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Talking about myself is a tricky line to manage because I don’t usually know when to shut up. My trauma dump is more of an avalanche, and once I start, that mess keeps coming. Which isn’t a great thing when the more people learn about me, the faster they run.
PTSD feels
we have so much else to unpack, like my catastrophizing, anxiety, and apparent OCD—while I repel people, apparently, I collect mental illnesses like trading cards—but apparently, it makes sense.
