People have just demoralized me so much that bringing up about my trauma feels like a damned if you do, damned if you don’t situation. Cause I did speak up for support, and I did reach out for help when things got bad, but instead of getting support, I got cruelty and abuse/blame.
Really just had a guy gaslight me and tell me my experiences with sexual assault, grooming, gaslighting scapegoating and so on don’t “count” as abuse
And this is why I don’t trust people
Well, of course they get to move on unscathed and unaffected. They weren't the ones who were abused. They weren't the ones who were violated. They weren't the ones who were deceived. They weren't the ones who were misled and given false hope. They weren't the ones who were dehumanized or discriminated against or belittled. They weren't the ones who were trapped. They weren't the ones who were coerced or gaslit or raped. I was. They weren't the ones who were dehumanized. It was me. They weren't the ones who were brutalized. It was me. They weren't the ones who were scrutinized or antagonized. It was me. They weren't the ones who were degraded. And they weren't the ones who didn't deserve it. It was me. So yeah, I'm sure it's really easy to move on when you're the abuser, not the victim.
It’s really convenient cause when they wanna talk down to me or infantilize me they’ll go above and beyond to do that, but when it comes to acknowledging how I’m vulnerable and was taken advantage of, suddenly I’m an adult who should’ve known better and is responsible for other people’s actions and cruelty.
It’s like a lose lose, they pick and choose, and it’s an unbearable double bind. I freaking hate abusers
This was me when I was at my lowest, enduring intense PTSD symptoms and grief and depression from sexual trauma; and THIS is what I had to hear from a so called “friend” when I reached out for emotional support:
(Abuser alert)
So at this point in time I was dealing with really intense PTSD-flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, all of it. I had no one else to turn to, and keeping everything inside felt unbearable. I was crying myself to sleep, feeling disgusted in my own body, reliving everything like it was happening all over again. I told him all of this, and it didn't change anything.
At first, he made me feel relatively safe, which is why I opened up. But the moment he started asking for more details-like he was trying to understand-everything shifted. It was like a complete bait and switch.
Out of nowhere, he started victim blaming me. No warning, just a total change in tone.
He made me feel like I was being prosecuted for something I didn't do.Then he went on these long tangents
—paragraphs-subtly implying that I was the problem. He told me to
"advocate for myself," tried to discredit my trauma by saying things like "any decent man would stop" and
"you know you can say no, right?" — completely ignoring the reality and context of what I went through.
I felt like I had to prove that what happened to me was real. And when I tried to explain the nuances, it felt like it didn't matter—like he wasn't actually listening. He kept pushing this idea that consent is black and white, and it honestly felt like mental torture.
On top of that, he was really demeaning and said a lot of sexist, dehumanizing things. He talked about how male and female friendships don't exist and how every relationship he's had with a woman involved flirting or sex-like implying | was naive for ever expecting to be treated like a human being instead of an object.
When I disagreed with him, he got angry, insulted me, and tried to twist it into me "misinterpreting" him, even though I didn't. He'd say things like
"take it with a grain of salt" but then act like he was right just because he's a man. He kept framing things like it was my fault for being in "shady situations" and went on about how l should've protected myself.
At a certain point, I felt scared and just wanted it to stop. It felt like I had to defend my own innocence and submit just to avoid it getting worse. I didn't feel like I had a voice at all-not even about my own life.
That whole conversation turned my trauma into a debate. It was one of the most degrading and humiliating experiences l've ever had.
Honestly, it gave me another layer of trauma. In some ways, it impacted me even more than the original experience because of how deeply it messed with my head. I still wake up thinking about it and feel depressed and overwhelmed.
Now I feel more unsafe around men in general, like I'm constantly on edge. I don't talk to him anymore, but the damage from that "friendship" was real.
It honestly felt like being dragged into a completely dehumanizing mindset, and I'm still trying to recover from it.
Literally tried to disempower me the entire time, when a true “friend” should be trying to lift me up— especially when I’m struggling.
It’s saddening and devastating that I have to live with these evil people
What happened with Liam didn’t just hurt me—it really messed with my head in ways I’m still trying to recover from. And part of why it affected me so deeply is because of where I was already at in life. I grew up feeling emotionally neglected and dismissed a lot of the time, like I wasn’t protected or genuinely cared for. So when he came into my life, there was a part of me that was really craving something different, even if I didn’t fully realize it.
At first, he made it seem like he was that. He came on strong—talking to me constantly, making plans, building this sense of closeness—and it made me feel like someone finally valued me. But looking back, it wasn’t real care. It was just enough attention to hook me, especially because I wasn’t used to consistent support.
Pretty early on, things started feeling off. He would say weird or inappropriate things, sexualize me in ways that made me uncomfortable, and sometimes cross boundaries even after I expressed discomfort. Over time, he became more condescending and belittling. He’d make me feel naive or inferior, especially about my lack of experience, while also acting like he had authority over me.
The dynamic became really unstable—very hot and cold. One moment things would feel okay, and the next he’d be critical, dismissive, or aggressive. I felt like I had to walk on eggshells around him, like I couldn’t even express normal thoughts or feelings without being judged or shut down. There was a strong power imbalance where I didn’t feel like I could question him or stand up for myself safely.
One of the worst parts was how he handled my vulnerability. When I opened up about my sexual assault, he didn’t respond with care—he blamed me. He questioned my choices, implied I should have prevented it, and spoke about it in a way that felt more like a debate than something deeply personal. It forced me to relive everything and made my PTSD, shame, and self-blame so much worse. That honestly felt like one of the most violating parts of the entire experience.
At the same time, he still acted like he was a good person—like he was helping me or being logical. That really got into my head. I started questioning my own feelings, my reactions, even my reality. It felt like I was being broken down while he stood there acting like he was right.
Then, after months of consistent communication and building that attachment, he suddenly changed. Right after my birthday, he became distant and cold, and eventually told me he had a girlfriend—with no warning. After that, he kept pulling away, barely communicating, and eventually ended things in a really dismissive way, with no real accountability.
What makes it harder is how much it connects back to my past. I was already used to not being protected or valued, so even when things felt wrong, part of me stayed. Part of me tried to make sense of it or thought maybe I was the problem. It felt familiar in a way I didn’t fully understand at the time.
Now it feels like everything compounded—the stuff from my family and what he did—and it’s affected how I see myself, how I trust people, and whether I even feel safe being vulnerable at all. I’m still dealing with the emotional and psychological impact of it, and it’s been really overwhelming.
Still haven’t processed it yet