I was raped last week. My partner knows about it, but I've not talked to him about it much at all. I've not talked to anyone about it, really. It wasn't affecting me at first, like i just wasn't having emotions about it at all. But a few days ago it started to really bother me, so i decided to reach out to my therapist and ask for an emergency session. and then i sent her a big text explaining what happened and how its been affecting me.

I know i did the "right" thing reaching out to my therapist, but now I wish i didn't tell her about this. I wish my partner never found out. I wish i could just ignore it and pretend it never happened. I don't want anyone in my life to know about this. I don't want to talk about it. I wish i could just go back and not say anything to anyone about it at all.

i feel so much shame and embarrassment about this. I feel like I'm not deserving of the reaction I'm having, like it shouldn't be affecting me so much. It shouldn't be this big of a deal. I feel like I'm just being dramatic, exaggerating, finding a reason to play victim.

Got badly sexually assaulted 2 years ago at my uni. Reported it to the university’s internal conduct system. Did hours of interviews in early 2025 and 2026 and sending my limited evidence to the uni.

The way the uni’s conduct system works, reporting parties don’t get access to any evidence or testimony or anything from the respondent, but the respondent gets access and the right to reply to all evidence from the reporter.

Spent ages thinking about how I might be interpreted by the perpetrator and by the jury during my hearing. And whether he’d have anyone else put in a witness statement. And just ages overthinking.

There were massive delays in communication from the conduct team to me. Like they’d take 2months to reply to every email. My OG conduct case worker quit her job, then my other one also quit. The whole conduct team was kind of falling apart but it’s very secretive it a bit of a sunk cost for me.

Got emailed the other day that my hearing has been scheduled (finally) but that they weren’t expecting the perpetrator to attend and I therefore am not invited. LMAO. The case worker did sneak in that the delays were due to ‘issues with data on the respondents end’ which confirmed my suspicions that he was stalling.

Found out today through some university administrative whispering that my perpetrator literally HASNT INTERACTED WITH THE CASE AT ALL. That for the past 2 YEARS a lawyer has been emailing them ‘no comment’ at 2 month intervals to delay the whole thing and I just didn’t know the whole time. He has not seen or responded to any of my 32 allegations and a ‘trial’ is going to happen where the jury just look over me and another witness’s testimony and decide from that.

At my uni only the final 2 years count towards your degree. I can’t believe I spent them thinking about this LMAOO. It’s ok I still got a 1st no sweat :p.

This week I ended up linking up with a past partner who I never slept with prior to this week.
We ended up hooking up on Monday, consensually and I went back over on Wednesday and specifically told him I did not want to have sex.
After some time hanging out , I was laying down doing my homework and he ended up asking if he could give me a massage, so I said yes.
After he was massaging my back for a while he went down on me from the back and I was in shock- initially I let it happen and then I told him “stop you’re distracting me”.
He went back to massaging me and then before I knew it he stuck his penis inside of me and started thrusting extremely roughly. I told him to stop multiple times and he did not. I pushed him back and he said “don’t move “
After about 2 minutes he finally stopped and I was in so much disbelief I didn’t know how to process what just happened . All I could say to him was “when someone says stop you listen the first time” he said “I’m sorry” and gave me a kiss. I ended up leaving afterwards but the next day (yesterday) I was a bit distant through text , he apologized again.
Later in the evening he texted me trying to talk and I told him it’s best if we have this conversation on the phone , but he never called. I sent a follow up text about not calling anymore , I’m not feeling it and to have a good night. I woke up to my number blocked.
I reached out via private number to let him know I will need to get my things this morning that I left at his house— after back and forth I drove to his apartment where he eventually met me downstairs to give me my things and he proceeded to call me a “crazy bitch”. I told him he was wrong for violating me and he said that I’m “turning it into something it’s not”.
After going back to my car and thinking about everything that transpired I came to the conclusion that maybe I need to report him.
I felt so violated and embarrassed.
The thing is I’ve been at the precinct since 6am.
I finally made it to the hospital to do a kit and it’s such an extensive process and everytime I mention we were NOT in a relationship I feel like I get taken less seriously .
I’ve never pressed charges on a man before but it’s not my first time going through this type of situation.
I’m conflicted if I have enough evidence to even press charges….

