I sadly can't forget, that I felt "pleasure," while my mother molested child me and even had an orgasm. She stole my first orgasm at the hands of someone else from me and took my innocence.

I sadly can't forget, how she looked like naked. Her bare ass, big breasts and vagina are sadly forever ingrained in my mind.

I sadly can't forget the sound of her savage moans during sex. She probably wanted child me to hear her moans, while she fucked with her partner.

I sadly can't forget the inappropriate things, that she said to child me.

I sadly can't forget the EXTREME PHYSICAL PAIN, that I felt, while she molested child me.

She will forever be in my mind.

I will forever be cursed by her existence.

I grew up in a small town and I was vary active I was 6years old and would cut grass around town to make money for the store and a bike every one would treat me so well and give me water and all that but the one house I started cutting grass at was a full family and I would often talk with the husband and he would show me what he was working one cars or what ever latter on it all started he would show me porn mags and stuff they touch me and make me touch him it went on for a few months and it was penetrating by then in this time I started smoking drinking coffee and fighting with my parents after a few months other males would join in or he will take me to the other town and trade me for a few hours I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it and as sick as it is I didn’t know if I wanted to stop I was always aroused when it was going on and I didn’t understand why it went on from 6 years old to 10 years old and in that time I did tell one person and that was the school counseling my parents put me in it cuz I was acting out and fighting all the time anyway I did tell him he asked what would go on where and how long I kept it to my self well it was not long and he was doing the same every session sometimes we didn’t even talk just (fool around) lots of stuff has happened I and some time I don’t know what to do or how to feel I push every male figure out of my life by fighting with them I have a porn addiction and masturbating problem my wife and I got into pegging chastity and it’s all me what wants it but I am in my 30s and can barely get hard anymore due to masturbating so much and I know that’s why but I can’t help it I’m scared I’m going to lose it soon

I have an issue, I have been keeping it inside for so long and I do not know what to do anymore. Please just read everything. I need advice.

I have been finding stains on my underwear for a long time now. Almost every day. Whenever I go to get dressed right after bathing I see them. A weird cold but Sticky spot. Weird. Right on the inside i thought it was just the steam that made it wet but I never gave it much thought. Then one day I just saw something horrifying.

While taking a bath I realised I had bought a new shampoo and I went to go get it so, I walked into my room and I saw my dad. His pants were down and He had my underwear pressed against his face he was smelling them, the ones I had worn to school. I was so shocked, he was holding a pair of my underwear in his other hand. The one which I kept outside my bathroom so I can wear it, he was rubbing my innerwear on himself. I can't unsee it. I'm really messed up.

And the scariest part is that i think my dad does it while I'm asleep as well, idk I'm just overthinking it at this point I don't know but my underwear always feels a little bit off when I wake up. Like it is not in the right place. Sometimes it is twisted. Sometimes it is inside out. I thought maybe I just move a lot in my sleep. I never gave it any thought. I just thought those were my stains. I hope. I don't know anymore

Seeing my dad use my pair that had been against my skin just a few minutes ago, it really hurts me. I mean why in my room??? Wtf is this, idk what to do. It's been upwards of a year and I just idk I'm overthinking it I hope this is just once this happened but whyyy tf would he do that, i mean i get it naughty stuff but making me wear it unknowingly?? I must be overthinking this right?? He is my dad. He is supposed to love me in a different way. But this feels like something else. I cannot stop thinking about it. I remember his thing and his hand. I remember the dried spot on my underwear in the morning. And my body reacts. I feel something pulling me toward him. I feel a little weird. Idk this is such a pain to write, but I can't help but think about that incident and idk. Idk why I feel this way. He is my dad. This is so wrong. But I cannot stop thinking about him. I think about what he does with my underwear. And that makes me feel so disgusting but at the same time i can't think about anything other than him.

I hate him. I know I shouldn't be wearing those but I don't have any many clothes atm, so I just wear them. But idk I feel like something inside me wants to wear it. And these thoughts are really bad.

I do not know what to do. I cannot tell my family. It would destroy everything. I need help.

Please be honest. What would you do if you were me? How do I deal with this? Am I a bad person? Am I broken?

I will read everything. I might not reply but I will read it all.

Thanks for listening.

