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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.

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.

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 didn't realise I had experienced Sexual violence until I was in a women's refuge. It was when they were going through my experiences and fully explained the sexual abuse that I realised. I was often coerced into sex and one time after a night out I woke up to him on top of me, I was frozen and couldn't move. This was my husband, I trusted him.

I had a date over to my house. When he had got there I had already had a bottle of wine. He brought a bottle of wine for me with him. I continued to drink until I blacked out and all I can remember is him showering my own vomit off me and eventually him raping me. I went to therapy that week and laughed off the question “can you consent after two bottles of wine?” I told everyone at the time I had had sex with him. I completely blocked it out for two years. However during this time it really impacted me. Due to a multitude of factors I attempted suicide 4 times while I was in denial about the fact that I was raped. 2 years after the rape I was getting ready to go play a sport I was well versed in with some new people which would include men. I got incredibly angry at the thought of men telling me how to play a sport I knew so much about. When I asked myself why I was so angry. It finally hit me that what had happened 2 years prior was rape. I contacted the local sexual violence centre. Who have now been able to offer me counselling. Since I admitted to myself that it was rape and it happened to me I’ve been better able to deal with the emotions that come with it. The first week after realising what happened I used to walk down the street with clenched fists terrified of every man I saw. Thankfully through talking to friends and sharing my story this is not the case anymore. I found it so bizzare that I had essentially blocked out the fact that I was raped for two years. But on reading up on trauma it made me feel more normal for my response. In terms of legal action I have no evidence the man was even in my house so unfortunately I cannot defend myself in this way. It would be my word against his. This is upsetting to me but I am ready to move on with my life. I am studying in college now and have a fantastic understanding, caring boyfriend who respects me to his core.

