I think I may have PTSD from all the stuff I put myself through. Sex with men I didn't even feel attracted to (I know it wasn't rape, but felt like it), putting my nudes on the internet and who knows how many scrotes may still have them, crying and feeling suicidal over endless LVM/NVM who just wanted sex (not that I was in love or anything, I was just projecting my romantic fantasies onto them), chatting with disgusting scrotes when I was as young as 14 just to feel wanted, a whole "relationship" with a 14 year gap, you get the idea. I'm not angry at myself because my dad was a drunk psycho who tried to kill my mother, and real feminism was never mainstream, so how could I have known better? I accept my share of responsibility but upbringing and society have much to do with this. Still, I feel like I wasted my developmental years being a pickme. I'm celibate and happier than ever now, but still suffer from anxiety and flashbacks, and I don't feel like going to therapy and reliving all of those humiliating memories again. This space actually did much more for me than any therapist before, and put a name to everything that I was feeling about men. I just hope time keeps doing its work and I can just forget and stop wallowing in the past so much.