It took me forever to even admit that I had a problem.
It was in the early to mid-eighties when a wonderful veteran outreach counselor stood me in front of a full-length mirror and asked me a couple of things.
Am I having trouble keeping focused?
Am I having trouble keeping a job?
Am I having trouble with relationships?
And finally, do you have trouble relating to society?
And then he said look in the mirror, what do you see?
I see me.
Well then, maybe you are the problem.
That was the day I first began healing.
Jack Jones was his name. A Marine that had been wounded in the war.
It was the beginning of the end of my ten-year post war drifting.
A drifting that carried me into the mountains of Blue Lake, California.
I lived there in a trailer along the old logging roads for a year.
Isolated from people, just me and my dogs.
But the ghosts were there.
They are always with me.
They just won’t let go.