I'm 24(f) but was SA'd since I was a toddler. A relative (f) would touch my genitals at night and also lick them. Soon after, she trained me to pleasure her too and i liked it at the time, and always looked forward to it.

Another incidence was with an uncle, who showed me porn, and would apply oil on my genitals, and just touch me all over. Got so used to it, I would unknowingly sit and grind on his lap when we were alone.

These experiences have made me hypersexual and I always chase the same feeling I felt with them. I always wonder how it feels to be normal

HI everyone.

Like everyone else, I’ve struggled with this, and life is just difficult sometimes. I’ve had quite a lot of nightmares about it.

And sometimes I miss him - which makes me feel horrible and make me feel like it was my own fault - technically I know that I was too little to concent, but I feel like I might have done something too that made it happen.

I’m transgender, so I’ve been in therapy quite a bit, but I’ve never really talked about this. I feel like it’s a really difficult and lonely thing to carry around with you.

What do you do when everything just gets too much?

Hi all, so this is a bit of a strange post I'll admit. So I was molested (big suprise) as a kid for a very long time and avoided sexual relations most of my life. Recently in the past year or so that ive been with my boyfriend ive grown comfortable and even felt ready to engage in sexual acts. However, I've noticed that whenever its late and my boyfriend and I are cuddling and it starts leading wherever, I "catch myself" kind of in a haze and "playing" some strange game in my head involing where to touch/when to touch and following all these rules that don't exist. I didn't realize at first, but i get in such a weird state and i notice it and it's hard for me to stay in the moment. I want to be intimate and enjoy things and its not like this makes the experience negative. I dont remember a lot of details about what happened to me and i wonder if this comes from that when i was a kid. I'm working on reminding myself to be present in these moments and not fall into this weird haze but the whole thing still makes me feel odd. I guess im just wondering if im alone in this or if its common? I dont know it just make feel gross even though i know that feeling is illogical. Anything helps. Thanks reddit.

HI there. Just asking general questions: anybody have a eating disorder or body dysmorphia after being abused? I had years of things happen to me, was so confused early in my teens, starved myself, cut myself. I worked on it some with therapist, but even therapy gave me some trauma. I still struggle. I go from hating my body to thinking I could model, as others tell me, to hating my body again and wanting to starve, cut, or binge again. Anybody share if you have had a similar path. (I also have anxiety, depression, and insomnia). thank you

It doesn't matter how many years it's been or what I do to try and be better. Everything comes back to this. I just want to give up. I just want the pain to stop.

Just a ramble.

I fear my experiences of being a survivor of being assaulted a lot in my life kind of drove a nail into my brain in the spot where my sexuality sits. That's not new info for anyone who shares experiences like that. But I'm so confused.

Am I just attracted to the act of being with men because of this? Not men in general? I have no desire to date one. I don't feel romantic feelings towards them usually, and if I think I do, it's gone immediately after I was with him.

Am I a "real" lesbian? Is that even important? I don't know. I doubt the lesbian council of whatever would forbid me to call myself that, but what's true? What's going on with me? I wish this was easier.

I know every situation is different, I’m just curious about what’s worked for people. I was abused by multiple men growing up, and as a result am dealing with some sexual trauma. I’m recently single out of a long term relationship and trying to date again, so I’ve wondered how other people approach the subject. I don’t want to trauma dump on the first date, but when people always want to hook up it’s hard not to touch on the subject if I’m setting boundaries. Especially because I’m a guy, I feel like there’s an added shame in bringing this stuff up. Any suggestions?

It took me 12 years to tell my mum what my brother had done to me. At some point, I made peace with taking the whole abhorrent experience to the grave. I had nightmares of being disbelieved, or worse, ignored; to me, the former is more preferable, since at least it acknowledges the severity of a molestation.

My mum believed me, so I don't understand how she can still love him. He's an insidious, sociopathic monster who tried to facerape a 5-year-old. She even acknowledges his sociopathic qualities, almost as if she's proud of him, and it makes me so soulfully ill. It makes me hate myself. Cuz you know, it's not fucking cute. Your son is a predator who abused his two younger siblings. Things should be clicking for you.

