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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.

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.

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.

Alcohol and the grace of God, spared me the memories of the rape, but I’ll never forget the harassment I endured, after returning from my TAD trip.

03

I was a victim advocate, and i was raped

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he tickled me

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Laura Lee, 52, 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.

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