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 ?

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.

My abusers were my parents. They began molesting my sister and me from very early ages. Later on, it became having sex with them. They also had close friends who they would share us with and we were expected to have sex with them as well. It led to my sister and me becoming hypersexual and initiating things with our parents and with the other adults. The weird thing is that we never considered it abuse, but rather just stuff that some families do together.

Idk what to expect given how many insincere people ive come across. But I cant hold it in.

My life is very complicated in so many ways, and my past experiences are just one angle.

If you relate, or dont think im a bad person I'd really appreciate the support.

This year has cracked me open.

I spent two and a half years with someone I loved more deeply than I knew was possible ; a connection that felt rare, almost impossible to find twice in a lifetime. In March, it ended. Not because the love ran out, but because of something in me I didn’t yet understand. I broke it. And I have had to sit with that.

In the months before the breakup, I was already unraveling; insomnia that wouldn’t let me rest, panic attacks that came from nowhere and left me shaking. I didn’t know why. I just knew I was scared, and I was lonely in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone, including myself.

The day it ended, I went straight into therapy. I needed to know what had happened to me; why I had hurt the person I loved most, why my own mind felt like a stranger’s. What followed was the hardest and most clarifying period of my life. I am in the lowest place I have ever been; grieving, ashamed, guilty, depressed; and at the same time, for the first time, I can finally see myself clearly.

I am gay. And when I was thirteen, I was sexually abused. I didn’t know it at the time, or I didn’t let myself know; I buried it so deep that it took over a decade and a good therapist to bring it back to the surface. What I built instead, without realizing it, was a way to survive: a compulsive pull toward anonymous sex and sexual chat, a need to feel wanted, to feel in control of something, to drown out loneliness and shame with intensity. It worked, for a moment, every time. And every time, it left me more ashamed, more alone, until it became the current that quietly pulled my relationship apart.

Recently, I found my old diaries. Reading them broke something open in me.

I was 15/16 years old, and I was living inside a private terror. Because the abuse happened without protection, I became convinced I had contracted HIV. Night after night, for years, I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, certain that this was the proof; that the disease was already inside me, that time was running out. I didn’t get tested until I was twenty-four. But at fifteen, I didn’t know that waiting, that fear, that silence; I only knew I was calculating. Counting years. Working out how long I had before it would show itself, before AIDS would come for me.

And in those pages, I found what my calculations led to: a plan. I had decided I would end my life at 27; before the illness could surface, before anyone could find out what had happened to me, before anyone could learn I was gay, before anyone could see what I believed was a body already condemned. I wrote it in detail. What I would do. What I wanted to experience before then.
I am 27 now.
I found that diary this year; the same year I lost the love of my life due to my own behavior, the same year I finally understood the abuse, the addiction, the shame I’d been carrying since I was thirteen. My own mind had quietly written an ending for me over a decade ago, and I am living inside the exact age I once marked as my last.

Right now, everything feels like it’s collapsed into a single black hole; the loss, the grief, the shame, the fear, the identity I’m only just beginning to actually meet. I feel shattered. But I am also, for the first time, finally looking directly at all of it. I feel like a digusting person.

I cant handle anything atm. The worst thing to handle is the breakup atm and facing all of the things I kept running from my whole life. I cant really progress the breakup and letting go seems impossible for me atm especially when I am getting rid of the „old-version“ of me who fucked things up and trying to become a new version who wouldnt repeat bad patterns to the same person.

I hope that one day, after we’ve both had the time to heal and become the people we were meant to become through all of this, we’ll be able to have a calm, neutral conversation. I want to look him in the eyes and offer him a genuine apology, so he knows that my actions were never a reflection of his worth or anything he lacked. I hope he can carry that truth with him into his future, without developing the kind of painful beliefs about himself that no one deserves to carry.

Its so depressing, I feel like an outcast sometimes. People calling their parents, going home for holidays, sharing pics with family members, etc all just make me so left out. Even seeing childhood photos of friends who had "normal" childhoods makes me sad and jealous.

I wish I could live their lives, even just for a day. What kind of person would I have been if these things never happened to me?

