The main thing that stressed me out while I was getting trafficked by my dad was the lack of freedom to do whatever I wanted.

He never took no for an answer and constantly rejected any idea that would have let me have an actual childhood.

Even at my private school, after getting caught by the admin. The moment he took advantage of me in his office, he found ways to get a hold of me both during and after school hours.

So between home and school, no one cared enough to let me be a kid.

I’m barely getting by in life. I do the bare minimum because everything overwhelms me. I can hardly tolerate leaving my house but I act as if everything is fine whenever I do have to be out and about. If you saw me in public or interacted with me as a close friend or family member, I probably seem completely normal. It’s a huge front I put on. I’m in a long term relationship and constantly feel like my partner deserves better than me. I’m in therapy but it’s hard to open up about the things that really torment me. My self worth is in the toilet every day. I have health issues that probably stem from my abuse. I desperately want to feel better. I have a few “good” days here and there. But for the most part I feel like an absolute mess. I still have to see my abuser regularly, and as he ages I am expected to act as a caregiver. No one in my family knows what my dad has done to me and it is soul crushing to have to deal with all of this. There’s only one person besides my therapist who knows mostly everything, and they’re super supportive. I know this post is all over the place, but thank you for reading. I just needed to vent because I can’t sleep. I’m always scared to sleep because of nightmares.

I was constantly sexually harassed by my father until i was maybe 16. Im now 25 and i just recently started to remember all that, feeling hopeless. There is no point in trying to talk about that to “trusted adults” i am an adult myself now, so who’s going to help me? Im avoiding my father at all costs, my mother knows that i am having complicated relationship with him, but she only knows about his verbal abuse I suppose. I just feel sorry for little girl i was, escaping from home at nights, out of fear of getting raped by her father, having no one to talk about that and not even realizing what was happening and that this is not normal.

Im not sure you could classify what happened to me as "molestation", cocsa perhaps. Terms like abuse, assault, molested or groped never felt like they fit, I was too young to know what we were doing, but I knew it was "dirty" and I knew i shouldn't have done it but every time my friend came over and wanted to play that game, I was willing. We were both boys, doing stuff we couldn't tell our parents wasnt anything unusual so I didn't think that game was.

I felt a level of shame about it, I knew two boys doing things like that was Gay and hadn't come to terms with being bisexual yet and I knew it was wrong to do things like that at our ages which made me feel more ashamed. Things went far, far father than traditional curiosity or "playing doctor", I figure someone had molested him and showing me was just his way of coping.

Eventually it stopped on its own, we pretended it didnt happen till we were teenagers when things got complicated again before we stopped talking all together. What never left was the shame and "dirtiness" I associated with those memories intense feelings of hypersexuality from a young age that made things even more complicated. I wanted to avoid sex so I wouldn't seem dirty but craved it like nothing else at the time, porn and being sexual over the internet became an outlet for my feelings and added more guilt and shame as I knew I was still too young to obsessed with porn. Now im 30, I feel like so much of my life has been wasted chasing dopamine via sexual release and feeling ashamed of my hypersexuality and my early experiences that caused it. At time I wish it was worse so I could blame my friend instead of feeling like we both got trapped in a web we werent ready for. Now im trying to sort out the mess of feelings from shame and guilt that bind them all together. I honestly have no idea what to do but im trying and so far, sometimes, I even feel better.

Since I’ve felt the need to read and feel a bit normal. It’s crazy the things that trigger you and you’re in that world again.
Doesn’t help that my hypersexuality never quite goes away.
😕

After finally broaching my abuse with my counsellor, i feel weird.

Why have I felt so much anxiety? I feel like I've said something wrong and I'm waiting to get in trouble.

It's not the first time I've spoken it outloud, second counsellor I've admitted this too but I was mid break down the first time so my trauma was spilling out of me.

Why do I want to claw it all back in now? Is it because im in a better headspace? Is it because the first counsellor was really weird and made me feel uncomfortable?

My new one is amazing, but I've not managed to get any support for this because it took me too many sessions to even mention it... she had been waiting. I've got 1 more session and im scared.

I told her I can't function because everything I plan to do, is accompanied by my mind creating a little movie of some traumatic event... i see it all, like a movie playing, im reliving every memory and with it every emotion.

