• Chose the person you decide to tell wisely. Would you like to tell a counselor, friend or family member? Does the counselor have experience in sexual trauma? If you chose to tell a friend, has this person been supportive of you in the past? Has this person expressed supportive feelings towards survivors of sexual violence before?
• Chose your setting. Where and when will you feel most comfortable talking about the abuse? Sometimes wearing "comfort clothes" or carrying a special object, like a rock or a stuffed animal helps.
• Talking face to face is not the only option you have. Some people chose to write letters or poems.
• Prior to telling the person, make it clear how you would like him or her to react. I got sick of seeing horrified facial expressions, so I tell people to keep their faces resolutely still. I also tell them that "I'm so sorry," is a good response.
• Make your expectations clear. If you do not want to be asked intrusive questions, tell your friend. If you do not mind answering questions, then make that clear.
• Evaluate how your experience went. How did it feel to you? What went right? What went wrong? What would you do differently the next time? What would you do the same?

Below is an essay I wrote when I realized how hard it is to tell. You can read a different essay about how telling helped and hurt me by clicking here. What is written below may be triggering if you are battling shame right now, but I hope that you will find it to be empowering.

These have words have such power. From us, they have taken control, safety and power. In replacement, we have been given hurt, anger and shame and we are silenced by it. They have power over our families, our friends, our peers and co-workers, too. These words have the power to them say things like "Are you sure?" or "Why didn't you do this, that or the other thing?" They make them call us liars. They make people we know and trust physically recoil from us, look away or just blush. It's all hurtful, so hurtful that it silences us.

Why do we feel shame? Before we even tell, we are ashamed. This is a society in which sex crimes are unspeakable. When we tell, our feelings about the rape, molestation or incest are influenced by the way the person we trusted enough to tell reacts to us. To those of you who told and received no support, I applaud you. Your search to heal is just heroic, and shows unwavering bravery. To tell takes untold courage. Again, I applaud you in your search to heal despite the shame given you. Rape is not the unspeakable crime; What your friends and families did by silencing you with shame is.

So why DO these people we trust so much look away?

Fear. Thinking that, "Well, rape happens to other people. Not to people I know. If it happened to someone I know, then it can happen to me, and it can't." Therefore, my friend, my daughter, my sister, wasn't raped."

Ignorant. Just fucking ignorant.

Control. Blame is a way to control. We blame our own selves, too don't we? By saying, "Why didn't you, run, scream, fight harder, etc...." our friends, families and peers put the control into our hands. They think..."If she had fought harder she would have gotten away. If she had yelled, someone would have heard her. I would have yelled. I would have gotten away. I would have been heard. This can't happen to me." It's a way for non-survivors to think they actually control their own environments. "The survivor, she didn't. But this can't happen to me." When we blame ourselves, we give control back to ourselves. I should have fought harder. I should have yelled. It's a way to protect our own mistaken belief that we control our own lives. We don't. Shit just happens. Us survivors, we learned that, in one heartbreaking minute.

We don't want that control, do we? Not when the shame comes with it. But people give that control to us, unasked for. And it makes us really ashamed. And silent.

Discomfort-People are generally uncomfortable with discussions about genitals, and when we tell them that our genitals were so horribly abused, they become uncomfortable.

I was mugged, two years ago. Total control was taken from me, by a man with a gun to my face, and I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and gave him money. He walked away. Was I ashamed? No. Did people treat me differently? No. I found sympathy. "What can I do for you?" "Are you okay?" "That must have been scary." This is how people reacted.

Rape is the unspeakable crime because it involves the control of our genitals. Our genitals to be treasured. They are to be worshipped. We do not speak of them.

Seven weeks ago, penis was put into my vagina without my consent.

The reluctance to speak about a crime involving genitals makes what is essentially a horrible mugging more awful for me. I am horrified that this happened and people don't want to hear about it, even though I desperately need to talk about it with those who can help me make sense out of this world. However, people don't talk about these things, so I am quickly and effectively silenced.

I am silent, because their words hurt, because I am afraid of more abuse, because I am afraid of their pain and their reactions.

For those of you, especially those of you who have been more effectively silenced than I have; I am in awe of you. To heal must be incredibly difficult.

Too many women are raped, molested, abused and assaulted because of the silence.

Too many women feel this Collective Shame, because of the silence.

I am going to ask people a favor. Don't be silenced.

