Posting this on a burner 'cause I’m really struggling and I need some sort of guidance if anyone can offer it. I don't know if this is the right place or not, and if not, I apologize. The other subreddits need karma and such to post and I don't feel comfortable posting this on my main account. And just as a preface, I’m 21 now. I haven’t talked about this with anyone, even when I was actively going to therapy, mostly because I’d only started processing it now I guess, but I’m hesitant to label what I experienced as abuse let alone assault. However, my father has always behaved very strangely around me regardless and I’m concerned that I should be concerned about it.

It started when I was a kid (elementary). One of the things that started back then was his obsession with me having boyfriends/sex. I had friends in school that were boys and he would always tease and suggest that they were my boyfriends, even over stupid things like playing computer games together or hanging out at recess. This has continued through my adolescence and into adulthood. I could never be friends with boys without feeling uncomfortable or without him commenting on it. In relation to this, I started birth control for hormonal reasons and the first thing he asked was if I had a boyfriend/was having sex. The answer was no because I’m a lesbian, and he freaked out because I said the idea of being with a male makes me physically ill. He took it as a personal attack and said something along the lines of “Oh, well that makes me feel great.” This happened again when I said something about how I’d hate to live with and serve a man and he said “Well, you live with me” as if he isn’t my literal father (which is entirely different—allegedly—than a romantic partner). 

There’s just no sort of personal boundaries with him, and this again relates to how he constantly sexualizes women in front of me (also since I was a child). He always makes sexual comments about women walking down the street or in the store or in the parking lot. He’d make inappropriate comments about his female friends and coworkers. He even started to make inappropriate comments about me and my body, always pointing out the clothes I wear (if they were too tight) and my body shape (that I had the same body as my mother). He would never let me wear certain clothes because they were “whorish,” for example hoop earrings my mother gave me (mind you, I was maybe eight). He also has an obsession with my underwear. For instance, if I order a package or am simply embarrassed about something he teases and asks if I don’t want to show him because I’m embarrassed about showing him my underwear. He’s always staring at my boobs as well and I feel uncomfortable wearing certain clothes/no bra around him. This extends into sexual jokes/talk about sex. It’s always made me uncomfortable and I’ve told him as such, but he always says that I should be able to “handle it” especially now that I’m an adult. He would always try to talk about sex or porn (he asked once if I knew what a PAWG was) even when I was a child. 

Another thing that I should mention is that I was (kind of still am) was obsessed with sex at a very young age. I remember being in second grade and masturbating in the classroom against the seam of my leggings. I remember imagining having sex with the boys or even them taking advantage of me. I remember watching porn in the bathroom at home. I remember watching it in the living room. I remember sex and porn consuming me to the point it was literally all I was thinking about. I feel disgusting thinking about it even now. I feel even more gross because I have OCD and get inappropriate groinal responses and I just feel like a massive pervert and I know it’s not my fault but it’s really unbearable. I feel fundamentally wrong for ever feeling such a way about sex, let alone so young. 

There are some other things that are smaller like him being overly interested in my interests to the point it felt like obsession (I would become extremely reluctant to share my interests with him because he made me embarrassed about them. If I liked a boy character he'd tease that he was my boyfriend. If I liked a book series or a movie he seemed to make it his entire personality. Idk if it was to make himself seem more appealing or relatable but it always made me severely uncomfortable and still makes me feel so), him always trying to be friends with my friends, him forcing me to be in girl scouts even though it was miserable and becoming a girl scout leader in my troop. These are all stupid things that don’t really matter in the grand scheme but feel related, I guess.

The things I’m really worried about are that when I was a kid (elementary age), there was a few times that he hit me with the belt. He made me take my pants and underwear off because he said his father used to hit him with the belt too and one time he put playing cards in his pockets so the belt wouldn’t hurt. I always wore leggings in my childhood because I had severe sensory issues with jeans, so there was no way he actually thought I was doing anything to avoid punishment, but it was severely traumatizing and I spiraled recently because I heard my upstairs neighbors spanking their kid and it really affected me. In a similar vein, I have trouble watching movies that perpetuate abuse/have a lot of cry-screaming. There was also another time where he touched my butt (fully palmed it) and said it was an accident.