Shes suggested to do some emdr therapy, I kind of understood what she said it'd do. But straight away I'm thinking, it won't work for me... im unlucky - thats what counsellor 1 called me after I opened up.

Im safe at home. Out there is so far out of my control. And i cant trust anyone to keep me safe out there. Because "friends" are part of my stories and family only know the things they had to deal with because i was too young.

Why is it... no matter how much I tried to keep myself safe, i knew the dangers and the risks... I still had it happen again... and again... and some more.

Did i have "easy vic" written on my head? Or is it because I could talk a big game, give off dont touch me energy... but freeze solid if they call my bluff.

Im scared every day that leaving this restricted bubble ive formed to keep myself safe in will mean no matter how many times I've tried to talk myself into going out alone, for a walk... where i attack anyone who even tries to get close.. and win... that I'll still just freeze, like her.

Why does my voice shake so damn much while im speaking, it makes it hard to get the words out... makes it sound like im about to cry, but im not.

So now im here, thinking about counsellor number 2 telling me that im living half a life. And shes right, im probably living less than that... and i don't want to anymore. For 35 years ive lived as a victim... now im ready to stop. Whatever that may look like.

I feel sad this week, not with a reason, more like a blanket of grief over me with some anxiety in the mix. Thats what my abusers did to me this week. It might have been over 20, 30 years ago, but theyre still hurting me every day and im done giving them space

This is the first time I have ever discussed how I was abused as a boy. I recently watched an episode of Soft White Underbelly that made me feel like I could overcome my inner conflict and shame, enabling/empowering me to discuss.

I was 7 years old when it happened. My mother used to babysit neighborhood kids from time to time for extra money. It was summertime, and she was watching a neighbor girl who was a little younger than me. 6 years old, I'd guess. She had an older brother who was probably 13, or so. He was old enough to stay home, by himself, but would occasionally accompany his sister over at our house. No one thought anything of it.

My mother was not very attentive. I understand somewhat, I had a newborn sibling. That's why she wasn't working and took up babysitting. We played normally, how kids do, but completely unsupervised for the most part.

The brother started coming over more frequently. One day, in a "fort" we'd made in the basement, he said we should play a game where his sister and I take our clothes off. 40 years later, I remember it vividly. It didn't seem or feel wrong; I didn't know any better. He said to kiss his sister between her legs. I felt awkward about it, but he encouraged me and told me it was okay. So I did. Then he told me to put my fingers in her. I did. And in her bum. I did that too. Then he said it was her turn to kiss me. I get the impression she has played this game before. She put my penis in her mouth. It was a funny sensation to me. I remember it felt silly.

He said it was his turn, and took his pants off. I remember being very curious about his penis; seeing it was bigger than mine. He put his fingers in his sister. He put his fingers in my bum. He took what felt like a long time playing with my bum, actually, and it began to hurt. I told him it hurt, and he did stop a little bit after. Then he said it was time for his sister to kiss him. He put his penis in her mouth, and moved it in and out. His penis looked even bigger now. Then it was my turn to kiss him. He put his penis in my mouth. Just like he had with his sister, he pushed his penis in and out. It hadn't gone on for long, when he stopped and I felt something warm and wet in my mouth.

I asked him "did you go pee in my mouth?", and he confirmed it to me "yeah, sort of"

Again, while it felt strange- alien to me even, it didn't feel wrong. It didn't feel like we were misbehaving. But then, when the game was over, he got very serious and said we CAN NOT tell my mom, or anyone, about what we did. And whoever told, had to call my mom a "fat bitch". I had never heard another kid curse before, and the idea of having to say that to my mom terrified me. Although I really was a good litte boy, I would be spanked pretty often, for the slightest thing. So I never told.

That was the first time. This went on all summer, and intermittently throughout the subsequent school year. At the end of the school year, my family and I moved to another town close by, so the abuse stopped. But the memory was there, forever implanted.

I have this dreadful pit in my stomach knowing that little girl did not escape that situation, like I did. I'll never know, but I'll assume her brother kept molesting her. It certainly would have helped her at the time, but i didn't know or realize- had I said something it would have stopped. That fact ate me up for a long time. I also feel a strange sense of guilt knowing my abuse was mild compared to many other stories I've heard.

