Not until I was a teenager, and then I found support from my best friend. She herself was physically abused (her boyfriend beat her) and I was in a sexually and emotionally abusive relationship at that time. Both of us could see each others situations with clarity, and so we helped each other get out!
Recently I made the decision to get a divorce, and my now current SO helped me. He tried to help me save my marriage, and then he helped me to see the situation more clearly, and then he supported me while I went through my divorce. He's been amazing, my new best friend! LOL! Especially with this abuser (my ex husband) everyone from my mother to our marriage counselor saw him as fine, we just had communication issues (his family too, told me I just needed to try harder) and good heavens, did I try! It was my SO who actually moved in with us due to his circumstances at the time (my ex invited him) and saw the truth of things. My ex thought he was "cool" and thus behaved like himself in front of him. Insulting me, degrading me, taking my keys so I couldn't leave the house, quitting jobs for me, ect. My current SO was the one to tell me this was not normal, it was not ok, and the more we talked the more I realized he was right, the more things made sense and the sooner I wanted out!
So I guess that yes, people have stepped in to help me, never anyone I expected to do so, and not when I needed it as a child.

I called a children's abuse hotline when I was around 15. My father beat me leaving bruises on the side of my head and my ear purple. A social worker came to see me. He saw the bruises. He then talked to my father. I have no idea what was said. Then the social worker told me that basically there was nothing else he could do and that I would not want to have to go live in a foster home. He never followed up after that. I agree that leaving for a foster home might have been worse but why didn't he or anyone else come back to check on things? Make random drop-ins? Threaten police action?

There was no school lunch when I went to school. One day a teacher noticed that I barely had anything to eat for lunch - maybe a yogurt or bag of potato chips. She was clearly apalled one day when she noticed this was consistent. As far as I know, she never did anything about this. There was no note to my parents or getting the principal involved. Just her obvious disgust and judgment without lifting a finger to try to help.

The only people who ever helped me were my grandparents. They lived with us for a short time. They would physically block me from being abused.

Nope. Not a single soul. I was abused by family members, school teachers, and members of my congregation, and was raped by three neighbors. All that had happened by the time I was 9, so no. No comfort, support or understanding for me.

Chris1976, you are not alone. There was no one I could talk to about what was happening to me. There were teachers, neighbors, social workers, police officers, and relatives who either knew or might have known, but no one rescued me. We moved frequently. I had no friends and there was constant yelling and hitting and screaming wherever we went. I still remember what my mother did first thing when we moved somewhere new - she would take down all the curtains and then walk around naked, making a strange howling noise all night so that I could not sleep. There often was no food to eat and I was not allowed to bathe. I passed out often from the starvation. When I did go to school, no one would talk to me because I was the smelly kid in the funny clothes. I wore the same clothes every day because I had only one set of clothes. Most disturbing of all was that none of this seemed odd to my brother and sister; they accepted it, and if I tried to talk to them about it, they would run to my mother and I would be punished. My life was a living hell and I wanted it to end. At night I would say silently in my head, "God if you are real, please let me die in my sleep tonight and never awaken again. When I finally escaped the abuse at age 17, I knew no one and had no place to go. I trusted no one and feared everyone. I had no social skills and no work skills. I spent a few years sleeping outdoors on the ground, homeless. At age 19, having nothing else to turn to, I enlisted in the U.S. Army for a couple of years. After I got out of the Army, I went right back to being homeless. I was not only hit and screamed at and starved by my mother; my mind was affected by the abuse also, making me unable to function as a human being. I still feel the challenge to learn how to be human now.

No one rescued me either. My father knew what was going on, but he was in utter denial of it. He simply chalked it all up to, "that's your mom for you." Way to go, Dad! Thanks for the save!

I saved me really. I got up one day, feeling crappy like I was coming down with a cold, knew full well it was just another bout of severe allergies (I live in allergen heaven....Florida) so off to the doctor I went. My doctor mentioned that I had been in quite a lot and that I wasn't really sick. He was concerned that maybe there was something else going on with me besides allergies. I remember giving him a funny look and then he asked me if I felt overwhelmed by something, work, school, my relationship. I simply lost it in his office and began sobbing uncontrollably. For the first time in my life, I finally admitted that I felt horrible inside, all the time. I was always sad and I couldn't shake it and I just didn't know why. He asked me how long I had felt that way. I told him since I was about 4 years old. He told me it was rare for depression to just show up at that age without a cause. He recommended that I get some counseling and that meanwhile, he wanted me to try an anti-depressant to get my symptoms under control. I didn't like the idea but I agreed to try it.

So, I guess when I admitted to someone that I felt awful...I was, in a way, trying to save myself.