I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

Stare the Stalker Down The beach is nothing like the soft sands at location, my hometown. It's pebbly with gentle waves lapping it's shore. I sit by the edge. Tears roll down my cheeks. They wet the pebbles and the sand. The Freedom is overwhelming. So many emotions. I had woven a blanket over my pain. It's today's date but my story began on a date in the past. I got married that day. The day ex husband told me he owned me. The day he put a curfew on me. From that day I was his. I will never forget date. My 9pm curfew had passed. I was working late. Panic stricken I fled the office. My boss tore after me offering a life, thus avoiding the 20 minute walk. He insisted on stopping at the chipper. I couldn't say anything. You see, I had never told anyone what my life was like. How could I? What would they think? All I could think was "Oh dear God just get me home". Ex husband was there, absolutely livid. Burger, chips, onions, red sauce hit me like a brick. Smash straight into my face. Humiliated and wretched I felt burger, chips, onions, red sauce stream down my crying face. It was one of two turning points. Next morning, I told my boss everything: how if I stayed I would surely die. The relief. Between us we hatched a plan. I told nobody. Two days later I caught the train to City and signed up with some Agencies. When I got back ex husband was at the station. He was so angry. I didn't know it then but each morning he had followed me to make sure I had gone to work. He manhandled me into the car. People stared but nobody interfered. I thought the end has come and I would lie on that cold wet ground. Back home he straddled my chest for the entire evening. I could scarcely breathe. 5am he fell off me having fallen into a deep sleep. I crawled on my hands and knees, heart pounding in my chest, locked the door from the house and ran. Courage comes in all guises. Gloria Gaynor's song : "I Will Survive". I played it, I sang it, in my mind, out loud and I promised myself I would survive. The prayer "The Memorare". How can I thank that Prayer enough? the words helped me at my lowest point. I believed that I would get help from somewhere and today it holds a special place in my heart. I started my new job in City. I moved into a flat with my sister and her friend. Then it started - the Stalking - ex husband new my every move. When I went home at the weekends, he would linger outside my mam's house waiting for me. He constantly followed me. His shadowy figure never more than a few feet away. Beside me, behind me, in front of me. Never speaking a word but just staring. My peace was destroyed. Threats made in the past had not been forgotten. That night he told me that he would get me "not now but sometime in the future and forever you will look over your shoulder you f........ b......." My mam died in year and I visited her grave almost every Saturday as I still went back down to location. My siblings lived there. Always ex husband was there. Skulking behind or beside a headstone close by. I changed my times and my route but it never made a difference. He appeared and just stared. He never spoke a word. I never knew if "today would be the day". I knew his threat was real. Ex husband would crawl drive down the Main Street if he saw me, staring out of the driver's window and follow me until I got to my destination. Cars would beep at him to speed up but he ignored them. The only gesture he would make would be with his fingers "keeping an eye on you". Five years passed. Everyday without exception he appeared at my workplace in location He would follow me back to the flat. He kept pace behind me but never passed. I puked in litter bins and gutters. He made me sick in every sense of the word. I was a wreck. We moved but he always found me. I later found out that he changed his work schedule to flexi-time so that he could make the round trip Monday to Friday and then at the weekends he stalked me when at home. One day ran into the next. He stalked me. I puked. Who could I tell? Who would help? There was nobody. The Police wouldn't believe you at that time and anyway they could do nothing. I mean he hadn't harmed me!! Mentally I was dead inside. I left my wonderful job and moved to the location. I met a wonderful man, husband. We got married in year and in year our son, son's name was born. You would think the stalking would stop! We would go to location at the weekends. So beautiful. I loved the sea. Husband knew I had been married to ex husband but my life with him was too painful to discuss with anyone so I didn't tell husband about the stalking or anything else and thus it continued, but now ex husband had a new hatred in his eyes. My walks on the beach vanished. Ex husband was like radar. Always there. It was so scary. Little by little my life was vanishing. Ex husband never followed with husband came with us. Ex husband would always try and find a way to interact with son's name. Once at a Vintage Car Rally, I let go of son's hand for an instant and within seconds ex husband had taken it and was trying to give him a Dinky car that he had purchased mar dhea for him. I grabbed son's name and left. Trips to Tesco were a nightmare. Son's name would be in the trolly. We would be at the checkout and then always at the next checkout stood ex husband. No groceries and that stare. Staring me down and staring my son down. Back then stalking wasn't recognised as anything let alone a crime and I would have been deemed an "eejit". Then turning point two came: date. Husband's younger brother, brother in law's name came on his holidays to location. He hadn't seen the sea before. The excitement. I felt nervous all morning getting the picnic basket ready and our stuff but it would be okay as husband would be with us. At the last minute, husband got an urgent call out from work. He was on 24 hour call in his job. God I couldn't disappoint the kids. Son's name was now 6, and then I had daughter's name and daughter's name and of course brother in law's name coming for the first time. Our house was at the bottom of a lane. There was ex husband behind the lamp post. I tried to ignore him. The beach would be busy. Once he saw no husband that was it. He started to follow us. Up the quayside ex husband walked behind us. He didn't pass, didn't speak. Over the bridge, still behind us a few feet. I could see brother in law's name looking wondering why that man was not passing us out! Passed the duck pond and over to the beach. He still followed. I remember the day so well. A beautiful Summer's day. Hearts bright and excitement in the air but my heart was pounding, scared shitless. I put down the blanket, the kids leapt about with excitement. And then there was ex husband! Practically on top of us. Not more than a few feet away. Lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, facing us, staring and staring. I felt sick. My head pounded and my heart was beating in my breastbone. If I get into the sea with the kids what will he do? I couldn't leave our things. I didn't know what he would do. I was afraid to go, afraid to stay, afraid to let the kids go to the edge, afraid for all of us. I packed up the picnic and headed home. Ex husband followed. Matters were taken out of my hands when I got home. brother in law's name told husband about the man following us and that he was scared of him and he described him in detail. Husband figured it out very quickly and then I told him what had been going on all of these years, since year to be exact! I thought he would be angry at me for not telling him but he just held me close and told me that it was going to be alright. A person doesn't have to be imprisoned for their freedom to be taken from them. I learned to "stare". Husband taught me. I had staring matches with my siblings growing up but now this was different. This I knew was life changing. I need to stare ex husband down and that took practice, a lot of practice. I know it sounds absurd but learning to hold a stare for a considerable length of time is no easy task. Everyday after dinner, we held our staring matches, Husband and I. Our gazes fixed on one another and I knew that I would have to hold that stare for a long time to get the better of ex husband. I felt like giving up so many times. Several weeks later in location I was attending my parents' grave and sure enough just as the sun rises there he was. I knew husband wouldn't let anything happen to me and that I now knew ex husband was a coward and a bully. Once stood up to, they cower and slink away into the hole from which they came. Ex husband stared, I stared. I could see the hatred in his eyes. The date came flooding back to me. I kept staring. He got so angry but his stare never wavered and neither did mine. I prayed to every Saint in Christendom. I prayed that my mam and dad would somehow get up out of their grave and get him. I prayed the Memorare like my life depended on it and I sang in my mind "I Will Survive". I was determined to take ownership of my life. My eyes burned, blurred, watered. Oh God let this over soon, I prayed. But he just stared and stared for what seemed like an eternity. Then as quietly as he had entered the graveyard because I didn't hear or see him come in, he left it. I fell to my knees on my parents' grave and wept. Sixteen years had passed since I left ex husband and the stalking ended but it took until 2022 - a full number of years later - for me to walk on a beach on my own. I know so much more now. In 2020 I contacted a support service. The gave me the skills to cope with ex husband and I continue to work with those skills. I know I should have told husband, and should have told my family, but I never did. I was so ashamed, but I can speak about it now. My friends in location came back out of the woodwork. I thought they had deserted me, but ex husband had warned them off in no uncertain terms and they were scared. date is my special day. It's the day I sat by the calming waters and felt proud of my achievement. I might not ever stop looking over my shoulder but I am working on it. I wanted to tell this story in the hope that it might be of benefit of somebody else.

