Evidence We Didn’t Take
🗝️🏷️ stalking, SA, CSEM, mention of sex toys in orange (start and end: The one pice of evidence…show we had.)
This is maybe a therapy thought, but therapy is gonna be busy✨this week.
We have a problem with not documenting evidence of our abuse because we assume we won’t be believed.
An example that comes to mind is stalking. We’ve been through that more than once, but one time we were regularly in therapy and most frequent fronters knew about our abuse history. Two or three men were showing up in places we needed to be exactly when we needed to be there.
We are medium trusting in two extremes, either I would die for you or I will put in effort to avoid you. These guys wore garments we were conditioned to respond to, so we initially avoided them to not creep them out. When they became more of a fixture, we were more inclined to dodge.
And that’s why we think it was stalking, because they went out of their way. Sometimes they walked behind us for like ten minutes, following while we took weird turns and crossed streets. If they were going the same place, they inconvenienced themselves doing it our way. Standing in doorframes for an hour, looking out. Always where we were going. Taking pictures with us in frame where there was nothing of interest to photograph. Once they were all together, and they passed a nearly empty elevator to try to get on with us. We went without our notebook that day. So many mildly weird things, not really anything huge.
I could’ve taken a picture. That was a safety idea we had. See the guys, take a picture. Kinda invasive, but they seemed to be doing it to us. It would’ve illustrated how often they were there, that they were behaving oddly, that situationally we were right to be distressed. But I never did. I told my therapist: “Even if I do have proof, proof of what? That bald white guys exist?”
I wasn’t sure then that it was stalking, and I’m still not now. It was very mild for our experience, no break-ins or getting snatched. That was also why I was so careful, because those were scary and I didn’t want a repeat. But when I tell people, they don’t believe me. One asked “are you sure that wasn’t a dream?” Pictures would’ve been something, some proof. At least that I didn’t make the guys up.
Our family has occult paraphernalia in the home, or did for years. The one time I thought I should document that and was there to do it, everyone was in the room with the storage boxes and I didn’t try to get past them.
We don’t have any of the clothing we were abused in. I’ve never found any CSEM with us in it (or any at all), but I know some of the things we were wearing to the venue. We don’t have any photos of us before we got a cell phone and have never seen the photo albums that supposedly existed.
The one piece of evidence that we do have is a sex toy we were abused with. It wasn’t one of the… communal(?) ones. I’ve never tried to explain that before. It wasn’t a gift. We got it during puberty with a secret gift card, and they found it. It was one of two that came with us when we left. It’s glass, and someone dropped it at exactly the right angle to crack a chunk off. It’s oddly sentimental, so I don’t want to throw it away, but it’s dubious on body safety now. One more thing I won’t even be able to show we had.
It feels like the only evidence I have now is this body I carry around everywhere I go. Just me, the others, and the vessel we’re stuck in.
It stings. But most people don’t believe us anyway, and what we could’ve shown wasn’t enough for court. It’s just us now. No one will ever know like we do.