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Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

At the age of twenty-six I was raped by a stranger. It took me many years to name what had happened to me as rape. Although, distressed when it happened, I blocked it from my mind for a number of years before going to a therapist for support. I decided to attend therapy as I was struggling with a deep depression. I didn't attend a Rape Crisis Centre. It took me a number of years before I disclosed to my then therapist that I had been raped. I had buried what took place deep within myself and I had never disclosed to anyone what happened that night. The person who raped me was a friend of some friends of mine. I was away for the weekend and thankfully, I never saw him again. While my healing journey has been long. It has been deeply supportive and has allowed me to heal from many different issues within my childhood and to heal from sexual violence. I no longer carry guilt or shame for what took place that night and would encourage any man or woman who is a survivor or sexual violence to go to a therapist who specialises in sexual violence and allow an experienced professional to support you on your healing journey. I have no regrets and am grateful to a number of wonderful women who have supported me to heal from a deeply traumatic experience. Healing can and does happen. Don't give up on you, as I have never given up on me. I have learned that I like so many survivors of abuse am a very resilient woman. I live life today, from a very grounded place and although, I remember what happened to me in the rape I have emotionally healed from the hurt and the pain of that traumatic experience.

I was with my ex and I had just started some new tablets that made me sleepy. I tell my ex that I’m going to sleep and he continues to play his video game. I wake in a daze around an hour later and he is raping me and enjoying it. I react by making noises out of fear and wait for him to finish up the act , I just froze in fear. Once it was over I was mad he never got consent but he told me that he thought I wanted it. It’s been nearly a year and I’m still not over it

I was raped by a man I invited into my home after a night out nearly 6 years ago. We kissed at a club, briefly went to an afterparty and I invited him home. I don't remember everything but I knew I was uncomfortable when we got back to my house, he pushed me down onto the bed... It felt like a performance. The sexual activity started somewhat consentually (I was very drunk, possibly high) but was quite aggressive. My memory of how things stopped is hazy but I woke up multiple times in the night to being penetrated. I told him to stop and I tried to push him off. He seemed to enjoy my resistance. When I woke up again in the morning, he was still there... He initiated more sexual activity and I allowed it. I don't think I said much and he eventually left. He seemed embarrassed. I was sore and bleeding. I texted the friends I had been out to say I felt very uncomfortable about what had gone on between us. They said they hoped I was OK, they didn't call me and I was hurt. I didn't know how to describe what had happened and didn't feel like I could talk about it openly, so I left it. I felt confused especially because I'd let him do more in the morning. Date I was totally devastated. I was off work and spent the whole day crying. I knew I had been raped but it took me many years to accept it and more again to tell anyone. I told two friends and my therapist. I've yet to fully explore what happened with my therapist. It was not the first non-consentual sex I had experienced and it feels overwhelming to start to unpack it all. It's hard not to blame myself. It feels shameful / embarrassing to know I am (?) a multiple rape victim. It feels like it must be my fault. I'm feeling very angry at the moment - the UCD case, Sophie Brady, Ciara Mangan, Nikkita Hand and countless other sexual violence cases in the media. I want more men to speak about about sexual violence. I want things to change. I sometimes think about reporting what happened, I remember his first name and what school he went to. I don't want him to go prison, I want him to understand how he's impacted me. I'm terrified he doesn't know what he did was rape, I'm terrified he's hurt others. I'm scared there are many men out there like him. I admire the women (and men) who at report and advocate for others. I don't feel like I'm a 'proper' victim, because I invited these people into my home. Ironically, profession it's never the victim's fault and I believe it, BUT... I don't feel it.

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.

13 years ago, My Ex-Fiancé didn’t take no for an answer and raped me anally. All I could do was lie there in my own bed in my own home and allow him carry on. And even after that we stayed together for another 6 months, I have never told anyone the type of rape it was or how exactly it happened. The shame and fear of judgement is too overwhelming. I still feel disgusting from it. Lately the flashbacks are getting more frequent. I never reported him, I wish I had gone to a doctor at the time but didn’t. I have moved on but will never forget the feeling.

I was inappropriately touched and groped by an older uncle. I have only disclosed this with 2 people. The uncle is my moms brother and our family (particularly his immediate family) have suffered horrible losses and deaths over the years and I just don’t want to add fuel to the fire. I feel like I don’t want to tell anyone and make it public so I am so so happy to have found this space. I know my mom would be fully supportive, my whole family would but I just can’t bring myself to say it. I’m 30 now and although the abuse never got far, it still happened. There are 2 occasions. This uncle in question also has been charged I am healing myself every day through mindful breathing, exercise and yoga but it is tough some days.

