I know I’m not, no matter how often I ask myself, riddled with shame : maybe I made all this up?

But no, no, a 2 years old should not be mimicking intercourse with sunglasses thinking of their grandparent. A 10 years old should not hope to be raped in school’s restrooms as to be “understood eventually” and allowed to talk about what cause them depression, nor assume that every teacher might look at their classroom with an erection. A 5 years old should not eat potato chips and butter thinking that it taste like the butt of that grandparent. I think that this grandparent probably trafficked me, nightmares hint at that, and the extremely problematic sexual behaviors of two of their closest friends (incest, nymphomania, age regression, alcoholism) are compatible with my flashbacks and assumptions.

Most of all, most of all, there are the memories of cardiac torture, and of medical fetishim. This is the main reason why my parents adore to claim that my memories are too far fetched!

I remember being forcefully made to orgasm, physiologically, under torture, aged 3 to 8 roughly. I remember being tied. Being sedated so heavily that moving my limbs was not possible before hours. Having a scarf with sedatives on my face. Most of all I remember the sexual obsession of a woman, maybe a bit more, maybe two women and hunch men, on the topic of cardiac abnormalities. I was stethed, made to have tachycardia, yelled at and berated for nearing flatline as they raped me and made me orgasm an impossible amount of times in a single row. I remember the pain of electrocution, a pain so horrific that during a flashback of it I genuinely thought that I would die on spot.

I remember, women’s words, telling me obscene things about my heart, obscene things, of how my “little pump could not take it any longer” and I needed to cum right now according to their standard, of how I was made to swear loyalty to the woman raping me, bringing me near death and rescuing me as a last move. I was told that my “heart was giving out”, that it was wonderful that I had anorexia cause my “depleted” heart could be felt more easily, that they would make my heart “explode” and “burst” and it would be all my fault, that I was a “pig” enjoying that. I was told my heart was the “most minuscule” they have ever felt, and that it was a wonder it survived the cardiac arrests they inflicted on me.

As a child, as a clueless child, I remember being trained to cater to sexual needs. I remember doing traumatic plays, about cpr and defibrillator. I remember laying down, knowing someone would come rape me. I remember being minuscule and lifeless, strangled and passing out, with an impossibly heavy adult doing cpr on my chest and straddling me. I remember being stethed naked by sobbing women saying that they were “loosing me”, and begging a doctor, absent or present, to save me. I remember that adopting a lascive and limp attitude was asked of me. I remember getting up early and doing abnormal amounts of workout, age 8, so that I could bring my heart over the maximum healthy amount of heartbeats. I remember being so messed up that merely feeling my heartbeat against a mattress, without even thinking about it, caused me to orgasm.

That cardiac torture is messing with my life. For years. Every day, every single day. There is not a passing day I have no symptoms of that!

Still, still my parents claim I’m crazy? I need to be assessed by a psychiatrist? I saw two psychiatrist just this year, who both said: CPTSD, OCD, ARFID, and dissociation. No delusion! No delusion, that weird medical fetish my rapists had is none of my fault! I’ve been to countless providers, countless, and they all have absolutely ruled out psychosis. 20 years silent about this, I tried speak through my symptoms of course. But when eventually I gather the strength to say the truth out loud, this is how I’m treated?

It is so petty that gaslighting is one of the massive weapons used by my mother (who I highly suspect could have csa’ed me as well because I have multiple flashbacks and symptoms hinting at that, not even to mention the fact that she is sadly a narcissistic who ordered to sleep in my bed each night for ages 4 to 11 and bathed me until I turned 16). My father is a pathological enabler, he truly is blind, and is swearing to me that I do not remember properly things he were not there to witness! Convos between me and my mother only, when he was not there! Tortures and csa that I always had the shady hazy memories, no matter my shame and denial.

My mother told me so often in her life, about the verbal abuse mostly : “but who would believe you? Who do you think would ever believe you?”

The other day again, she cruelly told me “are you sure that this or that friend is truly believing you? Haven’t you noticed how they came say hello to the grandparent that supposedly rape you?”

“You are completely crazy, my poor”, “you would need frozen showers to calm you down”, “you could need a electric dog collar to send you shocks to calm your awful temper”, “what about a handsome doctor who would play resuscitation with you and mouth to mouth, would not you like that”, “and what else, soon you are going to say that I raped you, that I was at the edge of the bed?” Those are some excerpts of the lovely words my mother tells me.