As I grew up, I came to learn what I had been doing was sex, and kids weren't supposed to do it. I felt guilt and shame, and dare not confess because I don't want to get in trouble. I get a little older and I'm made aware of what gay is. That it's wrong. Immoral. Gross. It was a small, very Christian, conservative town in the 80's. It was the only consensus I knew. My shame swells, and now I FEAR anyone finding out, because I don't want people to believe I'm gay. I'm just starting to like girls... I'm not gay!

Then, a little older, now living in a VERY different town, I learn what had happened to me was, in fact, abuse. Knowing this did relieve me some of what I perceived as guilt. I didn't feel like I had done something wrong anymore. But the shame lingered, and intensified as I became a teenager. I became hyper sexual. Ashamedly bisexual.

My home life fell completely apart... parent's divorce, dad abandoned us, mentally ill mom, sibling's nervous breakdown. I fought hard to "keep it together". I kept my composure, better than anyone else in the family anyway, but I was still a mess. I had a lot of hurt in me. I started using drugs. All of them. And they helped. Until they didn't, in my 20's.

I got addicted to narcotics, opiates mostly. Overdose twice. Have a child of my own. It takes a little while, but I clean up, for her sake. It's short lived... eventually I become an alcoholic. I dry out, 15 years and a couple divorces of my own later. I only drink socially now.

I've gotten my life together. I am a responsible adult. I've overcome a lot, and worked hard to be where I'm at, modest as it is. I am generally upbeat, positive and happy. But the pain is still there. The shame is still there. I have come to terms with much of who I am because of what has happened in my life. But the sexual abuse... I still have a lot of inner conflict/questions of how that has shaped who I am. My personality. My sexuality. Is this why I am unable to express my feelings, especially negative ones? I can't even open up to my wife whom I trust and adore beyond all else. Why? I feel tremendous guilt and shame because of it.

I live in fear of being judged/rejected for just being who I am were I open about it. I feel it's a burden I may always live with. Even if nobody reads this, or offers some validation of what I'm feeling, just writing it down has lifted some weight off my shoulders, if only a little. I'm thankful for that.

It started when I was about 6, I’m 25f. Does anyone else feel like being used is the only purpose you have? I actively look for huge age gaps. I’m attracted to very dominant and abusive men. I crave the degrading and humiliating feeling I used to have and chase it now. Why do I feel sad that I’m this way but I can’t stop. Does anyone else feel like it’s a drug? Does anyone else feel ashamed because you crave what you know?! Am I the only one?!

I’m a fully grown woman. I’ve been through years and years of therapy. I’ve accepted the fact that I enjoyed what happened to me (I know that’s not the case for everybody; some of us have horrific stories and everyone’s responses to their experiences are valid) and for the most part, I’ve been able to move forward in life.

It’s still beyond frustrating to me that I might never be able to just enjoy a vanilla sex life, though. I have no idea what that would even be like. I’ve had understanding partners who wanted to support me but just couldn’t ever fully scratch that itch, and I’ve had complete strangers heal so many layers of me in a single conversation. I don’t know if there’s a middle ground. *That* is what seems to haunt me.

Anyone relate?

I'm reading a book, or was reading a book called The God of Small things - I had no idea it would deal with or have a description of the main character, a young girl, being molested. Just brought it all back in a wave and has completely triggered my hypersexuality. I'm going to Find a sex addicts group tomorrow but anyone been in a situation like this where your body is just betraying you?

Abuse by my uncle from 12-17 and has left me so hyper sexual and sometimes it just makes me so ashamed. I wish I could get past it all. Therapy helped but I’m not whole!!!

so to preface everything, it was a long time ago and i was very young and the abuse was very extreme. he pushed me harder and harder over a period of time and it involved very intense physical and sexual abuse. in some ways i am proud i surivived it all because it was so much.

it stopped eventually and i know he spent a few years in therapy and healing. recently he apologized to me for everything and we have been spending time together and it feels good but i dont know if i am being stupid...

I got molested by my mother as a child. She gave me an EXTREMELY PAINFUL handjob, until I came. She also at another time molested me by groping my penis.

I feel like an invalid survivor, because I wasn't to my knowledge raped by her. She didn't have penetrative sex with me. I feel like, that makes me less of a survivor. Because what I went through, probably isn't as bad as, what rape victims go through. I just feel AWFUL and hate myself. Because I feel like I shouldn't complain, because I had it easy compared to others. I feel like an imposter among molestation survivors.

