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My Definition Of PTSD

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According to the government, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (also known as PTSD) “is a mental health problem that some people develop after experiencing or witnessing a life-threatening event, like combat, a natural disaster, a car accident, or sexual assault.” Although that is the book definition of PTSD, I have a different one. According to me, PTSD is a teacher, it teaches that to be human is to be insignificant, impotent, and a slave to the forces of randomness. According to David J. Morris, the author of The Evil Hours, “Trauma destroys the fabric of time. In normal time you move from one moment to the next, sunrise to sunset, birth to death. After trauma, you may move in circles, find yourself being sucked backwards into an eddy or bouncing …show more content…

I walk up to the door, and just as I was about to pull the door open, my eyes glanced at a sign on the door that read “The use of cellphones beyond this point is not aloud!” I smirk and make my way into the store, which smelled of soft lavender. I breath in and breathe out. I scroll around he store for an hour or so until I pass by a book titled The Evil Hours by David J. Morris. I pick it up and continue to read the synopsis. The book was a biography of Morris’ years as a Marine Infantry officer, and as a reporter in Iraq from 2004 to 2007, where he experienced a number of horrific, traumatic events. I immediately yearn to have the book in my possession; so I buy …show more content…

I read it when I was at Bryant Park. I read as I walked through the maze that is Union Square. I read when I was homesick, which I never thought I would be; but, home was not safe — it was dangerous. And until I read The Evil Hours, I would have never been able to articulate my homesickness to my psychiatrist, or understand it. As Morris puts it, “I found myself in pain, missing the field, missing the Marines and the excitement,… the feelings I’d had in a place where every second could either save you or kill you.” Morris understood what I was feeling, he knew what it meant to desire the one thing that you do not actually wish for. It was like a drug addiction, a rush of Serotonin and Dopamine; I did not want it, but it was familiar, it was comfortable, it was the one place where I felt needed — it was home; Yes, I was in pain, but isn’t that just the price for

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