After getting full confirmation that my memories were true back in January, I’ve finally worked up the courage to request a copy of the report made by my parents back in 2001.

Having fragmented memories is one thing, having people tell you what you reported at 3 and what was done by doctors and social services is another - but actually holding a copy of the original report 25 years later?

I can’t describe it.

I read it yesterday once I got home and then I just slept. For hours. I’ve been off since, still functioning but just bone tired.

The language used by me as a child was so innocent. The exam details are a horrifying concept as no child should have to have exams like that done. And all I keep thinking is every time I went to the doctor, that file was right there on the screen. If my doctor had scrolled down far enough, maybe I’d have seen it? Maybe it wouldn’t have sat there for 25 years.

I’m fortunate that a report was made. I’m fortunate my parents acted immediately, that my doctor did too. That I was advocated for. That now I have a name of who to contact in social services to get the report from their side too. That there’s a clear pathway for reporting historic abuse. That I have a report to show whoever I might escalate to so that I can’t be fobbed off. The report’s been around almost as long as I have.

I’m fortunate that at three years old, I was brave enough to say “something happened and it was wrong”. That my parents had instilled such confidence and safety and support in our family that even as a tiny child, I was able to go to them instantly and knew I’d be taken care of. Not everyone is that lucky.

I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the report. I’m afraid of retaliation. I’m also afraid of not doing anything about it because if he targeted someone else, I couldn’t forgive myself for sitting on this.

I’m not entirely sure what the point of this post is, honestly. I think I just needed to write it all down somewhere.

It’s crazy to think a sheet of paper with just three little sections can completely knock someone sideways to the point where I genuinely feel like I don’t know how I feel.

Doing everything to stay alive. I just can't keep going. Every day, every hour, every minute is me using skills and safe places and showing up for life. Doing everything in my power to GIVE myself a chance. But I can't eat. I'm losing weight. Nothing interests me. I should be proud I showed up to work in spite of it all, but I can't even be proud of that. Nothing anyone says can help. My therapist is trying but he can't be there all the time. He's super busy. We use proper resources to reach out but nothing helps. Then when I remember the abuse, try to own it and tell my story and heal, it all sinks in and I get really depressed. Then I try to justify it or will flat out deny it. Then I'll dissociate heavily (diagnosed with a dissociative disorder) then the cycle repeats. I have amnesia and psychogenic seizures that have been increasingly getting worse and I've let management know due to it affecting work. I'm not on disability and none of this is documented except through my therapy, which I have asked for months now for the office to send notes to FSSA so I can have proof I have a serious mental health condition and don't lose my coverage at the start of the year.

I can't sleep or relax. I have nothing to look forward to. I'm ready to give up.

When I was young, my dad cheated on my mom and she made me involved in this mess as much as possible. One night, when my mom was driving with me in the back seat, she opened a recording she secretly got of my dad having phone sex with another female colleague. I don't remember much details before, during or after that, only my burning desire to jump out of the car. I was basically held hostage in that car for what felt like a decade. I couldn't escape or tell her to stop (because god know how physical she could get if I upset her). All I could do was dissociating and ignoring my dad's voice moaning and calling this woman all kind of names as much as possible.

I think it was her way to garner company or let out her frustration, like "look at how your dad was cheating on me, I have to listen to this so you have to go throught it too". And at time, it just felt like a normal occurrence amid all the verbal, physical and emotional abuses. I even thought it was less heavy than usual, there was no yelling or hitting, just dead silent and dad's moans echoing in the background.

After all these years, I was wondering, since I didn't consent to it, couldn't say no and stuck listening to sexual phonecall as a minor, but it was a single short moment and indirect from me, does this count as SA?

Ive recently gotten into a relationship (we had been friends for a few years), but i havent talked about my csa.

I havent talked about it with many people except a therapist and recently some friends (though not in depth)

I am new to believing that the abuse happened, and I still find myself in disbelief often. I also believe that most of the memories are still repressed

I havent been in a relationship before, and im having a lot of new emotions, mostly fear.