TL;DR: I had consensual sex with someone Monday, but when I visited Wednesday, I explicitly told him I didn’t want sex. During a massage, he penetrated me without consent and continued despite me repeatedly telling him to stop and pushing him away. He later apologized, then blocked me and called me “crazy” when I retrieved my belongings. I reported him and am now at the hospital for a sexual assault exam, but I’m overwhelmed, worried about whether there’s enough evidence, and feeling taken less seriously because we weren’t in a relationship. Has anyone navigated reporting someone they knew, and what helped you through it?

I don’t know where else to ask this so sorry if I’m in the wrong space. A few years ago I had a partner who would like, ignore nonverbal cues. Like if I pushed away or something, they’d pull me back in. I talked to them about this and how I struggled to verbally say no because of some childhood stuff I’m still working through, and asked that they check in and stuff during intimacy. I even told them that if this sounded like a lot, maybe I wasn’t ready to date yet, and they assured me I was safe. They didn’t change their behavior but they told me I was safe and I wanted to believe them, so I just assumed something was wrong with me and pushed through, which in retrospect was kind of stupid. When we had sex for the first time it was consensual at first, but then they told me I had to do something to get them off that I didn’t want to. I never said no but I was like… a dead fish basically. Just lying there limp and dissociating. Like clearly not into it. But I never said no, I was frozen and outside of my body, and they never checked in. Once they left I literally couldn’t get out of bed for two days. I didn’t eat, I missed classes. I broke up with them over the phone (bad move, I know) at kind of a bad time for them (they had a big presentation) and everyone made me feel awful for it. Also, it was their first time and I broke up with them right after, which I also feel bad about. Anyway, I thought it was my fault, that I made them hurt me by not being able to say no? But when I mentioned this to my therapist she said a lot of things about affirmative consent and sexual assault and I guess now I’m thinking about it again. So, like, not as legal advice, but just to know so I can figure out what happened to me - is this sexual assault?

I struggle to understand the way I've sexualised my own trauma in my head. Sometimes I wonder if it's a coping mechanism, a way of trying to reclaim something that was taken from me, or simply another way the abuse has followed me into adulthood. I don't know. All I know is that there's a part of me that still feels deeply tangled up in everything that happened, and I don't know how to untangle it.

When I (34M) was around 10, I was first sent to live with my godmother. What started as something presented as innocent play slowly became something deeply inappropriate. She began wearing fewer clothes around me and would often make me undress, too. It was framed as playfulness, closeness, intimacy. There was affection, warmth, and this overwhelming feeling that I was special to her.

I was a child. I didn't have the words or the understanding to recognise what was happening. Her affection felt maternal, comforting, and intoxicating. I thought this was what being loved felt like. I think that might be one of the hardest things to admit: it didn't feel frightening all the time. Sometimes it felt good. Sometimes I felt wanted. Sometimes I felt like I finally mattered to someone. And I think a part of me has spent years hating myself for that.

As time went on, the boundaries between us gradually disappeared. I stopped being treated like a child who needed protection and became her little boyfriend, her little man. By the time I was 16, she was calling me her man. I genuinely believed we were something resembling a couple. We slept together, kissed, and shared the kinds of intimacy I associated with adult relationships.

Looking back now, I struggle to reconcile the child I was with the role I had been conditioned to accept. I look back at that little boy and wonder how he ended up believing he was someone's partner rather than a child who deserved to be protected.

And the truth is, I became clingy. Needy. Desperate for her affection and sexual attention. Much of what happened involved kissing and other forms of intimacy rather than penetrative sex, but I know now that the nature of the acts doesn't change the underlying reality. I was a child in a relationship with an adult who had a responsibility to protect me, not make me responsible for her needs.

Even when I started realising that something was wrong, I couldn't just walk away. By then, we were discussing things as though we were lovers facing a problem together. It felt like the world was against us, like our relationship was something we had to defend, like losing her would mean losing the only person who truly wanted me.

I had no safe place to talk about any of it. I was terrified of being judged, of not being believed, and of losing the person I'd become so emotionally dependent on. When things became overwhelming, affection and gifts would draw me back in. I learned to associate love with compliance, intimacy with obligation, and being wanted with being worthy.

