I’m scared of my husband. He’s a sweet, gentle man, but sometimes when I see him, my body falls to the ground. I huddle in a ball on the floor protecting my neck.
Intellectually, I know — or at least part of my brain knows — he would never hurt me. But, my body doesn’t know that.
My body is stuck in a moment, over 10 years ago, when someone that I was in a relationship with — someone I cared about — raped me.
Now, my brain sees my husband as a threat — as a potential rapist. And I live with him. This means I live in fear.
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