I didnt realise it but my previous avoidance if relationships was due to a fear of sex/ intimacy, as a result of csa.

(Although, I do want to be in a relationship)

I guess im hesitant to tell them both bc i havent really talked about it before, and also im concerned it might be too intense to bring up early on, but also I feel like i probably should mention it sooner rather than later.

So anyway, im not really sure at what point it would be a good time to say. Lmk advice or similar experiences, ty

So there is one national organization focused exclusively on male sexual abuse survivors and it's called 1 in 6.

I called them the other day and found out they hardly have any staff and that they have barely any funding.

I'm pissed.

And look, I am going to share this and I understand it is a difficult topic:

I find it incredibly hard when the only narrative out there is how oppressive and abusive men are.

It is late in the day for there to also be a major narrative about why men wind up being that way because I know why personally.

My older sister is 13 years older and has raised me. Growing up, she repeatedly discussed her sexual fantasies and sex life with me. She showed me her sex toys or told me about them, confided in me about her intimate relationship, and asked me to support her in cheating on her partner. She also told me that we only had each other and that I wouldn't be able to love women if it weren't for loving her.

During puberty, she touched my private parts. I initially felt disgusted and hated physical touch. When I objected or tried to move away, she sometimes became agitated and would remind me that she had raised me. Over time, I became accustomed to the touching.

She still touches me now. Since she moved out, I've sometimes found myself craving her touch, and I feel disgusted and conflicted about those cravings. I also feel that she takes pleasure in knowing I crave her touch.

I'm struggling to understand what happened to me and what this relationship has done to my understanding of affection, boundaries, and attachment. Is this abuse in some form? Should I mention this to my therapist?

As I’ve gotten older the memories of my abuse have been resurfacing slowly and they’re very extreme. I don’t want to delve into any details though it contains SA from both parents, many family members & child trafficking to say the least. I haven’t told my sister anything.

In 2023 I left my parents home (I was a young adult) & went to a homeless shelter. I never told my sister the main reason was that the SA memories resurfaced. Growing up I had a terrible feeling that something happened but never any memories, to the point where I was actively being SA as a late teen & my brain was processing it as nightmares & sleep paralysis.

I’m looking for advice about how I should tell my sister, I’m seriously worried for her own mental health. I’d be devastated if she had a mental breakdown from what I’m sharing, I have no recollection of her being abused though I wouldn’t be surprised. I experienced psychosis & I’ve suffered serious mental issues from the trauma, my sister has anxiety but has never seen a therapist or psych for it. Has anyone ever been in this position? How did you go about it and what was the outcome?

I want to note I’ve discussed this with different therapists over the years but they can’t give direct advice so I never talked to my sister about it

I’ve suspected for a while that I had experienced CSA, by my mother specifically because I’d always felt weirdly physically uncomfortable around her and other women around her age

the other night, about a week ago now the memories came back to me. some of them were ones I’d had for a while but couldn’t put context to. maybe I thought I’d just made them up or something.

I didn’t “feel” anything. usually when I have flashbacks I get suicidal or at least really depressed. but that time I didn’t. I just laid in bed and watched the memories one by one run through my mind. I couldn’t sleep. so I just stayed up, tried to distract myself with video games and made a few Reddit rants.

the next day reached out to close supportive people, felt better.

but I’ve just been so drained this whole week. I haven’t really had to do much thankfully, o was off school for most of it and had a light workload. I ended up skipping all of my clubs and events cause I was just so tired. but I couldn’t figure out why. I mean I should’ve been relaxed cause it was a light week right?

well, I think the flashbacks got to me. hit me in a way that I’ve never felt before.

I have therapy on Monday, i proabvly should’ve made an emergency appointment but oh well I guess.

until then, does anyone have advice on how to give myself some energy?

