Well, it's been about 3 years since this happened. I had met a guy from the internet and decided to meet him. He lived in Nebraska and I lived in Indiana. A friend and I decided to drive out there to meet him. BIG mistake.
He bought us alcohol, I was only 19, and got me drunk. I then fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night he came in and I awoke with him on top of me. I started crying and begged him to get off. Finally he did. I don't think he ever actually ejaculated inside me. But I did end up with an STD.
I went into a huge depression, was admitted into the hospital, this was all about a year later. I ended up on LOTS of medication for the depression. I finally told my mom while I was in the hospital and a couple of friends. That weekend I never even told my friend that had gone with me. She said she could tell though. I ended up getting out of the hospital after convincing the docs that I was fine. I ended up drinking very heavily for the next few months. I mixed all my medications with alocohol and slept with quite a few guys.
I kept this all up until I got pregnant with my 2nd child. Of course I quit then. For my baby. I was still very very depressed. After the birth of my child I again started drinking. I was heading downhill when I met my current boyfriend. He is my lifesaver. I still have nightmares, although I don't talk about them. I can't stand the word rape. But I am not about to let this guy ruin my life. I refused to get on the net for the longest time, then I did again. I met a guy and he drugged me. BAD BAD experiences here, then I met my man (on the net) but he only lived 15 minutes from me, I met him at a grocery store that I worked in and it's all been heaven from there.
I have read some of the stories here, and thought about what writing about sexual abuse does for people. After pondering this for awhile, I came up with the answer...it lets them VENT.
I am 19 years old and in my freshman year in college. I have just remembered the sexual abuse I endured as a child. I guess I just repressed it or something..maybe it was just too much to remember all at once. Well, I was dealing with panic attacks and social anxiety for a long time (since 6th grade), and then depression my senior year in high school, although I didn't recognize it as such at that point. I began talking to a counselor here at the college center, and told her that something 'didn't feel quite right', but I couldn't put my finger on exactly what it was that was bothering me.
About two months ago, I began having horrible nightmares and flashbacks...my father had sexually abused me. It never went as far as rape (at least I don't remember it going that far), but it was definitely inappropriate behavior of my father's part. The first incident I remember is taking a shower with him, and him making nicknames for our private parts...I called him Mushroom and he called me Anthill (for very embarrassing but obvious reasons) . I remember him bathing me in the bathtub on other occasions, but it wasn't the normal bathing a parent does for their child. I remember saying, "Daddy, it stings!", and him just saying, "You have to be clean." What he would do is take the bar of soap and touch me with it and his hand...not a washcloth. I remember his fingers on me, and I remember even more clearly me not wanting them there. At that age, I knew it was odd. I remember staring directly ahead at the faucet of the bathtub, in a trance, just watching the water pour out in a waterfall. At the time this happened I was seven year old. It continued for two years. After the bath, I would get out and he would dry me off. I remember the soap burning into my skin, and it felt like fire ants inside me. He wasn't overly concerned with rinsing me off well...just soaping me up. Traces of soap would be inside me still, and so it burned when I walked. Then he would lead me into his bedroom and tell me to lie down on the bed and spread my legs so he could "check if I was clean enough". I did, and he would then take a rough washcloth and rub my genitals with it.
It never felt good...I didn't like how it felt, and I remember focusing on the black blinds we had in the room. The Florida sunshine filtered in beautifully, and I just remember being absorbed in it and its warmth. Slits of blue sky were visible...and to this day, I love a blue sky more than anything. I could 'escape' from my parents' bedroom and float into the sky. What was really hard was watching my dad do this to my two year old sister. She was too young to feel the sharp twinge of self-consciousness and shame that I felt. I watched with strange emotions as he used a cotton ball and soap on her. "Why?", I thought. Wasn't I getting a little too old for this ritual my dad invented? My sister didn't know any better yet, but I felt so dirty! I still feel like it was my own weirdness for not saying, "Hey dad, stop it, you're freaking me out a little!" .
