Earlier today I’ve been looking at my old photo albums from about 7-8 years ago. Then I was in my twenties and just started working in a summer resort called Sunnybeach. I remember the very first time I went out with the other girls from work. We went into the club and immediately at least 10 men looked at us. We were all young and beautiful, dressed up, hair done, make up, high heels and sexy clothing. This is how I looked as well, this is how I wanted to look, the way I wanted to be, the impression I wanted to leave, the confidence I wanted to show. And this very first night out I realized that actually is not that difficult to get men’s attention. It was in fact so easy, I just needed to look at the guy I liked and innocently smile and usually 2 minutes later he was already getting me a drink and asking me about my name. It was so easy to feel important, to feel someone who men like, to feel worth, to feel beautiful, to feel unique, to feel powerful over men, to gain control and just have every guy I want to like me. This is who I wanted to be, the way I wanted to be. And I was very good at that. Anytime I felt lonely or didn’t want to go home to my room alone I could just go out and find someone nice to feel like who I wanted to be. Not that I slept will all these guys I met, but I knew I could do it if I wanted to do so. So I had control and power over them. All I needed was my looks and a smile. So simple. With some of them I just played like an actress, flirting and teasing, dancing and smiling, having a good time and then just leaving without saying a word. It was my game, my decision, my call to say if I have sex with them or no. And most of the times I didn’t sleep with them at the end. I was in control, I decided what to do. And they were in my power. With some of them I did it but the whole thing was just a passionate illusion for the night. Now I am thinking about this time of my life. Is this something to be ashamed of, a bad part of my biography? And most importantly why did I do these things, why was I this way? About 2 years ago I shared my secret about the childhood sexual abuse with another person for the very first time. I...

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My name is Tami. Please know that this site and Will Lynch can be 100% trusted. I have never told my “full” story to more than five people. I’ve been thinking about it all weekend and have made up my mind to finally tell it, in hopes that it will help others. I have three siblings but I won’t be talking about them, that is their decision to tell or not. Jerold Lindner, the priest in Will’s story, is my step-uncle. In 1975, when I was 7 years old, my mother married Larry, Jerold’s brother. I first met Jerold Lindner that same year on Thanksgiving. He came for dinner. That was also the first time he grabbed my face and stuck his tongue in my mouth. No one had ever done such a thing to me before and it was confusing and scary. The strangest part about it though was that my mom and step-dad were there. I think for that reason I said nothing. After that first encounter I knew something was wrong, but didn’t really know what “it” was. We would see Jerry on holidays and sometimes he would just come to visit. He did “that” every time. We also saw him in Arizona when we went to visit my step-dad’s family. They were a very Catholic family. In their backyard they had a gazebo like structure in an L shape with religious statues and candles inside. I was nine or ten when I found myself trapped inside with Jerry. I went in first to be alone when he came in. He was blocking the door then sat next to me. He looked pissed and I was scared. It was summer time and I had shorts on. He put me on his lap and said, “Be quiet.” His left arm was around my waist, holding me very tightly. I’m starting to freak out writing this, I can’t stop shaking but I’m gonna do it. With his right hand he went inside my shorts and put his fingers inside me. I remember yelling out in pain when he covered my mouth with his left hand. The reason I yelled was because he cut me inside. I’m guessing it was a fingernail. He didn’t stop though and it was very painful. After he let me go he blocked the door again and told me I better be good and not cause any trouble, then he left and I walked out. Everyone was in the house when Jerry walked back in. I went in after a few minutes, planning to tell my mom. I didn’t get the opportunity to tell her because Jerry’s mother grabbed me in the hallway and...

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Well I’m now 25 years old and last April I started a blog in which I chose to speak out about my abuse. I am a survivor of childhood molestation by my stepfather and my uncle. Before I had spoken out I was silent for over ten years. The reason I didn’t speak out when it first happened was for two reasons. The first is because when I told my mom that my uncle molested me she didn’t want to believe it since it was her brother. It went on for a few weeks. He would touch me in places he should not be touching and then he would kiss my lips. I didn’t know what was going on. I was never taught good touch bad touch. I thought it was ok for an uncle to treat you like that. I’m not sure when this happened but it was around the age of 9 or 10. I say that was the first person who abused me but it was actually the same time my stepfather started molesting me. It started one day when I was sick in bed and I needed some Vicks vapor rub to be rubbed on my chest and back. Since my mom trusted him she allowed him to rub it on me. He started to rub it on my chest and when he did that, he began to rub my nipples. I felt really uncomfortable but again I didn’t know that it was an inappropriate touch. After that I’m not sure what else happened. I only remember a few things that happened. The next abuse I remember was again when I was sick. My mom had gone to Florida to visit my sister. She left my brother and me home since we were in school. I had gotten sick and stayed home from school. I was in my parent’s room which was also the living room at the time. I was on the couch resting and trying to watch the television. He began to kiss me on my neck and then made his way up to my lips. Again I didn’t know how to react to that but my body deceived me at that moment. My body liked that attention even though I felt disgusted and scared. I didn’t know what would happen next. Then he would bribe me with money and sweets since I was still young. Again I’m not sure when it happened but it was around the age of 10 or so maybe younger. Anyway I believe it was that same that this next thing happened. I had gotten up to go to my room and he followed me. The next thing...