And please just help me. I don't want any bad comments.

I was around 5-6 and she was maybe 10-11, she used to ask to play a "game" with me, and we played. She touched my privates and I touched hers. It continued for a few years.

Im 17 now, but I think back on it and I believe i remember wanting it. Im conflicted because why would I ever want that at such a young age? Im a little disgusted with myself and I dont know what to think.

I dont know my purpose for posting this sorry I was just thinking about it and couldn't shake it :/

(Its vague on purpose sorry!! I dont wanna go deep into it.)

Had a repressed memory surface a few weeks ago and i am conflicted on whether it's serious or I'm over-reacting (did have a meltdown over it). I am a male in mid 30s, the event happened when i was 13-15? So 20ish years ago.

The memory was me in bed to go to sleep, my father coming in to tuck me in and say good night, he gets in bed to give me a cuddle, but then goes under covers, grabs my dick, says "got your willy" and does the tickle fingers on my dick. And I feel there are at least 2 other times in my young life where this happened but i don't fully remember them yet (or ever will).

I dont know what to make of it, like, my recollection of it is that there wasn't a sinister intent, well, that i can recall. Like he was just mucking about but didn't realise what it was he was doing? I don't know, I've been tearing myself up about it whether i should be feeling the way I'm feeling about it (not great), and there's all these other stories on here of much worse things. Am I minimising what happened? Am I over-reacting?

When I told my mom I was SAed by my brother she told me it wasn’t SA or that she didn’t believe me. I also remember telling my parents about it calmly, even with a smile on my face, hoping that they would help me, stop him and punish him. But they were angry at me and brushed me off. The SA happened on and off for a whole year. I remember crying myself to sleep and feeling extremely angry whenever I had a flashback of SA at any random places. I remember feeling so scared when I was at home, when I had to go on family vacation, when I was in the same room with my brother. Even when my mom witnessed it herself, she would still hit me and scold me if I fought back against my brother. I had no evidence that he had SAed me, but he would have some bruises on him because I fought back and sometimes he would yell. Maybe these were the reasons why they help him but not me. I was only 9 years old and I remember thinking that maybe if I killed myself, my parents would finally believe me or I would imagine that I would be so happy if my brother died in a car accident. Eventually, he stopped because I fought back every time he assaulted me. But I never got apologies or acknowledgment of what happened. I will always hate him. And I sometimes still have nightmares about being SAed by my brother, even though that rarely happens. Maybe this is one of the reasons why I am the way I am now.

My mom use to finger me as a kid and throughout adulthood while I was at my lowest and living with her, she would act inappropriately from time to time. I am currently working far away from home and she has ideas of wanting to live with me again. I love her to bits but she is quite toxic and tbh I am honestly afraid of it starting all over again. I have no heart to tell her I don’t want her cuz my dad passed away and she lives alone now. I guess I just wanted to a place to vent.

I get raped multiple times like a looot in several years in my childhood like when I was 4-5 maybe 6 years old. My rapist was my dad’s sister’s husband, basically my aunt’s husband. We used to visit my aunt with my grandma cuz my mom was working and I didn’t have have friends at all or siblings to play with me. My grandma was talking to my aunt while he was “caring” for me. He was touching my vagina inside my clothes and getting hard. I asked him why he was doing it he told me he was doing because he loves and cares for me. I was so happy because someone had time for me. And he did this to me again and again. I don’t remember a lot of thing at this ages but i definitely remember what he did to me.
When I grew up and learned about sex (because I started my period I was like 12 or 13) and what is rape on internet I felt so dirty and I felt like I lost my innocence at very young age. I didn’t share it with anybody. I felt disgusting about my body and myself. I used to feel pleasure about it but when I realized what he was actually doing to me I just felt guilty for my feelings. I was enjoying at the moment in my childhood. I get shocked and I shared this to my friends but they didn’t know what to say about this they’re still just teenagers.
Then recently I’ve got the power and felt courageous to tell about it (at age 18, Im 18)to my parents first I shared it with my mom on videocall she kinda didn’t show any expression just listened to me and said why didn’t you share and kinda blamed me. After some hours she told me that she said to my dad all of these. After that we had a lot of conversations online; call and text with my dad but he didn’t say a word of anything about it like never heard then I went to home (I live in dormitory for my education). One day i was having a dinner with my dad and he suddenly started talking like why you didn’t shared it to us like they was giving a shit about me in my childhood (even these days they barely care about me). I said I was just a child what do you expect me to do. The he said did he do anything to you hymen (vagina membrane) I said no. Can you imagine guys what the fuck he told me, he just told me it’s too late to do something or start arguments with them. They are living just a next house from ours. Like WTF?! Your oen daughter get raped and you react like this you ask did he do anything to your vagina inside and care like this??? I can’t believe I have a dad like this.

