Like many of you, I woke up Monday morning, turned on the TV and immediately began feeling the symptoms of being triggered. I felt the familiar veil of cold sweat on my forehead and the back of my neck. I was hungry but I did not feel like eating. But the most pervasive symptom has stayed with me for the last 48 hours.
I rarely comment on online articles that contain inaccurate information. However, the article this morning that popped up in my RSS feed prompted me to get out my "poison pen" and educate the author on PTSD.
I yelled at him again, then I caught a quick glimpse of something moving in the grass. I stepped outside to investigate and saw a huge snake. It was 1/2 the length of the lawn. I grabbed the male dog by the collar and just caught the puppy as she bounded toward the snake.
I am suffering in trauma treatment because I chose life. I can always change my mind later. But I’m here, suffering because I chose life. I died that night, you see. Hell has such terrible dreams!
Thirty-four people had looked at my page. I was pretty sure that these people were friends and family that I had connected with, and most of them were, but there was this one name that popped out at me.
When the sun began to set the "shadow of death" began to creep across the side of the arena once exposed to the brutal, direct rays of sunlight. Sure enough, once the arena was completely covered in shade, the Matadors appeared.