I was very probably abused as a child but have repressed memories so I don’t remember anything properly. For me the most frequent symptoms I experience are somatic and emotional flashbacks. I’ve noticed when I have these certain parts of my body will just start uncontrollably clenching up and spasming. Usually my hands, back arms or legs. I can try and suppress the movements but it takes effort. Sometimes my muscles clench up so bad I get muscle cramps and sometimes my eyes roll up as well. I am hesitant to call it a seizure because I can suppress the movements if I try hard. Another separate thing, although I do get standard somatic and emotional flashbacks I also usually get hit with a sudden dread inducing feeling of an emotion, sensation or just vibe throughout the day that I can tell links back to my abuse (kind of like an anxiety inducing knowing feeling) but only lasts for a second or less. I’ve never really heard of anyone else having this, does anyone else experience this?

I need to get this off my chest because something my wife said genuinely hurt me, and I don't think people understand how damaging this assumption can be.

I was sexually abused when I was around four or five years old. My brother was abused, too, by our 14 year-old female babysitter. She was charged, went to juvenile hall, and was required to register as a sex offender. My brother and I went through years of therapy afterward.

I'm 36 now. This wasn't something that happened yesterday. I've lived with it for more than three decades. I still remember the day it happened. I still have nightmares about it. It's something that has followed me throughout my entire life, even when I've tried to move forward.

And then, on top of that trauma, I experienced something at work that reopened wounds I never fully escaped in the first place.

I worked as an IT professional at a company where I discovered more than 10,000 images of CSAM on the general manager's computer. Seeing that material seriously messed with my head. I have nightmares about those images. Sometimes, I dream that I'm the child in them. Sometimes, I'm back in my own childhood, reliving what happened to me.

Imagine being a child who experienced sexual abuse, growing up and trying to live your life, and then being confronted with something like that as an adult. Imagine having your own trauma dragged back into your nightmares because of something you encountered while simply doing your job.

I've carried all of this for years.

So when I opened up to my wife about my childhood and what this experience at work did to me, she brought up the idea that people who were sexually abused as children might grow up to become abusers themselves.

I cannot adequately explain how much that hurt.

I was the child who was victimized. I was the one who had something taken from me. Why should I have to defend my character because of something someone else chose to do to me?

I understand that people talk about statistics and the cycle of abuse. But statistics are not destiny, and a possibility in a population does not tell you who an individual person is. Being abused does not make someone a future abuser.

I've spent my life trying to protect children, not hurt them. I have an overwhelming hatred for people who sexually exploit children. I want children to be safe. I want them to be believed. I want someone to step in and protect them when they cannot protect themselves.

I know what it feels like to be that child.

And I would rather spend my life protecting children than ever allow another child to experience what happened to me.

When I think about people who deliberately hurt children, I feel an anger that is difficult to put into words. What they do is abhorrent to me. I believe they should face the harshest lawful consequences for the harm they cause. I have absolutely no sympathy for the exploitation of children.

But here's what I wish people understood: survivors should not have to spend their lives proving they aren't going to become the people who hurt them.

We already have to live with the memories, the nightmares, the trauma, and the things that can resurface decades later. We shouldn't also have to deal with the implication that our childhood abuse somehow makes us suspicious or inherently dangerous.

I was four or five years old. I was a child. None of it was my fault.

I'm 36 now. That child is still a part of me, and sometimes the nightmares make it feel like I'm right back there. But the abuse does not define my character, and it does not dictate the person I've chosen to become.

I am not my abuser. I am not destined to repeat what happened to me. And I shouldn't have to convince the person I love most of that.

Has anyone else who survived childhood sexual abuse been hurt by someone implying that you might grow up to become an abuser yourself? How did you deal with it?

I want to hear from other survivors who have experienced this assumption, because I cannot be the only person who finds it deeply unfair and painful.

*trigger warning

This the 1st time I am opening up about this, please don't judge.

So I have been realising in the past 6 months that my childhood has been not so nice like I thought it was. And I went through a lot without even realising it. Growing up, I have been an adult of the house since I was 5. I knew everybody's problems, which I always tried to solve, I always prioritised my parents peace over mine. Anyways during this, i had an upstairs neighbour who came home everyday drunk. And as my dad claimed, he really loves me. Everytime he comes home my parents wake me up, and make me sit with him so he could talk with me ( they usually leave the room). It always made me uncomfortable, nothing happened except some touching as far as I can remember. And this happened frequently. Even when we are not inside our home.

