Thank you for posting this line, Lizio!!! Thank you to all of you for participating!!! I think this is an extremely important issue and I need to spend lots and lots of time reading all of the comments in depth.
Like many of you I attract weirdos. In my case, weirdos can take on many shapes and sizes.
Throughout my childhood and early adolescence I had this particular skill of attracting people who had only sexual intentions behind their actions. For some reason I could not recognize their behaviors. When I actually did, I would immediately go into dissociation mode. So either way I could not and did not protect myself. The scary part was that I considered all of this normal, just a part of being a normal person.
Whether I was sitting on a tram in Milan, Italy, riding home from school with a nose in some book, I would find a guy standing close to me and thus blocking my ability to leave. Of course at the age of 6 or 7 I did not have too many self-defense skills and with my ample experiences with my father nothing really shocked me. This same scenario happened 3 times, ironically each time was the first day in a long time I had chosen to change my appearance to make myself look more like a girl. In Italy, men tend to have their hands on their genitals during every day conversation. So at first that part didn't spook me. The first guy wore dark blue corduroy pants. The next thing I noticed was that there was a bulge in his pants. Then the zipper was open. Soon after I saw an erect penis, which the guy would push toward me with a newspaper or jacket or something similar. After a few strokes with his hand, I had semen covering my book. The second scenario played out relatively similar although I do not remember the details of the clothing. It was a different tram number (either 4 or 8 because it had a cabin and the seats were around the edges). So the guy was facing me and the semen actually hit me in the face). The third time I was a little more prepared. I had a German rectangular and hard school back pack (you can see them in the beginning of the Neverending Story Film I when the kids chase Bastian into the dumpster). Once I realized what was happening and saw the erect penis, I did what my mom had suggested and I got up, rammed the school back pack into the guy, which sent him flying backwards. He landed on his back with his erection straight up in the air. Still no people reacted. I got off at the next stop and ran home the rest of the way. The first time upon arriving home I ripped out the barrettes in my hair. The second time I ripped off the dress I was wearing. The third time I proceeded to tear out all of my hair from my head screaming that I will never ever be a girl. Of course the next day I would head back to school, my one safe place.
A few years later (I was 10), after we had moved to Germany and my parents had left, my friend's sister (age 21 or 22) became attracted to me and wanted a relationship. Somehow I thought that I had actually consented to this. The mom kicked me out of their house because I was a bad influence on the daughter. So we moved our activities to my house or my friend's car.
At age 16, I took a summer class on sexual abuse of children at the U of Minnesota. The instructor invited 3 perpetrators and two of their wives during one of the days. My ASL interpreters arrived late after the lunch break. So the teacher took the time to explain to the class and guests my story and why we had to wait. My friend signed to me what the teacher was saying. Then everyone looked at me, especially this one blonde perpetrator, and started clapping for whatever reason. At the end of the day the guests approached the instructor and hugged her good-bye. I was collecting my stuff and filling my backpack they approached me and wanted to give me a hug as well explaining what a pleasure it was to have met me. I dissociated just to be able to put up with the touch.
Since then, the weirdos have mostly changed roles. They are now staff, hired as my personal care attendants by the county, to help me with daily tasks. It does not matter who they are or as who they start out being. When they work with me, they explain that their job does not pay enough. So if I expect them to come regularly, I need to give them money for extra gas, etc... One actually convinced me that she wasn't sleeping because her apartment was too hot and she really needed a window air conditioner, which I somehow found myself buying for her as a present. Other PCAs don't come at all, but expect me to sign their paper work. As I definitely have a really hard time setting boundaries and am terrified of conflict (even slight disagreements have me dissociating or self-stimming in different ways) I can't resolve the problem myself. If the PCA is an acquaintance the reporting process is more difficult. However, even with a stranger at some point it becomes obvious to other workers that work is not being completed and off we go to look for a new agency. Our latest attack plan is that the homemaker at least comes during the same time another worker is here so that the rules and communication can be set up and I can learn how to deal with this better.
This is all beyond embarrassing to admit and plays an enormous role into why I feel so guilty about letting things happen, as well as feeling ashamed, and not having any right to be on the face of the planet, my main goal in therapy. I am now clearly an adult. I am educated, can successfully teach classes at the University, I am intelligent, a proactive fighter for disability rights, and yet, these minimum skills for boundary setting are a complete mystery to me. Reading books, watching others, role playing, etc... have had no change in my ability to stand up for myself. Clearly I have lots to learn... and hopefully somewhere I can find the magic key...
