When the sound of fireworks triggers the trauma of being shot at

A Blog About Healing From PTSD

It happened to me almost forty years ago. I was living and working about an hour north of Chicago, Illinois. I worked for a home builder in a swanky new development on a lake. I worked in the office, answering phones, greeting potential home buyers, answering their questions, and taking them on a tour of the model homes.

I worked by myself, with only a radio to keep me company. But I liked it, it was peaceful. Until it wasn’t…

My day began early in the morning and continued until after dark, when it was time to lock up the office and the model homes. One night, after another mostly uneventful, slow day, I turned off all the lights, locked the office, checked out and locked up the three model houses, and I was walking back up the sidewalk toward the parking lot when a car drove up beside me…

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