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When I was 12 I had my first boyfreind. I loved him so much, since I was unpopular and he was king of popularity. He accepted me... He raped me.

We lived in the same neighborhood, always hanging out at my freind Joey's house. When Joey wasn't there he would stay for me... we would go swimming than he would kiss me after we got out. He bought me ice cream, we went to our first school dance together. He always touched me, but I didn't really mind. I thought he just loved me so much it didn't matter how it felt. One day though, we were at his house and we were in his room and he raped me. He knew what he was doing so he used protection. After that I started to lie alot, saying I had another boyfreind, whenever my freinds asked me how it was going I said, "I was single and loving it."

The truth was once in awhile, I got pregnent, he fixed that for me. He litterally beat the child out of me. I may not have a natural born kid because of how many times he had to do that. I would lie to him, and he would find out... I would get it. Bad... I am not ready to say how bad yet.

He lived in my neighborhood though, and he would always find me. I was always so stupid and forgave him... soon I didn't pay attention to him, than he started cornering me at school, he would grab my arms and slam me against the wall. I got so scared.

Thats when I started learning to fight, I started Karate, went to the gym lost alot of weight and one day.. I fought back. Slammed him against a bathroom mirror and he still has the scar. He enrolled in therapy, I didn't, I knew I was better. He has gotten alot more respect for women and we still aern't freinds but, it is getting better.

I know it will never be the same. I know nothing was and ever will be. I got over alot, even though I still cut sometimes, I am stopping. I am trying. And that is what matters.

It's official from what happened when I was younger, I can't have any kids. That doesn't matter though whee I can adopt a Korean baby and name it Su Yung Chan whee

Okay... things aren't moving very fast, so I suppose I should start... that might get people more at ease about talking... *deep breath*

I was sexually abused by both my father and my cousin, at various times. I'm almost 18, and I recently moved out, so there's not as much chance that it happens again, but we'll keep our fingers crossed. I've pretty much come to terms with it, though I'm still healing. It started happening when I was about 4 (give or take, I can't really remember all that much about being 4, though I do remember wearing undies with flowers on them (strange what comes back, huh?)

Ok, I keep stalling. It's really difficult to write this, because it means going back to a place where I'm not comfortable, or safe.

The incident I remember most was with my cousin, Shane, because it happened when I was older. He and his family live in Newfoundland (Mom's side of the family, that is). I've always lived near (and now in) Montreal, so I only see them once every two years.

Arrrrggg, digressing again.

Anyways, me and my younger brother would spend quite some time there, because Shane and his older sister were close to our own age (I was 8 or 9). Trista, Shane's older sister, has mental problems, and takes drugs. Shane takes drugs also. By no means excusing him, of course. Ok Ok, I'm getting to the story!

One day, I went in a room, for no apparent reason. But I turned around when the door closed, because I didn't remember closing it. And there he was. I was quite spooked out, but I had no idea what was coming. (Then I would've been even more scared!). So he just came towards me with, I don't know, "purpose" in his step. The back of my knees were already touching the bed behind me, so when he pushed against my shoulders, I couldn't stop the fall. I didn't even have time to ask questions when he was on top of me. I was really confused, I was like "What the f***????". And then he started rubbing himself against me, and it hurt, because he was hard, and it was digging into my stomach. I was wearing a white blouse, and he started unbuttoning it really quickly. Now that's the point where I "dissociated". I left my body. I didn't float around or look at the act from the ceiling, as is pretty common in that situation. I just turned my head to the side and turned everything off. He had a pocket knife against my tummy (I still have the scar), but I couldn't feel that either. Only one problem, though another common occurence: my body started feeling. With my mind turned off, my body couldn't help but take notice that someone was touching me in places that normally bring on arousal. (I spent a lot of time in therapy trying to figure that one out). Because of this arousal, I was ashamed, and hurt that my body would betray me in such a way. Later on, I realized that it was simply reacting, and trying to make intercourse easier for me (sounds foolish, but it's a real reaction). I let him do anything he wanted. I said no at the beginning, but was too terrified after to do anything, except chant over and over in my head "Please let this be over, I can't wait to get out of here". (I might have said something different, but it was to the same effect.) I forgot pretty much everything after that, and only lately remembered during intercourse with my boyfriend that it had gone all the way. I had been raped. It was devastating for me. I had always thought that it had stopped after we were called up for dinner by his dad, but apparently I was "zoning off" for longer than I thought.

I later told my mom about it, and she denied everything as impossible, and it couldn't have happened, that I must have been a willing participant, etc. When I told her about the pocket knife, she just left the room.

With my dad, it was different. It was always under a banner of love, and disguised as simple tickles. I don't remember as much about it, only that I wasn't comfortable with it. At around the age of 6, I told him so, and he stopped. What he would do, is he would tickle my back, then my legs. At a certain point, he would always pull my undies up (give me a wedgie), and start tickling my bum. As I said, he stopped for awhile, but it started again a few months later. I was still uncomfortable with it, but I figured every family did this. The very last time (and the time I most remember), was about 2 years ago. I got into some pretty bad online relationships, and started taking naked pictures of myself for guys about 20-30 years older than me. My dad found out, and made me look over all the pictures with him (and there were a good 30-40 pic), and kept saying over and over how much I had grown, how beautiful I was, etc. etc. Normally, this would flatter me... but I was being oggled at by my own father. So after seeing the pictures, he said that mom would be devastated if she found out about them, and that if I wanted him to keep the secret, I'd have to go to his room and tickle his back and legs (mostly legs). I went in, since I didn't want mom to know. I tickled his legs for what felt like hours, and he kept telling me not to be shy to go further up (crotch/butt), and I would for about a second, then I'd go back down around his knees. When I was done (finally!!!!!!!!), he asked me if I wanted a tickle. I said no several times, but I eventually gave in, because he wouldn't let me leave until I accepted. I was wearing my housecoat and a pair of undies, nothing else, but I was lucky to have that, because I almost always sleep in the nude. He pushed aside my housecoat and started tickling my back and legs, but he had no trouble going to my bottom. He squeezed both cheeks as would a lover, and I jumped out of bed so fast, I'm sure I was a blur to him. I ran out of the room, went downstairs to my room, and I sort of just stood there, not knowing what to do. I couldn't cry, I couldn't move, I just couldn't stop shaking.