Additionally my mom always tended to not have a healthy boundary when it came to my body. She will come and touch my boobs or just stare at them. She will call my dad sometimes while I am changing. And he excuse always is " I am your mother". I started to lock my doors eventually, it took her sometime to adjust to it but she did. Anyways, I am venting all this to share sth that's been bothering me related to this. Ever since I have a kid, I always day dreamed and ever since I hit puberty, the daydreams have been mote detailed and specific, mostly sexual. But most of them are r*pe imagines, or kidnapping or sth. I feel comfortable with those than a nice peaceful one. I always think I don't deserve this when I imagine a happy life. And over the past few years, I have gotten addicted to p*rn, doing things by myself. I get attached to a guy so easily, they might not even know i exist and I still be thinking of them in that way. I know it's a problem and I am trying to find a root cause for it. And maybe it's related to the things I mentioned above, idk. What could be the problem? How do I get out of this?

I can't be around my dad anymore, I'm disgusted and viscerally uncomfortable in his presence now that I've started to remember. I started shaking today while having a brief interaction with him. I live in my parents' house still. I'm in my late 20s, I'm chronically ill and mostly housebound so I'm stuck here in the same house with him pretty much 24/7. There is no ongoing abuse, there has been none since I was a child as far as I know, and I have my own bedroom with a door that locks but I still feel like a trapped animal. I have no friends who live close by, I don't have a driver's license or a car or a job, I get small disability payments but they aren't anywhere near enough to live on, my only real chance to get out and get actual distance from my dad is if I move internationally to live with my long distance partner who doesn't have a job right now and lives with their parents and is struggling with depression, and I don't feel safe doing that either, especially because I would have no income that way and would be dependent on my partner, and my resurfacing trauma has been putting a huge strain on our relationship.

Currently I don't really have a therapist because I recently realized my latest therapist who I saw weekly for a decade was basically doing everything she possibly could to keep me from seeing the signs that I was abused as a child. She told me repeatedly that repressed memories don't exist and if they do then they're only something that happens to people who had chaotic childhoods such as being in foster care. She heavily insinuated that my unclear but emotionally intense resurfacing memories are false. It sounds absurd to say this but she was straight up more willing to consider them being memories of a past life than memories of CSA. Back in my late teens when I first started seeing her, she diagnosed me with OCD for being anxious and uncomfortable around my dad and not liking to go places alone with him, and she taught me via "exposure therapy" to act normal around him and push down the information my body was desperately screaming at me. she told me that the experiences I now realize are probably some kind of flashback were just "emotions that don't mean anything" and that I should just ignore them. All my trauma symptoms were just meaningless to her and something to make me reframe and dismiss and ignore for years and years.

I know it would be good if I could find a therapist who can actually help me but I've already been through multiple rounds of misdiagnosis with unhelpful and even harmful treatments at the hands of multiple different mental health professionals, and that's on top of a lot of other medical trauma. I've been journaling and meditating and doing a lot of reading and research about trauma and treatment modalities on my own, I think I could make real progress towards healing if I could only get out of this house and not have to be around my dad. He doesn't abuse me now but I feel so sick being around him, and the house smells like alcohol a lot because my dad is drinking constantly, and the smell makes me agitated and scared and reminds me of being a little kid.

And don't get me wrong, I know no one can help me with my circumstances and I'm the only one who can help myself etc etc. More than anything I just want to talk to people who understand what I'm going through, I feel so alone and crazy right now.

I started therapy a while ago after being encouraged by some friends while on a trip, when I was younger my uncle sneaked into my room, the next morning, I woke up in pain and bleeding, as we had started learning about periods in school, I told my mom I had just gotten it and thought the pain was cramps. At the time, my sister was going through a life-threatening ED and had developed depression and anemia, my family was just scrapping by to afford her treatments and I opted to delude myself into thinking it was my period. I had all the symptoms from wetting the bed to odd behaviours with adults and mistreating my toys, unfortunately, I was a prime target as my sister was on death’s door and my parents could not pay as much attention as they truly wanted, for that, I have never blamed them.