I wrote this poem, while I was in the process of therapy. I was sexually assaulted after a night out. I had only turned 18 and I trusted this person to look after me. He was older age and a family friend. I hope this poem helps someone. You took what wasn’t yours to take You took it and I felt I gave it away I cried and I lied because I was scared I tried to speak up but there was nobody there My friends refused to believe it true As I lied to protect you… how cruel I pretended at the time, that everything was fine My mouth told a story my body knew was a lie I coped with food, drink and drugs You lived your life And I never could what you did has stuck with me for years It took me a while but maybe I am fixed Although it’s been 6 and I seem to be fixed My mind and body are still very mixed I now find time to speak about you Even though I wish I didn’t have to It brings up emotions I wish did not exist You took my power and gave me shame But now I am taking back what you took away It shouldn’t be me who feels disgust It should be you who pays for your crime. I took back my power I took back my life I now know so much more I wish did way before But I can’t change what has already been It was not my fault and I know now it wasn’t me.

Inappropriate touching is how I would refer to what my ex-husband would do. We were together for nearly numberyears. There were countless times that I would wake up with his hands down my pyjamas, him having intercourse with me, him forcing me to do things to him, that this just became normal. I felt that this was part of my marriage. I now know that this should not have been the case and no man should ever treat a woman like this. That consent cannot be taken it must be given. We separated and he was still living in the house. I had a hospital admission. He was helping look after our three children. He would come into my bedroom at nighttime after I came home from hospital and rub my back and belly, even though I had asked him not to. This progressed on two occasions to rape, I had said no, he continued to do it. I did not realize at the time that this is what it was. Even writing this now is difficult. It was only three years later after discussing the inappropriate touching with a therapist that she used that word with me. Deep down I knew how fundamentally wrong this all was but never saw myself as having been sexually assaulted or raped by my husband while we were married or just after we had separated. I still find it extremely difficult to say this word out loud. Most of my friends or family do not know this has happened. It is a very lonely place but speaking to professionals certainly helps with the shame and guilt that I hold myself.

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.

So I was a woman who thought things like this don't happen to me, until it did. An old friend were meeting for coffee in his apartment, except it wasn't. When he locked the door behind us, I just knew, I told him over and over again I didn't want to have sex with him. He refused to listen, I went in to detachment and froze, all I remember was I got to get out alive, I bearly did. That was over 3 years ago, and I have become gray sexual, fear of sex, or intimacy. It does get better, it's like greif you learn to live with it and move on with it in your life. There is something you loose with out ever getting back. However hang on, talk to a support system, be kind to yourself and learn to love yourself for making it through what no one should have too, it does get better.

I was in my late teens , growing up as the Queer girl in school, subjected to years of bullying and sitting my leaving cert when I decided one day not entirely sure why that it was time for me to learn how to drive , with this new goal in mind I went to speak to my dad about potentially starting lessons and getting a car when he told me I should get a part time job to build a good work ethic and pay for this myself , I thought this was fair and began searching, the stars all seemed to align when a local restaurant was hiring for part time weekend staff, I applied and was hired, I remember on my first day meeting 2 men who worked there a man in his early 30s I'll call James and one in his late teens a year or so older than me we can call bob , I was quiet and kept my head down for the first few weeks but eventually began to open up and become more comfortable with the other staff particularly Bob since we where a similar age and had some matching interests, Bob looked much older than he actually was since he had a scraggly beard , we exchanged social media and began chatting fairly regularly about work but soon about almost everything we talked alot over this period , I had 2 friends in the same school as Bob who where concerned about this due to Bob having a less than favoured reputation It was a few weeks later when Bob asked about pursuing a relationship, at first I was hesitant due to the fact we where coworkers but decided to give him a chance , I remember I would always feel a sense of dread before meeting with Bob despite not being entirely sure why I had 2 pet ferrets at the time who are usually incredibly friendly absolutely hate the guy , we had a few heated arguments surrounding boundaries and consent and it became relatively clear to me that he lacked understanding on what consent actually was but being a dumb teenager I thought that was something minor that could be worked on It was the summer when we went out drinking and went back to watch a movie and stay over , I remember watching a TV show and feeling quite unwell, I wasn't used to consuming alcohol and had a very low tolerance, I went to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet, when I returned I did not feel good at all I don't remember much for a while past this point but I remember feeling a strong pain in my lower abdomen I opened my eyes and as they adjusted to the light I realised I was naked from the waist down and Bob was on top of me , being under the influence of alot of alcohol I didn't fully grasp the situation and just tried to pull away I got to the top of the bed and held onto the bed frame I was mainly confused and in pain when I was dragged by my legs back down the bed , finally started to grasp the gravity of the situation I managed to whine "stop" no response , I don't remember much after this point but I do remember limping to the bathroom and immediately throwing up in the worst pain I have ever felt , this is the part that's clearest in my mind , not the act the aftermath of it , grabbing a shower head and spraying ice Cold water all over my thighs to wash off blood in tears but not making a sound beyond , it felt like an out of body experience I remember staggering back out of the bathroom in pure survival mode , This was over a year ago now and it it still affects my daily life , I have alot of self doubt and regret , I know deep down that its not my fault but for some reason it's incredibly hard to believe that whole heartedly , I feel like it carries a stigma when I meet people it's Easy to gauge whether they know or not based of their reaction to me and although I've had alot of support from my friends it still feels as if it'd be better if nobody knew , not a day goes by where I don't think about it , there are ups and downs If there was one thing I could change with the current education system it would be to please make consent a mandatory part of the sphe module and not just a brief touched on subject a genuine important part that's explored on depth by trained staff , I feel like it could save so many people so much heartache and trauma