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...

I was in my local pub, the landlady told me someone knew to the area was lonely so I asked him to play pool. We hung out a few times after that, one time walking home at the end of the night he took my hand I told him I had a boyfriend. Not long after I was out with my brothers and we met him, after a while they went home and then me and him were walking home, we lived very near each other in a small town so it was normal to walk together. I don't know who suggested walking through the playground which I'd done a million times with other people, but I remember he was kissing me and 3 times I said no and asked him to stop then I froze as I realised I didn't really know him and he could do anything to me, all I could think was let him do whatever he wanted to me as long as I survive and get home to my boyfriend. The next morning I woke up and went to the bathroom, I was bleeding from where he'd raped me anally and bruised where he'd held my arms down. I had love bites on my chest.I don't know how I got home. I started to drink more as I kept bumping into him and he kept asking me to go out with him. When I went to the place of work for work I'd bump into him on the street and need to run home and drink so I could calm down before going back to work. I rang support organisation, I was told not to tell my boyfriend as that would only upset him. 8 years later I went to rehab for alcoholism. It was that or suicide. I did meet up with him once more a few weeks after the assault as I needed to tell him what he'd done was not okay, he didn't care, said he didn't remember. I still feel angry and guilty for not reporting him but he's from another country and left my town many years ago so its not possible, I don't even know his last name. I just hope he hasn't done it to anyone else. I was also afraid that if I reported him that my boyfriend would leave me or that I wouldn't be believed because I was drinking with him. I wish when the landlady asked me to help him that I hadn't and never feel like I can trust my instincts since then.

I was experimenting with my partner at the time, and he wanted to try new things. He pushed and pushed saying he wanted to try anal sex. I gave in and said that we could try but if I didn’t like it he had to stop. The second we started, I wanted to stop. I tried to push him and get his hands off my hips but he did not stop. I just lay there and cried until he finished. For years I thought it was my fault because I accepted it in the first place and said yes. But now I know it is not ok. And it was not my fault

I was in location and I had been seeing another guy in the friend group casually. The guy who ended up assaulting me was in that same friend group. We were at a party and this guy said a few of us should go to his for an afters, encouraging the guy I was seeing to go home instead and I didn’t think anything of it in the moment. When we were at his house and it was just me and him alone, he said he wanted to kiss me and I initially said no as it’d be a bit weird as I was seeing one of his friends. He then told me that the guy I had been casually seeing had a girlfriend, everyone knew and didn’t tell me. I felt terrible. So while I’m crying he starts kissing me and things escalate. He starts choking me hard, hurting me physically, restraining me, twisting my nipples really hard, and covering my mouth. I just froze up. After he was done I went upstairs to my friend and asked to leave at like 5 in the morning. The next day I called the guy I was seeing at the time asking him about the girlfriend and apologising about getting with one of his friends. He told me not to apologise and none of it was my fault and also the guy who assaulted me had lied about this whole girlfriend scenario. I didn’t want to think I was assaulted or coerced, I kept blaming myself. I couldn’t get out of bed to the point that I pissed myself. My family didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was so very fortunate to have friends who were with me to help me come to terms with what happened. My friends who had to tell me that wasn’t okay, that was assault. There was one “friend” who was very much a well it takes two, and it was bad out of me to “get with” him when I was seeing his friend. Then informing me the guy who assaulted me tried to kill himself. And I felt so evil but I wish it had worked. The friend group cut him off once they heard what happened, it was also found out he had assaulted someone else in the group too. I eventually texted the guy who assaulted me telling him what he did was wrong and I didn’t consent to violence, he said sorry that he tends to take his problems out in the bedroom and that I wasn’t the first girl to tell him this. I felt so sick and so guilty for not realising sooner, for not saying anything to him sooner. This was a few years ago, I recently saw the guy who assaulted me on a night out, he looked like he saw a ghost but I froze again and just asked my friends to leave, it’s not fair. It’s just not fair. I feel so much anger and it’s not fair. He is not the only man who has assaulted me but he fills me with the most anger and I don’t know why. I hate feeling this anger, I hate feeling frozen, I hate wishing bad upon a person the way I wish bad upon him. I am not one who runs from confrontation usually but I had to run from him, I had to leave and cry on the phone and gulp water. Then walk past him again in the smoking area wishing I could shout that man is a rapist, but instead I walk past not looking back in case he sees me again, I swallow my anger. I worry that I don’t fit the bill of a “perfect” victim but I know now none of it was my fault, it was all his. I feel hopeless sometimes, but I guess getting to talk about it like this helps, it really helps.