About 2 weeks later, I told my mom the whole thing (in an email), including the pictures. She wasn't upset about them, strangely. She was more upset about my dad having done that. (He's my biological father, by the way.) She took my side, and we cried, and she kept saying she would have to leave him, etc. Then she turned on me. She put me into therapy to try to figure out what was wrong with me! The therapist took my side, and suggested I learn how to talk to my dad and explain how I feel. I called a child's help-line, and I reported him. That was my way of explaining that I felt hurt and betrayed. My mom accused me of not being able to forgive and forget, and wanted me to stop bringing the whole incident up, but I couldn't.

Anyways, he didn't go to jail, I had to stay in the same house for another year and a half. He seemed really apologetic, but I've had to put up with lewd remarks about my body, sexual innuendos which I have asked him to stop saying, etc. etc. But I think I scared him enough not to try anything ever again.

Healing is still long and arduous, but I'm working on it. I have this wonderful book called "The Courage to Heal: A guide to child sexual abuse".

If I remember anything else, I'll add it.

Edit -- This morning, I had another memory, and that was of my cousin putting his p***s in my mouth, and I could still feel the same pain as when I was nine.

[ Message temporarily off-line ]

Okay I guess this is where I go, mine is not big but yet its my story of sexual harassment that haunted me for the longest time, and yet today it still does.

Its was any other day of my freshmen year. I went to advance english where we had to work on our speaches. I hated it but yet it was something I had to do to bring up my grade, unhow this guy kept messing with me or my mind really. He kept asking me if I wanted to give him head and all this other sexual things and would I go out with him, seeing how I already had a boyfriend I truely cared about I said no and truthfully I didnt like him. Then that kept up for a couple days, where he call my name and I turned around and he would blow me a kiss or something, say those things. Well in Gym later that day he would say things like that again well finally one day my friend told him that was sexaul harassment and he was like yeah I know I think its funny. And then he pinned me on the wall and I screamed, I screamed so loud I heard my self echo in the gym, it was a scream of terror. Later on my teacher asked why I did and I told him. He told me to go report him and so I did. I went to the princple and reported him. Then he ended up geting suspended for whipping himsself out on the bus and not for that. Until this day I'm afraid to go near him at times or walk in the halls by myself at school at times. He use to say he would get me back one day, im just hoping that the one day wont come because Im afraid to know what he might do next.

just an update on my story. last week, my now ex-boyfriend tried to force me to perform oral sex on him by pushing my head not once, but twice. and he hit me in between that. so i broke up with yesterday after i finally felt like i could speak to him without wanting to cry, and i'm moving on. i just wanted him to know exactly what it was he had done to me as a sort of satisfaction for myself. i'm glad that i could confront him about it, and now i'm involved with my best friend

nice job :3 hehehe ^^;;; success stories are so nice to hear

You know... I've often wondered whether or not some people are just supposed to have bad luck. Are some members of the populace destined to have little black rain clouds hovering above them? Let me explain my ponderances.

When I was sixteen, I "fell in love." Now, I put this in quotes not because I don't believe sixteen year olds can fall in love, but because what I thought was love at the time, wasn't. I never mentioned this here, because it was physical abuse, not sexual, and while both are equally appalling, I saw no correlation. Anyhow, when I was sixteen, I met... I'll call him Bob, just because it's generic, and I don't tell anyone I meet his name... even my fiance has listened to me call him him. We went on a couple dates and he was always the perfect gentleman. He was older by several years, and far more mature than any of the other males I was aquainted with.

After a while, he asked me to be his girlfriend, and I accepted. He was a wonderful guy, what girl wouldn't say yes? Granted, he was good in the beginning, and for sporadic periods after the relationship began, but overall, he was an a*****e. Extremely possessive, and if he got angry at anything at all? I was the scapegoat. His car broke down because I drove it the night before. Bullshit like that. So he took a liking to hitting me when he got pissed off. At first it was backhands which turned my head and shut my mouth. It escalated, as I learned it always does, into harsher violence. He broke two ribs once using an aluminum bat on me. Finally, I decided to leave. He was moving and wanted a long distance relationship. I agreed, but after he was gone, I broke it off.

I didn't really think about it after that... it was the past, over with. I met my now fiance, and was quite happy. Well, sure enough, things sort of went downhill. I was at the grocery store and caught his eye. I didn't think it was Bob, and I couldn't help but scrutinize the face further. I realized it was indeed him and I was terrified. I tried to dodge away, but he noticed me, and asked if we'd met. I kept my eyes down, saying I didn't think so, and recognition dawned on him. Great. He took my arm and took me outside, praising the joys of a small town so that he could see me again. After interrogating me on how I was doing, he learned I was engaged... and flew into a rage.

Yes, it was irrational, we weren't together. But that's Bob. He dragged me behind the grocery store building, punched me a couple times, and raped me. Sad thing is, I told someone about it, and they didn't believe me. So I didn't report it. Why bother? My best friend didn't believe me so why would the police who wouldn't know their a** from a hole in the ground.

So yeah... do any of you agree that maybe some people are supposed to have it rougher than others? That it "builds character" and other bullshit like that? Just wondering.. -shrugs and walks off-