Sexual assault is a spectrum. I think as young women we laugh off so much - bring catcalled from 12 or 13, being groped in clubs, mocked for pushing a guy off who won’t keep his hands of you. I’m so glad there is this space to share our stories <3

Wow, first of all. How empowering. I can't even fully talk to therapists or my family support workers because I'm afraid I'll have to make statements. I've been sexually assaulted and raped more times than I can remember. One particularly tough event, my ex, my child's fathers. Well I was passed out. I woke up to him carefully pulling out of my body. I ran to the toilet. Sick with shock. I had a protection order but I had let my guard down and gotten drunk with neighbours the night before. I called my sister. She came to bring me to an emergency chemist. I took the morning after pill. Month came, the Date and I still hadn't got my period. The test was positive. I had to illegally obtain tablets and have an abortion in my sisters house. Very sad and awful time of my life. This platform is a god send.

We were friends. That is what I told him when he tried to kiss me when I was drunk. He smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That is what I told him when I agreed to sleep off the alcohol at his as he insisted it wasn't safe for me to walk home. I felt a sense of relief and comfort when he smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That was what was running through my mind in those seconds that felt like hours when I slowly awoke to his hands down my pants and his soft moaning. We were friends. That was what I screamed as I ran out of his flat. We were friends. That is what I repeated to our social circle that relentlessly placed blame on me for being to 'flirty' or 'leading him on.' We were friends. The realisation that took time to reconcile and fully conceptualise. My perception of the world now shaded with nefarious hues. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I began to enjoy life again. A fleeting moment overshadowed by a watchful eye and a sense of alert that never really leaves me. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I took on the shame that wasn't mine to bear and made me doubt what I knew happened to me. We were friends. That is what I told people when I began to share my experience. Every word feeling like a toss of a stone I had carried around for far too long. We were friends. That is where I find my empowerment. The deepest violation of trust and respect, and yet, I survived.

I thought we were friends. I was told it was a mistake, what I thought was a blossoming friendship was apparently just general “friendly chitchat.” He sexually assaulted me one evening, I learned afterwards he was in a long term relationship while discovering even later he was after another girl. When I tried to warn her through having been suggested her profile on Instagram (algorithm etc.), I was threatened physically and legally. When I later learned he was abusive to his ex and was now in a relationship with this new girl, he reported me to my job for harassment as I tried to warn her one last time. Rumours were spread in my workplace and left me with nobody to trust. He ruined my life, while making it impossible to rebuild. Here’s to all the women who have escaped or are trying their best in life. You’re not alone.

He was my boyfriend. We had just had sex and he wanted to go again. I said “no”, he said “but I want to”, and he did. Those words ring in my mind so clearly. It wasn’t violent or aggressive, but it felt like something broke in me then. I carried that with me for a long time, and still do. Part of my shame was that I didn’t leave. Months later, I confronted him about it and he was so angry and not open to hearing me. That is not how someone who loves you, cares for you, or respects you acts. That is not how someone who respects women acts. It took me a long time to see that. Years later, I am seeing someone who is kind and safe. He doesn’t know this story but he cares for me and wants me to feel safe regardless. He has never been angry or upset when I didn’t want to have sex, if I wanted to stop or pause or talk about it or if there was something I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. He listens when I explain a boundary and is always open to changing his behaviour to make me feel as comfortable and safe as possible. That is someone who cares, who inherently respects other people and wants to be a safe space. That is normal and the bare minimum. Abusers, perpetrators, and predators can warp your sense of reality but I promise you, people who are kind and good exist and there are so many more than you would think. You deserve to be treated with respect, kindness, and gentleness. That is never too much to ask for, that is the bare minimum.

