September drags old scars into the light. PTSD anniversaries, bad memories, and a country at odds with itself. Sometimes the Wasteland is the only place I can breathe.
Tag: PTSD
Counting Avoidance
When avoidance becomes a way of life, even lists can feel like enemies. Between writer’s block, PTSD, and the fallout from strokes, I’m learning how to navigate decision-making, distraction, and guilt—with help from The Count and a very patient dog.
Laughing in the Dark
Dark humor isn’t cruelty—it’s survival. From the Army to EMS to nursing, it’s the only way I’ve made sense of the senseless. If you’re shocked, that’s fine—my mom and my dog get it, and they’re the only jury that matters.
Fishing, Radroaches, and Nursing Regrets
During a nice relaxing evening fishing in the wasteland between nukes, I had a few odd thoughts running through my mind. I get a lot of time to think and hash through some of the day’s more esoteric questions. For example, what would you have the toughest time doing in the wasteland? I think mine …