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I’m sharing here because I hope I can reach out to other women who may have gone through marital rape or may still be going through it and I want you to know you are not alone. For years I felt as if I was asleep as I couldn’t face up to what was happening to me, why I was losing weight and why I so depressed. I minimised everything, even to him. I would try and make him feel better afterwards. Most of the time it was as simple as me saying no to sex and him doing it anyway while I was completely disconnected, and it was so often, I would lie there and wait til he was done most of the time, but each thing built up to him pushing the boundaries further, sometimes when we were out in public, always after I went out with my friends, it was part of the deal. I always told myself he’d be in better form if I just went along with it. He was always so stressed and so angry. And I loved him and sometimes I enjoyed sex with him. It made things very confusing in my head. And I was eating barely anything, which he encouraged, he was constantly buying me exercise equipment and sexy outfits. I kept getting sick, I was tired and low all the time. My family and friends were saying I wasn’t myself. There were 3 incidents that I play over and over in my head that I couldn’t minimise (although I tried). And they led to me telling him our marriage was over. That was a year ago. I thought it might help me to write one of them down and maybe someone will identify with me and it might help them. It was at his best friends wedding and as usual, he wanted us to do something exciting sexually. So we went to the men’s toilets. We were kissing and we started to have sex. I was quite drunk. All of a sudden he turned me around and bent me over the toilet, my hands on the window sill. I started to say no. It came out in what sounded like a little girls voice. I don’t know why I remember that so well. I don’t know why I didn’t shout. He raped me anally in the men’s cubicle and I was crying looking at a dirty window sill and I could hear strange men outside commenting. Afterwards I kept asking why did you do that, I didn’t want that, it hurt me, you were too rough, I said no. But he he didn’t want to talk about it. He left me sitting with one of his male friends that I didn’t know to go outside with his best friend and have cigars. He saw I was in pain and bleeding for days after. I stayed with him for years after that. Other things happened after that too. I ended up feeling like his stress ball, a rag doll, good for nothing else. I was with him since I was 18 years old and we have children together. He was all I knew. He was my husband and I loved him. No one knew what was happening. Everyone thought we were a couple in love. It wasn’t until I told him I couldn’t share a bed with him anymore and I was starting ti have panic attacks that we went to a marriage counsellor and it all came out. I woke up. It was her face. Her reaction. I felt so stupid and embarrassed. And he tried to explain it away to her shouting at her that he was a man. I was sitting there thinking how did I let this happen to me? I always saw myself as quite a strong, intelligent, bubbly person. I’m in my 40s, I should know better. I was looking at the counsellors face and it somehow didn’t feel as if it was happening. I realised I was shaking and she was worried about me and he was shouting at her. I felt so embarrassed and helpless. And stupid in front of another grown woman. I was thinking what if this was someone I loved telling me this happened to them? But still in my head I kept thinking its not really rape because he was my husband, and I loved him and so many times I wanted to have sex with him so how could it be rape. But why did he want to hurt me? I kept thinking this couldn’t be happening to me. Anyway thanks for reading. I hope it helps someone. I feel it helped me to write it down.

I was raped about 7 months ago by a man I once considered one of my best friends. I felt safe in his company and I trusted him. We even had consensual sex on occasion. One night we both got really drunk, we were so drunk that I don’t remember how we started having sex, but I do remember him telling me on the walk home that we were going to have sex. The first thing I remember was that I threw up during, I didn’t even realize I had thrown up - he had to tell me so he could clean it up. But it wasn’t until I told him that he was hurting me, and he ignored me, that I really started to panic. I remember the shock that set over me when he didn’t immediately stop, and then the fear when I realised what little control I had over the situation. I cried and pleaded with him to stop by pretending I had to go to the bathroom. He asked if he could keep going first and I said “No!” So he stopped, I went to the bathroom, cried, and came back out. I thought that would be the end of it and I turned on a movie and turned away from him. I was wrong. He initiated again. I felt so defeated and ignored. I knew in that moment that he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted, and I stopped fighting it. I hardly slept that night, but he fell asleep almost instantly. At first I thought it was just bad sex and I told him the next morning that it wasn’t good for me. He said he noticed that I seemed “disinterested”. For the rest of the weekend I couldn’t get it off my mind. I was sore and bruised and confused. I kept googling consent trying to figure out what had happened to me. It wasn’t until I contacted the rape crisis centre and described it out loud that I could admit that I had been raped. I never reported it to the guards and I don’t plan to. I confronted my rapist and tried to continue our friendship on the condition that he got therapy to ensure that this wouldn’t happen again - he did it for a couple of sessions and then stopped. We are no longer friends.