My real period didn’t come until I was 13, and while my mom was suspicious, I thought the memory was probably a nightmare and lied saying it was probably my bike. I developed severe anxiety, derealization and maladaptive daydreaming to cope with the trauma, I had nightmares, night terrors and started having visual hallucinations at the corner of my eye, I tried therapy as a child and a teenager but most of my symptoms were ignored. Eventually I learned how to cope with the derealization and the hallucinations and they never stopped but did attend therapy for my anxiety disorder, unfortunately, now that I’m on my twenties, it has gotten worse.

My therapist has officially sent me to a psychiatrist to get a full diagnosis as she is worried I either will develop a severe psychosis or have a break, I’ve been dealing secretly with the rape behind my parents’ backs, while they know I have problems and I’m being treated, they don’t know it’s for CSA. I’m not my uncle’s only victim, as he attacked my cousin and her mother and my family was aware he was a predator, but my grandmother let him live with us because he was “still her son” the only reason I was ever even brave to accept my assault was because both a social worker and a friend convinced me on a trip to see BTS (wildest place to realise I know) but I feel like it has gone beyond what I expected in recovery, as I might not be able to afford my meds or even my psychiatrist and will have to ask my parents for help, I don’t even know how to tell them, what good does it do? I posted here before under another user but I deleted that account, I feel so broken, he destroyed me forever for a few minutes of his own gain and I will never be okay again

I believe my mother, even if unintentionally, covertly molested me as a child. She spanked me a few times, exposed herself naked in front of me multiple times, frequently stroked my legs, can't stop moaning around me, can't stop bringing up sexual shit and pointing to her intimate parts around me like a child, and I would continuously come across the master bedroom closed as I'd heard my parents having sex. Even aside from that, she's heavily infantilizing and could never stop following around during the developing age when I needed a sense of independence the most.

The thing is that she's a victim of violent physical and verbal child abuse, and (suicide mention) at 19 was close to jumping off a building, as she herself told me unprompted when I was a younger teen. Ironically, she seems to have a deep fear of being a bad mother, having tried to make sure not to be like her own mom. But her leaving herself untreated still ended up scarring me. What she did to me probably wasn't her attention, and she may not be attracted to me, which makes the question of whether or not to confront her all the more difficult. Every single time I would complain to her about something frustrating she did, she would immediately go on a crying fit, asking if this makes her a bad mom, and I, not wanting to deal with her bullshit as apathetic as it sounds, would begrudgingly calm her down and assure her she's not.

But she still gave me permanent sexual trauma, it's because of her that I have a fear of women, I despise being around her and actively make sure to be as unemotional and invulnerable around her as possible because of how little trust I have in her and how weird she would get. It feels like it's just not gonna be worth it to tell her, because I know it's gonna ruin her life, and my high cortisol dad - who I know damn well also hates dealing with her shit even if he doesn't explicitly say it - would have to bear the burden. God forbid any of this reaches the rest of my extended family, it's just gonna be a mess. At this point I would rather wait until she or both my parents die from natural causes or from an accident to finally be more open about what was done to me.

last weekend I was out with some friends and when I got back from the restroom a guy had ordered me a cocktail and I genuinely know it was stupid but he’s a guy I go to college with and a good friend of my friends and I didn’t want to make it awkward so I drank it. my memory is completely blank from about ten minutes after that until I woke up the next morning anyway nothing bad happened apparently I started throwing up and acting really drunk so two of my friends took me home and that guy came with but they all left together and they said he stayed out of my room while they got me changed. I know nothing happened but waking up in different clothes without remembering has really messed me up and I think it kind of triggered me or something but I don’t know do you think something bad happened to me that I don't remember? when I was a kid after | learned what virginity was I remember wishing | still had mine and hating myself because I somehow felt sure that | wasn't a virgin even though I don't have any memory of ever having sex. I don't know where that feeling came from I just know it was there and on my mind a lot. I started making myself throw up when I was 9 and was diagnosed with anorexia at 10 then at 14 | was diagnosed with major depression and anxiety and was self harming. I've also always had really exaggerated reactions to people touching me I had a complete meltdown when I got home from a party in college after a guy only started to feel me up over my clothes while we were dancing but | felt like | was totally breaking down. I hate the idea of having sex and I can't stop myself from starting to cry even if I get near to trying to talk about my fears about this. does anyone have any advice for how I should deal with this? I’m scared that I’m making myself upset over nothing because nothing actually happened last weekend and I don’t remember something bad happening before that but this has really upset me and I’m not sure what to do.

