sexual abuse

To this day, I still cannot understand why men always used me as a sex object. From the age of nine to twenty-six, I was abused and raped countless times by several men and two women. Some of them were people I knew, others were strangers who took advantage of me.

It was like being in a hardcore porn film. I had to endure humiliation and degradation and even watch others having sex with animals. I felt powerless and was clearly inferior to my tormentors, both verbally and physically. I couldn't defend myself. The effects of the sexual abuse left their mark on me. I developed concentration problems and anxiety, became aggressive and violent. I fell even deeper into addiction, felt disgusted by men, and felt guilty and dirty.

It all started when I was 9 years old. An older teenager often forced me to have sex with him, made me watch him masturbate and touch his genitals. Later, I sometimes visited a teacher, seeking fatherly charm and protection. He gave me alcohol, soon there was light touching, and then he abused me several times. Once, when I missed the train after school, a man in his forties gave me a ride in his car. After a few miles, he started groping me, then brutally raped me in a side street. I cried and screamed in pain and begged him to stop. When he got what he wanted, he took me home. Out of fear and shame, I kept quiet this time too.




From the age of fourteen, I regularly visited a man for several years. He always gave me cigarettes and plenty of alcohol to drink. I felt drawn to him because I could discuss my problems with him. He was like a father to me and I trusted him deeply. It was good to have someone like that during that difficult time. We went for walks and hikes or drove somewhere. He comforted and understood me when I told him all my worries. I felt safe with him and his pleasant manner did me good. Over time, there were light touches, then sexual acts, which I resisted at first and which I found repulsive. I craved alcohol, money, and girls. When I lacked any of these things, I simply went to him. My addiction had emaciated me so much that I couldn't get away from him and became subservient to him. Today, I see the ambivalence in this man. I became dependent on him and had to engage in abhorrent sex games with him during those years until his perverse desires were satisfied.

When I was addicted to drugs, I had nude photos taken of myself and earned money that way. Occasionally, I prostituted myself to get money for drugs.