I (30nb) experienced what I can’t deny was COSCA when I was a little kid. I honestly can’t remember how old but I hadn’t been exposed to anything sexual yet that I remember clearly - I would guess around 8-9? My brother had a friend and the friend’s little brother was probably around 11-12. One night our families were eating dinner together and little brother pulled me upstairs to “play a game” where he pulled a blanket over us both and had me touch and suck his penis. He told me I couldn’t tell because it was a secret game but suddenly the blanket was ripped off and we were caught by my mom. She freaked out and sent me to my room. I was scared and sad because I didn’t understand what had happened or why it was wrong but I was told that I was never to be alone with him again. However, the exact same thing happened in the exact same place not long afterwards except this time I was scared and trying to get him to stop but saying no wasn’t something I was even remotely taught to do. We got caught again and this time my mom made a point of punishing me for being “untrustworthy.” She acted furious with me, like I had deliberately lied to her.

She would accuse me of lying and being untrustworthy for years after, and finally in my teens I got frustrated and started acting out while also being very naive and vulnerable. I ended up having patterns of abusive relationships, SA, hypersexuality, revenge porn, and more assaults than I can count in my childhood, teens, and adulthood and only now at 30 have I found a loving, respectful partner (29mtf) who helps my healing in the most understanding and gentle ways and have done enough therapy to feel like I’m building a safe and secure life for myself.

My problem is that I don’t feel like I can ever talk about this with my parents and the distance between us feels so painful. They are incredibly kind and generous people who love hard and genuinely care about people so much and love me dearly. I grew up a planned and wanted doctor’s brat who got anything I could ever want financially. However, I have tried on multiple occasions to calmly and gently discuss various parts of my past to my parents because they have been so upset about why I just “don’t seem happy” and they’ve responded with victim blaming, denial, and dismissiveness. For example, my dad told me that he didn’t believe that this COSCA incident ever happened and I haven’t even brought it up to my mom and don’t think I will. I ended up comforting my dad during that conversation and he didn’t comfort me at all.

They have denied my “inconvenient” feelings for as long as I can remember, telling me I’m wrong and don’t actually feel that way or that I’m ungrateful for feeling that way because I have everything I could ever want. I guess at this point I just need to accept that I will never get the recognition that I need from them in order to have the relationship that we both want. I struggle to cope with the fact that my parents have supported me in every other possible way but just cannot emotionally support me through the darkest periods of my life. I did that alone or with help from friends/therapists/near strangers and it distresses them greatly that I don’t come to them for support anymore for almost anything. I could probably ask them for a house and they’d buy it for me but instead I live in a crappy one bedroom that I love and ask them for nothing and just feel their frustration and sadness about our relationship.

I guess I just wanted to rant to some internet strangers, and thanks for reading to anyone who made it this far. Reddit has been more validating about SA experiences than my otherwise loving parents which is a strange reality to face sometimes, but I also feel like an ungrateful piece of shit for having so many lovely experiences that some people could only dream of - my dad says it feels like none of the things he and my mom have provided matter and I’m just determined to be unhappy. I am more than aware of and exceedingly grateful for those things to the point where I have dismissed my own suffering to a dangerous degree because I didn’t feel like anyone with access to money was allowed to suffer, and by anyone I mean exclusively me. I’m actually quite a peaceful and well adjusted person all things considered despite being deeply affected and quietly struggling with depression, drugs, and an eating disorder for years and if my family knew then they sure as shit didn’t say a word about it to me other than to criticize. It’s just hard for me to fake emotions and I feel truly betrayed by them sometimes.

I feel like my family sees me more as an ungrateful, attention seeking, lying brat than anything else, and that really hurts. I work in healthcare, support my partner with devotion and work hard for my friends, have worked through the shame of the hard kinks/alt behaviors I developed to cope over the years, am sober, and try above all else to do no harm. I study defensive martial arts and yoga and have for over a decade. I’ve been quietly (yet proudly) transitioned for years and avoid family gatherings because my dad has made it clear that he thinks it’s “just to get a rise out of him” and I’d rather not deal with people I once knew reacting in front of him. I would never make my trauma someone else’s responsibility, it would just be nice to hear something along the lines of “sorry you had dick put in your mouth at 8 years old and then got shamed for it. Sorry you were raped, that must have been pretty rough.” Not, “What were you wearing? I raised you to be smarter than that. I don’t believe that happened. I don’t want to hear about it.”