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.

11:11 I was sexually assaulted—violated—by a man I once admired, someone I trusted and looked up to. I was only number years old at the time, just starting out in the industry—doingjob, stepping into an industry I thought would lead to creativity, confidence, and success. But nothing prepared me for how dark and twisted things would become. This man was surrounded by women who defended him, supported him, and stood by him even when the truth started to surface. I now know they were blind—or chose to be blind—to his abuse. During one job, he groped me from behind and sexually touched me. I froze. My mind went blank. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. My body shut down, overwhelmed by confusion and fear. I couldn’t process what was happening. Afterward, he drove me home. On the way, he told me to do things to myself—sexual things—while he watched. I was in shock. I said nothing. I ignored his disgusting request. And that’s when he turned it around and said if his wife ever found out what had happened, it would kill her. She was ill at the time, and he said it would be my fault. He made me believe it was all on me. The shame, the fear, the guilt—it consumed me. I truly believed I was to blame. For three months, I told no one. I buried it so deep inside me that it started to rot in silence. I denied it to myself. I kept functioning on the outside, but inside, I was collapsing. Everywhere I turned, I thought I saw him. His car. His name. His presence seemed to follow me like a shadow I couldn’t shake. The fear of being watched, stalked, hunted—it crept into every moment of my day. Eventually, it broke me. I had a complete mental breakdown and finally went to the guards, hoping for justice, for protection, for someone to believe me. Instead, they laughed at my five-page statement. There was no physical evidence. It was just my word against his. That’s all it took for the authorities to dismiss me. Meanwhile, he manipulated the narrative, got other staff to read pre-written scripts, painting me as someone who was in love with him—someone who wanted it. They said I "asked for it.” He told people I was unstable. That I was obsessed. That I was dangerous and that he feared for his life. As if I was the threat. As if I was the predator. He never even had the courage to face me. He let others do his dirty work, turning everyone I thought I could rely on against me. In desperation, I turned to the people I trusted the most—my colleagues. I thought they would believe me. I confided in them, hoping for support. But to my devastation, they continued working with him. To this very day, they still do. It shattered me. I gave up fighting, because no one believed me. I was utterly alone. It has taken me seven years to reach a point where I could open up again about what happened. Number years of carrying this pain from when it all began back in month. And yet, the trauma still haunts me every single day. I see his name pop up on social media, people praising him, celebrating him, completely unaware of the truth. I ask myself constantly: If they knew what he did, would they believe me? Would they finally see who he really is? But then comes the fear: What if they don’t? What if I open myself up again only to be broken again? Do I risk being retraumatized, or do I stay quiet and let him keep living a lie?

Me and My Shadow I was in the shadows but safe until you appeared. The shadows held me as I blended into life. But you brought a false sense of security and belonging by weaving lies. Lies, which without closer examination portrayed a caring man, a picture everyone saw. Lies which threatened my freedom, my career, my safety, my health, my confidence, my friendships. More lost than gained, More damaged than healed Timed journeys, timed grocery shopping, fecking timed everything. Control, control over who visited, control over shopping, fecking control over everything. You were the fecking Timing Controller of my life. Controlling to much, pushing me until my confidence was stilted and decisions were beyond my reach. So much for my high heels and power suit of management, they sure as hell weren't built to protect from rape and domestic violence. The suit was a challenge for you to bring me lower, so low I hardly recognised myself, so low I suicided, so low I thought I couldn't go any lower but yet I'd never go as low as you. My head space began to throw tantrums, not allowing you to live rent free. Thoughts of safety, freedom, family, friends filled it. Night turned to dawn as I made a call, a one sided call to Women's Aid. Each silent call gave me courage to step out of the darkness. Stepping up to the lights of help, hope, reality and clarity. Times even still I'm a shadow of my former self but I'm never stepping lower to believe: lies are love, isolation is closeness, a wallop or push was done in jest. Rape is love making. Domestic violence is abuse of one person by another person and rape is the unwanted invasion of a person by another person. Standing no longer in the shadows, Standing in the sunshine making harmless shadows, hurting nobody, loving life. Loving life without you.