TW: Eating disorder

Sometimes when I look at pictures of myself as a child I feel a surge of hatred and disgust. I hate that child and want them to disappear. I know it’s wrong but it’s like I can’t help it. My body image issues are tied into it as well. I was chubby from eating to self soothe. I wanted my body to stop feeling hurt and for my pelvic sensations I was too young to understand to go away. I thought eating would get rid of it. I was also struggling intensely in school and was basically illiterate in 4th grade. It just adds to the shame of everything. I couldn’t identify the abuse because I was too naive even into 6th grade and it had been going on for years.

When I’ve been extremely triggered before I’ve thought and said to myself “Why didn’t you just die? I wish you died. I wish he would’ve just killed you like he said he would.”

The first time I thought it so violently I was shocked by it. I logically know that I couldn’t control what he did to me, but I still have these responses. I don’t know, does anyone have any advice on how to navigate these feelings or have similar feelings?

I am wondering how people know if they have experienced CSA / what the memories feel like.

I have a memory of CSA by my Dad that I re-remembered at about 13 years old, but I can't quite understand if it is real or not. The memory came back to me when I was 13, I am now 25 and it has haunted me ever since. I have my whole life tried to mentally "delete" it whenever it would come up but now I just don't know what to do. As a teenager had multiple really intense breakdowns because it was just in my head and I felt like I could feel it. It is constantly in the back of my mind and will like flash up, and will especially come up if I'm having sex, and I dont enjoy masturbating because of it. I really dont know what to do because even though I have it I can't shake this feeling that it might not be real and that I'm just making it up. Its been a mental battle for over a decade now, and I have thought about asking my Dad but I am really scared to do that. I also don't know why I can't remember more and it is all just confusing and overwhelming.

When I look at my behaviour/experiences as a child they match up with someone who has experienced CSA. I started masturbating very young, had knowledge of sex at an age that was really too early to know about that stuff, I started self harming very young, I have always had really intense nightmares, was very hypersexual as when i was younger but am now scared of sex, had UTI's as a child frequently, etc.

I am just having a really hard time believing it is real, and I feel like it isn't because I haven't always been able to remember it but then one day i did remember it, but I am having trouble believing myself, but then also if it's not real then why do I even have it in my head and why can I feel it?? I am just confused and if anyone has experienced anything similar please let me know.

I've been realising slowly that I have never been to the gynecologist on my own accord, only as a child for the school check up, decades ago, and I had to admit to myself that I've been avoiding it because I'm very very afraid of anything involving genitala and intimacy.

Never had any actual sex as an adult, don't know the right anatomy of my own body, can't even say words that describe genitalas because it makes my body tense and I feel pain and it's getting hard to breathe. (While still being compulsory kinky hypersexual..I dunno what to do with this contradiction.)

I want to work with my therapist about that and finally get brave enough to go to the gynecologist doctor. But I'm very scared and feel humiliated and nauseous with a mere thought about it. But at the same time I really feel like I need to do it as a step of healing. I also wonder if I have any scar tissue or other abnormalities, because I don't even know if everything operating like it should be. I only know that my period has started after the abuse happened, when I was a 9 yo, and my friends and therapist were surprised because it was apparently early, and I didn't even knew.

How do you handle the doctor visits? What helps you to calm down? Do you tell them that you are a survivor?

(Also...did anyone found out they have a scarring or other issues because of the CSA?)

