Anneka is asleep on my couch. We're supposed to get up early tomorrow for the lunch. Neither of us is looking forward to it, but we're going anyway.
She showered at my place and borrowed one of my shirts to sleep in. This small domesticity feels revolutionary. Like the fact that she can exist in my space without needing to change anything about how she moves or what she says—that means something.
I told her I was scared. About tomorrow. About Mario. About the fact that seeing him still triggers something in me that feels entirely out of proportion to the actual threat he represents.
She said, "Trauma doesn't care about actual threats. It cares about perceived ones. Your body is smart. It's trying to protect you."
She's right. But it doesn't make it easier. It doesn't make it less mortifying to know that one man can reduce me to a state of hypervigilance and fear just by existing in the same room.
Tomorrow I'm going to sit across from him and I'm going to be polite and I'm going to eat lunch and I'm going to prove to myself that he doesn't actually have any power over me.
Even if that's not entirely true.
Comments
You're stronger than you know. Just remember that tomorrow.
Your nervous system will likely activate tomorrow. That's normal. Breathe through it. Notice that you survived in the past and you will survive this.
Forza, Simona. You have Anneka. That changes everything.
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