Whilst I'm hovering around the labels issue..

I've said this before how i used to write fiction a lot as a way of coping with trauma. Writing my shit into stories but using fictional characters. Well, a long long time ago, I wrote a story where the main character is being raped. I talked about it with my therapist and the connection between that an incident from my past. He asked if the character in the story was based on me, I said yes. He asked if I would describe what happened to the character in the story as rape, I said yes. He asked if I would describe what happened to me as rape, I said no. I said I didn't want it to happen, and I've been working through the trauma of that event, but I can't call it rape. It wasn't rape. I didn't do enough to stop it. I didn't. That's the truth. I clammed up, switched off, went somewhere else. But I didn't want it. I don't think I'll ever forget the taste he left in my mouth. Like sour dough bread. Don't know why but that's what it reminds me of. Can never eat sour dough bread again.*edit: content removed* Not even sure what triggers that. Just happens sometimes. 

Worst part of this one is I was old enough to understand what was going on. Think an unfortunate side effect of earlier assaults left me with this terrible defence mechanism to just freeze. Yeah. I froze. Let him do what he wanted. Didn't fight it. I hate myself for that. What's my excuse? He was older? That's about it.

Feel endless waves of shame as I write this. But I'm going to put it out there anyway. I just need to say it. I can't keep it all inside of me any more. Can't even express just how much shame and regret and self hate I have over this one. This is the kind of memory that just makes me want to violently punch myself in the head over and over. This is the kind of memory that leaves me feeling so sick. 

I also want to add for anyone reading who has experienced sexual assault or abuse, that this is my account. My view. My opinion. In no way do I mean to take away from anyone else's experience. Just because I can't use the term rape doesn't mean it isn't applicable here or in anyone else's story. Just want to be clear that I don't want or mean to invalidate anyone else's experiences.

And yes, I am aware of the paradox in that I'm able to recognise this event as rape when presented in a fictional story.

It's hard to post this. Maybe I shouldn't. I'm afraid of being judged. Of being ridiculed. I just don't think I can keep all this to myself any more. Here goes.