PTSD is not just for soldiers.
PTSD is not always paranoia and wincing at gunshots.
Sometimes PTSD is crying when you hear a wine bottle pop open because you remember what she did when she drank.
Sometimes PTSD is hyper ventilating in a school bathroom because someone joked about being abused.
Sometimes PTSD is lorazepam, Xanax, and anti depressants together in a potent cocktail meant to subdue your third panic attack of the day.
Sometimes PTSD is smiling at a friend of your abuser’s, while breaking inside because you can’t believe you have to defend yourself against her again.