A girlfriend interviews her boyfriend about being in love with a survivor of child sexual abuse and all the messy, sexy, crazy and intimate experiences that come along with it.
She believed me. She believed that what I was enduring was awful. She believed that it wasn’t my fault. And then she made a promise to me — the only promise she’s ever made to me in our ten years of friendship.
My doctor had recently diagnosed me with “homicidal rage”, a new chapter in the ever-fun journey that is living with PTSD, and told me I had to find an outlet for my anger before it consumed me.