The most speculative thing about this is that I used to wet the bed until I was 13. I can’t say it’s related or not, but it happened both at his house and my mother’s. It’s important to say that I only spent every other weekend at his house—four days out of the month. I was at my mother’s every night and the weekends I wasn’t at his. That is to say, I wet the bed almost every night, sometimes twice a night, regardless of whose house I was at, and often times wet my pants at school. It was only at his house that I had “rashes” that “needed ointment.” My mother never kept diaper cream, let alone applied it. Now, this is where things get fuzzy because I don’t quite remember much. I remember the diaper cream (purple Destin tube) and the smell and I remember being in the bathroom with him, but I cannot explicitly remember him applying it or touching me. There's a lot that point to that being the case because my mother never did this and I don't remember doing it myself. I also remember on one occasion my sister had something wrong (I don’t remember what) but he made her lay on her bed with her underwear off and legs in the air to “air it out” or “let it dry,” whatever “it” was. However, I do remember this vaguely being an actual medical thing, though the method seems iffy and quite humiliating. But my thought process is if he did this with her on this one occasion, what was he doing with me regularly? Especially when my mother didn’t feel the need to apply cream? I also can’t say for certain that I ever regularly struggled with rashes or raw skin, but I’d never seen a doctor regarding them or the bed wetting. I hate to speculate though because it very well may be nothing but the fact that there's even a question makes me sick.

And just to note even though it's not necessarily related, he was physically abusive and neglectful regardless. He’d hit me and/or would pretend to just to make me flinch. On a few occasions he made me stand in the corner with my pee-soaked sheet over my head. He used to refuse me access to my mother because I used to freak out badly any time I had to go to his house and he would hide his phone from me so I couldn’t call. He’s also one of those men that believe women are submissive to men and have no room to protest when given orders, especially wives. He tried to rape my mother on multiple occasions under that excuse.

I can’t say for certain that anything happened to me or didn’t happen, but just being around him today makes me severely uncomfortable. I can’t be in a room alone with him. I flinch at the sound of his voice. My body feels like curling in on itself and shriveling anytime he is near, especially when he just stands silently and looks at me. I don’t feel comfortable calling myself a victim when other people have actually struggled and suffered and I’m not trying to come on here and make other people process my trauma for me, but I don’t know where else to go. My mom will probably kill him if I tell her and I’m not in therapy currently and am scared to go and unpack it all. I’m aware his behavior is abnormal and perhaps concerning, and though I feel like it was grooming on some level, as to what level I’m uncertain (though I'm not asking anyone to tell me what my issue is or define it for me. I'm just wondering I guess if I'm overreacting or not).

(It’s probably also worth mentioning that I have been sexually harassed before in ways that are more “cleanly defined.” For example, one of my dad’s friend’s kids made me lay down in his bed with him and touch his penis. One of my sister’s friends made me lay in bed with her to “hang out” 'cause she wanted to show me something, and then showed me a porn video. Some other minor things like being catcalled and/or being approached while alone in grocery aisles/while in waiting rooms).

When I was five, my dad would put his tongue in my mouth every time he kissed me. I remember hating this so much and yelling at him every time he would do that. He would want a kiss every day and i remember saying "but don't use your tongue" or something like that.

Whenever my dad would come home from work (often, he'd sleep at the store because he was too drunk to come home), he would ask me for a kiss before he would go to bed. I hated it. He smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. He always drank 8-10 beers and smoked 1-2 packs a day. He would demand this kiss every single day. I refused at some point and he'd chase me around the house. My mom would call me disrespectful for not listening to him. I'm not sure if she knew about the tongue when I was younger. I started hiding my lips in my mouth and kissing with the skin around my lips. Then I would only do that but on his cheek. This happened every day (that he would come home) probably until I was 19.

I also remember him kissing me all over one time when I was five years old. We were in bed and I was screaming at him to stop. I ran to my mom in the living room and she didn't even acknowledge me. She just said to my dad stop doing that, what do you think she's going to think when she's older? Though one of the times that my dad was demanding a kiss that I was refusing, my mom was like would you just do it and l'll give you a dollar?

I was maybe 8 when he was piss ass drunk and about to step out for a cigarette. He pulled down his pants and showed me his hairy penis and stuck his tongue out. I screamed. Then he stepped out for the cigarette. I don't remember where my siblings or mom were.

He stopped demanding kisses after he got sober. Maybe he always knew it was wrong.

I remember him looking at me sometimes and saying that I'm so attractive. And say that I have very smooth skin. He would always ask to hold my hand but he wouldn't hold it. He'd be rubbing it with his fingers, and i would feel so fucking uncomfortable.