I want to share my experience because I've spent years blaming myself and thinking it was my fault, or downplaying what happened and thinking 'its not that bad, it could have been worse, I'm playing the victim, when there are actual victims/survivors out there that have had it so much worse'. But through therapy I have come to recognise the harm that was done to me. The impact. The trauma and triggers and flashbacks I am living with on a daily basis. I've only just found out that what happened to me has a name. Its called coercion. Or a form of birth control sabotage. We had agreed on the pull out method (not the most reliable, I know, but it had worked for us up until then). We were not in a relationship at the time. He was my ex. I felt silly even reminding him to pull out, to not finish inside me. We were in a position where he had full control, I trusted him, I enjoyed sex with him, he was the first person I could really explore my fantasies with without shame. And despite my protests and reminding him to pull out, he finished inside me without my consent. It could have been accidental. These things happen, I know that. But it wasnt accidental. He meant to do it. He laughed about it. He fully intended to do it. He thought it was funny. I cannot tell you how much I have obsessed about every detail. Studying it from so many different angles. Picking it apart, blaming myself, hating myself even. After it happened I blocked it out. I felt violated. I felt betrayed. I knew I could never trust him again. I shut the door after he left and sat in the bathtub trying to wash him out of me. I didnt go for the morning after pill. I was too embarrassed. I stupidly thought it would be fine. That there would be no way I would get pregnant, that it wouldnt happen to me this way. So I blocked it out. Until weeks later I realised I hadn't had my period in a while, and sure enough, I was pregnant. I couldnt go through with a termination. And my ex wanted nothing to do with me or our child. He threatened to expose some intimate details about me if I went ahead with the pregnancy. I was afraid, he had a tendancy to be violent in the past. But my whole family rallied around me in support. I went ahead with the pregnancy anyway. And my child is the love of my life. Adored by my whole family. But I am still haunted about how my child was conceived. That my ex got to walk away without consequence. That there are so many women who end up having their lives completely turned upside down, and all society can say is 'well you should have closed your legs/you should have known better/you should have been more responsible/its your own fault'. No. He should have pulled out.