Stepping out can be so frightening, but so much can be gained. Sometimes statistics jump into my head and I can't help but think about what would happen if every victim of sexual assault were to simultaneously scream. People would begin, and those who had hadn't been able to acknowledge what has been done to them, would hear, look around, realize that they were not alone and join in. It would be the scream heard across the world and it would be the scream to change the world. No place would be silent, no person on this earth would not hear that scream and the effects of sexual assault would be frighteningly audible and thus undeniable.

That is an unrealistic vision right now, but it is not unrealistic to break the silence on a smaller scale. End the silence at your own pace. Any step is a good step, no matter what it is. These steps are acts of bravery. Stay safe when you take steps. If just reading this was the biggest step you can take, then good for you. You have something to be proud of. If you can, write it. If you can say your word to yourself, say it. If you can say rape, incest molestation to a friend, try it on for size. If you can yell it, like I did last night, yell it. If you can speak out, then do so.

Any step you take, is a step in ending this collective shame and silence, that we all feel. Now that is empowering, to us, the survivors, and to all women.

I want to acknowledge my mother, a woman with her Ph.D. in Womens Studies, for raising an empowered daughter. Also, I'd like to acknowledge my partner, for calling it rape, when he called the police. I wouldn't have. I want to thank my father, for saying, "This is the first night I slept well since you were raped," at the dinner table. My partner gave me a word for it, and my father made it alright for me to talk about my rape at the dinner table.

These people are the reason I will not be silenced.

I am not a rape survivor, but I have been molested and sexually abused as a child, not in horrible ways, but just enough to leave their marks and affect the way I see the world...but many of my friends, too many, have been raped and horribly abused as children and adults.

I assumed it was only because I somehow attracted people with these experiences, somehow people wanted to tell me what had happened to them. Or maybe, I sometimes worry, it is because somehow I am sick, I am interested in hearing these experiences so that I can turn over in my mind the incidents. I'm not sure I've fully or even partially dealt with my own history of abuse.

As I read the statements on this website and think of the stories I've read, seen and heard on videos/TV, and heard from my friends, tears pour down my face. I can't even speak, my heart aches, and I silently plead for a better world. It's healing to learn of other's trauma and that people are doing something to bring it to light and to try to change the world we live in.

I remember a relative once said, disgustedly, "Why do they have to put these commercials on TV?!" In response to a rape crisis center PSA with a survivor telling her story. I almost screamed at him that one of his three daughters could be a victim, could have been a victim, and how would he help her to heal with that attitude. But reading this site makes me realize that although I have read a lot, and try to be sensitive, I am not.

Thank you all for being so strong, and for wanting to heal. I think sometimes when you don't get a reaction it's not because people don't want to help, listen, or deal with what happened, it's because our culture tells us that pain is best forgotten. For me, out of respect, I let the survivor reveal what s/he wants as the feelings come out. I don't bring it up too much after the first telling because some friends have had flash backs afterward and I know that can cause pretty serious consequences and they may not ask for help and I may not know that it's going on...how can we be sensitive without causing more harm?

Anyway, this has been useful for me. Thank you and God bless.

Alana

well i didnt tell for about a week later because i was afraid no one would belive me and i was so scared that my family wouldnt belive me. they did when i finally told i felt so relived. I was so happy and i coulnt belive that i wasnt going to get punished. i thought i was and i was so scared for that factso i didnt tell well waht made me tell was i thought i was pregnat. so i told my mother and she belived me and i am now getting help, and i have never felt better well i owe it all to my counslers carmon and jeri.this happened to me when i was 14-15.

Anonymous

I was silence for a month. I was in denial about the whole situation thinking how could someone I care about this much do this horrible thing to me. I began to see him around campus and he was trying to counsel me and talk to me about it...admitting his gulit. When I was even near him a felt sharp pains in my stomach and couldn't sleep at night having nighmares. I broke my silence told my parents and then went to the police and screamed it. It is a hard process, but I broke my silence and I am helping all the other victims of rape to not be silent. It is a violent act of power and anyone who does this deserves to go to jail.

Katie

-Anonymous

i had filed the leaflet from the rape crisis and sexual abuse counselling centre for a few years. i'd look at it and put it back. that particular day i decided not to put it back. i was sick of being silent and hiding. i had to breathe into a paper bag as i started to panic. i had decided i would do this. these stalls and fears would not stop me any more.i held my tigers eye mala beads in one hand for comfort and listened to the ringing. i was trembling. i was afraid i wouldnt be able to speak. but the voice on the other end of the line was so kind and patient. and i told. and something lifted. i had told. it wasnt just me and me anymore. that success spurred me on and i told my psychiatrist about it all. again scared. again panicking before. i shook as i walked up the stairs to the clinic. but i did it. and a whole new world has opened up to me.