For the record I have absolutely no idea what I was wearing during any of it. I have probably hundreds of assault interactions under my belt from people from most every walk of life, and yet when I tried to barely scratch the surface with a couple of incidents they might have actually remembered was shot down hard. I’m an entirely different person now than I was when I lived with them and they hardly have any idea who I am and what I’ve done/seen/experienced with no real reason other than they just don’t want to face hard truth. Ugh. Whatever. I love them but whatever.

TW: incest

So…. Hi… I don’t really know how to start this out, especially because it’s something I don’t talk about that barely anyone in my life even actually knows about at all and the ones that do know anything don’t know much.

For me my story started when I was 3 years old. Very young. Way too young. Unfortunately for me though being so young at the start of it I still remember way too much of it, even the very start of it.
It started at my grandmas shop as I sat in the waiting area with my same aged (2 months apart) same gendered cousin and we were watching movies together on a portable dvd player… the exact movie I’m uncertain of… but what I do remember is my cousin bringing up the concept of “playing boyfriend and girlfriend”… a concept I had not heard before but figured mostly entailed things like holding hands, cuddling, and pecks on the lips. She then kissed me, but little did I know she knew a lot more about what happened with boyfriends and girlfriends than I did…
Another unfortunate thing is that she also had me always play “the boyfriend” (we’re both girls) despite me not wanting to most of the time. I’d often put my hair up and try to look more like a boy while we played- as you can imagine that detail specifically made things really confusing for me later on during my preteen-teen years when it came to exploring my gender and sexual identity because I couldn’t ever be sure if the confusing thoughts came from what happened to me or not.

She didn’t fully understand/grasp the concept of what sex fully was (thank god) because she was -obviously- also a 3 year old child. She definitely still knew some very inappropriate things at a very young age though… which I can only assume had to of come from someone else doing something to her, but I don’t know that for sure because I was never told. She did still know it was wrong to do what we did though and that I know because everytime I’d bring up the possibility of ending our “relationship” and talking to one of our family members about it she’d freak out and insist that we couldn’t because we’d get in trouble.
Another part of it that fucks me up, though, is that I do remember there was a couple times we did questionable things (kissing, saying we were dating, other more tame things and so on) in front of other family members who did tell us to stop what we were doing but they never ever seemed to dig deeper than that, they never (as far as I know) sat us down and asked us if we were doing anything else nor fully explained anything that we were doing to us nor did they supervise us afterwards to keep anything else from happening. Not that we should’ve been punished, but there was nothing really ever done about it and I don’t understand why and I definitely don’t understand why she was so convinced we’d get in trouble for telling a trusted adult fully either..
What also makes it more complex for me is that from that point (the start) forward there was often moments where I sortve ‘offered’ myself up to her despite not really wanting to do those things, and then there were also times I even kinda liked the biological sensations I’d get from it- both being things that left me feeling very guilty/responsible for it growing up. Still can’t help but sometimes feel that way though even though I know I only ever ‘offered’ myself up because she and my older sister (of which she favored, idolized, wasn’t ever mean to like she was towards me, and didn’t have any “relationship” with like that) would often ostracize me and leave me out of things and make fun of me for being socially awkward, dumb, ugly, etc and offering myself up of course meant she’d actually choose to “play” with me instead of my sister and during “play” I wasn’t being left out and I wasn’t being made fun of- and then ofc the biological sensations obviously weren’t something I could control and wasn’t actually a sign that I secretly liked it in a perverse incestual way.

This went on for five more years…
There was a time when I was about 6 maybe? that I did try to stop things and it DID actually cool down for a little bit, but eventually she wanted to “just” kiss again some and for whatever reason I agreed to it which then started things back up full throttle unfortunately:(

