*Possible Trigger* Okay, this is a long read. But please try to bear with me. I need to talk to someone about this. When I was a child I was, like many people are, screwed up. I was adopted, didn't fit in with my adoptive family (although they were mostly loving) and was utterly miserable. I remember feeling suicidal as a child. I ate to comfort myself but there was no escape from the pain, the nightly nightmares, the fear. I was molested my an older female cousin, probably when I was about 7 or 8 but I blacked most of it out. Looking back I can see that I suffered from depression, anxiety and possible social anxiety disorder, although in the 70's those things weren't really known about. By the time I became a teenager things had only gotten worse. I was self harming (although I didn't know it was a psychological condition back then) and was desperate for attention. I craved it, as someone else might crave alcohol or a drug. So now I've given you a little background I'm going to plunge into the confession: When I was fifteen and in senior school there was a gentle, understanding woman teacher. I told her that my uncle had molested me. He had been inappropriate with me but not to the extent that I told this teacher. I know this is a horrible thing to do. Looking back I think deep down I was screaming out for help...even if it was a really stupid and manipulative way of doing it. Well, I didn't know about the law. Of course once I'd told her she was legally obligated to bring in the child protection people. They got involved, I felt horrified and trapped in my lie. I, again thought of suicide as a way out but couldn't do it. It was a nightmare. I tried to keep up the pretense and although I think they maybe doubted me but they never acused me of lying. Eventually they turned the matter over to my parents. I think my parents had some doubts too but never said anything. When I was 19 I was raped by an male ex teacher. It was beyond horrific. I told my Mum. Bless her, she did believe me, but I wouldn't go to the police because I didn't think anyone would believe me. Now I'm 33. It's 13 years on from the time I was raped at 19. I'm currently in the process of prosecuting the man who raped me. But, and I know this is all my fault for lying all those years ago, My Mum holds that lie over my head sometimes. She says she believes me that I was raped but I think she'd rather I didn't try to prosecute this man for raping me. When I told her about five months ago that I had decided to press charges she said that it would be a shame to bring it up after all this time. I don't know what else to say. Damn it I know it's my own fault and I'm terrified of back lash for admitting to this. But I'm so different now. I am so hard on myself now where lying is concerned and I try to the most authentic, honest and real person that I can be. But...Oh God, I'm never going to live this down will I? If my curent case goes to court they're going to drag all this up and hit me with it. They'll destroy me on the stand. This is also the reason I won't go back to England. For me England is nothing but pain, It's so hard knowing that I can never never live it down. No matter how changed I am, just knowing there are a whole community of people over there who will never think of me as anything but a.....I can't even think of a word bad enough for what they must think of me. I mean what5's the point? The evil man who raped me is gonna get off scott free and then he'll be just gloating about me for the rest of his and my life. I shoudl just give up. Okay, I'm done...Can';t write antymore.