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.
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.