I’ve attempted to write this so many times, zoning in and out staring at the blank screen. Disassociating as my mind and thoughts spin at 1000 miles per hour, yet not one has landed in a constructive sentence. My entire outlook on myself, the world and life as I knew it changed in a way I never imagined possible. I lost myself. I lost my confidence, I genuinely didn’t recognize the person in the mirror looking back at me. I was a social butterfly who had turned to isolation and drugs for comfort. Being on social media the last couple of weeks has been tough and triggering. But I know I’m not alone. I was raped by a bouncer of popular City bars, a number years ago, in my own home, with everyone partying in the room down the hall. He was a friend. Someone I thought I could trust. I’m a lesbian and I now blame myself for letting myself get too comfortable around guys. Just because I was gay, I thought it gave me a safer card to be close and alone with men. I had a few friends back to my house after a night out, we were on a bit of a love buzz. Mixture of drunk and high. I was going to the bathroom. In my own home. A lot of it is blocked out still til this day, yet some of it feels like it just happened yesterday. He came in while I was using the toilet and I didn’t mind because he was my friend and I was gay, and not coherent enough to worry. We were talking, laughing, he was complimenting me as I pulled up my trousers. He pulled me in and kissed me, at first I kissed him back until I realized what was happening and pulled back. He then got very strong and restrictive of my movements and I started to panic. I told him stop. I told him no. I told him I’m gay and we’re too fucked up. He persisted to kiss me where he could, he ripped my trousers open. I had only done the button, I hadn’t a chance to zip it so they ripped open without much effort. I tried to pull away, I tried to stop. I even tried to scream but literally nothing was coming out of my mouth. I was moving so much that he (5 times my size and weight) pulled and pinned me to the ground and tore my trousers to my ankles as he couldn’t get them off over my boots. When he couldn’t get it in far enough in the front he dragged and twisted me around, forced my face into the radiator and raped me from behind. I can still HEAR him breathing in my face and my ear from in front and behind. I can feel his weight suffocating me. I had bruises for months afterwards. I finally managed to coerce him off and squirm out with the excuse to get a condom to make it easier. I ran for my life through the house. Kicking off my shoes, pants and underwear to get it off my skin. I went into the front room and collapsed crying. Got sweatpants and into the next room to the party goers. The moment they saw me they knew before I could even get out the sentence. They ran to the bathroom and he was wanking himself off. I lost a lot of myself that night. More than I can remember. More than I’m willing to. For a long time people accused me of lying because he’s “such a nice guy” “he’s a bouncer he wouldn’t do that” “he’s the nicest person iv ever met” “how much did you have to drink” “what were you wearing” “did you lead him on” “he apologized to me for sleeping with you” “he said you took your pants off” NO. MEANS. NO. NO MATTER HOW DRUNK. NO MEANS NO NO MATTER HOW HIGH. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER IF YOU KISSED THEM BACK. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER YOUR SEXUALITY. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER HOW NICE HE IS PERCEIVED TO BE. NO MEANS NO. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU PUSH THEM AWAY. NO MEANS NO. A piece of my inner heart, died that day. And I wish I could say it was the last time a male friend refused to take no for an answer. I suffer with C PTSD. I had to leave hospitality after almost 12 years. I don’t go out any more. I became too dependent on drugs and alcohol to numb out the noises, numb out the flash backs, numb out the feeling my body will never recover from. I’ve been trying for continuous sobriety but I haven’t got the hang of it yet. Although I’ve had more days sober than drunk/high but I’m tired of running. I’m tired of numbing. I have breakdowns in Tesco now. Yet I still see him around every now and again. He still has a job. He still has a life. He still has access to so many drunk women. Thank you to the staff at City hospital and City who took such good care of me under the circumstances both times. I will be back for part 2 but for now I’m pretty drained out. I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and typed about this this much before and I need to do more grounding exercises. You are not alone. We are not alone. We are stronger together. A pencil can break easily alone, but it’s much harder to break in a bunch. I don’t have the will power or strength to read this back before posting but thank you so much for creating a space where we can come together and feel safe despite having such heavy trauma’s on our backs. Name

It was my freshman year of college at a frat party. I’d only started drinking about 4 months prior. Only about 15-20 minutes after arriving at the party, I took a drink from a friend of a friend - Not knowing it had been roofied. Within about 10-15 minutes, my memory went completely. My friend reports seeing me glassy eyed, stumbling and very unwell. She did everything she could to sober me up, but made a decision to leave me at the party in a bed so I wouldn’t get in trouble with our small Christian college. I don’t blame her for this decision and never have - I probably would’ve done the same thing. The next morning I woke up, no pants on, next to a man I didn’t know. In the coming weeks, I learned he took photos of me that night and sent them to his entire frat group chat. He proceeded to stalk me around my campus, send me texts like “you look so good naked” and harass me further. My life was a living hell and to cope with it all, I dissociated from myself and developed an eating disorder to gain back some sense of control in my life. It took me a year to finally open up to my mom and sister about what I’d experienced. This was a decision sort of thrust upon me when I decided to report my rapist to my school and they told me I’d need support through the process. That was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, and while I was told they couldn’t do anything because it was my word against his, I am so truly glad I did. Telling my story opened up my journey to healing - One that number years later has allowed me to raise awareness for sexual assault and gow we can prevent it, as well as provide a support system for other individuals like me.