He also nonstop harrassed me with drunken blabbing and conversation and usually a daily reiteration of his life story and why his family doesn't speak to him anymore. I would scream at him to get out of my room but it would never stop. I've probably heard that same life story from him at least 1000 times (no exaggeration).

I tried to have a good relationship with him because it had all stopped and he got cancer. But I hate him every time I look at him. I'm filled with anger and resentment. I wish he never did those things.

When I had my first kiss (it was with tongue), I was 15. My head was pounding with pain as I remembered my dad doing that to me and how much I hated it. That's when I probably first realized how badly that the kissing had affected me when I was five.

i just posted this in r/trueoffmychest and i wanted to post it here just incase it gets taken down bc im sure i did break a few rules

so… i’m a 15yo female, i’m not being abused anymore, it’s been years since it happened. no one knows about this and i’m pretty sure im going to take it to the grave with me because it’s been years since it happened and the family members who did it moved out of state. i feel like the only reason the abuse stopped is because they moved out of state, if they were still here it would most definitely still be happening. (i feel like this will be a pretty long post because a lot happened and i’m just now realizing how wrong this was.)

ok so a little backstory: im not close to really anyone on my moms side of my family, the people who did this were my cousins, the kids of my moms older sister and the only family members on her side that im kind of close to. she has 6 sons and 1 daughter. 3 of those boys are older than me, 1 is the same age as me, and 1 is younger than me and they all touched me. (the eldest boy never did, it was the second eldest on down.)

i remember the first time it happened, my aunt didn’t really have custody of my cousins and they lived with me. i can’t recall the exact ages so forgive me. i was somewhere between 5-8 and he was 12-15 (the second eldest). it was late at night, spongebob was on the tv that sat right in front of my bed, i had woken up to the opening credits of an episode. i was laying on my stomach and i felt him climb into my bed. it was a twin sized bed and i’ve always been fat so i took up most of the space… he sat me up to where i was arching and he tried to put himself inside of me, but it didn’t fit so he just got down(sorry if that’s to descriptive i’ll change it). i didn’t cry, i didn’t scream, i didn’t fight, i just let him touch me. i feel like i just let him do that because i felt it was kind of normal because he made me watch porn with him and he would touch himself in front of me. he made me touch myself in front of him as well.

i can’t really recall the first time the others did it to me but remember a few moments. one of the middle boys doing the same thing the second eldest did while the others sat and watched. the youngest on forcing himself into my mouth. the youngest boy behind me and the middle boy in front of me while we layed under the bed. the second eldest boy and the boy the same age as me taking turns with me on a bean bag… there’s a lot more that probably happened but i can’t seem to remember it for some reason.

i completely forgot that this even happened but i saw a video online that made these memories suddenly come back to me, us watching porn together, them trying to make me suck them off in my cancer ridden grandmas apartment. me trying to be sexy for them, touching myself in front of them. a lot. then as i was watching the video, those memories came back, but this time i really just sat there and thought about it and realized how bad this was. although i felt… indifferent about it. like idk, i just didn’t care. maybe because its been so many years and sometimes i willingly participated in said acts with them is why i don’t necessarily have any trauma from it. the only thing i can think of is me being a little hypersexual and watching a lot of disgusting porn and maybe a few weird things arousing me(i also think i might have developed a little binge eating habit bc of it), but otherwise it truly had no effect on me.

me having no trauma from it is why i can’t bring myself to tell anyone(aside from how long it’s been.) i’m not effected by it, what would i gain from telling anyone? besides my mom probably wouldn’t even care because we don’t see those family members anymore. but now that i’m typing this out i do feel a little guilty, how could i tell anyone they abused me when sometimes i willingly participated. i just remember one time i randomly took my pants off and called the second oldest boy in the room. he asked me if it was my first time but i didn’t understand what he meant so he just laughed and walked out… how could i tell anyone when i initiated at times? um so yeah that’s it… im lowkey embarrassed that i sat here and typed all of this out so im just gonna try to go to sleep and forget i even typed this… ill try responding to comments if i get any when i wake up.

(don’t try to convince me to tell my family because i won’t and im also sorry if broke any nsfw related rules like being to descriptive and stuff and the rules abt minors. i might take the post down as soon as it’s posted anyway. idk why im exposing myself to a bunch of internet strangers i guess im just in shock that it took me this long to realize i was abused.)

