When I first developed PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), I never thought I’d end up being a spokesperson against domestic violence. I certainly never thought I’d tell my story. Shame and disgust ruled my world. I wanted to hide from life. At times, I wanted to die to ease the ache of betrayal and loss. I grieved deeply for who I used to be. What I’d never become.
Who am I? I asked myself over and over.
“Nothing,” echoed in my mind.
I told no one of this deep dark secret for many years.
When my brain would blank out, trying to protect itself against triggers, I’d forget the most basic things. And people thought I was stupid. Continue reading