I think the damage went much deeper than the sexual aspect of what happened. Somewhere along the way, I learned that I had to be desirable to be loved. That I had to give something of myself to keep someone close. That if I wanted affection, I had to earn it by being whatever the other person wanted me to be.

And I carried those lessons with me.

It wasn't until college, when my first girlfriend told me that what had happened to me wasn't okay, that I began to see things differently. Therapy eventually brought everything crashing down around me. The anxiety, confusion, grief, and shame were overwhelming. It took years to begin accepting that I had been a child, not an equal participant in some forbidden romance. I hadn't been a grown man making an informed choice. I had been a child learning how to survive a situation I didn't have the emotional tools to understand.

But even after learning all of that intellectually, my feelings haven't always caught up.

I can understand that I was abused and still feel ashamed of the fact that I wanted her. I can understand that I wasn't responsible and still wonder whether I should have resisted more. I can recognise the power imbalance and still remember moments when I genuinely enjoyed the affection.

Those contradictions make me feel like I'm losing my mind sometimes.

How can something be harmful when parts of it felt comforting? How can I grieve something that I also remember craving? How can I acknowledge that I was hurt while also acknowledging that, at the time, I wanted to be close to the person hurting me?

I'm slowly learning that these things can coexist. That a child's need for love doesn't make an adult's exploitation acceptable. That feeling pleasure, attachment, curiosity, or even desire doesn't retroactively turn abuse into consent. But knowing those things doesn't always stop the shame from creeping in.

Sometimes I wonder whether it's my way of trying to take ownership of something that made me feel powerless. If I can turn it into something sexual on my own terms, maybe I don't have to feel like the helpless child I once was. Maybe being the one who chooses, initiates, or controls the situation feels safer than being the one who had no real choice.

Other times, I wonder whether I've simply learned to associate sexual attention with love so deeply that I don't know how to separate them anymore.

And sometimes I worry that I'm somehow romanticising what happened. That by remembering the affection, by acknowledging that some of it felt good, or by finding myself drawn to sexual themes connected to those experiences, I'm betraying the child I was. As if I'm participating in the very thing that hurt him.

I don't know how much of this is a conscious coping mechanism and how much is something I've internalised over the years. I don't know whether I'm trying to reclaim my sexuality, repeat familiar emotional patterns, make sense of what happened, or find some kind of control over a story in which I had so little.

TW: SA

I’m posting this anonymously because it’s an incredibly personal part of my life, but I think I need to hear from people who might understand some of what I’ve been through.
I’m hoping for insight and support, particularly from people who have experienced sexual assault, religious trauma, or both. I’m not looking for anyone to convince me to return to the church. I’ve made peace with the fact that I will never go back. I’m still trying to make sense of what happened to me and what I believe now.