-Anonymous

I was able to tell the very next morning and I was greated by my partner's wonderfully angry responce and his assistance in calling the police. At seventeen I had no idea what was to be expected. For some reason I was under the impression that others would beleive me and that they would be as horrified as I was. My entire high school turned on me. I became the lying slut who wanted revenge. The few who did beleive me constantly belittled what had happened. My boyfriend left me because he couldn't handle it. Eventhough I am now 21 and the people in my life know that I was assaulted, I cannot tell them what actually happened in that room. I try and I panic...

-Kylie

i was raped by my mums ex boyfriend when i was 12, i didnt tell anyone until i was 14. I felt so ashamed and i hated myself for it. I wasnt planning on telling anyone ever, but i broke down one day to a teacher and she informed social services. My mum then found out, she just cried. im 15 now and i have to go to court to press chrges against this man, im so scared but i know from all the support im getting ill be fine. Im glad i told that teacher that day.

-Emma

I was assaulted only once, but once was enough. I have pushed it out of my memory for five years now, until lately when I started to break an addiction and came to realize that after two more years there was more than just the stresses of living in a home with a wonderful family that ate me up at night. I was so confused and in denial for a while, "no" I thought. "I was not sexually assaulted, my life is together and I am in control of what happens"...RIGHT? Wrong. THis is not the case. We are not always in control. Yes, after reading this site there are definetly things I could have done better and differently, but I am starting to realize that it was not my fault. I am still ashamed to talk about it and share about it, but I am no longer angry at myself for feeling scared to be touched, as I know that there are roots to feelings and that it is OK to feel now. Take care, and love to all of you who need it.

-Amanda

I am silenced. Not from the telling of what happened, but from the telling of how it hurt me. People expect me to have moved past it. Its been 8 months. They think that's an eternity. To me, it is happening today. Yesterday. It will happen again tomorrow. It happens when I hear a song on the radio. It happens when my husband touches me just so. It happens when I smell starbucks coffee, or when I see a certain logo, or when my fingers brush against automobile carpeting. I am silenced because saying "a part of me - the part of me I loved - died when I was raped" makes it real.

-Lucie

i was date raped 4 times by different friends over a period of 4 years. I have hated myself for over 13 years becuase i could never answer the question, "how can someone get themselves raped 4 times?" The truth that i am realizing is that there are many reasons. I had faith in people even after they hurt me. My only crime was that i believed that people would see me for the beautiful person that i am, and not want to hurt me. Everytime it happened i was shocked and in disbelief. I didn't want to believe that my friends could be predetorial. I have learnt to use and excersice my intuition. this has helped me get out of dangerous situations and make better friends. Healing has helped me get to know myself in ways that i never would have. I am becoming stronger everyday.

-anita

I came out as gay at 28 to my mum I think she already new I found it harder to exepet my self as gay. From befor I was 7 till I was 11 my mums boyfriend did stuff to me I remember when I was about 9 him takeing me to a frends house and makeing me have sex with a man there. I remember fealing so helpless. When I was around 13 I started haveing fealings for other boys I did have sex with a boy then I did nothink like what had hapend to me when I was a kid. I did have a girle friend when I was at college she was more of a tomboy then any think. Later on I did meat a lad at a kung Fu club he was a littel bit younger then me we split up not long after I lost my job. I did find him again some 7 years later on the Internet. We got back it was good we had a bad fall out I felt so alown ended up takeing an over doss I was ok in the end. It was not long after that when I told my mum about him it was on that day he final left me and did not speak to me again. I did speak about what happend to me when I was a kid I was told by some sad person that men do this becos it hapend to them. I ended up cuting my rist when I was 14 to punish my self and to stop my self. I am now 31 and I have not looked at boys and ever thort of doing any think like that so why was I told that men do that becos it happend to them as it is just to true.

alun

when i was 9 i was raped by a man i didnt even know. at the age of 12 i told my best friend. She told knowone but then i told my boyfriend. when me and him broke up he told all his friends and they all teased me. I am now 14 and going strong and they seem to have all gotten over it. BE CAREFUL ON WHO YOU TELL. -anon

when i was 5 i was molested by my brother that went on for 6yrs, because i was told it wasn't bad it was something i was supposed to do and so on, i started hiding so he wouln't find me and after a while he stopped looking, i grew up thinking i had left the bad behind me after graduation i jioned the army to better my life and have a family, i wasn't afraid because the gov. would protect me WRONG i was raped while serving by another soldier, i felt i deserved it because i let my guard down so i used drinking and drugs to heal my pain, i am now diagnosed with ptsd chronic i must take many medications to get through my days and the triggers are always around the corner, i wish i new then what i do now it sure helps to know i'm not alone and its not Right. thank you for letting me vent...