No one rescued me. It was a secret I buried in my soul my whole life until I was 30 years old. Even when I did start to release my tragic childhood at that time. I was looked at like I was telling a lie. It's still something no one wants to hear about or think about.

I guess I was assisted. I had no privacy growing up so all I had to do was write about it in my diary. I knew that my mom wouldn't be able to resist peeking in. I even left her a key inside the diary. (She didn't wonder about that.) I also had a family counselor that helped with reporting my step father to CPS. Aside from that, I called hotlines a few times.

The people who didn't believe me were police, church, and his family. I assume his family just couldn't bare the shame and preferred to stay in denial. The church just confuses me; I have no idea why they would ask my mother not to report it. They told her that I was probably just jealous of him and lying. Police were called to our home a few times. One of those times I was on the floor getting my hair pulled with a knee in my back. They felt this was proper restraint of an unruly child. The word "discipline" was used. All I was doing was trying to leave.

No one really rescued me either...when the abuse from my step father started at around age 11 or 12 i was to scared to tell anyone..my mother had just married him and everyone in the family seen him as a good guy..by time i got brave enough to want to tell someone just to get out of the sexual abuse i couldnt because my mother was dying of cancer and i truely believed if i told she would hate me when she died this was around age 14... i did run away from home at age 15 and was placed in the fostercare system for being a run away so i made it look like i was a bad kid just to get someone to get me help to get out of there... i thought it was better for people to look down on my behavor of running away rather than tell my mother what was happening to me.

No, I was completely alone and too afraid to tell anyone. I was abused and mistreated by many people including teachers, kids at school, neighbours, and family. I took it from all sides.

My mother "rescued" me from my father, only to abuse me [and the rest of the family] in a different way. She'd comfort me in the aftermath of his rage, yet add to the cycle of abuse in the household. He hit, punched, kicked, and beat and she yelled, raged, belittled, and controlled. I can't remember a single day/night when something didn't go awry and tears weren't shed at some point. As some things have gotten better and others have gotten worse, I now truly understand the meaning of, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks." I am my own person now, a young adult choosing to make my life different.

I wasnt rescued. I did however say when things happend, but was either ignored or blamed. I was so disgusted with family for standing by and turning their heads as a teenager. I couldnt understand why they wouldnt say something or try and help. When I had had enough, I called the police on my dad (I was 14) and he was arrested. I told the police I wanted taken out of there and they told me I didnt. I demanded foster care or something and they refused. My dad made bail the next day and was told to 'just stay clear of her'......finally I ran away and they put me in foster care. I was treated like everything was my fault and I was a troubled child. I was so sad to hear the stories of the other kids in the home and how every single one of them was 'the problem'... I went back home 4 months later and out of all the pain, it actually helped. My dad was forced into therapy and I could see a difference. He tried to watch his temper and I think he realized where all of his problems were coming from (he was abused himself).
I wasnt rescued. But I 'rescued' ONE of my abusers.

hi
my immediate reaction is no, i was completely alone but im not sure that's right. if anything my brother was there for me. we survived my dad together and hes the only one who even slightly understands me.

No one rescued me. I know my teachers saw the welts from the belt, but they pretended they didn't. I became a teacher and was disgusted when I was told by my fellow teachers that I should just try to make the students lives at school as nice as possible, because they were all going to end up drug dealers, prostitutes, or dead anyway! This was at the same school I had attended.

God is the one who helped me! I didn't see how He was keeping things from being even worse at the time, but I can see it now. He kept me out of foster care, which is worse for most of the kids who go into it.
He kept me alive, and He healed me from my mental illness after I was out of the abusive situation.

No one stepped in to help me, either. Many people knew, but no one did anything. I was more angry at these people who knew what was going on and didn't do anything than at abusers in my life. I've been sexually abused and tortured by age 4. Only person I remember ever being nice to me was an old lady I met at a fish market when I was in preschool age. There was a fish market near preschool I went. I can't remember why I was there, but I was sitting at the gate. An old lady saw me, and invited me in her place between the fish market and a ice shop. I didn't trust anybody, and I was scared. I thought she was going to hit me and torture me like all the other adults did in my life. She asked me if I were hungry, and she showed me into her kitchen. She opened her "ice chest". There was hardly anygthing in there. She said, "well, I don't have a lot of food, either, but I usually keep some rice and eggs." She made 2 bowls of plain rice and an egg for each of us, and little bit of soy sauce was the only condiment. I was still scared of her, and worried when she'd hit me. When I finised eating, she told me that I could come to her anytime when I got hungry. Then she let me go. The tragic thing about it was that I didn't know she was trying to help me. I remembered about her only recently. When I thought back, I realized what was REALLY going on.

I suppose I rescued myself since not another soul knows.