My brother who is seven years older than me molested me from the time I can remember till about 12. I told on him in the 6th grade, to a school teacher who was also my sex education teacher, and also my brothers football coach. I begged the teacher not to tell anyone as I was scared to get my brother in trouble, and to get in trouble myself. The teacher did tell the authouties and I was put in a foster home, I told them that my dad was going to be mad and I was scared to go home. My Brother was arrested and released and the case dropped, declared innocent child play, my brother lied about the frequency of the abuse and the details..I was in the foster home for three days and when I got home, I got yelled at and hit because, I had been abused before and gotten the authorities involved and was told that if it ever happend again then it was a family matter and to be handled privatly. I was taken to counseling a few times, had to ride in the same car as my brother. It was very uncomfortable. I was put in daycare, and told never to talk about it again...What my brother did to me was anything but innocent, he told me he would bash my head in if I ever told anyone what he did to me, He would send My other brother outside or to friends houses, he was my babysitter, (since my other one had been busted for molesting me and his son) He would spill things on me or just out insist that I go change my clothes, then come in while I was naked and push me on the bed. He would take off his clothes and lay on me and hump my stomach untill he would cum, I hated it and eventually started to resist, he would threaten me, beg me, promise me things, until I eventually agreed to let him just so I could go play and get away from him. It got where I would only agree for 15 min and make him set the alarm clock next to my bed, that worked at first but most times if it went of he would keep going anyway, and beg me for 15 more, I can remember times he talked me into resetting it 4 or five times. I got to where I hated the white sticky stuff on my stomach and begged him not to do it anymore, he started bringing balloons and cutting the top off of them, this rubbed my stomach raw, I hated it more. I eventually started my period at 11 and it shocked my brother one day and it stopped from there on. I do hope my sharing my story will help someone else to not feel so alone..

I was molested in a foster family when I was 4 years old. Could have been sooner. I remember my foster father touching me. I remember when my foster father would look at me and my foster sister while we were naken in the bathroom. I was terrified of my foster father as well as my foster mother. I was put in the cellar because at 4 I was a bad little girl. I was told that the rats would jump at my throat. These foster parents were terrorists as I see it. I lived in fear until my foster parent died when I was 9. His wife moved us to another place in NJ and then I was molested by the man across the street. I told my therapist I remember this man in a flashback while having sex with my husband. The therapist said I WAS raped by this man. I do not remember the rape but have had 2 flashbacks, more sensory feelings about being attacked. I have lived my marriage acting out with other men over a long period of time. I now see I was repeating the sexual abuse over and over again. I was not only sexually abused but emotionally, and physically abused by this foster family. I was one of 10 foster children. I was a paycheck as I see it. I have spent since 1987 dealing with the abuse. 20 years of tears, anger, rage, panic, sadness and despair. In those 20 years of healing I am a new person. I am assertive now, something I did not think I would ever be. I WILL NOT ALLOW anyone to abuse me ever again. I am a kind, compassionate, loving person and do not deserve abuse of any kind!!!!! I now have compassion for the child I once was. I love the person I am becoming. It has been the hardest journey I have ever taken. Even harder than dealing with breast cancer in 1997. I am a warrior. I will not quit. If I quit then the abusers win. I am not about THEM winning. No matter what fear comes my way I will face it. I pray that for all on this support group as well.

Its great you can talk about the abuse but, for me, its impossible. As I've discovered the more I try and talk about it the more flashbacks I have.
I know what happened but actuallty trying to voice it has never been possible since the court case when I ahd to speak about it in front of my dad (whom abused and raped me) and in front of family and friends. That was 16 years ago.
sending you support though as you voice your experiences.
Mandiex

Perhaps people are afraid, I agree that when you name and shame the monster it becomes something you can deal with. However, if people aren't comfortable with sharing it publicly or if they think maybe its a little sensationalist, it is their right not to talk in detail.

Yea I think alot of women are afraid because it brings up flashbacks, feelings, memories etc.. But I also feel that that is a good thing not a bad thing. It comes up to be healed. For a long time I didn't know what was wrong with me and that is the danger. It affects your trust, your relationships, alot of things. And if you don't know or remember what happened then you can resolve it or overcome it you know? I believe alot of girls with eating disorders and sexual problems or promiscuities who don't know why they are that way, may just well have been molested at an early age and don't remember it. My half sister was like that. She was bulimic for 13yrs. and remembered at around 28 that her adopted father molested her. She now has overcome her eating disorder. Anyway, thanks for all responses. This looks to be interesting.