Of course I will never understand what it's like to be in her position, and I don't want to. If my child molested their siblings, I would never speak to him again, but I'm not a parent. How does she come to terms with it? When I told her what he made me do, did she not picture it automatically? Did it not make her sick? Or did she just move on?

My other brother, who was also molested, belittled me and told me to move on. Maybe I am just a stalwart for trauma, however I think they're wrong. They didn't fucking experience what I did, they don't fucking know. And "move on" is horrible advice, nothing is ever that easy. It's beginning to feel impossible.

The concept of intimacy has been permanently ruined for me, I can never feel safe being touched or feel right when I touch another person. I don't know what love feels like, cuz growing up, I thought being loved meant being made to strip off your clothes and subjected to groping. That motherfucker made me lift up my shirt so he could touch my nipples anytime I wanted help with something. I'm not asexual, in fact I think I'm hypersexual, but I've accepted that I will live the rest of my life as vocel because the idea of ever letting another human being view me sexually is crippling. It also permanently altered the way I view men. I've thought of myself of as a lesbian since I was 11, and I don't know if that was always meant to be, a result of the abuse, or a combination of both.

That stank, ratchet, morbidly obese, repugnant, vile, EVIL creature likes to taunt me about my sexuality. I was stuck in a deeply uncomfortable conversation with my two brothers where the middle one let slip that I was gay, and the stank ass mound of scum I have for an oldest brother said, "Ha! You owe me five dollars". I wanted to stop existing in that moment. I felt so rotten to my core, so spiritually tainted, so fucking unclean in a way I've never been able to escape. You fucking wonder why I'm gay? BECAUSE YOU RUINED THE ENTIRE OPPOSITE GENDER FOR ME. I WILL NEVER KNOW TRUE INTIMACY CUZ YOU RAPED THAT OUT OF ME. I BET THAT'S SO FUCKING FUNNY.

I knew then that he was not remotely sorry. We had never spoken about it, it just sort of petered out around the time I hit puberty (ew), so I always wondered if he ever even thought about what he did... well, that was my answer. Not a shred of remorse. Not even denial. Pride. Really, I hope this demon rots in hell. He deserves nothing but the worst in life, yet this is rarely the reality. He's a fucking sociopath of course, people on the outside have no idea what bullshit facade they're catering to. Somebody agreed to marry him, it fucking baffles me. How? Why? He hasn't changed; he's still the same can't-hold-down-no-job, never-pays-his-mum-back, gives-his-sibling-a-concussion-for-using-the-Xbox, reeks-like-death-24/7 LOSER he's always been.

But I'm the one everybody gave up on. I guess that's life. I've tried venting about these things to my friends, and they're understanding people, but it's evident in their replies how much they can't relate, and I really can't blame them. I envy them. They don't have to deal with an alright day getting ruined in one second because they were inadvertently reminded of the time they were forced to tongue-kiss their brother. Good for them. They don't have brain damage from being kicked in the head or thrown against a wall. Really, it's not that they're lucky, I'm just unlucky. But this is my lot in life. I'm just so weary of feeling washed-up no matter what I do, like I'm either trying too hard or not trying hard enough. There's no in-between.

41m professional dude. I'd like to chat with others about how this affects us as adults- hypersexuality, shame, isolation, sadness, etc.

Yes I've posted a variation of this in the past but my intention is not to spam but just see if someone new or shy find this resonant.

These are hard to process and difficult areas to share with those that can't relate. If you can relate and want to chat to see if we can provide value and support to each other feel free to reach out - any gender! Not looking for anything shady here - just to connect in whatever way is comfortable to navigate these challenging issues in our lives. We've all been drafted in this club but we live in a world of civilians- it would be nice to not feel alone.

Because of my trauma from being trafficked my whole childhood, I started taking an interest in the sex industry.

Especially after moving away from my dad with barely anything to my name at the age of 18.

