My Story and Why I didn't tell anyone *(Triggers likely)
Nikki
Registrant
I was possibly sexually abused by my father around age 5, but my memories surrounding that time aren't crystal clear so I can't really say if that happened or not. I assume that it did, but I can't really be sure. (I know however, that I was being abused by my father in other ways).
So we will skip to age 10. That is when the girl-next-door's boyfriend (age 22) began sexually abusing me. He was part of a child sex ring. He would use me and when he wasn't abusing me, he would knock me out with chloroform and take me to someone else's house, where the resident would pay to have sex with me, (while I was unconscious). This went on until I was 16 years old.
When I was 13, five older males who lived in my neighborhood, brutally sexually molested me. They body-shamed me and made me believe the abuse was my fault.
As if the guilt and shame were not enough to keep me from telling my parents, the fear that my father would kill me or hurt my mother, (because he was upset with me, ...something he did a lot), stopped me from telling.
I grew up to be a cutter, a problem drinker, suicidal, and a slave to repetition compulsion. As I entered into my thirties, my life became a living hell and by age 36-38 I had started individual therapy.
This is the short version of my story but it is the only one I feel comfortable enough to share here on the site.
So we will skip to age 10. That is when the girl-next-door's boyfriend (age 22) began sexually abusing me. He was part of a child sex ring. He would use me and when he wasn't abusing me, he would knock me out with chloroform and take me to someone else's house, where the resident would pay to have sex with me, (while I was unconscious). This went on until I was 16 years old.
When I was 13, five older males who lived in my neighborhood, brutally sexually molested me. They body-shamed me and made me believe the abuse was my fault.
As if the guilt and shame were not enough to keep me from telling my parents, the fear that my father would kill me or hurt my mother, (because he was upset with me, ...something he did a lot), stopped me from telling.
I grew up to be a cutter, a problem drinker, suicidal, and a slave to repetition compulsion. As I entered into my thirties, my life became a living hell and by age 36-38 I had started individual therapy.
This is the short version of my story but it is the only one I feel comfortable enough to share here on the site.