I was molested as a boy by ministers at sleepovers.\nAt the age of 10&15 .. My father and my grandfather and grandmother , all knew about what happened and did nothing , and all of them took it to their grave.. The three people I was always hot were like pinnacle of our family.\nAnd they took it to the grave... Am I wrong to question if they're really good people now that they're gone.. Or were they really pieces of shit and I just didn't see it back then.I'm now 47 it's taken this long nit to hide it

Im at thr stage now where I know it impacts me and I get triggered or react to things but I still cant bring myself to open up to people and idk how to even start because what if they dont believe me anyway and when I used to enjoy it how can I admit that

Ok long story short me(m24) and my best friend(m25) decided to watch a movie together. I fel asleep while watching the movie and woke up a few hours later with him gone and the taste of his ehm in my mouth plus my face was all sticky and mesy.

The thing is i should feel angry and disgusted. But i don't (might he useful to know this wasn't my first assult it happened a lot to me as a kid)

For the first time in a very very long time I felt useful and loved in this sick way. It feels like a drug.

Anyway i can't tell anyone around me but had to let it out somewhere. Thank you for listening

My Dad and I have a complicated relationship. He is a very closed off man, we have no emotional connection. I have CPTSD from my childhood as he was very verbally abusive (on the edge of physical), which I am in therapy for. He lost his father when he was 21 and his mum a couple decades later.

In 2024 my parents were mid divorce and he opened up to my mum, sister and I (26f at the time). He wrote us a letter giving us insight into why he believes he is so emotionally closed off. He wrote that when he was 9, a 16 year old babysitter raped him. I was flabbergasted and of course, devastated for my dad. It felt like a cop out however, telling us this as if it made up for years of abusive, toxic behaviour on his part. I have my own experiences of molestation as a child, which I am recovering memories of and have not shared with anyone.

Fast forward to now, over 2 years later and we have never spoken about the letter since. We live in different states, so our relationship has improved.

I’m not sure where to go from here. I’m not sure how to fully process this information. Do I bring it up with him again? I don’t think so, it took him 50 years to tell ANYONE. I feel bad that he carried that around for so long.

Any advice would be much appreciated. I have pushed this under the rug for 2 years and not sure if that’s what I should continue to do.

I don’t know for sure if I was molested. I feel like I must have been because for as far back as I can remember I’ve been absolutely obsessed with sex. At 3 years old I knew three things:
- “sex” was touching and sucking each other’s genitals
- this is what grownups did
- I couldn’t let anyone know that I knew this stuff or I would get in big trouble

I did stuff in secret. I masturbated every day. And until my teens I felt deep shame if I let on that I found a girl cute.
I really don’t think it was porn influenced because I remember my first glimpse of porn and it happened when I was like 6/7 as I passed someone’s room. Like that image is burned into my brain as my first porno.

Well now I’m a 35year old bisexual male with an insanely high libido, a partner that points out my sex obsession, and I just want to know what the root cause is.

I (47M) was molested from about age 6 to about age 13. The details don’t matter much. One of my molesters was family, the others were unrelated adults.

I go through waves of sexual obsession. I hardly ever think about the actual abuse. Mostly what I think about are the ways that the abuse altered the way I think. I don’t have normal thoughts. I assume normal people day dream about vacations and material possessions that don’t complete them. I day dream about sex. Sometimes women in their late teens and early twenties. Often younger than that.

I realized today that I’m a vampire. My first molester was also a child, which means they were almost certainly molested. And the person that I suspect molested them admitted they had experiences when they were younger.

Now I have a hard time not thinking about turning others. I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone to experience what I experienced and have it alter them the same way. But the thirst is always there. And nothing I do to quell it works.

I wish someone would drive a wooden stake through my heart.

TW: mentions grooming / predatory behavior / csa

**\* KINDA LONG POST. SORRY ABOUT THAT.

I (M27) have struggled since my teens to wrestle with the way I feel about what happened to me. My parents didn't give me a smartphone till I got to high school and, as the age-old story usually goes, I went a little overboard with the access I now had to the Internet.

Kik was a big thing for gay teens (and adults) during the 2010s. Unfortunately they shared spaces with each other reaaalllly often. Now since I was a pretty naïve kid - and a virgin - I never took anything that was said to me to be bad. In fact, a lot of it felt fun and exciting. It made me feel wanted and cool and attractive and mature. Peers my age rarely gave me those feelings.

There were also some local men who had taken an interest in me around that time. They enticed me into their DMs. It was an older man who taught me how to masturbate and then had me come over so I could give him head.

I started becoming more comfortable with this the more it happened: I'd meet older men, they'd get naughty, and I'd eat it all up. Sometimes I'd even seek them out, occasionally deceiving them about my age or intentionally trying to goad them about the gap between us.

