Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
••••••••••
JANUARY 12TH, 2018
IT WOULD BE Cynthia's first time in Sam's PTSD meeting.
Sam had invited her, knowing that from her time with HYDRA and her near-death experiences would've definitely given PTSD. Cynthia walked into the room, seeing that there were lots of other soldiers, Cynthia was glad she had come a few minutes early.
"Oh, hey! Everyone, meet Cynthia. She's a friend of mine." Sam introduced her to everyone who was in the current room, and Cynthia shyly waved, saying, "Hi, everyone."
"What do you have PTSD from?" A woman asked gently, and Cynthia replied, "I'm a victim of HYDRA. They'd abducted me back in '95."
A couple people showed faces of shock, obviously not expecting her to have experience with HYDRA. Cynthia took a seat next to the woman who had spoken to her, Cynthia asking, "What's your name?"
"I'm Dinah," She replied, holding out her hand from Cynthia to shake it. "I like your hair."
Cynthia softly smiled, shaking Dinah's hand, and replied, "Thank you. I like your necklace."
The gold necklace seemed to radiate against Dinah's dark skin, her dark dreadlocks falling onto her shoulder as she laughed at something the person next to her had mumbled, and she leaned into them. Cynthia then looked back at Sam, who was standing behind a podium. The talk began, Cynthia noticing some people chimed in to add things, or ask questions, which Sam patiently replied too.
Cynthia had begun to take a liking to Dinah and her outgoing personality. But Cynthia knew that it must have taken her a long way to come this far, to become so outgoing with others, to possibly get past social anxiety. Cynthia paid attention to what Sam was saying, "Like I've said before, just because you've got traumatic memories, does not mean you are broken. It takes a long time to come away from that idea, but we all have gotten through insane things that have made us different people."
A small part of Cynthia felt better, and Sam continued. "Some of us need people around us all the time—or some of us have service dogs to help us through our lives. But I look at the people in this room, and I'm proud of us—we're survivors. Even if it didn't make us stronger, we still lived through it. Some of us may still live through it, and we may live through it for the rest of our lives. And that . . . That's okay. Like I said, we may be different, but we're all still human."
Cynthia listened intently to his words. She had never thought about it like that—that it was okay for her to of gone through traumatic events, even if she blamed most of them on herself, but hearing this now—she hoped that she wasn't going to live with this her entire life.
"And, on that note, I'd like to close us with one last thing: You're in a room where it's safe. You're allowed to say your experience if you'd like, but no one is forcing you to come up here and tell us about what you've gone through." Sam finished, nodding his head and stepping away from the podium. A few people stepped up afterwards, telling a small story about what they went through. Cynthia noticed that Dinah hadn't gotten up, but if anything, had the smallest bits of tears in her eyes.
