If I had any choice on the matter, I would never choose post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) to be a disorder that has become my constant companion.
It’s a disorder that can make you feel utterly alone in a room full of people who love you. A condition that convinces my worth is only unworthy and my love never enough.
It’s difficult to explain what it’s like to be in my brain when an attack occurs, but if my PTSD could speak, this is what it would say in those moments: I can’t breathe.
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