-victoria

I am in the middle of bringing my rapist to court. I had to testify before a grand jury and the hardest part was not knowing their response. I knew that I had to do this so that I could look back and say I did everything I could to get this man off the streets BUT after testifying I was put in a room next to the room that the jurors were deliberating in. I heard everything, from "well she brought it upon herself" to "she shouldn't have let him in the apartment" to "why didn't she just leave?" Although all of these thoughts are hurtful and I still seem to get varied responses, I have come to realize that I can only put the information out there. Then it is up to everyone else how they want to handle it. And as much asit hurts, there issomething very liberating about sharing my story, even just with friends.

-Mary

What Is Child Sexual Abuse? "Child sexual abuse is defined as an act imposed on a child who lacks emotional, maturational, and cognitive development. The ability to lure a child into a sexual relationship is based upon the all-powerful and dominant position of the adult or older adolescent perpetrator, which is in sharp contrast to the child's age, dependency, and subordinate position. Authority and power enable the perpetrator, implicitly or directly, to coerce the child into sexual compliance. (Sgroi, Blick, & Porter, 1982, p. 9).

I have buried this time and time again but it still returns to the surface of my life, haunting me, a ghost of the past. What key it has to open the doors of the future I do not know and I am unsure about. But, I do know, and I think I have always known, that secrets hold power, a negative power. Secrets give the perpetrator the power to continue to manipulate situations to their advantage and satisfaction at the expense of others.

To intentionally hurt others is totally against my being and against the law of life itself. As an adult, I have tried to live to my best, not always so as a young adult and not always succeeding as an adult, always making many wrong choices. The constant giving of myself to those that need, whatever that may be and over my own desires at times, I realize now, was due to common threads of the past that patterned me to behave as I have.

I NO LONGER GIVE MY POWER AWAY!

I sit here in the corner of an empty, expansive open field, surrounded by woods, the sun beating down at me and the wind roaring all around me, at peace, hoping to remain alone today to get this out on paper before my courage turns into weakness and my voice goes unheard again. In this place close to nature, I am most at peace, knowing how small I am in the scheme of things and not sure of my place. My hope is to become one with nature, camouflaged by the trees, so no one can see me and no one steps off the path through the woods curious as I was to find this spot. A beautiful waterfall, continuously pounding the rocks below, that drew me here, seemingly miles away, and completely oblivious!

I do not know when it all started. My parents told me I was born out of love. My Mom carried me, but my Dad had the pain as the story goes, around the same time Marilyn Bell was swimming across Lake Ontario. They were not the most loving people and I am not sure what the word love meant to them.

My recollections go back to being a baby and my older brother consistently helped my mother look after me. I distinctly remember being in the living room of the house I grew up in and my Mom still owns, my brother, Culley, lifting me up on his shoulders as I giggled and screamed with delight. I remember him stepping into the dining room and turning me around and putting his mouth between my legs and blowing. I remember feeling the heat of his breath through my clothes and still giggling as most kids would. This came to me long after I was grown and is the earliest memory I have and which haunts me as the start of sexual abuse in my life.

My Mom always praised my brother and said he was always such a great help to her raising me, always wanting to change me, bath me and look after me.

We lived in a dysfunctional house much like many others I found later, but for me then, it was a normal as normal could be. My father worked as a truck driver for Smith Transport, which was eventually bought out by CP and drove for 40 years. He was on the road for weeks at a time, with many stories of his own. He had many previous opportunities and trades and his name is probably still on the drawings and blueprint for the Don Valley Parkway, or Death Valley as we called it and is probably still called today. He tried many things but stuck with driving, it paid well and I am sure relaxed him, to be away from his life and six kids way back then. He was tired and grumpy most of the time and as soon as he walked through the door my mother would start complaining about us kids and how bad we were.

I was the second born, eleven years difference between me and my brother Culley and then she had four more, a year to two apart. A handful for sure and there was always something going on. I do not know when the verbal abuse started, it was always there, or the first time my Dad hit her or us. It was a frequent thing that went on behind closed doors and was the norm. As an older child, I remember nonchalantly waiting for the ambulance and for my mother to get up off the floor after my Dad called her stupid and knocked her down. I grew up fearful and terrified of him as we all were and resentful for my Mom telling him we were bad and also turning a blind eye to the things that went on, though many years later I understood her pain and his.