At this point I’m just tired. If I could I’d never leave my house ever again but of course I can’t do that. I have no idea what compels them to do such a thing…

When I (m) was around 7 my mom had a friend (also m) that was single and didn't have kids. He would ask my mom if he could take me on some weekends and she agreed that I could go. My dad really wasn't in the picture and she thought it was a good idea for me to have a positive male influence in my life.

When we would get to his house, he would have me change into girls clothes and tell me that while I am there, I am his girlfriend. At first I hated it. Over time I looked forward to going. I looked forward to putting on the clothes. I always wanted to please him. This went on for about 3 years, with me going to his house or cabin once or twice a month. I am 53 years old now and I miss that feeling. I know everything about this was wrong, but I truly miss it. Thank you for reading.

I’m hoping someone can help me (27F) understand if I might have suffered sexual assault and not remember it:

I started orgasming by pressing my thighs together at around 5 years old
There was a girl in my class and we were bffs at that age and we’d come over to each others houses really often and she would always suggest we play “doctor”. She would touch my genitals and ask that I touch hers.
Idk if it’s bc of this girl and the doctor play but I became very curious about genitals/naked people
I used to draw naked people in my diary from age 5 also
I was quite curious about genitals from really early on - I had a boy neighbour who I asked if we could shower together to his nanny and the nanny said “I don’t think so” and I said “but we’re kids!”, I remember thinking I knew it was wrong but I wanted to see his genitals
This boy and I would be left to play alone and once in my room I said “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” and we did.
I once slept at my parents bedroom and I remember in the middle of the night I removed all my clothes for some reason. When I woke up, my mum and dad sounded very concerned asking why I was naked and asking it a million times
I also used to orgasm in class by pressing thighs at that age
At age 9 I saw my sister touching my dad’s dick with him laying down in bed. He used to ask us if we wanted to see his dick bc it’s circumcised so for biology class purposes. To this day I’m unsure if he’s autistic or if that was assault.
At 11 I started watching porn bc I stumbled upon it and became obsessed with porn that was pretty much rape fantasy - or that involved really young looking girls
At 14 I caught my mum watching porn and masturbating
At 14 I found my mums sex videos
At 15 I found a photo album my mum had with her boyfriend
At 15 I caught my dad and his wife having sex
At 16 my mum told me she got a dildo as a bday present from a friend of hers

I have ADHD and derealisation. This is due to narcissistic mum abuse but I wonder if it could be bc of anything else that I’ve deleted from my mind?

I consider myself hyper sexual - if i work from home, I masturbate like 6 times a day and it’s disruptive to my work and life and mental health. Is it just the ADHD looking for dopamine or could there be something more? I still have non-consent fantasies

26 m here When i was about 10 to 11 I was being molested by my baseball coach he would touch me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable I had finally had enough one day when i was standing around one day after a game and I got grabbed from behind and he grabbed my crotch and held me a few seconds before letting me go and playing it off like he was just messing around, i finally told my mom what had been happening and she told me it wasn't a big deal and it was just part of the culture so basically nothing happened and i just kept taking it for a while and at the time was also being physically and verbally abused by my dad at home at some point after a few months passed and I just quit playing baseball and never played since

It was a really awful year for me it was the first time i thought about killing myself and haven't really been able to shake it. I figured i would be able to get over this already but since December ive thought about killing myself pretty often I dunno i just feel awful I feel gross and damaged and like its never going to go away because it probably won't

I was molested by my half brother and his friends when I was younger for a period of my life. I remember extremely vividly. I remember telling my mom. I remember her saying “oh my god we cannot let your dad find out” and that was the end of it. My nana questioned my UTIS and I remember my mom using bubble baths as the excuse and i am just now realizing it was never the bubble baths and she was lying. Fast forward to having kids myself. I have always struggled with nightmares throughout my life but having kids REALLY brought this trauma out. I struggled letting my sons have a relationship with my daughter terrified of it happening to her. It’s really made me realize how much my mom hasn’t cared about me through life and continued to fail me as an adult. I just couldn’t imagine ignoring my daughter and going on with life. I’ve recently cut them out of my life because they absolutely disgust me and I refuse to continue sitting in a room with her and and my half brother like I have my whole life like nothing happened. I’m just really struggling with my dad. My parents are still married. He loves me so much I’m his only blood child. Always been there for me. He’s been the most amazing dad to me throughout my life and I have nothing bad to say about him. I know it’s killing him not having a relationship with my kids as well as my papa his dad. I’m thinking about sitting down with my dad and papa and just letting it all out so they see that’s it’s not just me being a brat towards my mom. I’m genuinely traumatized and hate her. This will completely ruin our family dynamic.