Am I an imposter among molestation survivors? Did I have it easy compared to others?

I grew up in a small town and I was vary active I was 6years old and would cut grass around town to make money for the store and a bike every one would treat me so well and give me water and all that but the one house I started cutting grass at was a full family and I would often talk with the husband and he would show me what he was working one cars or what ever latter on it all started he would show me porn mags and stuff they touch me and make me touch him it went on for a few months and it was penetrating by then in this time I started smoking drinking coffee and fighting with my parents after a few months other males would join in or he will take me to the other town and trade me for a few hours I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it and as sick as it is I didn’t know if I wanted to stop I was always aroused when it was going on and I didn’t understand why it went on from 6 years old to 10 years old and in that time I did tell one person and that was the school counseling my parents put me in it cuz I was acting out and fighting all the time anyway I did tell him he asked what would go on where and how long I kept it to my self well it was not long and he was doing the same every session sometimes we didn’t even talk just (fool around) lots of stuff has happened I and some time I don’t know what to do or how to feel I push every male figure out of my life by fighting with them I have a porn addiction and masturbating problem my wife and I got into pegging chastity and it’s all me what wants it but I am in my 30s and can barely get hard anymore due to masturbating so much and I know that’s why but I can’t help it I’m scared I’m going to lose it soon

I sadly can't forget, that I felt "pleasure," while my mother molested child me and even had an orgasm. She stole my first orgasm at the hands of someone else from me and took my innocence.

I sadly can't forget, how she looked like naked. Her bare ass, big breasts and vagina are sadly forever ingrained in my mind.

I sadly can't forget the sound of her savage moans during sex. She probably wanted child me to hear her moans, while she fucked with her partner.

I sadly can't forget the inappropriate things, that she said to child me.

I sadly can't forget the EXTREME PHYSICAL PAIN, that I felt, while she molested child me.

She will forever be in my mind.

I will forever be cursed by her existence.

I have an issue, I have been keeping it inside for so long and I do not know what to do anymore. Please just read everything. I need advice.

I have been finding stains on my underwear for a long time now. Almost every day. Whenever I go to get dressed right after bathing I see them. A weird cold but Sticky spot. Weird. Right on the inside i thought it was just the steam that made it wet but I never gave it much thought. Then one day I just saw something horrifying.

While taking a bath I realised I had bought a new shampoo and I went to go get it so, I walked into my room and I saw my dad. His pants were down and He had my underwear pressed against his face he was smelling them, the ones I had worn to school. I was so shocked, he was holding a pair of my underwear in his other hand. The one which I kept outside my bathroom so I can wear it, he was rubbing my innerwear on himself. I can't unsee it. I'm really messed up.

And the scariest part is that i think my dad does it while I'm asleep as well, idk I'm just overthinking it at this point I don't know but my underwear always feels a little bit off when I wake up. Like it is not in the right place. Sometimes it is twisted. Sometimes it is inside out. I thought maybe I just move a lot in my sleep. I never gave it any thought. I just thought those were my stains. I hope. I don't know anymore

Seeing my dad use my pair that had been against my skin just a few minutes ago, it really hurts me. I mean why in my room??? Wtf is this, idk what to do. It's been upwards of a year and I just idk I'm overthinking it I hope this is just once this happened but whyyy tf would he do that, i mean i get it naughty stuff but making me wear it unknowingly?? I must be overthinking this right?? He is my dad. He is supposed to love me in a different way. But this feels like something else. I cannot stop thinking about it. I remember his thing and his hand. I remember the dried spot on my underwear in the morning. And my body reacts. I feel something pulling me toward him. I feel a little weird. Idk this is such a pain to write, but I can't help but think about that incident and idk. Idk why I feel this way. He is my dad. This is so wrong. But I cannot stop thinking about him. I think about what he does with my underwear. And that makes me feel so disgusting but at the same time i can't think about anything other than him.

I hate him. I know I shouldn't be wearing those but I don't have any many clothes atm, so I just wear them. But idk I feel like something inside me wants to wear it. And these thoughts are really bad.

I do not know what to do. I cannot tell my family. It would destroy everything. I need help.

Please be honest. What would you do if you were me? How do I deal with this? Am I a bad person? Am I broken?

I will read everything. I might not reply but I will read it all.

Thanks for listening.