This is the shittiest I’ve ever felt. And I spent years on meds trying to feel something while I was suicidal. The real thing? I’m fucking tired. God. I need anything. Just anything that doesn’t feel this boring.

I’m just grasping at things don’t fix what I went through. Why am I still at that same club? Still lonely? Still in bathroom stalls with that man from when I was 5? I’m tired. I’m so, so tired. I wish I had a script. I want to feel something.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I want to off myself. But the thing that hits is that: if I did, there’d be a script. Ok, thoughts- meds- go to sleep. To be honest, I have a bachelors degree. But I don’t remember college. From 3 years ago. This is sad. But after 3 years on medication, going through doctors since I was 19, they trying on meds like I’m some kind of scientific experiment, now I have a wonderful doctor who has been taking care of me since early 2025. And I was feeling so good. I’m going off meds now thanks to him. Do I miss the chemical shit? That got me addicted? Am I an addict?

This is so fucking sad and I wish it wasn’t my life. I’m a woman who has been thorough shit people wouldn’t stomach it. Hell, i spent 2 decades without a diagnosis for my autism. This is sad. I’ve pushed so many friends away. I just need something. Anything. I thought I’d like to leave my country, go back to London where I studied for a month and felt so good. But it’s not that. No matter where I go shit will be with me.

I can’t get a job. No one hires me. When they do they realize I’m slow. I take time to understand and do tasks. I need an out. Again, not saying I’m suicidal. I’m way the opposite of that lmao. I wanna live!!!!!!!!!! But where do I start? My small town is where he lives, I live with my parents, I look don’t go out, everyone here is so narrow minded. I wish it was just as easy as putting me in a psychiatric ward or something. I’m not sick. That’s what hurts. I’m a person going through years of memories I only processed this year. Yes. I only remembered the abuse this year. I feel sick. Sick. Disgusted. I need an out. A book. Anything. Anything. I’m far from the beach but it’d like to see the sea. I need something.

Life can’t be this boring. Is it??? You know, I watched twin peaks and let me tell you, I did all that Laura did. Except the drugs. And I’m alive, so yay. But what fucking else? The guy btw got in a crash 12 years ago. Hasn’t moved or talked ever since. Yes, he’s bound to a wheelchair. I’d feel better if it was like: ok so he’s alive and living, let’s curse him out or some shit. But no. He’s stuck in a lifeless body. And I’m here dealing with the aftermath. What. Else. Do. I. Gotta. Do? I cried, I sobbed, I screamed. Why won’t solve my problems moving to London!? Cause I’d still be there. I’m not some movie I can turn it off. It can hit me on the good days, and on the bad days. I need something. I could sell my whole wardrobe. Money won’t solve this. And I hate it. I’m going off meds, so now what???? I go on with my boring life til the day I die? That’s it? No excitement. No prospect. I wish I had a fucking map. I hate this. I think I hate myself. I’m so cruel to myself. I just want to protect that little girl. What else?

I do the work. I read the self help books. What else? I hate this town. But I hate more what it makes me carry. In London seeing new people, no one knowing who I was it felt fucking great. But then again, I’m still here. Fucking stuck. No longer in that stall, but still in that bathroom that looked like a maze.

I just joined this group a few minutes ago. I am a 62 year old man and I was sodomized by my father.

I assume there are other male survivors here but it would be quite helpful if some of the other men here reached out.

Thanks

I believe I was covertly molested or generally sexually abused (even if unintentionally) as a child by my mother. Aside from it making me develop a visceral fear of women, this combined with having been infantilized and followed around my whole life to this day gave me debilitating contamination OCD.

