Welcome to Pandora's Aquarium, a rape, sexual assault, and sexual abuse survivor message board and chat room.
If you've been a victim of any type of sexual violence, you belong here. What you see below represents just a fraction of the resources and survivor support available. Register now to join our community and take full advantage of what this online support group has to offer you as you heal and recover, or sign in to remove this message.
You are not alone, we can support you as you heal, and you've made an important step toward recovery by reaching out. If you are unable to register or have any questions, please contact the staff or view our home page.
And I can answer that question completely honestly. I can't believe I forgot about this, but someone actually told me about their sexual abuse before. I felt horrified by the fact that this guy could do this to him. It was someone he trusted, someone he worked with. I felt really bad about what he had been through. He blamed himself and didn't want to tell me because he wanted to protect me. I didn't judge him. I was glad he told me. I basically had to force the information out of him. He wasn't the kind of person to share his feelings, liked to keep it to himself and found it hard to express himself. I knew something was wrong with him and kept pressuring him to tell me. It was wrong, I know, I shouldn't have done it. But he's glad he told me, I am the only person that knows. Looking back, I'm not sure if it was the right thing to do. In one sense I wish I hadn't pressurised him because I now understand how hard it is to talk about that kind of issue. There are times when people keep asking me what is wrong and I wish they would just leave it. But at other times, I'm glad I did keep on about it because he wouldn't have told me otherwise and sometimes I wish people would keep on at me, so then I would tell them, if that makes any sense at all. But when I thought about how I felt with him, I wanted to protect him, to hug him when he was crying. I was glad that he had told me, whilst I couldn't possibly understand what he had gone through, I was happy he felt he could confide in me (even if it was eventually).
Even after all that, I still feel like no one wants to know what happened to me. Isn't it weird how we all know that if it was our best friend, we would want to be there for them, but when it is ourselves, we always feel like no one cares.