I thought I was okay. I thought that particular thought had left my psyche until I made the mistake of walking in a laundry room basement in an apartment building yesterday and all that panic came flooding back. It angers me that I have allowed some no name man make me afraid of something so basic. It has been a long time since I have talked about it, but I still dream about it. The nightmares which used to have me waking up screaming are now much less severe, but the damage is unmistakable.
Scars, I keep telling myself, just battle scars. I am a survivor, not a victim. That is the difference between now and then. Survivor. I have to keep reminding myself of that.