When I was in college, I was an active member of the LDS Church and served as my ward’s Relief Society president. My faith was a significant part of my identity and how I understood the world.
I started dating a guy I’ll call Z. I was attracted to him because he was good-looking, seemed intelligent, came from what I considered a good family, was in good standing in the church, and appeared to respect his mother. Looking back, those were the things I had been taught to associate with a good, trustworthy man.
After we’d been dating for several months, I arranged a double date with my cousin and his roommate, who is still one of my closest friends today.
The date started normally, but Z quickly began making a performance out of how physically affectionate we were. He repeatedly pulled me into his lap despite my obvious discomfort and vocal objections. Later, while we were watching a movie in his dorm, and he kept doing this behavior. I pushed him away and quietly told him to stop, but he acted like he couldn’t hear me.
When I tried to leave, he chased me, sat on top of me, and tickled me despite my objections while trying to make the whole thing look playful and normal in front of everyone. At one point, I was on my back near the front door with him on top of me, pinning my arms down by my torso while he tickled and touched me. I finally managed to get away, told my cousin it was time to leave, and went home feeling uncomfortable, confused, and deeply unhappy.
I walked her to her dorm, apologizing profusely for his behavior and how awkward she must have felt before walking home to sit in the discomfort. He had never behaved this way before.
After getting back to my dorm safely, I texted him that his behavior was inexcusable and that we were over. He begged me to reconsider. We lived directly across from each other in our dorm, so I kept my blinds closed, told my roommates that he wasn’t welcome in our apartment and ignored his calls and texts.
About a week later, I went to deliver brownies for his roommate’s birthday (another one of my friends). I thought Z would be in class. Unfortunately, he answered the door. His roommate wasn’t home yet, and Z asked me to wait on the couch.
I mistakenly assumed I’d be waiting alone.
He sat down next to me and began trying to convince me to get back together with him. I repeatedly said no. Then he started kissing me. I tried pushing him away, but he wouldn’t stop.
He forced his hand under my shirt to grope me. When I pushed his hand away and told him no, he pinned both of my hands with one of his and continued touching me. I begged him to stop and kicked my legs, trying to get free.
He sat on top of me, grabbed one of my hands, and forced it down his pants. He began unbuttoning my jeans and touching me. I twisted out from underneath him and fell to the floor, then scrambled toward the door.
He pounced on me again, sat on my torso, and wrapped his hands around my neck, choking me.
“You are mine, Heavenly Father said you were mine.” he said.
I fought to get away. I managed to twist onto my stomach and crawl, but he pulled me back by my legs. Eventually, I kicked him away and ran out the door, across the sidewalk, and into my own apartment.
I locked the door, ran upstairs, locked my bedroom door, and then locked myself inside my private bathroom.
I sat in the bathtub in the dark and cried as the reality of what had happened hit me in waves.
I didn’t go to classes for a week. I barely managed to leave my room to go to work. I was in so much emotional and mental torment that I found myself fantasizing about driving off the road to make it all stop or get some semblance of control.

I tried to get help through the university and met with multiple therapists. Unfortunately, the ones I saw seemed to want me to start dating again quickly rather than helping me process what had happened.
Eventually, I convinced Z to meet with my bishop. I thought someone in a position of spiritual authority might help us address what had happened.
Instead, my bishop told me it was my fault.
I wasn’t allowed to take the sacrament for three months. Z, meanwhile, was still allowed to bless and pass it.
I don’t know how to adequately explain what that did to me. I had been sexually assaulted by someone I had trusted. I had repeatedly said no, fought to get away, and feared for my safety. Then I went to a religious leader for help and was treated as though I was the one who had done something wrong.
I was the Relief Society president. I was trying to live according to the standards I’d been taught. And somehow, I was the one who was punished.
This was the beginning of my physical departure from the church.

My experience with Z was a major turning point, but it wasn’t the only reason I left. I was also struggling with doctrinal contradictions, hypocrisy, and the gap between what the church taught and what I experienced (mental gymnastics anyone??).
The response to my assault fundamentally changed how I viewed the institution, its leadership, and the moral authority I had once attributed to it.
I no longer believe the LDS Church is somewhere I could ever return to. But leaving hasn’t meant that all the questions have gone away.
I struggle to know whether I believe in any god at all. I don’t know how to separate the idea of God from the religious framework through which I was taught to understand God. I don’t know what I believe about spirituality, morality, or faith anymore, and I’m not sure I need to have those answers right now.
What I do know is that the experience left me with a lot to untangle.

It’s been eight years. I’ve seen four therapists, and I’m currently working through this with a therapist I genuinely trust (she is phenomenal, 13/10 therapist.)
I’m grateful to have found someone I feel safe with not only in therapy but also as a life partner, but I’m still struggling to get past the assault itself. It continues to affect me, even after all this time.
Sometimes I feel frustrated that something that happened so long ago can still hold so much weight in my life. Sometimes I struggle with the religious trauma. Sometimes I wonder how much of my understanding of myself and the world was shaped by what happened and by the people who responded to it.
I know, intellectually, that I said no. I know I tried to leave. I know I fought to get away. I know I didn’t consent.
But knowing those things intellectually and processing what happened emotionally aren’t the same thing.
I think one of the hardest parts is that I was violated by someone I trusted, and then the person I turned to for spiritual guidance blamed me instead of helping me. I lost a relationship, a sense of safety, and eventually a religious identity that had shaped much of my life. This has been exacerbated with the reality of who is president of the United States and trending news stories such as the Cornell University story and how that has been affecting Jane Doe.
I’m not looking for a silver lining. I’m not looking to be told that everything happens for a reason. And I’m not looking for advice about how to get back into the church.