Number years since what happened to me. There has been so much pain and hurt. One of these men was constanty asking me to sleep with his friends but my answer was always no , never, not a chance , You see i found it so hard to accept what had happened because i had to much to drink . I do believe that something was put into my drink as i had no more to drink than what i normally would . I was a at party with these two people. I dont remember leaving the house but i do remember getting sick out of the taxi on the way home. Both of these animals took turns to have sex with me . I remember just lying there with no clothes on and been unable to move unable to fight them of . Both of them went outside and i remember the strong smell of cigarettes and could hear them both laughing . Shortly after both of them left and i lay there confussed , helpless and alone. I must have fallen asleep because i remember it was bright out and one of these men came back to the house. No accountability has been taken from either of these and this is what makes healing so hard for me. Im trying to take back my power but some days are just so hard. Both of these men took adavantage of my vunrability. Learning to tust myself and love myself is my main goal for now and knowing that i did nothing wrong,

I don't imagine that you are lying in bed, thinking about number of years ago. That's my curse to live with. The Mark you made upon me. You raped me, in that miserable and dark car park. Held against my will, and now I lie here thinking, reliving, or simply just living with what you did. Wishing I could change The past. Wishing I could change Your past that you probably don't even remember. Lucky you. Rape and move on. Lucky you. I didn't save your number. Lucky you. I don't know your last name. Lucky you. I didn't report it. Lucky me. I didn't report it... because what was I wearing? And how much had I drank? And why didn't I scream or fight? And why didn't I run or take flight? Facing fear, I froze. Lucky, lucky you.

Each year it crashes in like the waves beating the stand. It brings a swirl of emotion and feelings unbeknownst to my fragile mind. My body seises as it struggles to stay afloat. I gasp as the sharp prickly water traps my body, unable to move, but only to breathe, breathe... breathe... and breathe. A calm air slowly comes over me as I become conscious of this storm. Sobering me, I remember that it will pass...

A little over A number of years ago, when I was 19, I ended a numbermonth relationship with a man I had met in college. We had met during orientation, and he pursued me romantically very quickly. I was so delighted to be finally seen; I had never been in a relationship and no one had ever been interested in me before. Things moved very quickly, and in hindsight, it should have been a sign of what was to come. He kissed me suddenly one day when we hugged and I didn't turn him down. He was very pushy to progress things along faster than I felt ready for, but I convinced myself that I should be ready. Naively, I agreed to be in a relationship with him a week after meeting. Within a month, our relationship had become more sexual. He had forced his way to take my virginity when I just wanted some foreplay, but again, I didn't object and soothed myself that at least I didn't have a one-night-stand. Two months later, he wanted me to go on birth control when a condom and emergency contraception failed and I had an early miscarriage. He was particularly interested in me getting an implant. I didn't think it was a bad idea, as I didn't want to get pregnant again. Unfortunately, this enabled him to abuse me even more. The relationship turned violent as well as sexually abusive, and he wore me down psychologically, saying I was a terrible girlfriend and pointing out everything I was insecure about. He was very suspicious of my friendships with my male classmates (I was one of four women in a class of 40, I hadn't much choice) and accused me of emotional cheating and flirting with them when it wasn't true. Eventually, I had struck up a friendship with one of his friends he introduced me to from school, who I confided in that we weren't having a happy relationship. I didn't disclose any real detail during our conversations, but he was horrified by his verbal treatment of me and what my boyfriend said to him about me, and encouraged me to leave him gently over several months. I eventually did break up with him in a public space in order to try to be safe. Strangely, he was fine with it. He took his belongings from my apartment and left without any issue. The following day, he had already moved on to kissing another girl in a neighbouring college and ended up being in a relationship with her for many years - his insecurity about me cheating was a projection of his own behaviour. I ended up dating the friend who helped me to leave that relationship and we are now very happily engaged and cut ties from my ex completely, so I'm thankful we met despite the circumstances. Unfortunately, I never had any real evidence besides anecdotal to bring a case against him for what he did to me without my consent. Dates of those events are non-existent in my memory because I accepted it as being my duty as his girlfriend, and I remember very little now (possibly due to my brain wanting to forget the trauma) unless I get nightmares and flashbacks - there are a few moments that won't leave me. I am currently attending counselling and I'm so lucky to have a fiancé now who has always respected and loved me how anyone deserves to be treated, never been pushy for sex, and supported me so strongly when I disclosed to him fully about what happened in that relationship. I'm sad that my abuser walks free and I don't have any way to have justice, nor protect other women from him without facing defamation legal implications. It is hard to feel safe on my own if I am back in the same city where we went to college. I have seen him a few times in public, but thankfully he never saw me or didn't approach me. I have had some panic attacks out in public when this has occurred. I can only hope that maybe he has changed.