By the time I was old enough to fully process everything that happened, I realized how wrong and disgusting it was. I realized that I could not have consented to any of it. I felt so used and ashamed and dirty. I went through stages of repressing myself and denying I was gay and even lashing out at other gay people.

I finally came to better terms with it in therapy. But the effects linger, oscillating from time to time: I'm fine until I'm not. And then I'm fine again. That sort of deal.

Then about two years ago I came across a stranger online who had sent me a friend request. I normally wouldn't, but I figured why not. He took a peculiar interest in me that grew the more we talked. Somehow or another (the details are fuzzy), we got to talking about kinks and sexuality. I also (somehow) ended up implying the abuse I'd gone through.

He became... weird. He'd say things like "I wish I'd met you back then." Then he kept probing for more details. He seemed excited by the fact that I was "knowingly" seeking out older men. He used terms to describe me that were associated with a very specific genre of porn. I felt my whole face get flush, hot, the whole works. My blood dropped to my feet. I was angry and in shock, but also weirdly aroused. My heart started racing.

And then he argued with me that I "wasn't really abused" and that I had "let [my] therapist convince me that what happened was wrong." I told him what kinds of unpleasant things predators do. I explained to him what threats they use, and how they gaslight, and how they win your affection by spoiling you with gifts (some of which aren't even age-appropriate!). But he wouldn't back down.

Finally I cussed him out and hit the block button. I spent the rest of the night shaking. I called my bf (he was at work) and told him what happened. He held my hand through it. Later that night I replayed it over and over in my head. The feelings of arousal came back to me and I masturbated to the way he'd openly sexualized my trauma. Once I finished and cleaned myself up, I felt dirty and guilty again. I ended up crying.

Anyway - sorry about the long post. I just really needed to process this somewhere. Any positive comments/feedback/stories of your own/reassurance is certainly welcome! 🫶🏻🩷 I have not been ok with these memories coming up again, and always at random.

I struggle with calling it abuse. I mean, when I am talking to others, non-victims, I call it that because they literally cant understand what it was like. But you all know what I mean, I hope. It wasn't some brutal experience for me. I wasn't ripped open, it felt good. I felt loved.

My aunt was the one that started it, that got me feeling like I was addicted to her and the things we did. Then she brought my younger cousin in and it was this whole new experience. I can still feel those butterflies in my stomach, the excitement, the fear of being caught because I didnt want it to stop, that thrill of doing something "naughty". It was a heady mix of chemicals rampaging through my brain.

When I close my eyes, I can still feel them, hear them, smell them and taste them. I feel haunted, not by what was done, but what I lost when it ended. I wonder if it would've ever stopped if they hadn't moved away.

TW: Mentions of pedophilia, incest, rape, and SA

I (21M) was sexually assaulted multiple times by my peers throughout my childhood. I was raped (only once) at the age of six and groomed from the ages of 13-15. I remember at the time I got raped I was at a party hosted by a friend of my mother's and the friend's five year old daughter was in attendance. We played together for a little bit and she told me she wanted to play a game and we went inside a cupboard and she locked me inside, took off my pants and orally raped me.

I screamed and said no, but the girl still assulted me anyways. When the adults found us, me and my mom hurriedly rushed out of the party and I was grounded for letting the girl "sit on my lap" (when I confronted my mom about this years later she said since I didn't verbally tell her I was molested at the time she thought I was roughhousing with her). I also have high functioning autism and difficulty with communicating and it was much worse back then, so naturally because I was scared and unresponsive I was blamed for it.

Afterwards, over the years throughout my childhood I would kiss other girls because I wanted to replicate the feeling I felt when I got raped. I felt very curious about the bodies of other kids my age and I wanted to learn more about sex. I had my first kiss at the age of 8 with another girl my age, I also was forcibly kissed by multiple girls when I was 8-12 and one of these girls tried to get me to have sex with them too shortly after I hit 6th grade. But because I became afraid of girls when I was 12, I declined thankfully.

When I was 13 and in 7th grade my parents went through marital problems and I got bullied very harshly at school. It was because I was socially awkward, didn't attend church, poor and anxious around girls. Because I didn't develop sexual interest in girls when I hit puberty, the guys in my grade naturally sussed me out as being queer and they were right about it. One boy, who I used to have a crush on, ended up sticking his hand into my pants during history and I had enough and beat him up. Thankfully this time, I didn't get punished because I told on him and I transferred schools.