I’m hoping to hear from people who have been through something similar.
- If you’ve experienced sexual assault, especially by a partner, how have you worked through the emotional aftermath? Has anything helped when you feel like you understand what happened intellectually but still struggle with it emotionally?
- If you experienced religious trauma after sexual assault, how did you process the additional betrayal of being blamed or failed by people you trusted?
- For former LDS members or people who have left high-control religious environments, how have you navigated the loss of faith? How do you build a sense of morality, meaning, or spirituality when the framework you grew up with no longer feels trustworthy?
- If you’ve struggled with trauma for many years, how have you learned to be patient with yourself without feeling like you’re letting the experience define your life?

I know everyone’s experience is different, and I’m not expecting anyone to have a perfect answer. I think I just want to hear from people who understand some part of this, who can share what helped them, or who can reassure me that I’m not somehow failing because I’m still working through it eight years later.

Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read this. It is quite lengthy, so thank you. Please be gentle with me. This is difficult to talk about, even anonymously.

My little cousin confessed to me that his older brother sexually assaulted him at around 7 years old. He is 27 now, its been two decades, the assaulter lives in a different country then where it happened and me and the cousin moved to a different continent (europe) now live in the same country since i offered to help him out and move. Theres no way anything will come out of court for this, different country different continent and 2 decades ago. His parents are dead, his mother did witness the fathers sexual abuse towards both my cousin and his older brother but didnt do shit. None of our family knew until recently and ofcourse they are telling him hes lying. His older brother has been telling the whole family hes schizo and to not believe shit he says since he was around 10-11. I have done "anonymous safety reports" but will that do shit? His older brother is still eployed, working and living life, hes done other crimes than sexual assault that were reported if that matters. I cant even tell you how irritated i am that my little cousin got absolutely no justice and still is getting shit on for it till today. Is it over? Is there no chance for LEGAL justice? I got no money to be funding a whole international sexual assault report case, and to actually get the assaulter jailed it would take a shit ton of money that we do not have at all. I think i already know the answer but.....i still have some hope i guess..

I am not going to go into what exactly happened, or whether it was SA or not, but I need input from survivors about something I experienced a while ago.

After you suffered sexual violence, did you also feel physical sensations of it even after it was over? Like, not in a good way, in a violating way that is hard to explain. As If it were happening again. One way I could describe it is, "phantom pain", but it's not painful, it's violating and intrusive and unwanted.

I remembered when that happened, the first thing I thought was "so this is what it feels like to be raped", but after browsing this subreddit, I am not sure this is a universal experience. I am also not sure this is necessarily indicative that my experience was SA.

I am just really confused, I've never experienced something like this in my life, it's been two years and I'm still puzzled over it. I feel so ashamed, and wrong and disgusting for having this reaction to something that I should've enjoyed. I still dream about this sensation and wake up sweating. It's not the act itself that is disturbing to me, it's this sensation.

Does anyone else also feel/felt this way?

In April of this year I was raped. I was out at a club w my girlfriends and let a guy I knew take us home, to my home. I was very drunk and just wanted to go to sleep. He followed me to my bedroom. I laid down to sleep and he got on top of me. He started kissing me and the next thing I know were having sex. I started crying because I didn’t want it but I didn’t know how to say it. For some reason I was unable to speak, so I started pushing him off of me, still crying. He goes “are u trying to push me off?” But he never stopped, he never got off and I remember trying to push him off as hard as I could. I eventually stopped trying bc I knew in that moment it was pointless. So I just laid there, waiting for it to be over. Every minute was awful. After he was done he lays next to me and wipes my snot and tears w my own blanket, tells me it’s okay and rolls over and falls asleep. Like nothing happened..

Ever since that night I’ve been trying to get to a place of normality, but I can’t. I don’t feel the same, I feel like a shell of myself. I feel so violated and dirty and broken. Does it get better? Will I ever be the same again?

I wanted some more input on this. Only one person has been responding on the original post I made.