My brother Culley molested me most of my young life. Our basement lay unfinished for many years and he use to take me down there and pull off my panties and play with me. I was initiated to oral sex at that time. I know as a child it felt good to be with my older brother and he made me feel good, not knowing anything was wrong with this; it carried on for years and years as our secret. My brother threatened me with my father’s violence and mothers telling when it did become something that did not seem quite right.

It was a constant, daily part of my life as was the verbal and physical abuse at our parent’s hands, something I held as a secret for many years.

My mother would let him look after me while she tended to other things and the other kids. He changed me, dressed me, bathed me and put me to bed. I remember baths with the others, though I don’t remember if anything happened to them so much. Most times we were alone. He use to play with me in the bath and after drying me, he would pull his penis out like a toy and get me to touch it, it was then, him giving me my regular bath, that he asked me to kiss it and perform oral sex and so it all began. He would put me to bed at night, say good night to Mom, and sneak back into my room, he hid in the closet if he heard her coming. As soon as things were quiet again he would come out or after I fell asleep, I would be awakened with him pulling off my covers and lifting my nightgown to my neck and opening my legs as wide as they would go. I have many memories of him, at the end of the bed, he would move me down the bed, put my legs over his neck giving me oral sex while he jerked off in Kleenex. It got so I could not sleep and feared him coming and hiding in my room or getting caught and the having the wrath of my parents focused on me as he manipulated me to believe. I prayed he would leave me alone but he did not. It got so I would fake sleep, close my eyes tight and pretend I was somewhere else, wait for him to finish, and put it out of my mind.

As I got older, in the bathroom, he would sneak in, put his penis between my legs as I peed then come into Kleenex or on me and wipe me off. I remember a couple of close calls, his finger hushing me to be quiet until he managed to sneak out, sometimes hiding in the bathtub behind the shower curtain. He walked out into my Mom once and lied and said he mistakenly walked in on me when it became uncomfortable due to my age for him to be with me. Day after day and night after night it was the same thing and went on for years. He babysat us and so it was easy for him to do what he wanted. When my parents were out and as the others watched TV, he would take me downstairs, he started questioning me to how it felt always wanting me to tell him it was good.

The wrath of my parents got worse as we all were pummeled with obscenities, spanked and slapped routinely, the closest body part always feeling the sting. Slapping us across the face or head was popular by both of them and I remember my Dad taking a 2x4 to the boys, for whatever reason now I don’t remember, sometimes there was no reason. Dinnertime was a time of foreboding as someone always got in trouble. We were taught to shut up, as kids, were to be seen and not heard and forced to eat what was in front of us to the point of being sick at the table. I remember many times when my Dad would yell at me, I would stand there terrified and pee myself, and then he would humiliate me even more. I was luckier than the boys; only for the fact my father didn’t physically hurt me as much, because I was a girl. We grew up called stupid and many words I never understood until much later.

A reprieve from my brother came when he was charged along with another boy for rape of a girl he took out. Unfortunately, the girl’s reputation, though none I am sure, was presented as if she asked for it and was believed over my brothers and his friend’s lies. Though, this was kept from us, I only got bits and pieces of the conversations and accusations made, it was difficult not to hear what was going on, it was a big mistake in our house! It was many years later that my mother confirmed this. My father beat him good over that and he was sent away to the army. When he came back, things resumed with me.

He eventually got married and had two girls of his own, to this day; they do not talk to him. I felt guilt of not finding my voice and the courage to tell then, as I am sure he did the same to them as me as there was sexual abuse of some nature over them that came out much later.

I do not remember what age I was when I was told to baby sit, 10-12 years, but though I protested, you ended up doing what you were told in our household, whether you liked it or not. I was expected to baby sit Culley’s girls on a regular basis. Even with a wife, it did not matter, the sexual abuse continued. He would drive me home after babysitting, but always stopped on the back, country roads, around Sewells Road and Passmore Road, he had many favourite spots, and he seemed to know them all. It started with him pulling me over while driving, unzipping his pants, forcing my hand on his penis begging me to touch him while I begged him to be taken home. He would tell me after, we won’t be long and he would drive me home after, it was always after. He would pull over to a deserted spot and have me jerk him off, or he would sometimes get out come over and leave open the passenger side door as he would pull off my shorts or whatever I was wearing, make me lie down and have oral sex until he came in his hand or would rub against me until he came. I felt powerless to do anything and to his bidding told him I liked it and it felt good though wishing he would hurry and just take me home. I never knew how long we were but it happened every time I babysat without fail. I became to know the back roads pretty well.

