Making It Through A Sad Day: PTSD
By Josie Sanders
 November Fifth. The date approaches again. Every year, like the first frost, it appears and passes. I have measured the years – and my progress through them – by this mid-autumn number on the calendar. As a person with PTSD, or post traumatic stress disorder, I find that the date on which the worst trauma in my life occurred is for me a day permanently etched in my subconscious.
No, I never served in a war zone. My PTSD is the result of what I jokingly call “domestic combat.” I am a five foot tall, one hundred pound person who was beat on for years. There were days when I thought that surely I would be killed. The most traumatic day of my life was not any of those events, however, but the day a judge set free and rewarded the person who hurt me. That may sound strange, but the effects of PTSD rarely make sense. Read more
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