Michael Paul

I had another nightmare. I was in my house, again in the woods, and two men broke through the door, coming for me with a sharp object. The men were…

I had been through annual suicide training in the military for the previous fifteen years. I knew what to look for, I thought. I knew the signs.

My mind had been completely encrusted, yet a drill was boring a hole. Then a piercing pain jabbed repeatedly with the precision of a scalpel. It burned. Something in the center of my brain was pulsating rapidly, preparing to explode at any minute...

Maybe my mind was so terribly foggy that I hallucinated this feeling of being forced. It happened so suddenly. I stepped back, yet lunged forward at the same time. I tried to remove my hand as quickly as possible, but the sharp edge of the knife hit my right pinky finger. It missed the bone but cut very deep. Immediately, I screamed and yelled F***...

Gardening and tai chi moderated the intensity and duration of my bodily and mental pains. However...

I hoped therapy and medicine would heal my mind, but I knew it would take time. Finding the correct medicine and dialing in the correct dosage would take time. Unraveling the layers in therapy would take time. Time, time, time. I prayed for more patience...

What should I do? Call an ambulance or a friend? Drive to the Emergency Room (ER) because of the panic attack? I recalled the first time I had a panic attack...

It was dark, cold, and raining, similar to what I was told November 1944 was like in the Hurtgen Forest in a foxhole...

I felt like I had survived a fight with repeated punches to my stomach and jaw. Days after buying the nightguard, my mind came under assault too.

I journeyed through the lands of deep depression, panic disorder, anxiety disorder, suicidal ideation, homicidal thoughts, and post-traumatic stress for over two years. The ride was wild at times, gentle at times, and sluggish at times, but it always flowed forward until I exited the land of the dead.