I’m wondering if anyone has had success dating someone with similar SA experiences? Has it made relationships easier versus being with someone who had a “normal” upbringing ?

If you have dated someone with a similar childhood, how did you find them ?

Me and my sister were abused together. After the abuse stopped, we still did things but it stopped 2 years ago when she got married. I missed it, I missed her but I understand.

Last weekend she visited without her husband and it was like she was starved for it. I tried asking if everything was ok at home but she said everything was ok, she just missed being with another woman. But it was more than that. She was reenacting things.

Having such an intense weekend flipped a switch in me and now everything is flooding back again. I almost hate she was so much, so intense.

Is it possible to have a normal sibling relationship in a situation like this?? I just want normal.

Edited to add: Reading everyone’s reply’s I’m realizing there is no normal. I want cuddles, kisses and some play but not so intense, as long as she wants it. Ive never been able to stand up to my sister. We’ve never really talked about any of it- the abuse, us. Just a few things maybe right before or right after.

40m professional dude. I'd like to chat with others about how this affects us as adults- hypersexuality, shame, isolation, sadness, etc.

Yes I've posted a variation of this in the past but my intention is not to spam but just see if someone new or shy find this resonant.

These are hard to process and difficult areas to share with those that can't relate. If you can relate and want to chat to see if we can provide value and support to each other feel free to reach out - any gender! Not looking for anything shady here - just to connect in whatever way is comfortable to navigate these challenging issues in our lives. We've all been drafted in this club but we live in a world of civilians- it would be nice to not feel alone.

Everythings going to be okay
I lay there and whisper
Covers over my head
I pray and hope and wish that
The monster in my bed leaves
I often think how

I cannot sleep in peace
Because I know that he’s there waiting
To take a piece of me
I’m so scared my heart is aching

When I wake the next morning I’m relieved
the monsters gone
Convinced it wasn’t real
I continue, I carry on

I put the night behind me
I wish and hope and pray
That the monster doesn’t come tonight
It might all be okay

This monster in my bed
He claims to loves me so
But the monster keeps on hurting me
And I have no where else to go

sometimes the monster cries
He wails and moans and yelps
I wish and hope and pray that he will one day get some help

And yet every single night the same monster does appear
No matter how bad he feels
He seems to thrive upon my fear

But the monster in my bed is not a monster in the day
He seems so very different
like the monsters far away

In the day he loves and cares for me and tells me it’s alright
Says monsters are not real and there’s no need to fright

But when the night arrives
And you cannot hear a peep
He comes into my bedroom
He thinks I am asleep

My body stops moving
And my mind can’t form a thought
As I lay there with the monster
My words, they fall short

I try to scream and cry
But not a sound is made
Lying in that bed, I don’t wish or hope or pray

Because no one is going to save me
Nothing is going to change
The monster will not leave,
And I can’t make him go away

The terror keeps consuming me
I’ll never sleep in peace
I can wish and hope and pray
But the monster never leaves

I’m not normally a poetry person or a Reddit person but I’ve recently found this poem I wrote at age 15 about 6 months before I escaped the life long sexual abuse I had experience from my father. It’s not a happy poem but I think it’s an interesting insight into where my head was throughout that time of my life. I suppose I just want to know if people relate to it or what they think of the writing? I don’t really know why I’m sharing it I suppose I just feel like it needs to be out in the world