It was the beginning of taking control of my life, and during the first few years, I honestly got lost in it and didn't want to stop.

Hello everyone. I'm here to explain a bit about the situation I've been trapped in for years, following the community rules.

I beg anyone who sees anything morbid or anything like that in this kind of thing... please ignore it, I implore you... And for those who might think this is fake, I understand. If I haven't spoken about this in person, it's because of the fear of being judged, of being seen as less valuable as a woman, or being judged, whatever... But let me tell you, these things really do happen. Ask any female friend you have, or your mothers or sisters. If they're honest, most of them will tell you something, probably not something this serious, but something... Anyway, let me introduce myself...

Call me Anya, it's a nickname. I wouldn't dream of giving my real name. I'm Spanish and I'm currently 19 years old. I've been swimming and playing sports my whole life, and I'm a bit of a geek, there's not much more to it.

This all started about three years ago, I think. My father got lung cancer. He never smoked in his life, although my mother did, and she died of cancer too, though that was quite a few years ago... Anyway, my father got lung cancer four years ago. Fortunately, it was detected early, although not as early as we would have liked :/ but early enough to have hope that the cancer will go into remission, be manageable, or even be cured. We were very worried about money because we're a "normal" family, although lately in Spain, being normal is almost like being poor -.- (even though he kept trying to comfort me by saying there was money and blah blah... But I know when he's lying.)

The thing is, fortunately, his best friend of many years, the bastard, has quite a bit of money. I don't know what he does for a living, but he works abroad, in Sweden I think, and only comes back for summer vacation. I've known him since I was little, when my mother was still alive. He was like an uncle to me, or another family member. He was always kind and would give me lots of ice cream to spoil me :") The thing is, after much persuasion with my father, he started paying for the treatment, including everything involved: chemotherapy, medication, etc. And not only that, my father obviously couldn't continue working, so he even started giving us money monthly so we could continue living normally. I didn't have to drop out of school or anything like that :")

Everything was normal for a whole year... Until my life started to become a living hell... Well, my summers... The son of a bitch has a villa with a pool here in Spain where he usually comes in the summer, as I said before. Well, I used to go there almost every summer because I love to swim, and he has a great house. That summer, obviously, my father wasn't well enough, but I still went on my own that day... Everything was normal. I went in, hugged him, and said hello. I had brought my books and things. As usual, I went to the pool. The thing is, that day there was a guy I didn't know at all. His Spanish was so-so, and that was about it...

I won't go into details because of the rules, but the two of them grabbed me that day in the pool, on the sun lounger, and raped me... It was HORRIBLE. I was in shock, I didn't understand anything, I was even begging for forgiveness. I didn't understand anything because the face of the guy I considered one of the family wasn't the same as usual. He looked angry, like he was being held back, and I don't know, but he didn't seem like himself... The guy who was always kind to me, saw me crying and didn't care, he just said things about my body and how much he'd been holding back... The other guy, I don't even want to talk about him, he's irrelevant... Before some disgusting person says I incited him or that I did something, all I did was go topless, and I ALWAYS made sure he wasn't watching, or anyone else for that matter, and even if he had seen me, THAT'S NO EXCUSE.

After that day, after the emotional shock, what hurt me most wasn't my private parts; what hurt me most was feeling betrayed. To sum it up, he basically threatened me, saying that from now on I had to go there every Tuesday and Saturday during the summer to take care of his "sexual relief," and that if I refused, didn't show up, or didn't answer his calls during the summer, he would stop paying for my father's cancer treatment, and that his death would be my fault.

