Today, my doctor asked me about PTSD.

In my head, I told myself no. In my head that, it’s reserved for people who have experienced war or survived an assault. In my head, I know that’s not always the case.

I cannot compare to such tramautic events, but I know that I’ve experienced my own sort of hell.

I have an aversion to anything him. And that’s a lot.

I struggle to sleep because I have recurrent nightmares of him hurting me over and over again, his words and actions tearing me apart.

I can’t bare the sight or sound of certain songs and TV shows because I get so nauseated, I want to run to the bathroom.

I tense when I walk by something that tugs at the little box in my head labeled familiar.

I physically cringe when invasive thoughts take over my mind, unwanted memories circling through.

Just the mention of his name, makes me numb.

I have to shut off.

And it saddens me. It saddens me that I am so messed up. That I am traumatized by memories of him and us.

It saddens me because, although I am not looking for anyone new, just the idea of opening up to someone else causes me such anxiety, all I want to do is curl up and cry.

I am not okay.

I just want to be okay again.