I am not a liar. I am NOT a liar! And I’ve survived this. It is about time that I am treated normally.

Years of therapy, pills, suicide attempts, work leaves, leaving my hometown, occupying my mind with all sort of things to just not think about nothing, meditation… I just don’t know what else to do.

I’m very tired of my family, like very very tired. I still hate myself. I cant forget nor forgive what happened and I can’t move on it seems.

No matter how “good” my life gets, I still crave to take my own life.

I'm 26 Female he's now 31. This happened back when I was in the 2nd grade.. it went on til I was about to enter middle school so when I was 11. Fast forward now I just told my therapist about it last year and my mother. My bro currently has a girlfriend with 2 kids, one of them being a girl who's 11. I guess my question is should I tell his girlfriend about this? It's always been in the back of my mind since he moved in with them and I think about it every single time I go over their place

Everything is so blurry and confusing. I constantly tell myself I'm insane, making everything up despite how much sense it all makes sometimes. I feel terrible even being in these spaces because, while I do relate a lot to some experiences here, I fear I am invading a space I do not belong in. I could make 100 posts saying this, and it'd always be true.

But this time, I want to try and trust my body and shattered mind. I want to try and, even if just for today, entertain the idea I may be right.

Because why else would I be so easily triggered about things I do not remember experiencing? Why else would I have these somatic flashbacks? Why else am I this mentally and physically fucked up despite the life I remember having been mostly normal? So I wanted to try and write this to myself.

I believe someone molested me as a very very young child, I have only fragments of memories where I can't even see this person's face, just his penis. I remember being taken to meet his friends and feeling my blood run cold. I remember being such a freak child, depressed and trying to kill myself in dumb ways my childish brain thought would work.

I have multiple scars with no stories, even my genitals are fucked up. I have vaginismus, little to no sensation even on the clitoris most of the time, I belive I have scarring down there. My mom recently revealed I was constantly hurt in my vagina and anus to the point of bleeding as a baby. I also remember having frequent UTIs all through my childhood and my anus and vagina had frequent dermatitis and were always burning and hurting.

And the nightmares... I had so many awful fucking nightmares. My only recurring dream I've ever had was of small gnomes climbing onto my bed. I'd be tied down to the bed, and they'd gang rape and torture me. I dreamt of this so frequently up until I was around ~10 years old. In adulthood, I've recently been having dreams nearly every night that, in one way or another, involve (C)SA. Be it graphic horribly vivid nightmares of being abused, or me having been assaulted and now no one believing me or reporting it and nothing happening... There was also this one time where I had a mostly normal dream until a little girl turned to a man and told him "you rape me all the time" and I woke up.

Last year, I tanked an entire semester at college because I recovered memories of a therapist I was seeing as a teenager suspecting I have DID. Because if she was right, which seems to be the case... God the implications of it, of all of this destroyed me. And I'm still not remotely okay. It's getting hard to endure this semester too. Truth be told, this entire year I've been mentally worse than in years. And I can't ask for help. I can't stop to breathe.

And I keep telling myself I'm making everything up. No matter how much lines up, how many therapists I've had tell me they believe me, that I clearly have repressed memories of something very dark and awful...

But today I'm trying. Today, I want to believe... Something happened to me. Something horrific that scarred my body and my mind forever. He and his friends, they killed me. They killed who I was supposed to be and left my ghost to carry on.

Idk y I’ve pushed my abuser out of my mind for so long but tonight he popped into my mind. It’s 3am and now I can’t sleep. I want justice. It’s been 13 years but I know it’s too late.

I know the title is vague, but honestly, I have to keep it vague for my own sanity... How can I look at all of these freaking repressed memories that keep coming up the longer I go through therapy and not just... Fucking lose it? She sold me... My own adopted mother sold my innocence for $50 a week... But that's not even the worst part. The worst part was remembering that the pedos wife was allergic to Borax. Meaning some of those memories didn't come from him... Smelling those borax cleaned pillowcases I'd washed the day before... I know who they came from now, and now I don't know what to think. Did she want me to just stay in her home forever, to be his permanent bangmaid so she didn't have to take care of her husband like that? I was eleven when it started. Eleven. Taking care of that household like I was his damn wife... I was more of a mother to my sister than she was, I took care of everything... Yet I'm the fuck up, I'm the failure... Fuck all of that. If anyone asks, I'm done protecting your image, D... I'm telling the truth from now on.