That was three years ago, or a little more. I know what many of you will say, that I'm crazy for having put up with it for so long, or whatever, but seeing how my father improved year after year, how little by little he became his old self again... gave me the strength I needed. Otherwise, what other option do I have? Report him and send him to jail? Okay. Then what? Time passes, my father's cancer goes into remission again, and he DIES because of me? I don't want to lose my dad. Not again like what happened with my mother; just thinking about it makes me cry... Anyway, things got better. This year he was much better; we could do normal activities like before, and the doctor said that in one or two years at most, his cancer would be in remission and there was a high probability of a cure if the treatment wasn't interrupted. That made me very happy, and to top it all off, this summer, this whole month and part of the previous one, those bastards didn't make me go even once... Until recently... It was World Cup day. One thing that was made perfectly clear in our "agreement" was that there would never be any more guys there. That day there were more. I won't go into details, but it was horrible, and the bastard said it was only fair, that since he hadn't called me in over a month, I had no right to complain... Here's the thing now. My father has one or two years of treatment left, and my intention was that when he was cured, I would make it my mission, day after day, to get those two bastards into jail. I have PLENTY OF PROOF... The thing is, that day...it was horrible, and now I'm really scared. I don't want to go through something like that again with so many guys. I tremble and cry just thinking about it...I know it's only two more summers at most, but I don't know if I can endure something like that again.

I just want a hug. To cry for hours in someone's arms. I've never told anyone, not even my best friends. Telling them will probably mean they'll do something. And that something would mean my father's treatment would stop being paid for... So my only way to vent is to share this anonymously and receive online support, as sad as that is...

Please don't judge me. You'd be doing me a huge favor if you kept your shitty comments to yourselves if you're trying to offend me... I've already talked about this in other communities, and I know many will either laugh at me or say I'm just after karma or whatever, but I'll still try to ask for "mercy"... Thanks to everyone for reading, and sorry if there are any spelling mistakes :/

I am in publics safety and my high exposure to trauma led me to counseling and treating sleep disorders. In doing so I used this headset called brain tap. It started bringing up trauma that I did not know was there. Months later after getting some body work done, I woke up in the middle of the night with the thought that I was molested by my grandfather. I didn't want to believe it, but the pain was unreal. I had almost debilitating depression and thoughts of dying. It was very intense. I felt so much shame and embarassment telling my husband and counselor. I ended up being recommended ketamine therapy. I did that. I felt instant relief from depression. I felt a sense of forgiveness. Never did pursue it any further in counseling. Part of the reason was I didn't even know how. I basically have evidence he abused other family members and this happening to me make my life and behavior make a lot more sense. The discovery of this led to recognizing a lot of other behavior and feeling so chaotic and restless my whole life. It led to extensive drug and alcohol use. Extreme avoidance. Its been about 2 years later and I had more trauma come up about other sexual trauma. I had some debilitating anxiety and depression again. Almost worse than the first time. I think because it was several experiences. I am also dealing with my dad who is declining rapidly and still trying to manage my marriage and career in public safety. It's a lot. I have been raised to be extremely avoidant so even trying to work through this is excruciating. I don't even know what I am asking. I guess can anyone relate and how they worked through this.

My main abusers were my parents, starting when I was 7 and lasting until I left for college. I knew what they were doing with my sister and me was wrong but honestly, I didn't consider it abuse. My sister and I both developed HS and later began initiating it a lot. It was wrong on so many levels for them to do what they did, and yet I still have a close relationship with them.

When I (M) was around 12 or 13 years old, I went to a private tuition teacher who always was a bit too touchy.

One day, I casually mentioned that my neck was hurting. She told me she would take a look at it later, but she waited until every single student had left the room so we were completely alone. Once everyone was gone, she asked if it was still hurting. When I said yes, she pulled my collar down, grabbed the back of my neck with her hand, and started repeatedly gripping, re-gripping, and adjusting her hand on my neck.
She then told me to put my neck on her hand and look up, keeping me in that position for about 5 to 10 minutes. She said, "Aah, your neck is very soft and comforting."
Even when it was finally time to leave, she didn't let go. She kept her hand clamped on my neck as I got up from the sofa and walked all the way to the door.
At the time, I didn't necessarily feel violated, but looking back, her behavior was deeply strange, calculated, and overly eager.

Was I molested or what should I make of this?

