u/Melodic-Ear706

I don’t know if this is the right place to post this, but I genuinely don’t know where else to put these thoughts.

I’m a woman and I’m intentionally leaving out my age, location, workplace, and other identifying details because I’m not ready for anyone to know who I am.

I’ve experienced inappropriate sexual behaviour and sexual abuse at different points in my life, starting when I was young.

One of my earliest memories involves an adult I trusted behaving inappropriately toward me while I was asleep. I was too young to understand what was happening at the time. I only understood years later what that memory actually meant.

I think that’s one of the hardest things about childhood experiences like this. Sometimes you don’t even have the vocabulary to understand that something wrong is happening.

Years later, while I was doing an internship, something else happened.

I was working in a predominantly male environment and was observing some work being done outside. One of the men touched me inappropriately in front of other workers.

What shocked me wasn’t only what he did.
It was the reaction of everyone around him.
Some people laughed. Some encouraged him. Some looked away.

I completely froze.

I didn’t know what to say. I was embarrassed and terrified, and I couldn’t bring myself to confront him.
At the time, I blamed myself for not reacting.
I still sometimes do.

Then I met someone else during that period of my life.

At first, he seemed kind and caring. He talked about his family, was attentive, and made me feel like I could trust him.

Slowly, however, I started noticing things.
He frequently asked me for money or expected me to pay for things. I was young and didn’t have much money myself, but because I cared about him, I kept helping.

There was also a difficult period in my family when I had to spend a lot of time at a hospital. He was around and helped me during that period, so I trusted him even more.

I thought he genuinely cared about me.
One night, when we were alone, he pressured me into sexual activity even though I repeatedly refused.

I was scared.

I didn’t know how to get away safely, and I was afraid that resisting further would make things worse.

Eventually, I stopped fighting.

For a long time afterwards, I questioned myself because I didn’t physically fight him until the end.

But now I understand that freezing or complying because you’re afraid doesn’t mean you consented.

The part that confuses me even more is that I stayed in contact with him afterwards.

I convinced myself that maybe he would change. I thought maybe we could eventually have a serious relationship. I even tried to involve my family because I genuinely believed he might be the person I would end up with.

Looking back, I think I was emotionally attached and desperately trying to make sense of what had happened.

Eventually, I discovered that he had lied to me about major parts of his life. There were other relationships, financial problems, and things he had hidden from me.

That’s when I finally ended things.

But ending the relationship didn’t mean the trauma disappeared.

Even years later, certain situations make me uncomfortable. Sometimes I become paranoid around people. Sometimes a small thing brings back an old memory and suddenly I’m right back in that moment.

I’ve also thought about how different things might have been if I had documented everything or told someone at the time.

Maybe there would have been consequences.

Maybe not.

I’ll never know.

What I do know now is that I was not responsible for someone else’s decision to violate my boundaries.

If you’re reading this and something similar has happened to you: freezing doesn’t mean you wanted it. Staying doesn’t mean you consented. Being unable to fight back doesn’t mean you were okay with it.

I wish someone had told me that earlier.
I also wish I had understood that I was allowed to trust my instincts, leave situations that made me uncomfortable, document things, and tell someone I trusted.

I’m still ashamed sometimes.

But I’m slowly realizing that the shame shouldn’t belong to the person who was trying to survive.
I’m posting this anonymously because I’ve kept it inside for so long, and I think I’m finally tired of carrying it alone.

Ps the real text is actually in brunei malay but i chatgpt turned it into this whole text without naming anyone, place or work place to protect my identity