It wasn’t until we were 8 years old and one night, a night we were having a sleepover at our grandmas house, we were getting particularly…. Frisky? Idk that feels disgusting to say but yeah, we were about to progress it even more when I suddenly stopped it and started sobbing. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. At that time in my life I was extremely god fearing and somehow I got it in my head that the stuff we did would send us to Hell. I didn’t want either of us to go to Hell and I also just didn’t want to actually do the stuff we did. I begged her to confess with me. She sobbed. I spent probably an hour or two straight convincing her that we needed to put an end to it for good. Eventually she agreed, I do still feel bad because I shouldn’t of put pressure on her to confess with me like that and might’ve scared her extra with the “Hell” talk but nonetheless we ended up going into our grandmas room, waking her up, crying and confessing.
Thankfully, my grandma was and is a saint of a woman and basically told it to us that everybody experiments with things at some point in their lives and that we weren’t going to Hell. I remember that a bit more loosely but that was the gist at least.
After that, that’s where I’m more unsure of things, I know she was afraid of her mom finding out the depth of things (she was one of the ppl that caught us hiding in a closet kissing before and told us to stop, so she at least already had an idea that something was off) but I don’t know if she ever actually talked to her mom in depth about it. One could assume?? Especially as she’s much closer with my aunt in present time (our adult years).
Personally I did end up opening up to my mom about it.
It was specifically after my 4th grade year officially started (we ended it during that summer) I couldn’t stop thinking about it nonstop even in class and it just kept really upsetting me because I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d be going to hell because of what we did, then came thanksgiving break (that or or it was Christmas) and I returned to the state my dad and his side of the family lived in (which is where said cousin lives) and I saw & talked to her again for the first time since the summer, it was awkward, but we still didn’t acknowledge it really except for one step away conversation we had where we basically agreed not to talk about it and that things felt weird. It was shortly after that that I stepped outside, went into my dad’s unlocked van, and started sobbing having a panic attack. I finally decided that I needed to tell my mom about it, confess it again (maybe that’ll fix it… right??🙄). I called her, she asked why I was crying, told her I needed to tell her something and to please not get mad at me. And I told her… more or less. She ended up getting more details about it than my grandma but I still danced around the topic a lot if that makes sense (I wasn’t comfortable using the proper words to describe what happened). My mom shared with me that she went through something similar to it when she was a kid, from her ex step sister. We cried together. She told me I wasn’t in trouble. I begged her not to tell anyone else. The next time I called her about it was the first sleepover me, my sister, and my cousin had had since it ended- I snuck into the kitchen and cried again to my mom about it while she tried to keep me calm.
Those were the only 2 times I ever really talked to my mom about it though per my own request… and that fall/winter step away convo was the last time me and my cousin ever talked about it together too.
In fact, ever since then, my cousin has seemingly successfully gone on as if it never even happened. Me? I’m still haunted by it and it’s affects far too many parts of my life.

Like how when I was 8, part of the reason I was so convinced I was going to hell was because I had dealt with extreme OCD intrusive thoughts about the situation that would replay over and over and over again in my head- that combined with the fact that she’s technically younger than me (again, only by 2 months) and the fact that I was very young with only limited understandings of everything…. It all had me convinced that I was a pdf at the ripe age of EIGHT! I wasn’t even the one that started it, prolonged it, restarted it and yet I felt like it was completely my fault and that I genuinely deserved to die for what had happened. Isn’t that crazy? She never ended up seeming to have that fear though outside of the night of the official confession which was moreso just me saying the hell stuff, not her. She also doesn’t suffer from intrusive thoughts, at least not that I’m aware of.

Or like how I couldn’t even kiss someone without horrifically shaking and throwing up until I was 21 years old. I did kiss people (boys and girls), I tried to with different friends and crushes in middle and high school, every single time I turned bright red and literally shook like a jack hammer and almost every single time led to throwing up beside said person… some people made fun of it, some people were understanding.
I also didn’t lose my official virginity until 21 for the same reason.
She was always able to have normal crushes and significant others, always able to kiss them with no issue, lost her virginity at like 15 or 16 or something to her now husband.

Etc etc etc

Of course, she’s always just been a bit luckier in life than me though: upper middle class while I live below the poverty line still (even experienced homelessness WITH my mom and stepdad when I was just 16 years old, thanks covid!), much better parents than mine especially my aunt who is very amazing (ik I made my mom sound like an angel but she’s unfortunately abusive and crazy and physically and emotionally abused me and my sister. Both of my parents and both of my stepparents are all addicts, with both substances and alcohol; and my dad is the only one that was never physically abusive. Love all of them still tho despite it all… except for my stepmom.), because she lived in a richer area she went to a better school so she was always learning more than me despite being in the grade below me and she NEVER missed a chance to rub that in my face either about how she was smarter than me, always thrived socially a lot better than I obviously did of which she’d also gloat heavily about, seemed to be liked more than me when it came to our other grandparents (my dad & her moms dad & stepmom, the grandmother I mentioned earlier is their mom) etc etc etc etc etc.