One of the flashbacks I've had is that of me going into the bathroom and locking the door behind me. I had a terrible burning itch between my legs, and I noticed that I was bleeding...I was only seven, way too young for it to be my period...I don't know exactly what it was, but it's just a memory now. On another occasion I remember my dad touching me, but this time it wasn't under the pretense of bathing me. I was probably about 13 at the time, but I remember my dad coming into my room one morning. Mom was at work, I think my sister was in second grade then. Anyway, he came in and laid next to me on the bed. I was on my side facing away from him, and he kind of spooned up beside me, and draped his arm over my hip. "Weird!", I thought. In my thirteen year old mind (at that age, kids are super-body-aware), I knew that normal dads don't lie like this with their teenage daughters. It really freaked me out. I remember that all I was wearing was a tiny yellow tee shirt that came down to my waist and my underwear. About five minutes later ( I was pretending to be asleep still) I felt him slowly test out how movement affected me. I stayed still, so I guess he assumed I was still asleep...so he put his arm around me tighter in a big bear hug. By this time, the alarms were all going off in my head full blast, screaming, "THIS IS NOT RIGHT! NOT A GOOD SITUATION!" And I thought, "Do something!" , but I couldn't move. I was so pissed that I was just letting this happen again! He slid his hand down my stomach into my underwear and I felt him touch me there again. I just lay there for a few minutes like I had when I was seven, like a helpless little baby! I wanted to scream, "Don't touch me, you pervert!"...I felt frozen and unable to move.
I finally did one of those fake 'I'm twitching in my sleep' things, and he immediately withdrew his hand and left the room. I lay there feeling so ashamed, but I don't remember if I cried. I don't think I did. I thought, "I deserved that somehow. And now I feel like crap, and I deserve that too." After that, nothing happened ever again (to my knowledge). And I just forgot it all until recently, I guess. This is screwing up my life right now. But my counselor says it'll get better...hope she's right.
I was raped while in college by a graduate student. I am a undergraduate and I am scared. It happened only a little while ago. I am fearful of what might happen on my campus... if people find out. He is a graduate student and I am scared of what he might do to me for saying anything.
When he dropped me home, he kept saying he was a good person. I beg to differ. We were at his place and he started touching me while we were watching tv. It made me feel uncomfortable, but I was willing to be intimate with him to a point. I told him that I did not intend to have sex with him. He told me that was fine. I figured it was okay to be intimate with him without intercourse. He unzipped my pants after kissing me and touching me for a while. I stopped him, but he just touched me intimately and then peeled off my jeans. I was reluctant, but still not saying, "no." We weren't having sex or doing anything that I was against-yet. He then pushed aside my underware and performed oral sex on me. Then he asked me to do it to him.
After contemplating and some urging by him,I did it. But then he pulled down my underware and wanted to 69. I told him that I didn't want to. But he was pulling them down so I eventually gave in. We got in the 69 position and it was really uncomfortable, he told me that I wasn't doing it like he wanted it so he started forcing my head down on his penis. I should have gotten up then, but he wouldn't let go of my head. When he finally did, it was too late. He let me go and I reached for my underware and he was already climbing ontop of me. I got one leg on and barely slipped the other leg on before he slid one leg out of his underware. They weren't all the way up when he got ontop of me.
I reminded him that I did not want to have sex with him. He didn't listen. He proceded to take my legs and spread them using his knees and arms. Then he slid himself towards me. I pushed away at him but he didn't listen to me. He just kept licking me and my body while thrusting into me. I was pushing myself deeper into the couch trying to push myself away from him, but it didn't help. He just raped me. he made me look him in the eye. He touched my face and begged me to look him in the eye. I am so upset about it. He asked me why I didn't keep my legs open. He had to keep spreading them each time that he changed positions. I was floored because I didn't believe that he would do this to me. He raped me. He held me down- forced himself inside of me and tried to make it seem like I wanted it. I kept telling him to let me up. I asked him to stop. I was pushing up against him. He didn't let me up. He just kept doing it. He didn't even use a condom. He just went at it. He called me by the wrong name multiple times. I was trying to reason with him and he kept having sex on me- even while talking to me. He is sick. He raped me and didn't even know my name.