So tonight I’m working late, but the kid I nanny for, her mom came home to change. They wanted chipotle, so I volunteered to walk over and get it since it’s gorgeous out and who doesn’t love a fall New York night?
I was totally fine on the way there, but once I got inside, I immediately had a vivid flashback and ended up in the fetal position of the bathroom crying.
I hate this. I don’t understand why I’m having to deal with this. A guy asked me today why I stopped going to church. He was trying to minister to my lost soul. I told him flat out, “I was raped and beaten by a guy I met at church camp.” People are shocked when I’m honest, and it’s rare that I am, but maybe I’m just burnt out of lying and making it seem like I just don’t feel like doing things. I want to go out and have fun and do everything I love. I’m jealous of everyone alive who doesn’t have PTSD. Sorry. I’m having a night.