My PTSD Backgrounder
I was driving to my office at the King and Queen buildings (as they were colloquially known then) in Atlanta, GA, that sunny morning of 9/11/01. I was working for MCI Worldcom right around the time Bernie Ebbers was destroying it from the inside out. However, I was unaware of the evil personified by Bernie, as I was young and naive. I worked as a liaison between the developers and the helpdesk to keep track of the various in-house software application problems and then interface with the developers to promptly resolve the issues.
On a day like 9/11/01, typically, I expected work to be generally enjoyable, sometimes dull, and mostly satisfying. Of course, by the time I reached the office, I knew my day would be anything but typical. Both towers had fallen, and there was a plane-sized hole in one of the sides of the Pentagon. I found that everyone was crowded around a television observing the horrors of that morning, silently wondering if being in a skyscraper that morning was the most reasonable idea. We did go back home shortly as there was no point in even trying to work that day.
Back home, we continued watching CNN, trying to make sense of the sheer scale of violence the cowardly terrorists had perpetrated. As a soldier in the U.S. Army Reserves, I knew that my Unit would be activated soon due to the nature of the attacks. In the Army, my job was in the field of Military Intelligence. I had a specific skillset imminently suited to respond to the needs of the Army. I couldn't wait and looked forward to my journey to the battlefield. I was so excited to fight (I already told you I was young and naive, correct?) Besides the technical skills, I spoke a few languages that would be useful in the part of the world we were about to invade. And as if it had read my mind, the Army promptly activated me specifically by name instead of my Unit - something I did not even know could be done. The adventures began; little did I realize then that those adventures would eventually reward me with a life membership in the infamous Complex PTSD or C-PTSD Club.
The story continues...
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