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I never planned for this… 

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A friend just asked me if I have a plan. 

This is a new friend, so they don’t know me, but the thing is I am the type of person to always have a plan. 

Always. 

Green Leafed Plant on Sand

I make it look like I’m flying by the seat of my pants, but I can assure you that inside those pants I have hand sanitizer, a multivitamin, a spare phone battery, and possibly a water bottle, depending on the brand of legging I’m sporting that day— suffice to say, your girl needs a plan. 

Close-up Photo of an Ipad

But I never planned for this. I never planned to be less than three months out from that one time my actual husband strangled me until there was no more breath left in my body.  

And in that moment, that very second when it all happened, when I thought I was seeing the world for what would be the last time in my whole entire life, I just sort of felt more fear and terror that I knew was possible, and now… 

White Paper With Note

I don’t know how to come down from that fear and terror. I feel like I haven’t truly had a panic attack because I live in one. I haven’t felt anything but terror and fear since the second it happened. The adrenaline hasn’t quit rushing, and I don’t know a way to ever, ever make it stop. 

But what I’m also scared of, and maybe most of all is, what happens if it does actually stop? 

What then?

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