Hi. I'm MoreThanFun, a name I chose to remind myself of my own value. I'm going to tell my story here, even though it's a short one, and ask only for a quick read and, if you have the time, a word of solidarity or advice.
When I was in freshman year of high school, I started going to a therapist for the first time. I was having panic attacks (very subtle but panic nonetheless) whenever I was alone with a boy who was interested in me. It became worse if we were dating and I was unable to comfortably touch anyone in a romantic setting at all.
By Junior year, I had a boyfriend who wanted to "help me" with my anxiety. He was pushy and I loved him. One Halloween, he laid on top of me and effectively held me down so that he could kiss me because I was expressing discomfort. He's since apologized for this event but we don't speak otherwise.
I had a messy series of relationship issues and fell into depression very seriously for the first time during my senior year. I had little regard for myself.
One night, I went over to a place with two guy friends to smoke and one of them was able to frustrate me and his roommate into smoking too much until the roommate fell asleep. So did I.
He woke me up by groping me - it took him three separate pretty serious moves to get any response whatsoever - and then took me to a trailer nearby. He blatantly used me for sex during which I laid dormant until he put his fingers around my throat. I went down on him so that he wouldn't have the proper angle to choke me. He gave me scratches and hickies that interfered with my work, not to mention an awful case of strep threat.
The girl who had introduced me to these guys had a crush on him. She told everyone that he was her boyfriend and I had seduced him. I had so much self blame that I didn't bother arguing until it was too late.
I thought that would go away.
Like a bad hookup.
But I have to be sober around the men in my life, or I start to experience panic. Once, I was left alone in a trailer at a music festival and when my friends returned, I was practically climbing the wall, unable to breathe, unable to see.
Sometimes, when I feel threatened by male hands, I dissociate completely. Last week, my significant other whom I've been with for over a year reached out to me while I was in the middle of a depressive episode and a panic attack, and I swatted their arm away before running from the room. I don't really remember that. But the way this has been framed by our roommates is "you abused your significant other, whether you meant to or not".
But I don't feel like it was me. They weren't hurt. They won't look at me or touch me and I'm in crisis about my sexuality because without any affirmation, all I have is self hate.
Please talk to me,