I haven’t forgotten about you guys out there, not at all. What I did forget was to work to my proper level and tolerance.
Oh, and a medication. That was bad.
It brings to mind the unseen, unstated stigma that remains a part of the recovery of mental health. Though many would say that this has improved over the
past years—I cannot agree with this. The fact that no one really talks about it is a sign that more work needs to be done.
As many of you who’ve been with me a while may know, I’ve got PTSD. It’s in the public eye because of the ongoing war efforts, and there’s a good amount that we know about it. However, it is so well-known in this sense that non-veterans, like myself, are prone to attempting to convince ourselves that it’s all in our heads—that we aren’t really afflicted because hey, we aren’t soldiers.
This isn’t quite right. We aren’t all veterans, true; however, every PTSD patient is a soldier.
We fight our perceptions. We fight the things that broke us. We fight misconceptions about our condition.
We fight the people who care, and we fight them when they don’t understand.
We fight ourselves, as we get in our own way.
We fight our own bodies as our survival response reacts to the benign things around us.
We fight, because it’s what we know. We have to.
After all, we can’t leave the scourge as it is.
We fight to show others that there is a way out.