To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.Tofight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one. To fight back or not to fight back now that is part of the question. Your damned if you don’t and damned if you do so what does one do? The rapist might want you to fight back to further his sense of excitement and heighten the thrill of the rape. But fighting back brings repercussions for the victim just as much as not fighting back. Nobody ever imagines that they are going to be raped or asks to be raped. Rape, as I have said before,” is the total violation, invasion and destruction of one person by another be they male or female”. In my 40’s I never dreamed in my darkest nightmares that I would be raped let alone raped in the place that I considered safe. My home the sanctuary we had created together to be happy in no matter what storms life brewed up on the outside. But the storm brewed and simmered on the inside and over time it escalated until I was raped despite having obtained a safety order. A safety order which was explained to him by the Gardai after yet another visit to the house by them. I didn’t fight back because like so many before me and after me in this same dreaded place or position I was filled with a massive fear of being beaten to death. But I did keep saying NO NO NO. You see without consent it was rape but the DPP decided there was insufficient evidence so the case never got to court. What was I to do eat or beat myself up because I had not fought back and gained bruises or worse? Nope, I did what everyone should do if they are subjected to rape. Get help. Yes, I sought and got help to rebuild my life until I got this strong to use my experience to empower others. To fight back or not to fight back is a purely personal instinct/choice at that precise moment in time. It’s a bit like fight or flight only with rape you can’t get away because you are pinned down. Those who say the victim (a word I hate) should fight back they need to close their eyes and imagine to the best of their ability the sheer terror of rape. And those who say a victim should lie still they should do the same thing because both parties must realise that there is no proper way to react to rape. Yes, we can lock our homes up against robbers but we can’t lock our vaginas up against rape unless we are anxious and the vagina stays tight. But like the robber breaking into a house, a rapist keeps on raping until full penetration is achieved. A rapist doesn’t care if they use the front or back door and I am not talking about the house doors. They don’t care if you are raped anally or vaginally and no you like me can’t have a choice. To fight back or not to fight back still is the question. Who can decide, who makes the choice? Damned if I can answer that one.

One day I decided to go to the shopping centre to finish my essay for college. As I was typing away minding my own business, a man came up to me and grabbed my face and tried to kiss me. I was in shock, I didn't know what to do. I froze. In a busy shopping centre no one batted an eye. No one was helping me. Eventually he was pulled off me. But when I told my parents they just laughed at me as if it was nothing. For years I was convinced that it was nothing, that I was just being dramatic but I wasn't. I know now that what happened was a form of sexual assault. I think because sexual assault or rape is usually perceived through the media as one thing and not another. I always thought nothing happened to me but I was attacked in a public place that I felt safe in. Even before this through the years I have been slapped on the ass for no reason, cat called when I am out walking, sexual remarks made towards me, sexual comments passed my way. Again, to me this was minor but I know now as an adult that this is not just minor. I didn't ask for any of these things to happen to me. These things are not OK and I shouldn't nor should anyone else be normalising them just because its not what is precieved to be sexual assault. It is sexual assault and this needs to be said and reminded to people.

