For a long time, a sudden loud sound, or an unexpected knock at a door, would send a bright, involuntary spike of fear through my chest, my body remembering a danger my mind had already escaped.

I want to name that plainly, because there is a version of a story like mine that skips it, that goes straight from the courtroom victory to the corner office as though justice were the same thing as healing.

It is not.

Justice is necessary, and I am glad I pursued it, but it is not the same as being well.

Being well took time, and it took good therapy, which I sought out and do not consider a weakness to mention, and it took the steady presence of real friends who had never once told me to keep the peace.