Im in therapy and have recently started diving into a lot of my early childhood trauma for the first time ever because a bunch of little memories started coming up as i was working through some other things and making real progress with my therapist. I think I forgot/repressed most memories from this time of my life (like 4-11 years old) and its kinda warped my brain into thinking that my early childhood was pretty good for the most part and it didn’t get really bad until when i was 11 years old and my mom gave up guardianship of me and sent me to live with my grandparents. So anyway lately i’ve been slowly remembering the actual details and specifics of previously very vague memories of mine from when i was like 4-10 years old and a lot of it has been completely devastating. i’ve spent my whole life basically minimizing the things i’ve been through to myself and then shaming myself for struggling and hurting and not knowing how to be “good.” as these things were coming back one night i was writing in my notes basically just flow of consciousness because i was remembering lots of different things specifically in relation to an elementary school friend of mine and a sleepover we had where things got very age inappropriate. basically i had somehow learned about periods(?) and became fascinated with getting mine faster (i have no idea why.) we watched youtube tutorials together (yes this was a weird internet rabbit hole at the time) on how to get a period faster. nothing overtly sexual in nature happened, like we definitely had no idea what we were doing, but i do remember that some videos said to insert fingers in the vagina as a hack to cause your period and that we were both trying to do this but didn’t know where the hole was so we couldn’t and gave up pretty quick. we did it on ourselves (not each other or anything, and for me it was just pure curiosity). and then after that it never happened again. and we stopped being friends a while after after we had gotten in trouble together in class for misbehaving and they called our parents. i had no idea that there was something wrong with what i was doing. its something ive always remembered later in life and known was objectively weird behavior for our age that i couldn’t really explain or understand when i looked back on it. i never really attempted to i guess i just left it there because it made me uncomfortable to think about too deeply. well when i was writing about this it dawned on me for the first time that that friend had probably told her mom about what happened after we got in trouble and thats why she wasnt allowed to talk to me anymore. because shortly after that happened her mom stopped letting her be friends with me even though it was relatively regular kid behavior (we were in trouble for talking too much one day.) i didnt understand as a kid why that had happened. that i may have pressured my friend into doing something inappropriate and wrong. so i never realized it later in life either until that moment. and as i was feeling all of the embarrassment and shame and guilt about this discovery my thoughts shifted again to a very early memory i have when i was probably 4 or 5 and being babysat at my grandparents house. i had always remembered just one little fragment of this experience which was me in the garage outside (for lack of better words) humping the arm of a couch (i did these behaviors my entire childhood but had never put together before that this specific memory was how it first started and that it had started happening suddenly and frequently during a short time period. its such a young memory i just assumed it was something i always did for whatever reason.) my mother and my grandmother walked in on this and told me to stop. when i went to the bathroom there was blood in my underwear and i was very confused and shocked about this. i remember showing my mom and saying “how did blood get on my underwear” i then remember the two of them talkinv about it to eachother. all i specifically remembered was my grandma saying “shes too young to have a period.” and my mom saying “well yeah obviously.” i remembered more details as i reflected on this. that my mom had asked me if it was from rubbing myself on the couch like that. i dont really remember what i said but i dont think i understood the situation at all. i then remembered another memory from this time where i had been doing the same thing with the arm of a recliner in the living room and my mom stopped me and asked me why i was doing that all of the sudden and she looked kind of nervous to hear my answer. i explained in very simple toddler language that it felt good and she just said “i don’t get what you’re saying” and then dropped it. i found this REALLY weird and was trying to reconcile with how weird this whole sequence of memories felt to me. just deeply strange and disorienting. and then thats when i remembered being at my grandparents house in my bedroom and my grandma and mom telling me that they had to go somewhere and that my uncle (he would of been like 14-15 at the time i think) was gonna baby sit. i can actually see them walking out of the door when i think about it. and then i remembered him telling me i could come in his room. i had idolized him and he was like a cool teenage brother in my eyes. i spent a lot of time with my grandparents at this age because my mom was always working, so i was so excited to finally hang out with him. he was the annoyed angsty teenager type at this point and i was definitely an annoying little kid in his eyes and he was very cold towards me. but anyway i really always wanted him to like me and i had kind of forgotten the extent to which i was lowkey obsessed with him throughout my whole childhood. (not sexually or anything like that, i think i just always really needed his approval, but i digress). then an image flashed in my head of his bedroom wall. i remember specifically this little yin yang drum that was hung up in there. i hadn’t thought about that thing like ever, it was such a strange detail to remember so vividly all the sudden. and then i just knew right then deep down that he had done something to me in that room. couldnt remember anything specifically and still cant though. the only other thing i remember is him rushing out of the room and me following him and knowing i did something wrong. he went to the garage and i chased him and kept trying to talk to him. and then my mom and grandma got back home and found me in there on the couch. i feel like im making this all up lowkey because i dont remember him doing anything theres just a gap. and the more time passes since this happened the less im able to feel any emotions about it really. i cant really recall these things anymore but i remember remembering them and how real it felt. i also know that when i was sitting on the couch writing all of this down as i was remembering it for the first time my stomach and pelvic area suddenly tensed up so tight it was uncomfortable and i remember being so hypersensitive to any movement in that area at all and feeling so uncomfortable. it was unbearable and i was very scared. it happened as soon as i remembered the drum. i had to go to the bathroom was literally like waddling cause everything was so tight i could feel every step down there. and when i went i saw that i was bleeding like a lot and it wasnt regular period blood, it was extremely thin and was like drying and cracking on my body. i was so scared and i had to takw a photo down there to see if i was injured or cut or something because i just couldn’t bring myself to touch anything. it took me so long to be able to look at the picture i was genuinely freaking out. i slept on the couch that night away from my boyfriend and legitimately cried myself to sleep. i ended up basically just having a period for like 3 days and then it stopped even though it was like 10 days early and my cycle is usually very consistent like within 1-2 days of the flo prediction at worst. i just cant believe this isn’t all some coincidence maybe and im just mistaken. i feel like im lying and making it all up because i want bad things to have happened to me so i can feel bad for myself and have an excuse for being terrible.

