Any secret solace can start to look like self-harm, if that’s your favored frame. With that said, getting wet is your body’s automated response to sexual stimulus, and you’ve become acclimated to a world full of fucked-up stimuli; you chose neither world nor response, so if there’s harm in this equation, it’s been done to you, not by you.
Also bear in mind that a man can confirm your fears without becoming them. If you need me to believe that you’re a pathetic, stupid, disgusting girl, consider it believed… but I’m not struck blind by your admitted awfulness. I’m fully capable of seeing all the other parts of you as well: the kind, loyal, funny, or pretty parts. You don’t need a man to beat and fuck you senseless nearly as much as you need a man who can see you —all of you— and embrace your worst and best. The beatery-fuckery will take care of itself from there.