"Hallie, he's not David."

I couldn't breathe. My eyes were closed. I couldn't think. I started having a PTSD episode in front of my therapist for the first time.

I started crying. Hyperventilating.


"Please, repeat after me, 'He's not David.' You're safe," she repeated.

"He's not David. They're not the same person," I breathed.

Time passed.

My mind finally cleared.

"I was hoping he could have sensed that I was hesitant to have sex. I was hoping he would have sensed that I was hesitant and would have said something."

I started crying again.

A pattern. I feel pressure when I can feel someone else's desires. My empathy is high, and I freeze. I shut off emotionally and become numb, going through the motions. I see it coming. I can feel their desire. I know what's going to happen. I knew it was going to happen. I let it happen.

Why do I get so weak? Why can't I stick up for what I want? Why do I rely on others to make the decision? Why do I think their decision is better than my own?

Recent Posts

See All

Then I'm back.

A cool breeze brushes my face on my morning run. Then I'm back in Tenessee. Going on my morning run near our apartment. I feel the same cool breeze. Feel the same emotions. Depression. Pressure. And h

It's too good to be true.

To have these moments. Leave a self-defense class. More and more confident each week. Wearing my nice yoga pants. Drive to my mom's to drop off fresh pears from the farmer's market. We rest. On rockin

How do I know

That I'm me? I feel creative I want to write Or cook Or make jokes Or learn I'm not exhausted, obsessive, or anxious That's how I know.