As an only child, I had no one to look up to really as a kid. But I always looked up to my Dad. Even though he was never really around due to work (although Mam worked more than he did and still found lots of time to spend with me), I still idolised him. He was my hero. He would always say 'Dads know everything - remember that', so lying to my dad (even little white lies) were pointless. Though when I hit 13 I began to realise he actually DID know everything. He knew what myself and my friends would talk about, he would know exactly where I was and who I was with without even needing to ask me, and I would always wonder why. In reality he had my phone tracked and could read all my messages. Now that I have been through the court system and he has been imprisoned for the abuse he inflicted upon me, I can confirm that he was in fact grooming me from the age of 13. About a month after my 18th Birthday, began the horrific 7.5 year abuse that I suffered. My Dad, masked for the first 2 years as a stranger, blackmailed me into performing sexual acts with strange men in our home - the one place I should've felt safe. When I finally realised it was him, I couldn't tell you how it then turned into just open ended abuse and rape from him. He would advertise us as a couple on hook up sites and in order to avoid physical beatings I would go along with it. I feared for my life so much that endless rapes and sexual assaults were easier - imagine that being the easiest choice - until you're in it, you just don't know how you'll react. I stopped going out, I gave up my hobbies, whilst in college I gave up my part time job - he controlled every single part of my life. And if I even let my "everything is rosey' mask slip even for a second, especially in front of my Mam, well it just doesn't bear thinking about. Fortunately for me, once Mam did find out, he was gone out of my life within 30 mins. Unfortunately, he went on to groom and abuse others after that. He was convicted, and is currently serving his prison sentence - but the fear of him stilll remains.

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 was age out in a club and my boss and his friends were there at a stag, he introduced me to his friend who was hot so initially I was delighted. Had one drink with him and next thing I wake up in a hotel room, naked in a bed with him, the double bed was covered in my vomit, my first reaction was I just got too drunk and was consensual, he was horrible told me to go clean myself up and he would drive me home, he laughed at me when I asked did I need the morning after pill, I knew I did? I had only had sex with one other person, I’d bruises all over me and was sore. I knew something was wrong, he drove me home in his BMW acting like he had done nothing wrong. I got home, showered, knew 100% then I’d been date raped. Didn’t want to worry my mum so my best friend brought me to my doc and he refused morning after cause he thought it was abortion so we had to drive hours to get it. Also had to get std tests. I’ll never forget the smirk I got from my boss when I went back to work. The shame, guilt, embarrassment I put on myself over it, I drank too much, got in abusive relationship, and had about 10 years of feeling so negative about myself. Counselling, talking to friends and now meds have helped. I’m now embedding consent into my own kids and letting them know the dangers out there. It’s happening too often and it needs to stop. I wish I had of reported him, wish I knew then that it wasn’t my fault, that it was him being pathetic, sad excuse of a man. Fuck him and fuck all of the others that think it’s ok to rape. Hope you all rot in hell. And sending massive love to the women who have the courage to stand up to them, you are amazing xxx

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 suffered psychological , financial , emotional and worst of all sexual abuse because of him. Which still leaves me traumatised . I kept it a secret for years too afraid to tell anyone . It was only when my suicidal thoughts got so bad i scared myself i told family but when i told them and got counselling and got help it helped . I was diagnosed with ptsd. Ever since that day knowing ive people who support me has helped massively .there will always be hard days some worse than others but remember you are a survivor.Years have passed i still get triggered so badly that i cant breath but i am here fighting everyday and will continue everyday .