After number years of living with the guilt, shame and denial of being raped I finally got the courage to begin speaking of it. The solitude,loneliness, and hypervigilance stayed.with me for many years. I sought help from the RCC who supported and guided me in what was to become a.new chapter in my life. Although I still meet challenges today, I'm confident to speak to and support many women and men who have or are currently experiencing sexual violence. I learned so much about myself during my time in the RCC and will be forever grateful that they were there at a time when I was ready to speak. Working with women now in same situations I see.the strength and resilience of many victim survivors who have had to tell their story over and over again just to feel safe. I feel privileged I have the capacity to work with these women in gaining control of their lives. For years I blamed myself and told myself it was my fault, but I now know it wasn't. I still get angry sometimes when I think I should have reported it but I was young and thought sure no one would believe me. I've never since allowed myself to ever trust a man again + I feel sad about that, but I've made peace with this and who knows maybe one day. I still have trust issues and fleeting thoughts of that night +others after it. I've learned that time is a healer and even though some memories are still raw, I can sit with it but not let it take over me. I have learned with great difficulty how to support myself in that moment. I believe education +information now will help many more to speak of their experiences without feeling judged or disbelieved. This is key when working with victim survivors.

For me, my story entailed a male friend getting into my bed when i told him not to and forcing me to ‘cuddle’ with him, while he grabbed at me. He had been telling me all night how he missed his girlfriend, particularly her body & “that” part of their relationship. I felt horrible, i was uncomfortable and scared that he might do more. He didnt. But still even years later i feel uneasy when i think about it & how creepy he really was. He ignored me when i said no. He took away my autonomy that night. So dont feel like your story isnt worthy just because it “could have been worse”. Every experience is valid ❤️

Hello, My name is Name & I would like to share one of my poems to (hopefully) be read at Event 😊 This poem is called "He Didn't Hit Me" and it is based on my own personal experience with an abusive relationship. I hope that anyone reading this poem & it resonates with them will take comfort in knowing that they are not alone ❤️ He Didn't Hit Me He didn't hit me, but his words cut like a knife, He didn't hit me, but he upended my life. He didn't hit me, but he made false accusations, He didn't hit me, but he had unreasonable expectations. He didn't hit me, but destroyed my hopes & dreams, He didn't hit me but ripped my confidence at the seams. He didn't hit me, but I always had to take the blame, For his shortcomings, moods & his manipulative game. Abuse isn't just physical, this I know to be true, Gaslighting & manipulation are powerful tools, Knowing I deserve better, I am finally free, For I am much more than what he tried to make of me.

I was raised by a misogynistic narcissist so in my early 20s I thought my boyfriend's behavior was at least better than I was raised with. His behaviour spiralled over the years and there was gaslighting, financial abuse and finally rape. I didn't see the warning signs, sex would be very rough but I thought I enjoyed it. He had lost his job and had not worked for a year at 23, he used to smoke weed and stay up all night playing videogames. More than a few times I woke up to him masturbating so vigorously the bed would shake. One day I was sitting on the loo and I was in a bit of pain and I noticed semen in my knickers that I didn't know how it got there. I remember the ringing sound in my ears, but I decided to ignore it, I mean he couldn't possibly have. Then one night I woke up and he was rummaging in my pajama shorts and I realized he was penetrating me. I remember freezing in the dark and then calling his name. He said he wasn't doing anything, rolled over and went to sleep. I repressed this memory completely. I dumped him a few months later and thankfully moved on with my life. With my current partner (a wonderful man), we were having sex one night early in our relationship and the incident that happened with my ex hit me like a trolley and I had a flashback and a full body panic attack. I had to face what had happened to me then, I thought I was crazy and that no one would believe me, it's not your classic rape case. The incident tortured me mentally for about a year and thankfully I eventually sought help. I still think about revenge every day and am afraid to run into my ex in the city where I live. But we carry on. I am grateful to so many women who have shared their stories or managed to find justice when they report they were attacked in their sleep. We are a powerful bunch us ladies, and I am so thankful I could share my story here today. Bless you all xx

