Years ago, I had an older gentleman neighbor. He was a veteran of Vietnam, and one of the coolest dudes you had ever met. We used to sit around on cool Summer evenings, sharing in the bro-to-bro bond of a cold one, telling stories of the past, getting to know one another. He had some pretty fascinating stories from his time 'in theater' as he always referred to it. From battles and fire-fights to just random down-time experiences in town, hanging out with his battle brothers overseas. Once in a while, he'd get to the end of a story, sit there silently for a bit, then get up and go inside. Back then, they were called 'flashbacks.'

Of course nowadays, PTSD is the term they use now. And if it wasn't for all the social-justice-warrior-safe-space-cowering-millenials that claim PTSD from a wrong Starbucks order, it might be taken far more seriously than it is. Those who have it also tend to shy away from admitting it. The heart of a warrior knows no pain or fear, or so they feel. It's not easy asking for help sometimes. It's a hard blow to ones ego admitting defeat from your own feelings. But there is help out there. Call someone. Reach out. Get healthy.