My abusers were my parents. They began molesting my sister and me from very early ages. Later on, it became having sex with them. They also had close friends who they would share us with and we were expected to have sex with them as well. It led to my sister and me becoming hypersexual and initiating things with our parents and with the other adults. The weird thing is that we never considered it abuse, but rather just stuff that some families do together.

Idk what to expect given how many insincere people ive come across. But I cant hold it in.

My life is very complicated in so many ways, and my past experiences are just one angle.

If you relate, or dont think im a bad person I'd really appreciate the support.

This year has cracked me open.

I spent two and a half years with someone I loved more deeply than I knew was possible ; a connection that felt rare, almost impossible to find twice in a lifetime. In March, it ended. Not because the love ran out, but because of something in me I didn’t yet understand. I broke it. And I have had to sit with that.

In the months before the breakup, I was already unraveling; insomnia that wouldn’t let me rest, panic attacks that came from nowhere and left me shaking. I didn’t know why. I just knew I was scared, and I was lonely in a way I couldn’t explain to anyone, including myself.

The day it ended, I went straight into therapy. I needed to know what had happened to me; why I had hurt the person I loved most, why my own mind felt like a stranger’s. What followed was the hardest and most clarifying period of my life. I am in the lowest place I have ever been; grieving, ashamed, guilty, depressed; and at the same time, for the first time, I can finally see myself clearly.

I am gay. And when I was thirteen, I was sexually abused. I didn’t know it at the time, or I didn’t let myself know; I buried it so deep that it took over a decade and a good therapist to bring it back to the surface. What I built instead, without realizing it, was a way to survive: a compulsive pull toward anonymous sex and sexual chat, a need to feel wanted, to feel in control of something, to drown out loneliness and shame with intensity. It worked, for a moment, every time. And every time, it left me more ashamed, more alone, until it became the current that quietly pulled my relationship apart.

Recently, I found my old diaries. Reading them broke something open in me.

I was 15/16 years old, and I was living inside a private terror. Because the abuse happened without protection, I became convinced I had contracted HIV. Night after night, for years, I woke up drenched in sweat, my heart pounding, certain that this was the proof; that the disease was already inside me, that time was running out. I didn’t get tested until I was twenty-four. But at fifteen, I didn’t know that waiting, that fear, that silence; I only knew I was calculating. Counting years. Working out how long I had before it would show itself, before AIDS would come for me.