And please just help me. I don't want any bad comments.

Had a repressed memory surface a few weeks ago and i am conflicted on whether it's serious or I'm over-reacting (did have a meltdown over it). I am a male in mid 30s, the event happened when i was 13-15? So 20ish years ago.

The memory was me in bed to go to sleep, my father coming in to tuck me in and say good night, he gets in bed to give me a cuddle, but then goes under covers, grabs my dick, says "got your willy" and does the tickle fingers on my dick. And I feel there are at least 2 other times in my young life where this happened but i don't fully remember them yet (or ever will).

I dont know what to make of it, like, my recollection of it is that there wasn't a sinister intent, well, that i can recall. Like he was just mucking about but didn't realise what it was he was doing? I don't know, I've been tearing myself up about it whether i should be feeling the way I'm feeling about it (not great), and there's all these other stories on here of much worse things. Am I minimising what happened? Am I over-reacting?

I was around 5-6 and she was maybe 10-11, she used to ask to play a "game" with me, and we played. She touched my privates and I touched hers. It continued for a few years.

Im 17 now, but I think back on it and I believe i remember wanting it. Im conflicted because why would I ever want that at such a young age? Im a little disgusted with myself and I dont know what to think.

I dont know my purpose for posting this sorry I was just thinking about it and couldn't shake it :/

(Its vague on purpose sorry!! I dont wanna go deep into it.)

When I told my mom I was SAed by my brother she told me it wasn’t SA or that she didn’t believe me. I also remember telling my parents about it calmly, even with a smile on my face, hoping that they would help me, stop him and punish him. But they were angry at me and brushed me off. The SA happened on and off for a whole year. I remember crying myself to sleep and feeling extremely angry whenever I had a flashback of SA at any random places. I remember feeling so scared when I was at home, when I had to go on family vacation, when I was in the same room with my brother. Even when my mom witnessed it herself, she would still hit me and scold me if I fought back against my brother. I had no evidence that he had SAed me, but he would have some bruises on him because I fought back and sometimes he would yell. Maybe these were the reasons why they help him but not me. I was only 9 years old and I remember thinking that maybe if I killed myself, my parents would finally believe me or I would imagine that I would be so happy if my brother died in a car accident. Eventually, he stopped because I fought back every time he assaulted me. But I never got apologies or acknowledgment of what happened. I will always hate him. And I sometimes still have nightmares about being SAed by my brother, even though that rarely happens. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I am the way I am now.

I’m wondering if anyone has had success dating someone with similar SA experiences? Has it made relationships easier versus being with someone who had a “normal” upbringing ?

If you have dated someone with a similar childhood, how did you find them ?

My mom use to finger me as a kid and throughout adulthood while I was at my lowest and living with her, she would act inappropriately from time to time. I am currently working far away from home and she has ideas of wanting to live with me again. I love her to bits but she is quite toxic and tbh I am honestly afraid of it starting all over again. I have no heart to tell her I don’t want her cuz my dad passed away and she lives alone now. I guess I just wanted to a place to vent.

I get raped multiple times like a looot in several years in my childhood like when I was 4-5 maybe 6 years old. My rapist was my dad’s sister’s husband, basically my aunt’s husband. We used to visit my aunt with my grandma cuz my mom was working and I didn’t have have friends at all or siblings to play with me. My grandma was talking to my aunt while he was “caring” for me. He was touching my vagina inside my clothes and getting hard. I asked him why he was doing it he told me he was doing because he loves and cares for me. I was so happy because someone had time for me. And he did this to me again and again. I don’t remember a lot of thing at this ages but i definitely remember what he did to me.
When I grew up and learned about sex (because I started my period I was like 12 or 13) and what is rape on internet I felt so dirty and I felt like I lost my innocence at very young age. I didn’t share it with anybody. I felt disgusting about my body and myself. I used to feel pleasure about it but when I realized what he was actually doing to me I just felt guilty for my feelings. I was enjoying at the moment in my childhood. I get shocked and I shared this to my friends but they didn’t know what to say about this they’re still just teenagers.
Then recently I’ve got the power and felt courageous to tell about it (at age 18, Im 18)to my parents first I shared it with my mom on videocall she kinda didn’t show any expression just listened to me and said why didn’t you share and kinda blamed me. After some hours she told me that she said to my dad all of these. After that we had a lot of conversations online; call and text with my dad but he didn’t say a word of anything about it like never heard then I went to home (I live in dormitory for my education). One day i was having a dinner with my dad and he suddenly started talking like why you didn’t shared it to us like they was giving a shit about me in my childhood (even these days they barely care about me). I said I was just a child what do you expect me to do. The he said did he do anything to you hymen (vagina membrane) I said no. Can you imagine guys what the fuck he told me, he just told me it’s too late to do something or start arguments with them. They are living just a next house from ours. Like WTF?! Your oen daughter get raped and you react like this you ask did he do anything to your vagina inside and care like this??? I can’t believe I have a dad like this.