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What happens to us – the sexually abused children – while and when we grow up? How does the abuse affect us? We often have difficulties trusting other people and we are always cautious. We sometimes cannot really love another person, because we just don’t know how. We are likely to use drugs, alcohol, pills etc. just to forget the abuse and to escape from the stress and pressure in our life. We can easily fall in love (with our image of love actually) because deep within we want to be loved too. We are likely to go into casual sexual relationships because we want to have positive sex experience and to forget the bad one. We get easily depressed, frustrated or desperate because we don`t really powerful and strong enough to manage the life challenges. We are likely to hate sex sometimes because we connect the thought of it with the abusive sexual experience in the past. We often think that nobody understands us because we cannot be completely honest to anyone. We often think we are not pretty/handsome or clever or strong enough and this is the reason for our low self-esteem sometimes. We often feel helpless and we are likely to believe that life is unfair because the abuse happened to us in the first place. We often end up in bad or abusive relationships because we are always looking for love, and sometimes in all the wrong places. We are likely to be abused again in our adulthood because we already have the “victim-thinking” and we think nobody can help us, or we are sometimes just promiscuous which leads us to dangerous social relationships again. We often do not understand what’s the reason for the many mistakes we have done in our life. We often live our life feeling guilty for what happened or because we didn’t tell about it. We are constantly afraid that probably our silence made others to suffer (other possible victims of the abuser), and that we didn’t prevent this from happening to others. We are likely to feel constantly ashamed of ourselves in case our body actually responded to the abuse, not realizing that this is just a physical body response to sexual stimulation. We often don’t think that it was really an abuse, especially if it was not physically painful. We are likely to minimize the damage and the facts. We sometimes try to forget the abuse by trying to keep our minds busy – reading, writing, movies, sports or other causes. We are likely to get involved in “bigger” causes – political, animal rescue, Red Cross volunteering etc. – and this is something like a “rescuer-syndrome.” When helping...

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 Are you condemned to be yourself? I thought this is all behind me. I thought I am stronger than this. I thought I am just so over the sexual abuse that happened to me when I was a child…I thought I won this battle by pretending the reason for it never happened. I struggled all my life with most common long-term effects of child abuse, such as: anxiety, depression, suicide attempt, poor self-esteem, many and confusing relationships, alcohol, lack of trust and always lots of fear. But I always wore that mask showing to the world that I am a happy person that is always positive. Ready to help. Ready to laugh. Only when people believed in this image they would never know my dark secret. And they believed. All my life. I was a very successful “actress.” Acting out that everything is fine until I go back home alone and just cry and feel and scared … I was so good in this performance, so many times I asked myself if the child abuse ever really happened. There were times when I didn’t believe myself or thought my mind is making this up. But why on Earth someone would make this up in his own mind? Nobody would want himself to suffer and go through this. I questioned my sanity sometimes. I thought what if this was just a bad dream or illusion? But it wasn’t. I tried to repress this memory and hide it so deep in my mind so when I questioned the facts I wasn’t even sure they were real. They were. No child would have such illusion. And so I didn’t. It was real. And the only way to escape from it was to pretend it never happened; to keep my life going. All the mistakes or bad decisions I took. of course about them I blamed myself. And the feeling of guilt about everything never left me. I didn’t know why I feel this way. Sometimes I thought if I am alive, and pretending to be happy, then I must be over this and perhaps it didn’t influence my life. I thought I must be such a strong person. And sometimes I thought how many bad things happened to me and how many bad decisions I took and still survived. I sometimes felt “impressed” how much someone like me could actually handle. I must be exceptional…I must be such a brave and strong person. This is what I thought…till about a month ago. I was at the University and just finished my first semester. My last exam was Philosophy and seemed to me so difficult. I was really worried. The exam was writing...

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