Ive had PTSD for a while now, and throughout my experience with it, these little moments nudge in. They start, then they stop and the aftermath is what hurts you. In the moment itself, you are just reacting and surviving. It’s difficult to explain. In my most vulnerable moments I can experience it. In my most ordinary moments I can experience it. The weekend after I left the clinic, there was a group of men near me, I was petrified. I was also disgusted. The naseua ran deep. And my nostrils felt hot with sickness. I felt stunted. Shamed. Angry. I felt exploited and used... it passed. It does pass. It comes again but it does pass. And each time I become more accustomed to it. And accepting of it.