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.

I was a prudish teenager in the '80s, an introvert who wanted friend but only on my terms (they had to respect my boundaries, and I had many). It was only in my twenties, while I was working with more liberal people, that I made a conscious decision to cast off my old, narrow way of relating to people because my barriers had become walls. So I opened up more, made myself vulnerable...and attracted perverts. Older men, bosses, colleagues and contacts (I worked in industry). I still had enough boundaries to prevent actual rape, but I would not push them away as forcefully; I would make light of it when a man put his hands on my hips or made some inappropriate comment. This went on for years. I had a a few boyfriends in my twenties including one I stayed with for three years and loved (I still love him but don't want a relationship with him and have to keep enforcing psychological boundaries - he was never a sex pest but he wants to be friends and gets upset when I don't want to meet him). Being an introvert, and possibly Aspie (I have yet to find the courage to look for a diagnosis) I have always felt like an outsider, and in relationships always felt as if I was playing at being "sexy". In my forties, the men who breached my sexual boundaries (with inappropriate comments and the occasional arm around me as I sat beside them on a work assignment) were men my own age and slightly younger; I was still attracting men in the same age group: 40s. They would obviously want to take things further, but I would always put up that barrier...and I noticed that after I rebuffed a man I'd lose a work opportunity. I was frozen out of the cliques in my profession (I don't have family in my industry and I did not go to university so I didn't have the underpinning network to fall back on). I dealt with this by developing a tough, jokey exterior; desperate to prove that I was "not a prude", I merged my career with a rather tarty image (I cannot go into details here without possibly revealing who I am or, worse, narrowing it down - which would not be fair to others who might not want their stories told). At first, it actually helped my career and social life; suddenly I was great craic, a youthful looking middle-aged woman who was happy in her own skin, free-spirited - and "great craic". The men who used to flirt with me would also mock-boast "I'm a prude"; they had respectable wives / partners (indeed many of these women were my colleagues). Eventually, it was time for this middle-aged disgrace to be managed out of the industry. It didn't happen all at once; my mentors and good contacts retired or died (these were the people who never abused me). There were various reasons: cutbacks, personality differences, my political views were at odds with my bosses' views, and there were new people looking to fill my role. I adapted by finding a mosaic career, doing a few courses and muddling through. Now I see my former colleagues (the flirts and their partners) getting on with their careers; I am on the outside, looking in. But I was always on the outside. And I have no doubt that my story is very common (a bit like me, some would say!).

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 18. In college I was part of a ladies team on in college sports team. There were also male teams. There was a inter college tournament that our college was hosting for other male college teams within Ireland. We all had nights out planned and a 'play hard, play hard' attitude. It was great to be part of something - I genuinely loved playing and being part of the club. On one of the nights I was drinking and got to talking with a guy from another college mens team. It was fun and we ended up back at his hotel room, where we had consensual sex. After, I remember feeling groggy and then being suddenly awoken to all these lads barging in. They ripped the bed cover off us and I remember phone flashes going off. It was year so, not exactly amazing phones back them. Slagging of various types ensued but then I remember being held down. At least 2 different men. I remember saying no, please stop. Flashes in and out while I just stared at the corner of the bedside table, thinking how similar it was to the one in my parents room. Weird. I must have slept at some point because I woke up. I got dressed. I remembered nothing. Nothing but the sex with the lad I kissed. Naturally, the next morning is always awkward so I wanted to get out of there. Just as the hotel room door clicked shut I realised I had left my shoes. I knocked back and had to do so loudly as everyone was deep asleep. As I was doing that one of the other team members opened a door across the hall, he stared at me. I said sorry for waking him but I needed my shoes. He just said he was so sorry. I was confused, having no memory of what he was actually talking about, so I said I'm sorry I left my shoes. Eventually someone opened the door and I got my shoes. Leaving the hotel and walking to the nearest bus stop, I felt appropriately hung over but sore. Down there. I'd never been sore before. Guess we must have really gone for it, I thought. Fast forward to lockdown 3 during Covid, I began experiencing severe nightmares that weren't nightmares. The missing memories came back over 2/3 months and I realised that I had been rated multiple times. That my brain had protected me until now. My SA, unknowingly, had a huge impact on my formative years - I came out as bisexual just 2 years ago. I feel I would have had a very different 20's but I met a decent guy, stuck with him like glue and am now married with a child. Due to the memory block, I have no recourse. No sense of justice so I just hope those boys, now grown men, are better than they were.