The way we learn about sexual abuse needs to be changed in schools because that’s where it started and I didn’t even realise. Small things that seemed like not a huge deal led to the shaping of my own attitude towards what is acceptable behaviour. When I was 14 during pe, a boy smacked my arse so hard with a table tennis racket it left a mark, I was so embarrassed and so self conscious that I said nothing. The next situation was when I was 16 and I had a younger first year student pinching my bum whenever the hallway was crowded, I could never catch who it was but I knew it was a smaller person in a younger year, it was like a game for them but I was uncomfortable, again it didn’t seem so bad and what would I even say if I were to tell someone? The next incident happened a few months later during a group project where we the students were in a room alone, I was standing talking to a boy the same age as me, I was in the middle of giving my opinion on the project which he clearly wasn’t listening to because he suddenly grabbed me and “jokingly” shook his head between my boobs. I was shocked, and so was everyone else but it had happened and that was that, I left the room upset but also worried I was being too dramatic, our group dynamic had been so good up until that point and I didn’t want to ruin it over this “small” thing so I said nothing, the boy apologised but it was already done, he later asked me to not tell people what happened because it was upsetting for him. These incidents all occurred in an environment where the incidents themselves never stood out, there were girls in my year who’s nudes had spread like wildfire, girls who were more developed than others with boobs and a bum who were labelled sluts purely because of their appearance, I myself got attention from boys and attention could only be positive surely? I was almost thankful that I was being accepted even if it meant I was being objectified and at times mistreated, I couldn’t see clearly at the time, I thought attention that made me uncomfortable was better than nothing. With school in the past I entered my first year of college, I’d had a healthy relationship before that had ended at this point and I’d had sex with only this boy so I felt ok with the thought of it with a new person. I was 19 and there was a boy in my class who I was head over heels for, my heart stopped whenever I saw him. I bumped into him on a night and the feeling was mutual, he gave me a kiss and I couldn’t believe it I was so excited I texted my friends and made plans to see the guy the following week. I saw him again on another night out and we kissed and he asked if I wanted to go back to his house so I said yes. I said yes Ready to have sex with this person. We went back to his house and we started, he was a bit rougher than my previous partner and didn’t take things as slow as I was used to but I didn’t want to cause an issue so I didn’t say anything. Penetration happened faster than I anticipated and it was uncomfortable and then painful but he kept going and I felt tears on my face I was in agony, he stopped eventually. I could tell he was annoyed he didn’t finish so I let him essentially have sex with my mouth, I wasn’t actively giving him oral sex. He got what he wanted out of the situation and I was lying there wondering what I had done so wrong, for him it was just a bad shag and for me it was feeling like I had been torn open, I wish I had said no sooner during the act. I got dressed in the dark and went home, I went to use the toilet and pulled my trousers down and my legs were covered in blood, my heart stopped. I got cleaned up and threw my underwear in the bin and went to bed my body still sore. The next morning instead of going to class I went to my gp. I told her a small lie and said I had a new boyfriend and we had rough sex and I was a bit sore, so she checked me and said I had a cut on my area, she told me to take a painkiller and to take it easy and off I went. Later that day the boy texted me, what a relief maybe this will fix the shitty feeling I have. He texted me to say I got blood on his bedsheets…and I apologised. He quickly moved on with his life flirting with other girls and having better sex than he did with me and I dwelled on it for a long time. I couldn’t have sex properly for a long time, whenever I tried my body shut down, my legs would shake uncontrollably and I would tighten up, I would have panic attacks and the whole time I felt bad for the men I was trying to sleep with, it was always my problem. When I met my current partner I told him what happened, I still didn’t know what to call it, just a bad experience. We took it slow, he was very understanding and let me get back to penetrative sex in my own time, allowing me to get to a point where I could actually enjoy it. My sex life is positive now, my partner and I have a healthy relationship. The incident years ago with the boy in college meant a long period of panic inducing sexual experiences but I think the cause began long before him. The attitude and entitlement of the boys in my formative teenage years had a lasting impact on me. It made me believe I had little to say in what happened to my body, whether I was allowed to enjoy sexual experiences and took away my voice where I could say NO. I think a different experience in school would’ve meant things would’ve gone differently with the boy in college because I still don’t know what to call it, for me it wasn’t rape because I never said no, my body says otherwise, my body felt what happened and shut down from it, it took years to recover. I’m glad I’m where i am now, my hope is that teenage girls get more support in school than I did.