When I was 15, I was brutally raped by a guy who went to my high school. All I remember is lots of blood, and him smoking a cigarette after. That was my first one. I was a virgin.

I've never told anyone this before. I don't know if I can even type it.

My older cousin started with games. The kissing game, the touching game the rubbing game. It started when I was 6 but only happened when he was visiting my house or I was visiting his.

When I was in the 5th grade my family moved closer to his and since I didn't have any friends we "played" together a lot.

He would take me into the basement of their home, it had dirt floors, and abuse me.

I don't remember how he got me to do it, just that it happened. He would rub my clitoris with his fingers. He would make me rub his penis. He would also lay on top of me, putting his penis between my thighs and hump me until he came; which he would do on me. Eventually he proceeded to oral sex and shallow vaginal sex, using a plastic baggie as a condom.

I thought it was over when his family moved far away when I was in the 7th grade. Unfortunately, my drunken mother needed a "break" so she sent me to stay with them for a week. It was the last time he abused me but it was the worst. He took it all the way on many levels and was very forceful. Those are the flashbacks I have most.

He was pretty sadistic. Once he walked up behind me and lit my hair on fire and another time pointed a loaded gun at my face. I understand now, it was a power and control thing.

My abuser went on to abuse other children (which I feel guilty about) but was caught and served prison time.

That's what happened. It's in the past ... but it doesn't stay there. I hate him for that. I hate myself for that.

I would love to tell the story with details but for me it was just to many times with too many people.

from my brother to his band of older friends and then the older friends circle of friends.

I was gang raped many times. force to be with people i didn't know. was tied up, blind folded pretty much any thing you can think of sort of sadomasicism.

The details are not important to me anymore. If i wrote about the details i would have to write a book.

I think it is important for people to be able to talk about the details. for me there are just to many.

good post.

Thanks for your hug and friendship Aylarain. Means a lot. Keep it up you are an inspiration. Wish I could be as open as you.
Mandiex

I do not remember most of my childhood but I remember some of the abuse, go figure. The good went away but the bad stayed. Lately the memory that's been bothering me is about my cousin when I was 8. It came up again cause my mom just informed me last wk. that she told the rest of the family. I've been wanting to tell so I'm glad she did but just when I think I know how I'm going to react to a situation I react differently,hunh. After she told me I felt really sad and was confused about this until I talked to my husband and he said "don't you dare feel sorry for him and stop feeling guilty". OMG! he was right this is how I was feeling. I hate that their programming still follows me to this day!! It was my sisters wedding and we were at my aunts house(I don't remember the wedding). My cousin lived in a trailor on the property behind my aunts house. There was alot of family there so me and my little brother and his daughter stayed at his house that night. The room I usually stayed in at my aunts house was taken. He gave me a drink and said it's good drink it. i thought it tasted kind of strong but I drank it anyway. Turns out it was JD and coke. he got me drunk! he put his daughter and my brother to bed in her room and after they went to sleep called me in his room to show me something yeah right. I went in and sat in a chair he had at the foot of his bed. He said he wanted to sing a song to me about some girl he was in love with at one time. He played guitar and sang in bars for a living. I use to sing with him at family functions sometimes. We were close until this night. He then proceeded to pick me up off the chair and layed me on the bed. he took my cloths off and layed on top of me. I had been molested since the age three by someone else so I knew when he picked me up what was coming. I was silent and feeling sick. I still remember him whispering in my ear it's tight and telling me you've done this before haven't you. I was still silent. I just wanted it over so I could die. I couldn't believe this man whom I trusted was doing this to me. I trusted no one after this. After he was done I remember stumbling to the couch not feeling so well. I didn't realize at the time I was drunk. I was up all night throwing up. I crawled to the bathroom from the livingroom. I thought i was dieing but the next day I was still there. My sister says the next day she kept asking my mom what was wrong with me cause I was curled up on the couch with my legs tucked under me like I was in shock. Again I said nothing. Mom just told her she didn't know I must not be feeling well. My sister said I was like that for a couple of days. I myself don't remember the next day or next month for that matter. Anyway that's just one story among many. May he burn in hell for all the things I forgot not to tell.

