When I was 16, I sat in my mother's car and watched as the DMV people went in and out of cars, picking out the people I wouldn't want to be the ones assessing my driving.

I picked out two: the one man and an angry-looking older woman. At 16, I was already wary of men. The statistics about sexual harassment and rape are mean, and only having my father as a male figure didn't give me the chance to socialize with people of the opposite sex.

I passed the test, but not after spending the entire test trying to keep my breathing even and eyes focused, forcing myself to not think about the worst-case scenario.

When I was 19, I had to do paperwork early in the morning that I couldn't do at training because I missed it (due to classes). I was at an area I had only been to once (for the interview), was too early and anxious due to the weather. The person walking me through the paperwork was a man twice my size, and we were the only two in the office. I was hyper-aware of the statistics on sexual assault at this point, as well as the fact that I'm small and weak.

I did the paperwork, telling myself the entire time that he was gay (which was a total guess at the time based on his demeanor) and busy with paperwork from the other new hires.

Here I am at 21, writing an article about sexual assault because April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. It's the month to call out the heinous act suffered by so many, and it's the month that I want to talk about how post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is not just for soldiers.

Yes, they are also sufferers, but they are not the only ones. The demons they fight - the flashbacks, nightmares and ugly guilt - are not theirs alone. The women and men who suffer the evil that is sexual assault - of being raped, forced to do a sexual act, or violently groped and fondled - share these demons as well.

The National Institute of Mental Health says that PTSD develops after a "shocking, scary, or dangerous event," but that sounds like it's under-representing the horror that happens to anyone who suffers from it.

Imagine: it's April, nearing finals, and you just want to go out with people from class to relieve some stress before you have to hit the books. You're careful with your drink, making sure nobody can spike it, but you drink alcohol anyway. You don't get drunk, but you get tipsy.

Someone you're friendly with offers to take you home once it gets later, and you happily agree. You two have talked, you like them, and getting a ride home doesn't sound bad at all. You get in their car, but they have other plans.

You lose.

It can happen to anybody, and from that point on, trust is lost. Places are sinister, people are evil. You feel "dirty" and "used" and are riddled with the guilt of what happened, even though none of it is your fault.

Welcome to what could happen to anyone and lead to a lifelong struggle.