Hello. I'm a 22-year-old male, and I experienced a lot of horrible things during my childhood. (Please bare with my story telling)

When I was 9 years old, my family moved to another city because my mom needed treatment for an illness. My parents weren't really able to explain that we were moving. Honestly, I don't even know if they knew we'd be staying there for a long time.

Since I thought it was only temporary, I stayed behind in our old house for a while because I had a tiny store that I ran. (Yeah, I was a little businessman selling candies and toys.)

My parents trusted one of my uncles to stay with me at night because they had helped him through high school. But as a child, I didn't understand that he was sexually abusing me. Every night for about two weeks, he would force me to touch his penis and masturbate me while we were playing on my PS2. He kept telling me not to tell my dad because it was "our secret."

Eventually, my parents decided we'd permanently live in the other city, and they took me there.

We lived in a house with my grandmother (my grandfather's sister), her husband, and their children. The first few months were okay, but later my grandmother became physically and emotionally abusive. I remember coming home from school one day, and she suddenly screamed at me in front of her friends, pointing her finger at me and saying I'd never achieve anything in life.

Her husband was also abusive. One time, while he was drunk, he twisted my arm just because I was laughing and playing with my friends. He called me over and asked why I was so happy.

A lot of things happened even after we moved back to our own house. I was sexually abused again by another uncle, and later by a church member when I was in high school.

Here's the part I've been struggling with.

I know there are a lot of factors that shaped who I am today, and my childhood trauma is one of the biggest ones. When I hit puberty, I became addicted to online sexual chats and mutual masturbation. I constantly looked for validation from strangers, especially when they complimented my body. That addiction lasted until I was 19.

Throughout my teenage years, and even now, I've been afraid of becoming close friends with men. I usually avoid interacting with them. Even casual physical contact, like putting an arm around my shoulder as a joke, makes my body shake almost immediately.

It caused a lot of problems in my life, and when I was 20–21, I became su\*c\*dal.

The hardest part is that when I told some friends and family members about it, they asked me, "Why are you still affected? That happened a long time ago."

So I just want to ask:

Is there a time limit to childhood trauma?

It's not that I don't want to move forward. I do. It's just that I still haven't found the help or the way to heal. But I know I'm trying, I'm trying so hard to find that help, and I'm trying so hard to keep living.

I will start this post by saying that I have blocked the man who did this. He lives far enough away and thankfully does not know my real identity.

I met him on (insert dating app here), I know right? What was I expecting? Let's call him M so it's easier. M is 24, I am 23. He was pretty cute when we chatted. Felt like one of those golden retriever types. I told him many times I was genuinely only looking for friends. Yes, I was looking for friends on a dating app. I'm very shy in real life and approaching people online is much easier.

He wants to go to the park, drink something, get some snacks. Sounded wonderful. Multiple times I told him I wasn't in the mood for more. He agreed. We meet. I feel as relaxed as I can. Then he doesn't take us to the park. He drives like 10 km out of the city to a clearing in the middle of a forest. Okay... I freak out. Internally of course, he can't realize I'm nervous or it will end badly.

I genuinely had told my mom I'd be back in an hour. I tell him this over and over. It had taken us like 10-15 min to even get there. There's other cars there. Clearly a makeout spot. This thought pops in my head. What if he told his friends and they're in one of the other cars.

The drive there he talked about how women aren't clear about what they want. How he doesn't go for any woman. How I was special. This was what made me panic. I realized this was the worst situation I could be in. And then he pulls me out the car. Hugs me. Digs himself into me. Again and again. I pull away, push away, keep my hand against his chest. He didn't even buy me the right drink. It was there that I knew what this all was.

He's wearing a hoodie, but it's summer. About 25 degrees outside. He's not fat or unattractive. If you're a guy sticking with this story, why did he wear that fucking hoodie. Anyway. I'm shaking, sweaty and this guy keeps groping me, touching me. I tell him I have to go home. He tells me to get in the back. My heart drops. I'm being as kind as I can. "It's better to stay in the front". So in the front we go after like 10 minutes of semi arguing.