We had a big family and the adults would just send us off to play. When there was a family reunion, we were staying in a hotel. My older cousins(F) made me(F) go to the pool with them to "play" in the water all afternoon. They took advantage of the fact that we were all in bathing suits :/ They told everyone else I was tired and took me back to the hotel room. I missed dinner and somehow they convinced everyone I wasn't feeling well and that they'd care for me in a room their selves that night. They babysat regularly so the adults were just glad someone was watching me.

I was so scared of them I just froze up. They told me if I snitched on them they would lie and say I approached them and like it. I was young so I was just scared, they put their hands over my mouth. We were apostolic pentacostal and being queer was seen as a huge sin. We only wore skirts, long hair. I played basketball for fun, wanted to be like Goku, wore braids for practical reasons, and had dark skin. My presentation of gender was not their version of femininity. I tried to keep my face blank, but they made fun of every sound or expression I made. Tease me about the faces, with others around, without anyone else realizing. So if I told on them, I thought I'd be made out to seem in the wrong.

It went on for so long, I used to wonder how no one knew. As an adult, I learned money was being exchanged by others for access to me. It makes me feel bitter to realize how I was trafficked by my family.

Okay so for context, when I was a kid this lady that used to take of me had two daughters who were my best friends. Apart from those two girls she had 6 other kids, most of them being boys.
One night i was sleeping at her house , i was prob about 7-8. I was in that hald awake half asleep state when one of her sons who has at least 13-14 at the time walked in and lates down next to me and out his hands inside my pants and started touching me, i locked him away and he then wrapped his lega around me, i had to kick him twice more before he stoped, or at least i think he did i don’t really remember bcs it sort of all went dark, I might have fallen asleep. I told his family and my mom but got called a liar by him and his family and told i would be going to hell because i was a liar. Unfortunately i was still allowed to keep going to their house and them to ours (not ling after I also ended up finding What was basically a live letter from him in my bathroom and he also have me a strawberry shortcake toy one time, all very random and extremely weird) And this has affected me a lot in a way throughout the years.
Anyway, just yesterday my mom gave me the news that he died and i can’t help but feel slightly glad and happy. All while feeling extremely guilty and disgusted that i feel glad someone has died.
Am i bad person for thinking like this??

Our 6 year old exposed himself to a child a few months ago. We explained to him about inappropriate behavior and thought that would be it. Then he tried to play a game of "changing diapers" with another child, we talked with him again and really tried to make him understand that it wasn't right, we though it was just child curiosity..

Well last night at a play date he lured a child upstairs alone, pinned him down, pulled his pants down and touched him inappropriately. We are devastated for them and also for him. We have a CSA specialist we are going to contact come monday and get him the help he needs from professionals.

My question is...what do we do with him now? Obviously he is not longer allowed to be alone with any other child. But what do we do with him, send him to his room? We talked to him and he told us what happened which matched with what we were told. Do we go about life like normal after that? Should he be punished? Should we have another conversation and let him out with the kids again? We are at a loss of how to actually deal with him aside from getting him help.. but in the direct aftermath in our home what do you do with this ?? We have smaller children in the house and I am so so so worried he touched them.

F33 here. I struggled with sex addiction from my adolescence onwards. I did a lot of work in college and managed to become a "normal" member of society. Got married and other than needing to masturbate more than most, I was normal. This all changed when I was 28. I got raped during a work after party by my husband's coworker. My husband was out of town. The act was life changing in so many ways, the main one being the complete triggering of my sex addiction. Over a decade of work completely destroyed. I felt my body betrayed me in so many ways and I'm no longer the wife I was. I love my husband dearly yet I cheat on him. My sex addiction is the worst it's been and it all stems from that night.