What started me remembering what my dad did to me was he came to visit me from another state where he lived and stayed for a couple days when I was 26. He acted weird and said things like I've never seen him be before. He was a little too open sexually and all saying maybe someday he'd take me to a nudist beach with him. After that he wrote me alot of letters that were very inappropriate for a father to write. Sexually explicit stories saying he hopes I can confide in him my deepest darkest secrets and desires etc. He talked to me like a girlfriend or something, making comments like I have a sexy body and all. He said he's never been able to trust or open up to anyone like with me before and he knows I'll keep it secret and not tell anyone. I let my mom read the letters and she cried and called him (they've been divorced since I was 15 and I only saw my dad 3times in the 11yrs since)anyway, she said he was wrong to write such stuff and that he should send me ten thousand dollars or she will send the letters to his new wife etc. He sent me the money. My mom asked if he ever molested me and I said no I don't remember anything. when I was around 30 it slowly started coming back to me. I tried to remember why I had started masturbating at around age 6 so much and where did I learn such a thing? And slowly I remembered. After he had stopped touching me, I started touching myself to see what the deal was about. I found out and for many years I was very sexual that way but it was always a hidden and shameful thing to me. It took a long time for me to express pleasure with a guy up until like two years ago, because it seemed wrong, abnormal, hidden, shameful. Learning and telling myself that none of it is wrong, my dad was wrong, has helped me alot. I now am pretty darn open and sexual with the guys I have sex with and it is becoming a more enjoyable experience for me. Up until a year ago, I never let a guy touch me under my underwear. All my sexual experiences were usually me drunk and just taking off my pants and letting them do me. Wouldn't let a guy do anything else and wouldn't do anything to a guy either. I suppose the one thing my dad didn't violate was the actual act of sex. Sorry I don't want to go on forever. couldn't help it.

I was born in Del Rio, Texas in 1961 to an Air Force family. I was the youngest of five, three boys and two girls. Between myself and the oldest (brother) there was 10 years. We moved a great deal and I think I attended at least 7 different school systems in the US and Canada.

At the age of 2 1/2 my parents noticed I had a "jerk". That observation started an endless series of trips to the doctors / neurologists over the next 15 years to try and find what was wrong. Tests and drugs, drugs and tests. I have little to no fine motor control. Things like eating or drinking are very hard for me. For example, if I were to pick up a glass of water there is a good chance I would jerk and drop or throw the glass and or liquid. I use straws. If you just saw me sit, not trying to do any fine motor movement, you would not think I had any problem. Writing is the most obvious problem. And not being able to write - this was before laptops - in the public school system was a challenge. I was held back in the third grade (between two school systems) because I could not write.

Around 10 years of age (I judge much by the house we were living in, Colorado Springs) my brother (4 years older) came into the bathroom when I was taking a bath. He and I had shared a room for years and he had recently started to get into my bed at night and kiss me, like a kiss between lovers. That led to his fondling me, and later to this first trip into the bathroom. He sat by the side of the tub and just reached into the tub and proceeded to masturbate me. I DID NOTHING I just laid there. I can remember him saying it felt better with soap and seeing him lather up his hand. Again, I did nothing.

That started what would be regular sexual contact that went on for the next two years (mostly our first house in Woodland Park, Lorraine Avenue). It increased from fondling and masturbation to oral sex and finally anal sex. I can remember laying in bed at night praying he was asleep, and hearing the mattress on his bed squeak as he was getting up, and just laying there pretending I was asleep. I can still feel him pulling down my underwear and rolling me over. Oh my God, I can remember like it just happened - the taste of blood in my mouth from his penis that had just been in meMY blood. Later his friend Rick would come over and I can remember the first night Rick spent the night and my brother holding me down while I was half on and half of the mattress while Rick had anal sex with me. Rick "visited" several times and spent a few weekends at our house. I have a letter (my Father kept a file on each of us) from my 5th grade teacher that says "...Kelly's physical and emotional problems are so severe we recommend he go to so sort of rehabilitation." We moved between 5th and 6th grade. I said nothing to anyone. My brother told me I liked it.