He keeps asking if I'm comfortable. I ask him what he means by that. Obviously I wasn't, but he wasn't actively r#ping me. He had this look in his eyes. To this day I can't tell you if it was entitlement, sadness, disappointment or lust. He's not much bigger than me. Thank fuck I'm a tall woman. But, then he yanks me to him, my face in his face forcing me to look in his eyes. I can't. As I pull away his hand goes around my neck. He doesn't squeeze. Not necessarily. He doesn't need to. He tests it. Like convincing himself that if he wanted to he could.

I'm extremely uncomfortable. I keep tapping my leg to the car floor. I have no plan if he chokes me. I have no plan as he gropes me. I think I should throw up. Bite him. But, I'm in the middle of a forest, 10 km away from civilization. If the police find out, my mom finds out. I can't have that happen.

Fun fact, I'm a big masochist. Had it been even a percent consentual, I would've been so far into his pants. I would've been his pants. But, not once did I think I wanted it. I didn't. I thought about crying, begging. My mom's waiting. I'm an only child, I have a cat. I have shit to lose and I wanted to live. He tells me to get the snacks he got me. Which he didn't eat himself. In a very me fashion I say "I can't, that would mean I'd owe you."

He drives me home. We argue the entire way over that one sentence. As if he hadn't sexually harassed me for two hours. As if he hadn't made me fear for my life. He forced me to kiss him. Not proud of it, but in all honesty I would've kissed him 50 times if it meant he never touched me.

We talk for another two days. He keeps saying I'm never gonna see you again, am I? Obviously not. I wake up early, without a word blocking him everywhere. Now I'm safe at home. I've realized a man unwilling to go out in the city is a man who just wants sex.

Always have a plan. It's the worst feeling to be 10km out with next to no service in the car of a person who wants your flesh. If you find yourself in my situation, tell the man you're on your period. It works, but it might not. It's still a barrier. Next time this happens, I might just try the "I'm Hiv positive" route. Op out.

Back in my 30’s I got drunk at a party and ended up getting pretty much gang raped but 3 other guys that were there. They threatened me and pretty much told me that I was theirs and they continued the sexual stuff. They had broken me and left me very submissive and any way I’m still pretty ashamed all these years later. And even more so because now I get turned on by remembering it and end up masturbating to those thoughts a lot. Sorry for being all over the place but just getting this off my chest a little.

I have taken notes of what happened then and what happens now. I already posted about what happened already.

I want to talk about some little wins. Hopefully they help someone. Struggling with trauma from abuse, PTSD, hypersexuality, mental health issues
This has helped me with integration and acceptance

What happened post assault is my day to day life.
I struggle to hold jobs because how difficult sometimes this becomes for me. For the longest time, I dealt with the intrusive trauma that was in my life, I had to take a break from education because of it. Then it disappeared for a while and came back while I was employed and working. I have no recollection of why it went away and why it came back but it did.

Here are things I found while I revisited by old journals and new ones.
The fundamental thing that I missed was the loop of struggling to keep the thoughts and flashbacks at bay. When they broke the dam, the memories would flood in there are multiple ways I dealt with them.

The pattern that came out on top is the constant fighting with them one way or another. Self inflicted pain would help me like it helps others. But there were times when I wanted to KMS.
My relationships never worked because my constantly putting off physical relationship but at the same time I crave it, and I never understood it.

Until maybe few months ago, hope this helps others.
In all of the encounters I have never been able to claim my body as my own. During these moments it has always felt that I didn't own it, someone else it. Not sure who it is but not me for sure. Which may seem obvious to others but from my POV it was never mine. It took me soo long to realise that this was not normal.

Well you may think that start reclaiming it?
Hmm, that's the hard part the more I try, the more the autonomy slips away from me.

M37. After being molested many times around the age of 9 by an older man I've found myself unable to connect to other people. I spent alot of my childhood alone. I used to take copious amounts of psychedelic mushrooms to try to send myself to the underworld where I feel comfortable. I have a night shift job where a patrol a facility in the wilderness. I feel at home wandering the woods at night.