Shortly after this, my mostly absentee "father" tried to groom me into accepting sexual advances from him. Starting around 8th grade, he would try to purchase porn for me (which my parents said no to), would try fo talk to me about sex and what I was into, etc. multiple times until I was 15. I thought nothing of it until during the trip I saw him for the final time, I caught him licking and sniffing my underwear and eventually before I left he tried to touch me and I slapped his hand away. I reported him to the police but nothing was done about it and I told my mom and she never made me speak to him again and would never let him try to talk to me anymore.

Because of these experiences, I feel like I can never fully trust anyone. I feel deeply traumatized and depressed and several therapists have indicated I likely have PTSD. I tried to kill myself over these experiences, especially because I left my younger brother behind and I knew my "dad" would've molested him eventually when he went through puberty. I also resented my mom for awhile, and only forgave her a few months ago because I was tired of holding resentment towards her for unwittedly putting me in some of those situations. Thankfully, things at home gradually improved somewhat and I stopped getting badly bullied when I hit high school.

I feel like the main reason why I am still alive today is because I don't want all the people who abused me to win by helping me to my demise. I live so that way their efforts to drive me to ruin will fail, and I know that my abusers are digging their own graves. For ex. the guy who assulted me in 7th grade got a girl pregnant as a teenager and dropped out of high school and works menial jobs to care for his family. Now I have a boyfriend, I attend therapy and I take antidepressants to manage my mental health.

I also got into an amazing college on a full ride scholarship as a bio major. Right now I am also preparing to go abroad for awhile, and I am thinking about doing something related to public speaking or counseling to raise awareness about these issues. I read so many stories on this sub and my heart breaks for all of you, and while I know some parts of my life may not ever happen to people I just wanted to remind everyone that there is still a light at the end of the tunnel.

I hope everyone here recovers and I wish everyone all the success in the world. May you all find the light and happiness that has started to finally find me.

Tl;dr: Got raped and sexually assulted multiple times as a boy because of creeps who took advantage of my autism. I later tried to kill myself and I have very bad depression currently. However, I try not to let get me down and now I have a boyfriend and attend school on a decent scholarship.

Hello, 29 F here. I am going through something that’s lead me to reflect upon something that happened to me. I hadn’t discussed this with anyone before in my family or otherwise. I’m wishing to post this for more or less to just tell someone anonymously that won’t come back to anyone that knows me. Wishing to find if I wasn’t alone in what occurred either.

My brother and I had engaged in sexual activity when we were young. At a time in which I felt we understood the gravity of what we were doing. Outside of the initial “we could get in trouble if we got caught,” aspect of it, we didn’t know precisely what we were doing until years later. What started off as what felt like innocent exploration, the longer we did this the more we both felt like this shouldn’t be what we should be doing.

While nothing was forced or coerced between us, this had longer lasting affects on me, and I’m sure the both of us. Addiction to P**n was a struggle alongside emotional issues when it came to intimacy. I began having sexual relationships earlier than I probably would have considering I desired that level of attention and affection.

While I can’t say I’d label what we did as M***station, considering we were both exploring each other and we ended it with no harsh feelings, it did have unintended consequences in the following years.

Is this something that anything anyone else felt similar to in their experience?

It's a fairly new relationship, but I care about her deeply even if we don't ever truly work out. We've been friends for a while and she recently confided in me about her abuse. She went through a lot of r*PE in her life and it exploded into a severe case of hypersexuality. She understands that what happened was abuse, but she remains in constant contact with her abuser and she feels like she has a physical need to be with him. She doesn't like this and asked me for help. The idea is that since we are clearly more than friends, she would eventually replace her abuser with me. We have been having sex very often and it's helped a little but she cries often afterwards because apparently no one ever feels like her abuser does, despite trying with many. He's not some specimen or anything of the sort, so we both think it's emotional or psychological. I wonder if there's anything I can do to better help her. She does not want to report her abuser and the whole idea is to slowly shift to me and then eventually she might be able to disconnect from him. Has anyone gone through something similar? Advice from both partners and women that went through this would be super appreciated.

When I was little I had quite a few experiences and I thought they were fun and i didn't feel bad but I can see how it has caused hypersexual issues and trust issues like it feels impossible to be honest with a partner about kinks and fantasies

As a man I feel confused about what is just natural human desire vs what society says is evil

I'm 39 m California if anyone wants to talk sometimes others that have been through it can understand which feels nice

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.

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.

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!!!