When he dropped me off home, a few times Martha, his wife at the time had called looking for him, He always had an excuse, he had to stop for cigarettes or gas, or would tell her he came in five minutes after she called, a lie, and stopped to chat and have coffee with Mom and would be home soon. I don’t remember my mother ever questioning him. When I babysat, and Martha was finishing up getting ready to go out, he would come into the room while I changed the girls and play with them blowing on them to make them laugh as he did me. Martha’s younger sister came from Scotland to stay with them around the time I became more and more resistant and realized this was not normal for brother and sister. One night while driving me home, he pulled his penis out and after constant protest I pulled a small knife and I threatened him and that I would tell if he didn’t take me straight home and if he ever tried to touch me again.

That was the end of the sexual abuse of me but I believe from an argument that ensued later on with my parents, he got caught sexually abusing his wife’s sister. That was the end of their marriage. Again, he was charged with something but released from jail and moved back in with my parents. This is when he also tried to abuse my younger sister who was also taken to that famous deserted spot on Passmore, but as an older child resisted him.

Though this time and still presently as far as I know he is still working as janitor or in maintenance with the local school board. He was definitely in his element allowing him to gain trust and continue to molest innocent children. He eventually married again, to a witch of a woman and I normally have no malice for anyone but for her that is being kind. I always felt they deserved each other.

Going back to my young life, it was dreadful living in constant fear and with no control over anything including my body. I rarely slept well, did terrible in school, barely passing into high school and was withdrawn most of the time. I hated and feared my parents and I spent hours in my room crying and praying nightly to die. I was called a slut and hoar and more long before I knew what that meant and out of fear I continued to suppress the secret I held.

And so that life ended and a new one began…

One filled with self-destruction, sex, drugs and alcohol. I have had many hurtful relationships continuing the cycle of abuse, repeatedly with verbally and physically abusive men. I identify with many women’s issues first hand, rape, attempted suicide, abortion, miscarriage, failed marriages, divorce, single parenting, living in poverty, re-education with many change of careers and employment issues, I have gone from making 8.00 hour to 100.00 hour and back again constantly trying to prove to myself that I was not the failure I felt I grew up as.

After my Dad died, I tried to let the truth out. My mother was totally in denial about anything happening to me, herself also growing up being sexual abused and my sister confirming to me that he had also tried with her and got no where. Things fell into place, but my brother Culley of course denying it ever happened as I am sure he always will.

Still, I am dealing with those repercussions of my early life and of those that came after telling, left totally on my own, the loss of family and friends, and with many health issues, both mine and then later my daughters including her misdiagnosis and experimental surgery that has left her permanently handicapped and legally blind and also the future unknown. I have, it seems, always been looking for guidance, advice and some direction or purpose in my life. Many times, stripped of everything decent that lead to the lowest possible point in my life and I find myself here once again so many years later.

My story needs to be recognized to possibly stop the manipulation still going on within our family today and everyone needs to take responsibility for their part. My responsibility is to let this secret out. I feel driven to get this out and tell so many years later as difficult as it is. I have had more life experience then most have in a life time and my life has been affected in so many ways, so many lessons learned and I have been close but I have never given up.

Taking responsibility for my life now, to make the right choices, has lead me to my involvement and empowerment through alternative healing and that in itself has created a well of emotion that emanates deep down to my soul level. I have realized I have some healing to do on myself before I can move forward and this is it. My life, only now 50 years later, is starting to make sense as I again begin the struggle to live and enjoy life. To feel the love of life I know is there as my life begins with accepting love of a good man that has come into my life, a gift to me, and the past laid out for all to see, a secret no more. I begin this struggle to accept that I am deserving of all good things that life has to offer.

It is time to let this secret out, put this to rest for me… take back my power and if in this, I can keep growing with it, if some good comes out of this, if I may be able to help others in similar circumstances, I can only hope. I feel my purpose here is to help and assist others through the same life crisis situations and if I can help just one person then I know, the lessons learned in this life were well worth the chaos that was my life and though I wish this came out years ago and not so late in life, it is here, now, that my life begins. As I look around me, this place of nature is so much clearer and vibrating with life, life I fought so hard to ignore at one time and as I finish this story I feel elated and excited as the truth is out and will be denied no more… life is just beginning for me.