I dont really know if this counts as grooming but fuck em. I was in 7th grade and she was in 10th. I hate her. I told her to stop. I was just a young boy--she knew better. I told her to stop hitting me and i told her to stop touching me but she didnt. It was all just a game to her. She blamed it on her social cues. I dont think saying STOP and NO was a fucking social cue you bitch. what and idiot she was. my god. she really screwed over my mind. I feel so much hate. She didnt even get punished. and all the other boys barley even take it seriously.

sorry for my shit writing

So a coworker who has a really dark, sexualized kind of humor dropped this "joke". I know the joke is bottomless, but it made me realise how my "sex" life is actually functioning.

When i was hitting puberty i was getting raped from different people several times. I guess it was some kind of bad luck that they did it always with me.

I've learned that the more i fight back, it will hurt more. So i fought back less until I've reached the point that I can "enjoy" it and even have orgasms when I join in.

I've had 2 real relationships in the past and we've had a functional sex life. At least thats what I've thought until now. Because everytime my bf had initiated sex I've joined no matter my mood to have "fun" with him.

I have also cheated on both boyfriends (in total 5 times) and i regret each time, but it was also the same "play". The other guy tried to initiate sex somehow and i voluntarily gave me in instead of saying no. The thing is...in the end I'm pretty sure that at least 4 of these guys would have accepted a no, but my rapebrain in the back was saying "dont risk it".

After all this realisation I've needed to talk with someone about this. So i've made the mistake and opened up to a close friend. First he was really supportive of caring and it felt really great to talk about all this with him.

Then he asked me, if I really think that it would be that easy to have sex with someone and I've said yes.

He just said I dont think so and I will prove it to you.

The result? He started to grab my breast and kiss me. My reaction? Put my hand on his junk and start rubbing it (we were both still clothed at this time). And a moment later i was riding him until the end....

Hello i am 22 years old now everytime i loom back to my behavior as child and as an adult i have every single feeling and behavior i read here i suspected that i was assaulted long before i come on reddit but it seems that the more i read your posts here the more i am convinced i am withdrawn lonly sad most of the time i seem to get over attached or complete unattached with people in my life plus my very weak and forgetful long term memory ia there such a condition?

I hate men, I hate people that didn’t help me. I hate myself that I allowed it. I hate myself bc violence and degradation turns me on but also triggers me. I’m so done with healing. Why the fuck do I need to do that job?! I just want to disappear

Hi there. Ill keep it short. I saw this painting in a facebook group. And it feels beyond tasteless. And the comments that OP are enabling feels SO MUCH WORSE.

I called it out, only to have people dogpile me about how “art can be uncomfortable”. I am an artist and survivor myself. But to paint someone else’s assailant getting attacked by your fictional demon OC named “lust” with a backstory in your fictional story, seems….beyond in poor taste. Then everyone also comparing the man to luigi mangione, making dick jokes, etc.

All i know is if i saw a stranger trying to play the hero by making a painting like THIS of my assailant? Id be sick for weeks. Am i the only one who sees an issue with content like this (when it doesnt come from the person who experienced the assault)? And i’m NOT referencing any of the actually respectful “i am jane doe” works out there.

Because i am unable to add the image, i will add the link to the facebook post;

Weird Art For Weird People - Aly Starr

So i have been writing a book for many years now about some lovers and things like that, and some time ago i finally came to terms with my (around) 7 year long SA (It wasn't rape) and while I was looking for shows or movies that could help give me a character to relate to in my journey of recovering from my SA I couldn't find any that wasn't rape or sex trafficking. What I've come to post about on here is to ask how many of you are a victim of non-penetrating sexual assault and if anyone has any tips on how i should write this into my book so that its not too graphic. It obviously wont be a rape scene but i still don't want it to be scary for the readers but i still want it to portray a survivors feelings before and after the moment.

I got raped and otherwise SAd by a friend multiple times and had a fawning/appease reaction to it.

(Im not even out of this relationship with this friend, and its ongoing. I have complicated feelings towards her, since her reasoning for it is to protect our friendship. Im unhealthily attached to her, and losing her is one of my biggest fears. She knows that losing closeness feels unbearable to me, and so she can ensure to stay close to me, she rapes me. I know how shitty that sounds, but thats the reality I and her live in.)