I was assaulted for the second time in Month multiple times on the same night by the same person. He removed the condom without my consent. He had sex with me multiple times while I was barely conscious and he had gotten me extremely drunk. I hadn’t realised what had happened until we broke up. I am still struggling to get intimate with men since

Last year a friend of mine invited me to his house for drinks. I thought nothing of this as it wasn’t the first time. I began to feel really drunk and went to lay down for a while. When I came back around, I realised his hands were down my shorts. I wanted to scream in that moment but no sound came out. I wanted to run away but my body wouldn’t move. I was completely paralysed. When it eventually stopped he then joked about the blood all over his hands, I was shocked and embarrassed that my dignity had been taken from me like that. For months I felt guilt and shame that it was my fault. I had panic attacks and nightmares that still persist. I found the courage to speak up one day and never looked back. I have so many people now who support me when I need it. You are not alone ♥️

I was conditioned to think catcalling was a compliment, that if someone held your waist a little too long at work it was just cause "ahh they're just a bit touchy", that it's easier to just "go with it" than to say no and risk their response. It took me years to identify that no matter the degree of your experiences it still is never ok. We often get told sexual violence is one way but it isn't, it comes in many forms and sometimes you can't identify it at first - and that's ok. I am only recently coming to terms with the varying degrees of experiences I've had. I didn't want to say anything because I was made to believe I'd "rock the boat". Well some boats are meant to sink. Let's rebuild the boat so everyone can stay afloat, included and safe.

What would you know? It's a question that was directed at me by someone who never considered that sexual violence could pertains to men as victims. This is what I know: What would I know? How do I even begin To talk aboit what I know About how I learned Too much, too soon Held in and on For far too long What do I know? I know that you never, ever, No matter how hot the water Or abrasive the cloth Will ever feel clean Even if you wipe until you bleed I know that your body My body, will never be your own My own That some part of it No matter the healing Will always remember Being forced to share itself But sharing is the wrong word Because sharing is given Not taken with force I want to say invasion But that sounds too Clinical Polluted, that's it You, I feel polluted. Its just in one small, dark corner now When it used to pervade Everything Every taste, every joke Every public shower And locker room Every smile, scalding touch And mention of intimacy But healing does that It shrinks the poisonous sludge Of memory Until there's almost none of it left And you, we, can live Not just survive But on certain days Anniversaries, birthdays On odd days when someone else Learns what it means to feel like you Me And we cry in the soft darkness Of our own beds Horribly alone yet never truly alone Because it never left They never leave. To take the finger from my lips I have learned to stop hating To understand their brokenness I am afraid of the dark and more afraid Of the light But only in giving voice to the feelings Can I shape them And in shaping them I give limits To the memories that created them And in doing so I take the shards Of who I was and might have been Putting pieces of me back together Alongside those I imagine into being The potential to be anyone I choose Has become the reality Of who I am What would I know? I know surviving is only an opportunity I know living is something else entirely I know that secrets are pervasive and corrosive I know that I carry fears within me And that gives me comfort because I will always be bigger than they are. And I know, I know, I know In my soul of soul of souls That I don't carry any of it alone anymore.