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He put his hands around my neck, gently pressing his thumbs into a notch of my throat. Demonstrating how someone feels when being choked. He asked me if I felt it. I tried to nod. I froze. He was supposed to be an ally. I came to him for help.
Oregon & Beyond.
I was a victim, then a survivor, now I choose to thrive!
He allowed me to work at my own pace, attend my doctor’s appointments and take care of myself above all else because by this time, I was damaged. Damaged beyond immediate repair. By this time, if I wasn’t crying at my computer, I would fall asleep at it, with my hands still on the keys. I’d take naps during lunch breaks. Sometimes I’d grab a piece of paper and just doodle. Eventually, among the depression, anxiety, and PTSD, I was diagnosed with a sleep disorder – Period Limb Movement Disorder (PLMD), but my depression ran deep. And, so did the damage.