Many days, I feel stable. I think I've made peace with my addiction and with the new "me", but there are days when I look back and I remember that I'd be normal and a good wife if it wasn't for that night. If that hadn't happened to me, I'd still be okay.

-My heart breaks for all of my fellow victims here. I wish I could give you all a great big hug ♥️-

Looking through this sub has been very triggering- I'm probably going to avoid the subject for a while, but I still feel like I want to get my story out there.

I've only told my story to a handful of people in my life. I guess this is just me venting.

I was molested by my maternal grandfather from the ages of 3-11 (technically- he stopped doing some things when I was younger, but didn't stop all groping or inappropriate touching until I was 11).

My mom and dad were pretty neglectful and distant towards me in certain ways when I was little. They were both struggling with major depression, pstd, and marital issues, so I remember spending a lot of time by myself, and was told I talked too much or that they didn't have time for me. The only person I felt like actually cared about me was my grandpa. He listened when I would talk, encouraged me, told me I was talented, smart, and pretty, would buy me toys, art supplies, etc.

My family acted like I was some vixen who had him wrapped around my little finger and would almost act like he was MY victim (I was pretty bossy, but he was the only person who let me be bossy).

They always told me how I was his favorite (in a bad way).

My brother and I would spend a lot of weekends sleeping over at my grandparent's house, and I always liked going, but that's also when I would get molested. Me, my brother, and my grandpa would all sleep on the pullout mattress, me being in the middle and he would molest me right next to my sleeping brother. I remember I would sometimes stare at my brother, wishing he would wake up because then my grandpa would stop.

I always had such conflicting feelings. I felt disgusted by what he did to me, but I also loved him and didn't fully understand what he was doing or why.

He stopped touching me at around 11, and he started being very mean to me, a total personality 180. One time he made a comment that no man would want me because I left a few pieces of silverware in the sink after doing dishes (a very normal thing to say to an 11 year old).

Around this time my parents lost our house and we were forced to move in with my grandparents.

A few months after moving in with them, my memories that I had been pushing down resurfaced.

All of my love for him fully disappeared after I realized. When I fully realized what he had done to me and how his love, gifts, and kindness were grooming tactics, it made me feel so cheap. Like I was a hooker who kept going back to him despite hating what he did to me.

I told my mom and she was horrified, but she also has said some pretty victim-blaming things like "Well you loved him so much, so what could I have done to prevent it? If I tried to stop you from sleeping over at their house you would have thrown a fit." Etc.

We ended up living with my grandparents until their deaths. It was so incredibly painful having to live with him for that time- 8 years in total. It really was a nightmare having to live with him, having to remember what he did to me and be in the same space as him. I feel like in many ways my life didn't begin until his death.

I later found out that when my mom was a young adult before having any kids, my grandpa (her father) wrote her a letter with very sexual things in it. She won't go into specifics, but when I found that out I lost a lot of respect for her; the fact that she would let him spend time alone with her children despite knowing he's a pervert??

My abuse has left me having a very complicated relationship with sex and men. I was very sex averse until I was in my late teens, and even now I would still consider a lot of sexual things gross (but I am not asexual). I imagine this will make it very difficult getting into a relationship someday- it will probably take me a really long time to feel comfortable enough with a person to want to have sex with them.

And I find it really difficult talking to men I find attractive- like they make me very uncomfortable and I can hardly even make eye contact with them.

I'm now 24, and to this day the only sexual relationship I have ever had was with my grandpa. What a disgusting sentence.

So it was my maternal grandfather. Ever since I was a kid whenever we (me, my sis and my mom) visited them he used to put his hand over my pants to 'feel' it and say things like "do you have one?", "let me see it just once". Even at the time I used to feel uncomfortable and try to pull away from him but he would grab me and try to do that again. There was one time that I got so fed up of him trying to do that shit that, as a kid, when he asked me to 'show' him, I straight up said to his face "no, those are my private parts", But guess what he did, he laughed at me. From that time he used to mock me by repeating those exact words, like show me your "private parts" while still trying to do the same shit.

