I Weep..

I WEEP for every soldier who suffers from PTSD.

A leg blown clean off would be better.

Without PTSD- she heals, he recovers, and returns home from the war to a helpful family that can SEE the injured limb…

But for the warriors with an injured BRAIN,  they go home with “just PTSD”…


No one knows that there are times when a single sound, or even no sound at all, a sight – something out the corner of her eye, a meaningless word or an any action can send her back into the HELL in which she lost her mind.

No one understands the days, week, months, or years it may take to crawl out from the weight of the trauma that crushes the soldiers ability to think rationally, causes flashbacks played across the screen in his mind and disrupts the relationships America’s hero wants to return to normally.

I WEEP for the soldiers with PTSD. 


And I WEEP for every girl who has been  decimated by sexual abuse and develops PTSD…

Her worst nightmare,

the RAPE, doesn’t happen once to her.

It happens in her bruised brain, over and over-

     …in the produce section of the grocery store getting apples for the kids’ lunches,

     …in the restaurant with her children laughing at dad’s dumb jokes,

     …in the parking lot after a fun day of shopping with the girls.


Something triggered her…

Maybe it was the man in the royal blue hoodie,

And she was immediately transported back to her HELL again- LOOKING FOR AN ESCAPE ROUTE, LOOKING FOR A WEAPON IF SHE HAS TO FIGHT, trying to find a safe place.

I WEEP for the abused woman with PTSD.


And I WEEP for the adoptive moms with PTSD,

She just wanted to be there for a child neglected- a little one who didn’t have a childhood as wonderful as her biological kids did,

     …moms who have stood  between a child with a broken piece of mirror held over head and her other children…

     …moms who choose to get the shit beat out of them while driving so that she can get her brother to his soccer game on time…

     …moms who hear one child shatter a glass window, then hear the heart of their other child shatter because she wanted to go to her friend’s birthday party.  Instead of having a normal childhood, the police and DCF show up all too often and ask her questions about her parents that rob her of her innocence -way too often.  She doesn’t get to eat birthday cake with her good  friends -there.  No she is here, at home, her HELL. 

     …moms whose hardened hearts are broken into a  1,000,000 pieces of rubble because of the violent child’s siblings,

     – the sibling, a son, an older brother, that always sprints from his seat in front of his favorite video game because he fears that mom is in danger. And she usually is.  He too have become hypervigilent.  He hears even the slightest sounds, notices small movements, judges facial expressions and body language. 

I WEEP for the moms with PTSD, who have watched the childhood of their other kids be destroyed.

The trauma that often injures the deepest and hurts the most.

    I have watched one of my children turn to pot to try and escape,

     I have watched one of my kids turn to anger and shut down,

     I have watched another child turn away from the God. 

I WEEP for the mommas,  the women,  the men, the children –  who develop PTSD from wounds and trauma to the brain.

The HELL continues on and on.

They go through it over and over,


     in the grocery store,

     in the restaurant,

     in the parking lot

        TERRIFIED  again and again.


I WEEP today because I was terrified again today. 

I was flooded with fear.

I was fighting for survival again.

I was poisoned again. 

I was punched again.

I was in the fight alone again

     -abandoned again.

Feeling like no one can protect you,

But worse- feeling like no one will protect you.

I wept today.




    We suffer alone I the grocery store full of people…

     We suffer alone in the crowded restaurant…

     Alone in the parking lot of our mind. 


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