*trigger warning: sexual assault, PTSD*No one really told me how often I will think of his face, even long after it happens.His hands and the tightness of his fingers curling around my trembling thighs.
My dry mouth and closing throat. How, years later, whenever someone touches me, a part of me believes it’s the Devil again, finding a dirty way to devour me.
No one really told me how hard it is to navigate intimacy when I have trauma sitting heavy on my chest like the Devil on my shoulder.I believe there’s a difference between sex therapy and using sex as a means of therapy, but whatever it is, I’m still learning how to heal.
Read more on thoughtcatalog.com