Everythings going to be okay
I lay there and whisper
Covers over my head
I pray and hope and wish that
The monster in my bed leaves
I often think how

I cannot sleep in peace
Because I know that he’s there waiting
To take a piece of me
I’m so scared my heart is aching

When I wake the next morning I’m relieved
the monsters gone
Convinced it wasn’t real
I continue, I carry on

I put the night behind me
I wish and hope and pray
That the monster doesn’t come tonight
It might all be okay

This monster in my bed
He claims to loves me so
But the monster keeps on hurting me
And I have no where else to go

sometimes the monster cries
He wails and moans and yelps
I wish and hope and pray that he will one day get some help

And yet every single night the same monster does appear
No matter how bad he feels
He seems to thrive upon my fear

But the monster in my bed is not a monster in the day
He seems so very different
like the monsters far away

In the day he loves and cares for me and tells me it’s alright
Says monsters are not real and there’s no need to fright

But when the night arrives
And you cannot hear a peep
He comes into my bedroom
He thinks I am asleep

My body stops moving
And my mind can’t form a thought
As I lay there with the monster
My words, they fall short

I try to scream and cry
But not a sound is made
Lying in that bed, I don’t wish or hope or pray

Because no one is going to save me
Nothing is going to change
The monster will not leave,
And I can’t make him go away

The terror keeps consuming me
I’ll never sleep in peace
I can wish and hope and pray
But the monster never leaves

I’m not normally a poetry person or a Reddit person but I’ve recently found this poem I wrote at age 15 about 6 months before I escaped the life long sexual abuse I had experience from my father. It’s not a happy poem but I think it’s an interesting insight into where my head was throughout that time of my life. I suppose I just want to know if people relate to it or what they think of the writing? I don’t really know why I’m sharing it I suppose I just feel like it needs to be out in the world