Within a year of the move (now in 6th grade), my oldest brother committed suicide. It was shortly after that the abuse stopped. I was now 13 and my brother was 17 and a senior in HS. We rarely spoke much after that and in fact he acted like he hated me. Anyway he went on his way after HS and I stayed at home. I was very isolated and withdrawn but I had been that way most of my life. My parents attributed that to my neurological problems. We all moved to Alaska (my parents and my brother) and I could not handle the move emotionally and my Mother and brother and I moved back to Colorado.

A close friend of my Fathers (whose wife committed suicide a year before), had a daughter a few years older than me but really liked me and everybody thought he just missed having a son. John would buy me presents and teach me how to cook, and bring me to his house for the weekends. I was 12 or 13 when he had me shower in his master bath with the door open for the first time. Shortly after that he had me sleep in his bed with him, and later he had anal sex with me. That stopped when I was 13 or 14 (when we moved to Alaska?) and did not happen many times. John was an alcoholic and died some 10 years later. Again, I never said a word to anyone.

My brother (the one who molested me) went on to join the Air Force, got kicked out for being Gay, and died from AIDS in 1992. He was an alcoholic and drug addict. My sisters have since told me he was molested when he was 12. I grew up too and started to cut myself without knowing why. It just felt good. I would do this for the next 30+ years of my life. Just seeing myself bleed made me feel better. I never told anyone this until me second course of intensive therapy. I just had to see blood run down the inside of my thighs. To me, this was worse than any other abhorrent behavior.

I never dated a girl more than once and never had sex with a girl until I met my wife when I was 24 and she was 17. I saw her and said that was who I wanted to marry. That is true, before speaking to her I wanted to marry her. We married when she turned 18 and have been married 21 years this August. We have 5 children. It has always been hard for her as I have always remained isolated and interact only with her on any emotional level.

As for my parents, they were loving in a very dysfunctional sort of way. My Father was a great provider, but emotionally distant and verbally abusive. My Mother (also an alcoholic) told me all the time I did not love her because I was not affectionate with her. She used to say how much my brother loved her. When I graduated from high school and they were handing out the senior awards (you know, best athlete, funniest, shyest, best actor) and I did not get anything my Mother said "Nice to know you were so popular." That really hurt and I remember it to this day.

When my brother died in 1992, I started acting out sexually. I hated it, but continued to seek out and engage in sex with men only certain men in a very particular way, and to cut myself. It went on for periods of time over the next 14 years, and I would often go months or years without doing anything only to start again. I rose through the ranks at work and became a CFO - all the time working more, talking less, and isolating.

Six months ago it came crashing down and I started therapy. It was in therapy that I consented to see a neurologist (something I had refused to do since I was 13 or 14) and finally learned about Myoclonic Dystonia (very rare). And that doctor told me the same genetic defect that causes Myoclonic Dystonia causes obsessive / compulsive disorders, and anxiety problems. He said I was screwed genetically when it came to compulsivity. I have also been diagnosed with an Avoidant Personality Disorder.

That is the first 46 years of my life.

My mother started the abuse when I was a baby. She raped me with objects like coke bottles and knives & spoons.
She useda razor to cut off one side of my inner labia.
I know this b/c my sister saw her do it but never told anyone. I frequently had bloody diapers & cried most of the time. The object-raping went on til I was 4 and then my brother (10 years older) started sodomizing me. When I was 6 he was sodomizing me in the bathroom and my mother walked in and called ME a slut! They both kept it up until I was 12.
I have flashbacks & nightmares still and cry at night.

me and my oder brother (older by 4yrs) use to plage secret games after we were suposed to go to bed, we were close, and never told anone about these games,
one night he had a new 'game' he had some dice, they had different sex acts on it from kiss, oral, and full sex,
he made me think it was normal, and as i was so close to him i did believe that it was how thigs were ment to be,
i dont actualy remeber how far he whent with it,
i kno that he made me makeout with him, masterbate him, give him oral, i kno he gave me oral, and fingered me, and i kno that he was erect and it atlest rubbed me, but i dont remeber if he did make me have sex with him.
after about two weeks it figured to me that it wasnt how it was ment to be, my mother was giving me 'the talk' pritty early in life (early developer) after that i did realise that it wasnt normal and i told my mother what was gong on,
she and my father had a word with him and it stopped,
i only got counceling a few years ago because i told a teacher at school, social sevices know what happed
but i didnt have a chance to report him when it happened and didnt want to bring up old memories when i talked to the social worker, and am now considering reporting him.

i cant.