Excerpt from Getting Out of Jersey…Undead-Earth Book 1
On official U.S.M.C. medical documents I was listed as Daniel Ryan, formal diagnosis of 309.81, or post traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD, whichever nomenclature the psychiatrist decided to write on the form that day. The four little words bothered me deeply. To think that a string of numbers or letters could categorize me so easily offended my sensibilities – especially when I disagreed with the diagnosis. Post traumatic stress disorder implied what I was thinking or feeling was flawed, that my memories and feelings were corrupted by the events of the past.
I didn’t believe that. The memories were so real, the nightmares bordering on hallucinations as they replayed themselves in my dreams. As sleep took me deeper into its darkness my memories started to break through the conscious barriers my therapists had worked so hard to put in place.