When my PTSD was crippling I couldn’t sleep, it was really bad. The insomnia was real. At some point I was grateful for two hours of shut eye. Even smoking weed didn’t help, fearing being attacked further by my abusers and their aids I was in a constant state of high alert. Safety, that’s all I wanted to feel. I had to find a way to rest. Forcing myself to read and take lessons finally weighed my eyelids with a heaviness I could no longer fight. Here are some tips to help those still struggling. If there are any other tricks feel free to share them. Artist: Just Girl Project