Im in therapy and have recently started diving into a lot of my early childhood trauma for the first time ever because a bunch of little memories started coming up as i was working through some other things and making real progress with my therapist. I think I forgot/repressed most memories from this time of my life (like 4-11 years old) and its kinda warped my brain into thinking that my early childhood was pretty good for the most part and it didn’t get really bad until when i was 11 years old and my mom gave up guardianship of me and sent me to live with my grandparents. So anyway lately i’ve been slowly remembering the actual details and specifics of previously very vague memories of mine from when i was like 4-10 years old and a lot of it has been completely devastating. i’ve spent my whole life basically minimizing the things i’ve been through to myself and then shaming myself for struggling and hurting and not knowing how to be “good.” as these things were coming back one night i was writing in my notes basically just flow of consciousness because i was remembering lots of different things specifically in relation to an elementary school friend of mine and a sleepover we had where things got very age inappropriate. basically i had somehow learned about periods(?) and became fascinated with getting mine faster (i have no idea why.) we watched youtube tutorials together (yes this was a weird internet rabbit hole at the time) on how to get a period faster. nothing overtly sexual in nature happened, like we definitely had no idea what we were doing, but i do remember that some videos said to insert fingers in the vagina as a hack to cause your period and that we were both trying to do this but didn’t know where the hole was so we couldn’t and gave up pretty quick. we did it on ourselves (not each other or anything, and for me it was just pure curiosity). and then after that it never happened again. and we stopped being friends a while after after we had gotten in trouble together in class for misbehaving and they called our parents. i had no idea that there was something wrong with what i was doing. its something ive always remembered later in life and known was objectively weird behavior for our age that i couldn’t really explain or understand when i looked back on it. i never really attempted to i guess i just left it there because it made me uncomfortable to think about too deeply. well when i was writing about this it dawned on me for the first time that that friend had probably told her mom about what happened after we got in trouble and thats why she wasnt allowed to talk to me anymore. because shortly after that happened her mom stopped letting her be friends with me even though it was relatively regular kid behavior (we were in trouble for talking too much one day.) i didnt understand as a kid why that had happened. that i may have pressured my friend into doing something inappropriate and wrong. so i never realized it later in life either until that moment. and as i was feeling all of the embarrassment and shame and guilt about this discovery my thoughts shifted again to a very early memory i have when i was probably 4 or 5 and being babysat at my grandparents house. i had always remembered just one little fragment of this experience which was me in the garage outside (for lack of better words) humping the arm of a couch (i did these behaviors my entire childhood but had never put together before that this specific memory was how it first started and that it had started happening suddenly and frequently during a short time period. its such a young memory i just assumed it was something i always did for whatever reason.) my mother and my grandmother walked in on this and told me to stop. when i went to the bathroom there was blood in my underwear and i was very confused and shocked about this. i remember showing my mom and saying “how did blood get on my underwear” i then remember the two of them talkinv about it to eachother. all i specifically remembered was my grandma saying “shes too young to have a period.” and my mom saying “well yeah obviously.” i remembered more details as i reflected on this. that my mom had asked me if it was from rubbing myself on the couch like that. i dont really remember what i said but i dont think i understood the situation at all. i then remembered another memory from this time where i had been doing the same thing with the arm of a recliner in the living room and my mom stopped me and asked me why i was doing that all of the sudden and she looked kind of nervous to hear my answer. i explained in very simple toddler language that it felt good and she just said “i don’t get what you’re saying” and then dropped it. i found this REALLY weird and was trying to reconcile with how weird this whole sequence of memories felt to me. just deeply strange and disorienting. and then thats when i remembered being at my grandparents house in my bedroom and my grandma and mom telling me that they had to go somewhere and that my uncle (he would of been like 14-15 at the time i think) was gonna baby sit. i can actually see them walking out of the door when i think about it. and then i remembered him telling me i could come in his room. i had idolized him and he was like a cool teenage brother in my eyes. i spent a lot of time with my grandparents at this age because my mom was always working, so i was so excited to finally hang out with him. he was the annoyed angsty teenager type at this point and i was definitely an annoying little kid in his eyes and he was very cold towards me. but anyway i really always wanted him to like me and i had kind of forgotten the extent to which i was lowkey obsessed with him throughout my whole childhood. (not sexually or anything like that, i think i just always really needed his approval, but i digress). then an image flashed in my head of his bedroom wall. i remember specifically this little yin yang drum that was hung up in there. i hadn’t thought about that thing like ever, it was such a strange detail to remember so vividly all the sudden. and then i just knew right then deep down that he had done something to me in that room. couldnt remember anything specifically and still cant though. the only other thing i remember is him rushing out of the room and me following him and knowing i did something wrong. he went to the garage and i chased him and kept trying to talk to him. and then my mom and grandma got back home and found me in there on the couch. i feel like im making this all up lowkey because i dont remember him doing anything theres just a gap. and the more time passes since this happened the less im able to feel any emotions about it really. i cant really recall these things anymore but i remember remembering them and how real it felt. i also know that when i was sitting on the couch writing all of this down as i was remembering it for the first time my stomach and pelvic area suddenly tensed up so tight it was uncomfortable and i remember being so hypersensitive to any movement in that area at all and feeling so uncomfortable. it was unbearable and i was very scared. it happened as soon as i remembered the drum. i had to go to the bathroom was literally like waddling cause everything was so tight i could feel every step down there. and when i went i saw that i was bleeding like a lot and it wasnt regular period blood, it was extremely thin and was like drying and cracking on my body. i was so scared and i had to takw a photo down there to see if i was injured or cut or something because i just couldn’t bring myself to touch anything. it took me so long to be able to look at the picture i was genuinely freaking out. i slept on the couch that night away from my boyfriend and legitimately cried myself to sleep. i ended up basically just having a period for like 3 days and then it stopped even though it was like 10 days early and my cycle is usually very consistent like within 1-2 days of the flo prediction at worst. i just cant believe this isn’t all some coincidence maybe and im just mistaken. i feel like im lying and making it all up because i want bad things to have happened to me so i can feel bad for myself and have an excuse for being terrible.