Shadows And Doubts

I don't remember the first time I was molested.
I remember the second time, and both the rapes.
Yes, it's that kind of night tonight, but it's not like the others have been.
The therapy has helped me a great deal. I've gotten to the point of recognizing when my actions are in response to anxiety/PTSD, and, more and more often, I see the feelings coming on, before a situation even arises to make me aware of it.
I shut down when I am overwhelmed. I'm told it is a fairly common reaction. I've been lied to before, though. I don't fight back when I am in a situation that scares me. At some point, some part of my brain decided it was better, easier, to shut down and let it happen than to go through the hell of trying to process something bad and still try to fight it.
A civilian approached me, immediately after I got off the bus at the hospital the other day. He was firing so many questions at me so rapidly, I couldn't process it fast enough to do anything but answer them automatically. I was already struggling with the anxiety, and, before I knew it, this guy had found out where I was from, what post I was stationed on, my first name, and was telling me I should come up to Yongsan for the weekend. I can't imagine having had any expression but that of a deer in the headlights on my face. He asked me for my number, which finally threw something into the barely-moving gears. I pulled out my phone to tell him he'd need to give me his, when he went off on some side tangent, only to stop dead in the middle of it and ask for my number again- at which point I was back on autopilot. I gave this complete stranger the correct phone number. Shrink says it's a perfect example of how I react, and how the anxiety takes hold of me. The fight or flight response is just gone.
I was introduced to sex before I could read. I can't remember a time in my life I could see the world without it. At age 5, I remember questioning what my long-divorced parents were doing out of sight, though it's plain as day to me now they were my parents and had plenty to discuss and fight about without my witness. I remember questioning very specific details of imaginary situations I'd made up that no child that age should have ever understood enough to think of. It's never changed. I don't know where the line is with people, I don't see the lines other people do, between what's being friendly and what's flirting, what's acceptable and what's asking for it. None the less, these are things people are unable to understand about me, and I am not very good at explaining. Frankly, I've been called a whore more than enough times for one lifetime, and I really don't intend to open myself up to anyone who's already ready to give up on me to calling me names. I've heard it all before, and I really don't care to put myself in a situation where someone I care about can make me feel worthless again.
I need someone who tells me I'm beautiful I need someone who I can talk to openly, without feeling like I'm going to be punished for my honesty, or feeling like I will hear my own thoughts about something painful reflected. I am truly my own worst critic- I'd be embarrassed for other people to see how hard I am on myself, because it truly is over doing it. I've been hard on myself my whole life, and I'm only just learning how not to do that. I'm also just learning to read people, to see their intentions, and to understand how to handle my own emotions.
I'm a very open person. I'll pretty much talk, honestly, as long as I feel someone is listening. I don't mean judging, arguing or waiting for their turn to speak.
I can't blame anyone else for today. I made the choices I made. I still, however, am pretty fuzzy about how they were viewed as wrong. Sadly, I can't say that I regret them, entirely, though, because I didn't do anything wrong, nor would I have, and here I sit alone in my room, regardless. I'm sad, but still processing all of this.