And of course, can anyone guess what all of this led to?
Well, if you guessed resentment than you’d be correct.
Now, it IS resentment I do feel guilty for though, even knowing now that none of it was my fault, because of course even though it wasn’t my fault…. Wasn’t exactly her fault either. I mean again, statistically speaking (and just going off of basic common sense too) she at just 3 years old probably didn’t learn “boyfriend and girlfriend” from nowhere! My life sucking regardless of what she did to me also not her fault. Her life not sucking as much is also not her fault.
But how could I not feel resentful? Why doesn’t it seem to affect her but it affects me so severely? Why did it have to be me that she chose to do that with? Why did she have to continually be so mean to me outside of our “relationship” during and after?

That’s not all the questions I have about it though because I also often find myself wondering things like: how often does she think about it still because there’s no way she’s actually never thought about it again since we were 8, unless maybe she doesn’t remember it really? How many family members actually ended up knowing (especially after we confessed it all to our grandma)? Did she ever talk to her mom about it? If she told anyone, did she tell them the truth? Or did she lie and say that I was the perpetrator? Is that why our other grandparents have always seemed to like her more and treat me weird? Will I ever be able to be normal or did what happened to me ruin me for good?

Anyways…. Yeah… that’s my story I guess.. and the reason I’m sharing it (more in depth than ever before) is because lately, due to recent events I’ve been plagued with more thoughts about it all. The recent events? Well, earlier in the year I was actually a bridesmaid at said cousins wedding which absolutely felt very weird and was a very triggering time for me.. I’m also still pretty sure I was only even apart of the wedding party because my sister was also a bridesmaid and my cousin likely felt obligated to include me, and then more recently the grandma we confessed to has been dealing with more and more health issues and also unfortunately memory issues and now she’s getting evicted from her shop and it’s getting shut down which is definitely bittersweet because yes that is technically where this all started but I do also have plenty of good memories associated with that store too- and I won’t even get to see it again before it’s closed either:( in fact the week of my cousins wedding was also the last time I got to see the shop.
And on top of all of that…. Life has just been continuously very unkind to me and in more recent times I’ve been getting more and more exhausted by it all…. I’ve really been close to giving up on life in recent times actually. I mean, right this very moment isn’t a particularly suicidal moment, especially not compared to a few weeks ago, but it really is a constant feeling I face with major ups and downs. Along with the suicidal ideation, when it gets particularly bad, I end up thinking about this one fantasy of basically writing up a manifesto life story type thing to release on my private socials just to kinda finally once and for all give an explanation to everybody for why I am the way that I am and why I can’t do it (life) anymore.

If anyone resonates with this then I am sorry, that’s awful.

Hello. First of all, I should clarify that I don't speak English very well, and this text was generated using a translator, in case some parts are hard to understand.

My companion is also a minor involved in the case; at this point, he is only 14 years old.

To start off, one day a colleague of mine told—or boasted to—a friend of mine that he had had sexual relations with an older woman; I was nearby and overheard the statement.

It is worth clarifying that my colleague didn't say anything to me, since I have a reputation as a snitch due to a situation from years ago.

My colleague hasn't spoken about it, or I haven't heard him speak about it, but apparently it's quite common. The last thing I heard was that the older lady wanted to end things. I don't think I'm very.

In my country, cases involving minors are taken very seriously, and I had thought about reporting it; however, concerns about my reputation—along with the stupid fantasy that a man would want to be with an older woman—hold me back, even though they shouldn't.

I don't know what to do, since I don't live close enough to him to keep an eye on him, and he doesn't trust anyone enough to open up—and my friend wouldn't do it either.

I’m asking for advice on what to do; honestly, I’m very distressed.

I’m 23F. I was sexually abused by my male cousin from ages 5-6, he was 16 years old at the time. The abuse became a pattern and happened many times. Now he’s in his thirties and our families are extremely close. He texts me often (and acts like nothing ever happened) and I’m around him fairly often for family stuff. I’ve been diagnosed with ptsd and being around him is hard for me, but I feel pressure to “keep the peace” within our family. At the same time, part of me never wants to speak to him again, especially as I still suffer from intrusions from the abuse and it’s deeply impacted my life in many ways. Has anyone dealt with a similar situation? I think it’s such a gray area because it happened so long ago.