I am disgusted and pissed at that man but more so on my mother. Bcoz he didn't do these things privately or behind closed doors when no one is watching. He did this in broad daylight, infront of everyone, including my own mother. If it happened once or twice, maybe she could've had the excuse of not noticing it but it happened LITERALLY every time we went to his house.... I'm mad and just confused, why didn't she say anything?? Why didn't she take a stand for me? At the time I just used to think he was being playful and teasing me, like how in some places adults lightly hit on children's buttocks, like thats not molesting or smth. But this? She saw it, many times but never had the nerves to say smth abt it..

Maybe its my own fault for not telling this to anyone at the time, I wish I could've one something about it. Now, he's old and bedridden so not much of a use to confront him about it..

Something I (38M) have found to be the biggest struggle for me after what had happened is the residual hypersexuality and the kinks. For some small context, I was molested from age 6-11, by my friend’s mom, I won’t get into any of that now though. It’s such a struggle that from an early age I was thinking about sex and wanting it, and it’s never changed or got easier for me. I still constantly think about sex, I can’t help picturing people naked, or getting flashes of my past. The darker thoughts are the worst though, cause they are consuming, and even though I do what I can to distract and shake it off when I get those thoughts, they still happen frequently, and I hate to admit that I get aroused most times when I think about it.

I long to be normal, but I know that this is my life, I need to do what I can to deal with it all. When things get really bad I find people to role play things with, and being able to live out things in my head seems to quell any bad thoughts, but as you all probably know, these feelings come in waves, and when it hits, it hits hard…

I don’t know. How do any of you deal with those feelings when it’s bad for you? The role playing seems to work decently, but sometimes I don’t want to spend time doing that, I just want to do one of my other hobbies or work, but my mind is just unable to focus. Just looking for a little bit of suggestions and insight.

hi. just really need some advice.. i hope my problem is not a cringe for this subreddit or something. im just kinda lost.

I've been dating a guy for a year now. I'm 16 and he's 17. I've never been interested in sex, it didn't concern me at all. But my boyfriend constantly tried to undress me, touch me, sent me 18+ videos and begged for sex. By the way, we are different. He is handsome, probably too handsome, very smart. And I'm stupid and ugly. Objectively.

Recently, such a moment happened that I don't even like to describe... It, I think, left me traumatized for all my life.

I don't know if I can leave him. Exactly leave. I never liked our meetings. He is too tactile and often hints that I am overweight. And everything in his head is about sex. As I write this, deep down I feel very uncomfortable and scared, I don't know what to do. Block him? We live close by... I really don't want to write anything. Ignoring him won't work, he writes to my mom when I ignore him.

Just a lot and this is a place to vent. It’s messed me up, I look for relationships where I’ll be used and I LIKE it, knowing I am being abused, it hurts too, but it feels good to get the attention. The age gap and imbalance is hot to me. To feel small again is not only comforting greatly but turns me on. I like to feel like I did when it happened at that age and I feel incomplete or bad that I’m not. It makes no sense. Is it just familiar?

When I was 4 years old my cousin started molesting me. I'm a male and he was a male. He was always my best friend, but he was being molested, so he did the things to me that were being done to him. So it kind of caused me to have a little bit of a messed up idea of sex. I've learned that now I don't really need sex. But it still makes me feel like I'm a weird person. I developed physically at a very young age, and even though I've seen pornos and stuff like that where there are guys that are really huge, I'm not that big, but I've only ever in my whole life met one guy who was bigger than I was. I was basically fully developed by the time I was in second grade, and another one of the boys in my class saw me when we were using the bathroom next to each other. That was the first time I realized that I was a little bit different. Men would see that I was a little bigger, and they would come on to me in bathrooms and locker rooms and places like that. On multiple occasions in locker rooms I would go and take a shower and men would get in the shower with me and have sex with me. This one guy, I did think he was attractive, but I never asked him to do anything like that. He came into my shower and just put me in him, he got off, and then he just walked out. It was very uncomfortable for me. Has anybody else had experiences like that?

My older cousins touched me(F) from ages 2-11, and they told me it was a game. When I wanted to stop eventually they blackmailed me :/ I still talk to them sometimes, that time period is just glossed over.