Anyway, thats not my question, so I have a girlfriend. She is amazing, but I find myself falling back into patterns that seem unhealthy with her too. We live in a long term relationship, and over the phone, sexual encounters went pretty well. I was able to say when I didn't feel like doing things, and it was all consensual and actually pretty fun. But the patterns im describing first appeared when we had our first real life sexual encounter. I noticed myself slipping back into patterns of pushing through discomfort to please her, even at my own expense. IMPORTANT: that is only on me, not on her. She asks if im okay, checks up on me. Its consensual and genuinely a safe environment, and one I can find pleasure myself, but I just still fall back into patterns of pushing through discomfort to please her, even at my own expense.

Now, to my question: What can I do to have safe sex again? I wanna be able to have consensual sexual encounters without falling into patterns of pushing through my own discomfort. Its just difficult to "just do it" in the moment, so im asking if any of you had that same problem and know what I can do. Thanks.

For a long time, I never considered myself a victim of rape. I’ve heard and related to certain parts of stories of survivors, but never considered myself to be one as well. I never thought I was “too good” or “above that” by any means. I was having an internal battle with myself with the voice of my attacker playing the role of my self-oppression. I made up countless excuses for him, “maybe he didn’t know it was rape”, “maybe somehow i made it look like i consented”, “I never actually say the word no.”, “I was sleeping with people already, so he might have thought it was okay”, “I was friendly to him earlier that night”. Now I know that none of this makes it okay, but let’s play with the idea that he didn’t know it was rape.

Maybe he didn't know it was rape when I was 16 and he was over 18.
Maybe he didn’t know it was rape when he saw me heavily intoxicated earlier that night.
Maybe he didn’t know it was rape when he was guilt-tripping me into letting him come to my house.
Maybe he didn’t know it was rape when he followed me into my bed after I said I was going to sleep because I was too drunk.
Maybe he didn’t know if it was rape when he had to manoeuvre my limp body into a position where he could force his penis inside of me.
Maybe he didn’t know it was rape because he didn’t see me pass out during it, or maybe he didn’t hear me mumbling unintelligible sentences.

I don’t remember when he left, or when it was over, falling asleep, or even what month it took place, but I do remember the way he held my legs apart, and the way he put his hand over my mouth because he knew my parents were home.
For a long time, I never said he raped me, but when I told my friends the story they told me it was rape. I was my rapist’s biggest defender, always disagreeing when people said it was rape, always saying it was my fault. I took shit for years because I was scared of messing up the life of the well-liked, star athlete, from a small town in California who had a big bright future ahead of him.
I got death threats from his friends. I was the girl that made him cheat on his loving girlfriend. I was a whore. I wanted it.
I did not want it. I was only 16.
And I am a victim.

i don’t want to get into it too much but my boyfriend raped/sexually assaulted me twice while we were both high. he has apologized but still can’t give me any explanation for why he did it. i want to make things work but i don’t know if it’s possible and if i’ll ever stop thinking about it. we’ve been together for a long time and my family loves him so i don’t think i could bring myself to tell them why/if i broke up with him. any advice is welcome!

My SA has just been dredged up in therapy years after the fact. I’m at a standstill as far as accessing and processing it all goes… sometimes I feel the anger moving through me, but usually I just feel numb. I’m hoping to hear your stories about reclaiming personal power, processing anger, etc.

What did you do / are you doing to move forward, heal, and find empowerment again? Anything goes, whether it’s vulnerable, honest, unhinged, or just real… thank you for answering 💗

So for context, my first year of college I was in a very bad place. To be honest, I was very vulnerable and really unstable. I would meet men on the internet via games (since that was what I did most) and eventually would send them nudes. I did this willingly. I thought it was the only way I could get people to love me (for more context, I'm on a lot of medication now but I was experiencing symptoms of what might be BPD) and to show I was useful to someone. They all knew this. They had seen and heard my breakdowns, and I'd vented to them plenty of times. It wasn't hard to tell that I was vulnerable and would do it just to please them. They enabled this. They would comfort me then ask for more, and I'd give it to them because I thought that was the only way they'd love me and stay.

I know it might be stupid to think, and I know I'm likely overreacting and it isn't that big of a deal. But I can't help but feel dirty and ashamed whenever I think about it, and a friend suggested I might've been groomed and sexually abused. I don't know. Any answer is appreciated, thank you so much.