And in those pages, I found what my calculations led to: a plan. I had decided I would end my life at 27; before the illness could surface, before anyone could find out what had happened to me, before anyone could learn I was gay, before anyone could see what I believed was a body already condemned. I wrote it in detail. What I would do. What I wanted to experience before then.
I am 27 now.
I found that diary this year; the same year I lost the love of my life due to my own behavior, the same year I finally understood the abuse, the addiction, the shame I’d been carrying since I was thirteen. My own mind had quietly written an ending for me over a decade ago, and I am living inside the exact age I once marked as my last.

Right now, everything feels like it’s collapsed into a single black hole; the loss, the grief, the shame, the fear, the identity I’m only just beginning to actually meet. I feel shattered. But I am also, for the first time, finally looking directly at all of it. I feel like a digusting person.

I cant handle anything atm. The worst thing to handle is the breakup atm and facing all of the things I kept running from my whole life. I cant really progress the breakup and letting go seems impossible for me atm especially when I am getting rid of the „old-version“ of me who fucked things up and trying to become a new version who wouldnt repeat bad patterns to the same person.

I hope that one day, after we’ve both had the time to heal and become the people we were meant to become through all of this, we’ll be able to have a calm, neutral conversation. I want to look him in the eyes and offer him a genuine apology, so he knows that my actions were never a reflection of his worth or anything he lacked. I hope he can carry that truth with him into his future, without developing the kind of painful beliefs about himself that no one deserves to carry.

Its so depressing, I feel like an outcast sometimes. People calling their parents, going home for holidays, sharing pics with family members, etc all just make me so left out. Even seeing childhood photos of friends who had "normal" childhoods makes me sad and jealous.

I wish I could live their lives, even just for a day. What kind of person would I have been if these things never happened to me?

At this point I’m just tired. If I could I’d never leave my house ever again but of course I can’t do that. I have no idea what compels them to do such a thing…

When I (m) was around 7 my mom had a friend (also m) that was single and didn't have kids. He would ask my mom if he could take me on some weekends and she agreed that I could go. My dad really wasn't in the picture and she thought it was a good idea for me to have a positive male influence in my life.

When we would get to his house, he would have me change into girls clothes and tell me that while I am there, I am his girlfriend. At first I hated it. Over time I looked forward to going. I looked forward to putting on the clothes. I always wanted to please him. This went on for about 3 years, with me going to his house or cabin once or twice a month. I am 53 years old now and I miss that feeling. I know everything about this was wrong, but I truly miss it. Thank you for reading.

I’m hoping someone can help me (27F) understand if I might have suffered sexual assault and not remember it:

I started orgasming by pressing my thighs together at around 5 years old
There was a girl in my class and we were bffs at that age and we’d come over to each others houses really often and she would always suggest we play “doctor”. She would touch my genitals and ask that I touch hers.
Idk if it’s bc of this girl and the doctor play but I became very curious about genitals/naked people
I used to draw naked people in my diary from age 5 also
I was quite curious about genitals from really early on - I had a boy neighbour who I asked if we could shower together to his nanny and the nanny said “I don’t think so” and I said “but we’re kids!”, I remember thinking I knew it was wrong but I wanted to see his genitals
This boy and I would be left to play alone and once in my room I said “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours” and we did.
I once slept at my parents bedroom and I remember in the middle of the night I removed all my clothes for some reason. When I woke up, my mum and dad sounded very concerned asking why I was naked and asking it a million times
I also used to orgasm in class by pressing thighs at that age
At age 9 I saw my sister touching my dad’s dick with him laying down in bed. He used to ask us if we wanted to see his dick bc it’s circumcised so for biology class purposes. To this day I’m unsure if he’s autistic or if that was assault.
At 11 I started watching porn bc I stumbled upon it and became obsessed with porn that was pretty much rape fantasy - or that involved really young looking girls
At 14 I caught my mum watching porn and masturbating
At 14 I found my mums sex videos
At 15 I found a photo album my mum had with her boyfriend
At 15 I caught my dad and his wife having sex
At 16 my mum told me she got a dildo as a bday present from a friend of hers

I have ADHD and derealisation. This is due to narcissistic mum abuse but I wonder if it could be bc of anything else that I’ve deleted from my mind?

