NEW

NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT VICTIMS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE

NO ONE GIVES A SHIT ABOUT VICTIMS OF CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE, it has taken me a lifetime to build up the courage to write this, but here we go….. I was born in 1966, a brother to a loving family in London and my parents at the time were hard working and for all their work...

Poem by John Roedel

my brain and heart divorced a decade ago over who was to blame about how big of a mess have become eventually, they couldn't be in the same room with each other now my head and heart share custody of me stay with my brain during the week and my heart gets me on...

This is my life, written down on paper

My name is ‘Rosie’. This is my life written down on paper. My childhood was not a very good one. My parents were heroin addicts and as you can imagine they were not very good at being parents. Throughout my whole life I had no boundaries no one to tell me off. I was...

Natural Thinking by Ria Walton

the frondescence of flourishing leaves  coming to life the essence of new life for spring the re birth of trees the birds singing their melodies sweet songs of morning nature alive with fresh new growth buds blooming their energy forthwith to bring, the floral...

The Three Girls Workshop

Three Girls Workshop With lockdown having restricted the hosting of events ‘in person’ the Foundation recently ran on online meet-up centred around the BAFTA award winning BBC mini-series Three Girls.  The programme (for which Maggie worked as the Programme...

VICTIMS’ COMMISSIONER SAYS CULTURE CHANGE TO SUPPORT AGGRIEVED LONG OVERDUE

By Ryan Hooper, PA Chief Reporter  A new, specific law is required to give more rights to those affected by crime, the Victims' Commissioner for England and Wales has said. Dame Vera Baird QC said a change of culture'' was long overdue'' to look after'' victims of...

“I feel lost, and I don’t know if this pain will ever leave me…..”

I  was abused from age 7 to 20. No one in my life knows except doctors/counsellors/helplines or the occasional Samaritan. I carry on every day like I'm absolutely fine. No one would ever know.   It's almost like having two lives which makes me very sad. I was...

I won’t tell you my name because it’s irrelevant. It didn’t matter when I was a child, it doesn’t matter now..

Categories - Survivor Stories

My Journey

I won’t tell you my name because it’s irrelevant, it didn’t matter when I was a child and it doesn’t matter now either.

My biological dad, the man who raised me, taught me to ride a bike, was there to pick me up after school, cooked me tea and tucked me in… Oh sorry, that’s a fairytale for me.. my biological father hurt me, badly, then he abandoned me when I wouldn’t obey him anymore.

My mother? We don’t get on, never have. All I wanted my whole life even now is a mom, but I know I’ll never get one. Not then, not now, not ever. That stings so much. It hurts the heart.

I was 6 years old when he started playing a game with me, just 6. I was 10 when he raped me, tore through my innocence, killed my soul, and destroyed my joy of childhood. I was 13 when it stopped. I didn’t care about myself anymore, I was dead inside. A soul as black as a raven. A heart that felt as though it didn’t beat for life anymore it beat purely to survive.

I started getting myself into really dangerous situations, I self harmed, I suffered with an eating disorder, I experienced trauma, Anxiety, and Depression.

Worst part I guess for me to remember is him drugging me and I started entertaining his friends. I didn’t want to, I just loved the high and I didn’t want to lose that feeling. Plus they all showed me so much attention and by this point I LOVED the attention of men, no matter how young I was or how old they were. He introduced me to a few, I danced, sometimes in school clothes, sometimes in underwear, I didn’t tell a soul. There was pictures, I’ll never know where they are. Sleeping with men much older than me stole a lot more of my life than I care to admit, I continued to search for that attention wherever I went. I felt so rejected if I wasn’t shown it from a man, I felt ugly, worthless, disgusting… funny thing is though, even when a man did show me the attention after he left I still felt ugly, worthless and disgusting. So it was just a vicious cycle.

I have diagnoses now but to be honest I don’t feel the need to go into them, not because I’m ashamed but because I am not those labels, I am just me. They don’t define me, I accept them, I own them, but I don’t live by them.

So, I guess I wrote this because I wanted to tell my dad, that I no longer believe in the monsters he’s created inside my head regrading myself. I know he is none existent in my world and I have battled past every single memory and thought I have about who I am, what I have done, and how I look.

I have forgiving him, not because what he done was okay, but for myself, because I have moved on from my past and I do not plan to allow it to control me ever again, he’s the one who has to worry now, because I have all the control.

I won’t go back there, I won’t go back into that locked box, I have thrown away the only key to keep my secrets with me. I guess sharing it here allows me to talk about it, without anyone knowing who I really am. I am not dead anymore though, I’m trying, I’m fighting, and I’m doing okay.

I want every survivor to read this and know it can get better, it can. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not even a year from now, but it can get better. Reach out, talk. Keeping the secret is what kept my destroyed life mine, I wish I had shared sooner, or at all, but I didn’t. Don’t let that secret kill you inside. You are brave! Find someone you trust and tell if you can, I promise it’ll make things better.

How to View Discreetly