The things that happened to me gave me alot of fantasies about older men that I hate. It feels nearly impossible to talk with people about it or to connect. I know it doesn't make sense but I often feel like I'm going to hell for the things that happened to me.

Not long after my last post, my (47m) wife came home from a trip, and I immediately felt better. All my dark thoughts vanished.

In the roughly one month since then, an opportunity to connect with another damaged person IRL came up. I started to think about everything I wanted to act out, and now I’ve spiraled into full blown dark fantasies again. Fantasies about things that were done to me as a kid, fantasies about things I want to do now, and fantasies about being dead. I dream about them every night.

I passed on the opportunity. Partially because logistically it didn’t make sense, and partially because it was too risky.

In my head, it isn’t cheating, because I would be acting out a fantasy that my wife can’t ever fulfill. Nobody knows the whole story but me. My abusers don’t know the effect they’ve had on me. My wife doesn’t know I was abused. Any time I have mentioned the abuse to a therapist they didn’t want to hear about it.

I wish there was a person I could sit with, tell them my whole story, and have them tell me it’s not my fault. I was 5, I couldn’t choose this life. They could hold me, and maybe after 40+ years I could drop my guard.

Way down inside of me, something is broken that I know will never heal. The itch from a wound healing is still there, but I can’t reach it to scratch. I wish I could rub my soul red and raw and massage away the past.

There’s a lot of weird things that happened to me. Various instances of sex stuff at too early and age, with other kids, etc.

The first time i can really recall it happening directly to me was a sleepover. And ill be honest, after the initial kind of shock, i was fucking hooked. I wanted her to keep molesting me from the minute it started. And it did continue for years after. We were the same age, teenagers.

There was someone so much worse in our lives, though. Also the same age. She fucked us both up. She would sexually harass me all the time, emotionally abuse and bully me. Only once did she really kind of touch me, but at that point i think i wanted it. Probably did the same to the other friend who first molested me. Truly the most awful person I’ve ever met.

First girl I mentioned reached out after years and years. Apologizing. I feel fucked up because i wanted her to keep doing it to me. I kept wanting her to make me feel like a victim. I feel like i made her do it after she started it. Like i need to apologize to her too.

So much if my past is like that. Someone hurts me, but once i show i LIKE it, they back away or start to lay off. Why can’t someone just do it real good one time? Hurt me real bad in a way where even i know i don’t want it? Why does it all have to feel so confusing? Why is being hurt so addicting? Why do i want to keep being a victim so bad?

Stupid. This shit is so stupid.

tw for detail bc im telling the full story

I just have completed mixed emotions about all of this and im sorry if this is all over the place but basically when I (f19) was 11 I met a friend and we became friends very quickly and we would have sleepovers at eachothers places a lot, but she would mainly want to stay at my house (this is a key detail) and pretty early on into our friendship she began to make a lot of sexual jokes and references and we eventually started doing things together like watching porn and trying sex positions with eachother with our clothes on and it wasnt long before we started to actually touch and take our clothes off. we lived very close and we were together almost every day so this was happening every time we saw eachother. it was very intense and it was the only thing wed do and talk about. it wasnt just happening at our houses either, we would do stuff in public places and around people too. there was one instance where we did stuff on a bus. after a few months we were having sex and we would watch porn together to learn new things. we filmed a video of ourselves and im not sure what happened to it. it eventually stopped because of covid and we lost touch for months and then never did anything after that. a few years ago I found out that her dad was arrested for molesting her since she was 4 and I feel so conflicted about the whole thing. I feel like I was sa'd by her but at the same time im a few months older so should I have been more aware and stopped it but now I know what her dad did I feel sorry for her and I knkw that maybe she thought it was normal or something and I feel disgusted at obviously her dad for doing that but also myself because I didnt feel like a victim at the time and most of the times we were with eachother i also wanted it. I just dont know how to feel or if I was even SA'd and if my feelings are valid.

thank you for reading. sorry if this is the wrong place.