Is it normal when I freak out because someone touches me?

Alright... :P Just... this is kinda hard for me I guess. I mean, it's just a memory, but I've never really talked about it before. I've just tried to lock it away, 'cause now it's unimportant. It's not effecting my life or anyone in it, so there's no reason to bring it up, y'know? It's just... even my parents have never known something like this happened to me. It's not the kinda thing you tell your parents. I told a friend once and it didn't really turn out well. But I figure since everyone on here's a perfect stranger and I'm never going to have to talk about this face to face, what's the point of keeping it a secret?

Right, well, I'll try to keep it short 'n sweet.

I was five years old when I had my first crush. You know, the kind where you're head over heels, idolizing them kinda crush. It was on the boy who lived across the street.

I live in the middle of nowhere, so there really wasn't anyone to hang out with as a kid except for him and a couple of his friends. They were all older than I was, pre-adolescent, but still played with me because, as I stated, there wasn't really anyone else nearby.

One day I went across the street to play, and the boy I liked had a friend over. They brought me into this shed. The boy I liked convinced his friend to take off his clothes and lay down, he said it was okay because we were friends. He told me to touch his friends private area, that it was okay because we were all people. He told me to take off his clothes, and when I argued he got mad. I took off my shirt and pants, leaving on my tank-top and underpants. He continued to yell at me, he tried to take them off himself. I felt like if he liked me, then I shouldn't have to do what he said, that he'd understand.Nothing really happened because then his mother called for him, and both his friend and I had to go home.

I never listened to him again.

When I was seven years old, this older girl came over. I wasn't quite sure why she'd want to hang out with me, at this point, she was older than the boy was. She could've been my babysitter. But I hero-worshipped her because she was so "big", and she called me her friend.

Anyway, she came over one day and took me into my backyard. We had a tent set up for my family to go camping in later. It was a hot day, we were both bored, she was the big kid and knew so much more than me. She told me that it was alright to take off our clothes around each other, because we're both girls and it's hot outside and with the tent all zipped up--no one would see us. She said it's alright to do certain things because we're friends and it's what the grown ups do. She said we could keep it a secret. One thing lead to another, but before too long we were interrupted. She swore under her breath and threw my clothes at me, and suddenly we had to rush to get our clothes back on. We were just in time because then the tent opened up and then the boy I stopped liking from a couple of years before came in.

I was majorly confused, but that look on his face ran me cold. One look at me and it was like he knew what had happened inside the tent. One look and it was like... I was brought back to being five? I felt so ashamed. So wrong. Girls weren't supposed to do this; girls weren't supposed to do this until they were married. I was five and I was seven. I don't know. But those two seemed to know something that I didn't, and I seemed to be half their age, so at the time I thought that maybe what we did was right. I thought it was because that's what grown-ups do. It didn't feel right though.

I stopped hero-idolizing the both of them by that time.

Anyways, I've buried that deep. I don't really remember anymore the specifics of what happened. I avoided the both of them afterwards.

I don't think that this is where my desire to not be touched stems from, though this could contribute to this.

I think I feel like touching people is a weakness. If people touch me, then they can see how weak I am. Then they can use me.

I don't know. Maybe that whole PTSD thing wasn't so far off, but I try not to let this affect me anymore. It's not a big deal, and they've both forgotten about it, so I should too.

I think I hated touching people even before this happened though. To be strong, you don't rely on others. To be strong, you don't let yourself get hurt. You build a wall, you keep a distance. People who get in only get hurt, people who get in only hurt you.

That's the kind of mentality I think I have, though I'm getting better at it. Letting people in, that is, touching others without freaking out, letting people touch me without freaking out. I haven't had a panic attack in a couple of years. I'm definitely getting better.

^^ Sorry for boring you out, or depressing you, with this major long story. I tried to keep it short and to the point, but I'm really not good at writing small. Thanks for reading and thanks for asking.

:P Sorry again, and... thanks.