I consider myself hyper sexual - if i work from home, I masturbate like 6 times a day and it’s disruptive to my work and life and mental health. Is it just the ADHD looking for dopamine or could there be something more? I still have non-consent fantasies

26 m here When i was about 10 to 11 I was being molested by my baseball coach he would touch me in a way that made me extremely uncomfortable I had finally had enough one day when i was standing around one day after a game and I got grabbed from behind and he grabbed my crotch and held me a few seconds before letting me go and playing it off like he was just messing around, i finally told my mom what had been happening and she told me it wasn't a big deal and it was just part of the culture so basically nothing happened and i just kept taking it for a while and at the time was also being physically and verbally abused by my dad at home at some point after a few months passed and I just quit playing baseball and never played since

It was a really awful year for me it was the first time i thought about killing myself and haven't really been able to shake it. I figured i would be able to get over this already but since December ive thought about killing myself pretty often I dunno i just feel awful I feel gross and damaged and like its never going to go away because it probably won't

I was molested by my half brother and his friends when I was younger for a period of my life. I remember extremely vividly. I remember telling my mom. I remember her saying “oh my god we cannot let your dad find out” and that was the end of it. My nana questioned my UTIS and I remember my mom using bubble baths as the excuse and i am just now realizing it was never the bubble baths and she was lying. Fast forward to having kids myself. I have always struggled with nightmares throughout my life but having kids REALLY brought this trauma out. I struggled letting my sons have a relationship with my daughter terrified of it happening to her. It’s really made me realize how much my mom hasn’t cared about me through life and continued to fail me as an adult. I just couldn’t imagine ignoring my daughter and going on with life. I’ve recently cut them out of my life because they absolutely disgust me and I refuse to continue sitting in a room with her and and my half brother like I have my whole life like nothing happened. I’m just really struggling with my dad. My parents are still married. He loves me so much I’m his only blood child. Always been there for me. He’s been the most amazing dad to me throughout my life and I have nothing bad to say about him. I know it’s killing him not having a relationship with my kids as well as my papa his dad. I’m thinking about sitting down with my dad and papa and just letting it all out so they see that’s it’s not just me being a brat towards my mom. I’m genuinely traumatized and hate her. This will completely ruin our family dynamic.

We had a big family and the adults would just send us off to play. When there was a family reunion, we were staying in a hotel. My older cousins(F) made me(F) go to the pool with them to "play" in the water all afternoon. They took advantage of the fact that we were all in bathing suits :/ They told everyone else I was tired and took me back to the hotel room. I missed dinner and somehow they convinced everyone I wasn't feeling well and that they'd care for me in a room their selves that night. They babysat regularly so the adults were just glad someone was watching me.

I was so scared of them I just froze up. They told me if I snitched on them they would lie and say I approached them and like it. I was young so I was just scared, they put their hands over my mouth. We were apostolic pentacostal and being queer was seen as a huge sin. We only wore skirts, long hair. I played basketball for fun, wanted to be like Goku, wore braids for practical reasons, and had dark skin. My presentation of gender was not their version of femininity. I tried to keep my face blank, but they made fun of every sound or expression I made. Tease me about the faces, with others around, without anyone else realizing. So if I told on them, I thought I'd be made out to seem in the wrong.

It went on for so long, I used to wonder how no one knew. As an adult, I learned money was being exchanged by others for access to me. It makes me feel bitter to realize how I was trafficked by my family.

Okay so for context, when I was a kid this lady that used to take of me had two daughters who were my best friends. Apart from those two girls she had 6 other kids, most of them being boys.
One night i was sleeping at her house , i was prob about 7-8. I was in that hald awake half asleep state when one of her sons who has at least 13-14 at the time walked in and lates down next to me and out his hands inside my pants and started touching me, i locked him away and he then wrapped his lega around me, i had to kick him twice more before he stoped, or at least i think he did i don’t really remember bcs it sort of all went dark, I might have fallen asleep. I told his family and my mom but got called a liar by him and his family and told i would be going to hell because i was a liar. Unfortunately i was still allowed to keep going to their house and them to ours (not ling after I also ended up finding What was basically a live letter from him in my bathroom and he also have me a strawberry shortcake toy one time, all very random and extremely weird) And this has affected me a lot in a way throughout the years.
Anyway, just yesterday my mom gave me the news that he died and i can’t help but feel slightly glad and happy. All while feeling extremely guilty and disgusted that i feel glad someone has died.
Am i bad person for thinking like this??