Your Only Hope
It’s a bright, sunny 80°F outside this morning with a few thinly veiled clouds high in the sky. I woke up late to a shout from the new ice maker we had installed in our fridge. Last night was not my best work when it came to sleep. I woke up several times to all kinds of haunts going on inside my head. Many of you who read my words see me as stoic and even-headed when it comes to life. But what many of you may not realize is that deep in my memory, I am still haunted by a past filled with fear and mental torment. I understand the overuse of psychological terms today. Concepts like trauma and PTSD are thrown around way more than they should be. I’m one of the last generation that was told to “suck it up, buttercup” during a crisis. But living for decades under the “physician, heal thyself” mentality, the skills I often use sometimes just don’t work. So right now, I’m going through a moment of anxiety and clinical depression, masking it all with that same old stoic face I’ve use...