I'll explain my logic here in detail but censor it in case it may trigger anyone's compulsions or fears: I have a fear of my biological and legal family's skin flakes, bacteria, oils etc from their hands etc being left on my belongings. The thought of, for example, my mother's skin flakes coming in contact with my hands then getting wedged in between the keys of my keyboard to be stuck until the day I die gives me complete dread and the urge to throw out the laptop and get a new one the moment I move out to live on my own, just to have less of my mother's residue invading my space. I suck in my lips when my family talks around me because I don't want the bacteria from their breath coming to contact with my lips, and it's for that reason that I don't touch my face when my hands are clean either, because I don't want their mouth bacteria left on my face to transfer to my hands then onto my belongings. Even if my hand grazes on the kitchen table, that's enough for me to go thoroughly wash my hands, to get the possible residue of my family off of me.
It makes me think that I will never ever have the privacy, boundaries and independence I crave if the remanence and residue of my family will come into physical contact with me no matter what I touch, that particles of their physical body will be on my person during my most intimate and personal moments to indirectly continue to violate me, that their microbes and DNA will be stuck between the fibers of my clothes and beddings until the day I die no matter how much I try to wash. And I abuse rubbing alcohol because of this, I wipe and wipe everything I actively use then over-wash my hands until they peel and crack, hoping I've gotten rid of my family's flakes and microbes.
I know I can't ask for reassurance, but God does this make me wish I had a microbiologist friend who can finally tell me if I should give up and learn to deal with it because it's physically impossible for the residue to go away, or if the residue really can wash off, or if the residue is lesser of a deal than I'm making it out to be because it all disintegrates into nothingness after a short period of time or SOMETHING. I just want to stop feeling violated and feeling like my every move continues to be watched over.

TLDR; My possible CSA gave me contamination OCD because of the skin residue of my mother (and by extension the rest of my biological and legal family thanks to combined types like IOCD) making my boundaries and personal space feel violated. No matter how much I tried to look it up, I couldn't find any stories similar to mine, and I'd at least like to know if there's anyone else out there dealing with something similar.

First off I'm not sure what my tag should really be. My stepfather molested me for at least 8 years if not more. Between his abuse, my mother's physical and emotional abuse, my father's emotional abuse and severe abuse in a 17 year marriage I have trauma induced amnesia.

He's been in and out of the hospital the last few years. My mom never divorced him. She felt she couldn't raise my younger twin sisters without him (I'm the oldest of 4, only the twins are his). When she found out about the abuse she made me feel so bad that I took it back, I was about 14. It didn't stop until I moved out at 18.

I never let him be alone with my daughters. When I got pregnant and divorced at 21 I was back living at home from the military. Because of their abuse I ran and landed in my second marriage which was really abusive.

Yesterday I got the call as I got out of the shower that they were going to the hospital to remove his tube and DNR. I went, I felt like it was expected of me. I took my youngest who is 15 and on break. I'm off for 4 days to spend with her. I told her on the way that I needed to talk to him alone and didn't want her in there. That's when she found out he'd abused me. I guess she always thought it was my actual father who did it.

We were the first ones there and I couldn't do it. I was so angry but I couldn't say anything so I stood there and cried. After a while I found my courage and quietly told him how mad I was. That he ruined my childhood, that he had no right to touch me. That no matter what anyone else thought I wasn't at fault. That him and my mom were the reason I ended up in the marriage that almost killed me.

My daughter stood by my side and cried. I'd forgotten she was there. I then felt horrible but she told me she was proud of me. I told my mom once she got there that I'd said to him and that I was so mad at both of them.

I stayed while they took out the tube. He hung on for 9 hours and my mom texted me in the early morning hours he was gone.

I feel like hell, I'm congested, crying all over and I'm still mad. I don't know what to do. This was my experience and no one else had it. They all acted like I'd made it up when I tried to talk years ago. I don't need everyone to hate him, but it's hard to deal with alone. My therapist had surgery last month so I didn't even get an appointment this month and I'm struggling so hard.

Sorry so long... From a broken, lost, soon to be 50 year old mom of girls...

It felt so normal to me. Then why they would touch me. And make it hurt. I always thought it was normal horse play and stuff. Also because most of my uncles would touch me there. I didn’t realize I was sexually abused until highschool and I learned about it in a psych class.
I was in denial but then one of those uncles was gonna come to life with us and my aunts told their kids “don’t let uncle E touch you there” or “don’t stay alone in the same room as your uncle”
So I guess they always knew it was happening. That it wasn’t actually normal.
So why didn’t they protect me? Was I not worth protecting.