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Trauma and Mental Health

I opened my eyes, sleepily. Looked straight ahead. Down the hall. Confused. “Who’s the mom?” That’s the first thing that came to my mind. My mind. Mine.
Everything looked somewhat familiar, but I couldn’t place anything. I had the sense of belonging, but I didn’t know how I belonged. What was my role? Who was I?

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Laura Lee, 53, with invisible wounds and scars. I've learned to embrace PTSD and depression because if I don't own them, they'll own me. I don't want to simply survive, but to thrive. I hope you'll join me on my journey. It's sure to be a bumpy road.