Dedicated to all those precious children, around the world, always remember that no matter what happens to you it’s not your fault, break the silence.

Linda MacRae

I was molested by my cousin when I was 7 or 8. I'm only told people now since I'm 20. My friend had to hold me as I felt myself curl up in a ball. I'm only starting to heal now, but at least I've broken the silence.

anon

I was sexually abused from age 9 to 17, and then raped at 20. I did try to tell when I was a child, but no one took me serious. In my adult life, it has come out more, because my abuser has abused more children, and I testified against him, but he still wasn't put in prison... I never did tell about my rape, though.. I think mostly because i felt so much shame, it was like my childhood all over again, and I felt like it was my fault. I'm still not normal or okay. I wish would have told a teacher or something when I was young, but I didn't ever think of it really. I sort of felt like it was all my fault, and I was too ashamed I guess. I had doubt in myself that what was happening was even wrong. Now I know it was, and wish I would have told someone else.. I was just telling the wrong people I guess....

I think we need help to come out of the denial bubble we protect ourselves in with the wall of anger to be able to acknowledge any of the memories of abuse. Personally it took me 2 years of intense therapy before I could even start writting or talking about it. After 24 years of spousal abuse it takes a lot of courage and hard work to come to a state of awareness to be able to step outside ourselves and process painfull memories and give ourselves permission to grieve. Asking for help and telling is the only way we will ever be able to start our long healing journey to eventually be able to live a life as normal as it may be. Daring to trust ourselves so that we can trust others is the key to the door of the mourning & grieving we must do to free ourselves from the suffering. It takes guts to tell just as it takes guts to survive. We have the strenght to tell if someone will listen. I hope that you find the right person or therapist. God Bless

jocelyne

I was raped last feb. by a guy that i knew. i didn't tell anyone about what had happend to me, which led to me cutting myslef. This October my school found out about the cutting and called my parents down to the school that day, with out my knowing it. When they asked me why I had been doing that I told them that it was because I was raped. All of us broke down. They both came running over to me and hugged me. I was silenced for 8 months because I was so afraid about what would happen if I told anyone. I didn't want my dad going out and doing anything that would get him in trouble, and I didn't want my family to pitty me and drop everything that was going on. Now that my family knows and some of my friends everything has been so much easier for me in my recovery.

Kate M.

told the man I was seeing at the time. He was not at all supportive or emotionally available to me. Then I had to tell my supervisor at work because it happened while I was on a home visit for my job. She was more fascinated than supportive. I finally went to counseling for a while which probably would have helped but after I lost my job, I couldn't afford the counseling. I have not told anyone since. I know I need to but I don't need rejection at this point.

Sheri

I was raped in college by an acquaintance in a fraternity. I sought help the next day, and my parents were there within the hour (even though I lived over an hour away!) They were so supportive through the whole thing. My mom made 3 x 5 cards for me with inspiring quotes on them and a note on the back of each for me to look at every day. There had to have been 100 of them, and she took the time to hand write every single one of them. I couldn't have gotten through it without my parents.

Katie

The day after my rape I was taken to the police station and the emergency room (I had been a runaway). I think my parents suspected something, or they wouldn't have been so insistant that I see a doctor. Not one police officer or the juvy officer asked any questions about anything that happened. At the emergency room, the staff talked as if I wasn't in the room...there was not one supportive or kind word. I refused services and would not tell what happened. It was years later before I told a friend. He had no reaction at first, but later turned the incident around and used it as ammo to hurt me emotionally. It has only been recently, after learning that my assailant is dead, that I have started telling select people in my life what really happened to me 11 years ago. They have been very, wonderfully supportive. However, when I told my 2 best friends whom I've known forever...I learned that each of them had also been sexually assaulted in some form. All 3 of us are survivors, yet we had all stayed silent.

hi my names is jennifer I"m 28now when this frist happend i was 13years old my moms boyfriend molested me over the years and when i finaly told some one no won belived me even the police my mother wouldn't even look at me or sit with me people would blame me for how i dressed but it doesn't matter even if some one was naked it doesn't give them the right to do that i was NEVER NAKED IN front of him to this day my mother is with i wish some one would belive me till this day no won has when th polce came they took him in the car and said if there here about this a gain then they will press charge's and if you were wondering about MY REALLY DAD he died when i was 11 I'm i wish my dad was there for me but god took him away i learned to deal with this all on my own i never went to talk to anyone even when i asked my mom if she belive's me she' say's what do you want me to say and i asked her if she belives me i love my mom she has had a hard hard life but i love her i know it's sound bad but i do she has no selfasteam my dad was a alcoholic and beat my mom up she was never tought to be storng only weak but i will alway's love her i just want people to know that NOBODY HAS THE RIGHT TO TOUCH YOU IN ANY WAY AND GO WITH YOUR GUTT if you feel weired about some one stay away

