Posted 03/28/08:  I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. I was sexually and physically abused by one of my brothers, along with others. The first memory of my abuse came when I was eighteen. The next memory didn’t come until almost five years after that. Since then, I’ve had several. Because I repressed the memories of my abuse, many people don’t believe me, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I know it happened. It’s difficult to deal with and to talk about, but I can’t pretend it never happened. People don’t believe it, and even if they do believe it, they don’t want to hear about it. If we don’t talk about it, it will never get better. Yes, it’s ugly and dark and disgusting, but we need to get it out. It’s the only way we’ll get better and prevent it from happening to others. –Island Girl

Posted 03/27/08:  When I was in Junior High school I was Sexually harrassed and abused by two boys my entire eigth grade year. I had tried to tell a teacher, but he had never believed me. He always believed the boys who told him I just wanted attention. They made my school experiance Hell. I was so scared to go to math because I always knew they would be there and that they would follow me to my next class. Finally I was able to get someone to listen. Finally It was able to stop, but in a way it was to late and the emotional effects took place. I began to feel ugly, and worthless, and unloved. I had thoughts of why me, and fear of school and fear of males in general. I become untrusting and withdrawn. I had once been so loud and charismatic. I loved to talk and have fun, but after this I kept to myself I never wanted to draw attention to myself in anyway for fear it would happen again. I ate lunch alone and spent most my time in the school library or in a secluded place. Finally after three years of this and never really having a friend I was able to let people into my life. I was able to make friends and slowly become myself again.  was able to be me. I was able to do this through my faith, the love of my family, and by finally letting myself heal. I finally allowed myself to stop hating the two boys and myself. I had to finally grieve in a way, and allow myself to cry, to feel and to hurt. I could no longer bottle it all up, but I had to let it out. I was able to write it all down and selected those with whom I really trusted to tell what had happened. I finally realized I was greater then what I had become and allowed myself to heal, and to learn to love and trust again. Through constant support and love by those around me I was able to finally see what they saw. - S.H. 

Posted 03/27/08:  As a male, I realize there are not many of my gender who are willing to talk about or deal with sexual abuse.  I was sexually abused by my father at a very early age (toddler).  Because I was not able to verbalize what was going on, the memories throughout my life have consisted of flashes of images, strong (sick) feelings about certain colors, an odd association with certain smells and a strong aversion to being touched by my father.  For most of my life, I was unable to put all the puzzle pieces into a coherent story.  Consequently, if you had asked me, as a child or young adult if my father had abused me I would have been shocked at the suggestion and certainly would have denied the possibility.  He was a pillar of the community and loved by everyone.  No one – and I mean NO ONE would ever think he was the “type” to abuse his own child. 

 However, at a certain point in my life, a family member told me of their own experience being abused by my father.  Within a day of this discussion I had an awakening that literally crashed on top of me.  Nearly every little mystery in my life was answered in a single flash of awareness.  I dropped to my knees as a tremendous weight was dumped suddenly on my shoulders.  I realized in a sudden, painful moment that I had been sexually abused by my father.  Everything that didn’t make sense in my life suddenly made absolute sense. -A. Wake   

Posted on March 30, 2008
I always thought I had a happy childhood.  We had a close family. I had a lot of fun memories of family camp outs, reunions, family sleep overs, and childhood friends.  I always felt grateful and lucky that I had had such a happy childhood or so I thought.  
 

I wish I could say that was the only cult I was a victim of but I can’t.  I have discovered that as a very small child there was cult activity across the street which I was a victim of.  People would come and get me while playing outside.  Even my babysitter would take me over to be abused.  Later we moved into a neighborhood that was surrounded my orchards.  I have come to discover that I was also a victim in a cult there.  Sad to say many neighbors and so call friends were cult members.  Even my religious leader was a member.  My own brother and his friends victimized me and also participated in the cult.    I realize I have just hit the tip of the iceberg where my memories are concerned.  I’m gradually learning more and more about what happened in the cult and the horrible things I had to go through.  The mind is kind.   Luckily my memories are coming gradually and not all at once..  !!  I tore my family apart when I confronted my brother.  Of course his family all turned on me.  My parents were very supportive of me.

Alice