Jen1

all my life i was told to go to the police immediately if you are sexually abused or assaulted.

i always told myself i would. i'm strong- i wouldn't let myself be a victim.

i never expected i would actually need to though; much less in a foreign country where i didn't speak the language well enough to explain exactly what had occured. so i told. and i told. and i told again. after that, i didn't want to tell anymore.

I was raped when I was 17 i am now 21.it was the summer before my senior year in highschool. the 30 yr old man raped me and my bestfrriend. i went to the police because my be ex made me, i am truely luck for that. i didnt press charges because there was no evidence. everyday i remember and i try to heal and its hard. i know everyone will agree it completely alters your view of life, i know from my experience you cannot be ashamed and you have to find your own way to begin your self recovery.

Lauren

i had to tell someone because i would see him at school and feel faint, and become violently sick to my stomach. i had an appointment with my doctor later that week, and i had to lie about the bruises--i told her they were from a stage-fighting class at a theatre competition, but she didn't believe me. i finally told a close friend what had happened, and she told my favorite teacher. at first i was upset that this friend had broken our trust, but then i realized that i would eventually have to tell an adult. still i couldn't tell the worst details, and i just referred to it by the date that it occured, or called it "the incident." i still can't say the word "rape" aloud because it makes me so sick. even now when i tell the story, i feel totally disconnected from the fact of it.

ailto:darrinkclaypool@yahoo.com story: i'm not a victim of sexual assualt but i grew up with an acholic father and a silent mother. it was pretty rough for me growing up. well, enough of me, i'm here to tell you what i, as a mother of three beautiful children as experienced recently. on mother's day of this year, my 13 year old daughter expressed to me and her father that she has been raped by someone when she was very young (between the ages of 4 to 6 years). this went on for two years for her. the last 7 years she has been silent. she is a very strong, bright, beautiful, and talented young lady. the person that assualted her was her uncle, my brother. i and her father are so very hurt. my brother was 15 to 17 years old at the time. it happened over at my mother's house. my daughter had said every time that she would go over there to grandma's it took place. my daughter said that he would call her into his room to watch movies, instead of wathcing the movie that sob would harm her. i'm sooooooo hurt and mad right now. we had told our daughter that it's not her fault and we are here for her. i and my best friend took my daughter to the police station to file a sexual assualt report. my precious baby will be scared for life, this kills me inside. i have to be strong for, she fought a battle all on her own for seven long years.last night i expessed to her that i wished that she could give me all of her pain and i'll hurt. i never knew this was going on if only i knew, i would have done something then. this is now and we are doing something. my daughter told me as she was tearing,"you can't take what has happened to me away, it has already been done." those words shot threw my heart like knives.well, god bless to all and best wishes and thankyou for allowing me to vent.

-Traci

i was forcibly sodomized in the summer of 1994, i was 17 then. i didn't tell until about a year and a half later, when i told my mother. she wanted to go to the police but i freaked out and wouldn't let her bring the police in. i was so scared of my rapist at the time. so, here it is, 2007 and my rapist was never prosecuted. i don't know if my life would be any better if i had prosecuted. i always wonder though, how much happier i'd be if i had never been raped. the vast majority of my everyday life is still suffering because of that night. i think group counseling would benefit me but where do i find a group of women who still can't deal with being a survivor after over a decade. i feel like i am the only one.

Laura

i am 44 yrs old. i am a mother of 2 boys. amazingly, i am sane, i think. i have never told, until now. i was verbally, emotionally, physically and sexually abused by my mother. i disowned her when i was 30 yrs old. a year later, i started remembering and healing. i went to a shrink for 7 yrs, but never told. will i ever? probably not. it might undo all the glue i used to put the pieces of myself back together.

i was raped. up until a couple of weeks ago i had never said those words outloud before. for over 10 years i kept silent. i've only told one person, a counesllor, and maybe one day i'll be able to tell someone else. why is that word so hard to speak outloud? i'm 22 and i feel like i am now just beginning to live, the heaviness of this secret is starting to lighten and for once in my life i feel like things might get better. it still hurts, but the hurt is working it's way out and it's no longer festering inside, all because i said those words outloud.

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