A secret society of survivors led by God do battle with demons. Does that sound like a horror movie introduction? In a way, it is. Survivors of traumatic events live through horrifying events that play over and over again in their minds. Their lives depend on others coming to help them defeat the demon those events fed. It is a battle between good and evil. Evil holds you as a prisoner of war. It wants you to be destroyed and hurt as many people as you can on your way out of this life. Good, wants to free you from the bad thoughts. It wants you to heal and take as many others out of their own hell while you are on your way toward bliss.
This book is about survivors of traumatic events plagued by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. While some seem to think PTSD only affects combat veterans, the truth is, it afflicts millions of people and no one is talking about people like them…and me.
Every cause of PTSD is in this work.
According to the National Center for PTSD, about 7 or 8 out of every 100 people will experience PTSD at some point in their lives. Women are more likely to develop PTSD than men, and genes may make some people more likely to develop PTSD than others.
Risk Factors
Anyone can develop PTSD at any age. This includes war veterans, children, and people who have been through a physical or sexual assault, abuse, accident, disaster, or other serious eventsNot everyone with PTSD has been through a dangerous event. Some people develop PTSD after a friend or family member experiences danger or harm. The sudden, unexpected death of a loved one can also lead to PTSD.
(National Institute of Mental Health)
Every symptom is in this work.
Negative changes in thinking and mood
(MAYO Clinic)
Symptoms of negative changes in thinking and mood may include:
Negative thoughts about yourself, other people or the world
Hopelessness about the future
Memory problems, including not remembering important aspects of the traumatic event
Difficulty maintaining close relationships
Feeling detached from family and friends
Lack of interest in activities you once enjoyed
Difficulty experiencing positive emotions
Feeling emotionally numb
What qualifies me to write this? I am a survivor of over ten events. The one that did the most damage to me, was my ex-husband tried to kill me and then stalked me for a lot longer than I thought he did. He drove a muscle car, but was an auto body mechanic and he drove a lot of his customers’ vehicles. When I thought he finally stopped after a year, it turned out he didn’t. After I got engaged to my current husband, he walked over to him and introduced himself. I didn’t get over reacting to the sound of muscles cars for over two decades until I found out he died.
I know what is I like to lose hope to the point where death is the only thing you hope for. After our daughter was born, I had a massive infection. I walked around with it for eight months before it took over my body. I was being taken over by septic infection and in the hospital for several days. In and out of conscientious, at one point I heard a nurse tell my Mom I was fighting for my life, while my brain was screaming, “No I’m not! I want to die.” I had given up on everything I was fighting for because PTSD was turning my husband into a stranger and my life was miserable. The next time I opened my eyes, I saw our eight month old daughter in my husband’s arms and knew I did have a reason to live. I decided to fight for her sake.
I decided to take the knowledge I gained the hard way about PTSD and write about it online in 1993. That never stopped and in 1999 I wrote my first book, Foe The Love Of Jack, His War My Battle. I was not fully aware of the fact that my own battle with PTSD was being fought at the same time. After all, I was never in combat. I thought the only way I understood so much was researching it , living with my husband and listening to other veterans.
Maybe if other people had talked about their own PTSD, I would have seen it in me, but no one did. The thing is, we moved from Massachusetts to Florida, but the memories of what my ex-husband did, followed me there. I spent over three decades as a PTSD advocate, researcher, writer and Chaplain, focusing on veterans. In 1982, I fell in love with my current husband who had PTSD from Vietnam. I did not think of it as PTSD, until I understood I had a rare form of it because when I was only five, I almost died twice in one night because of what someone did to me, That was followed by a lifetime of traumatic events. I know I saved over a hundred people, but with over 700 videos online since 2006, three other books and thousands of articles, only God knows how many people were reached and helped to heal.
I know the awesome power of faith in God as a Greek Orthodox Christian. I also know what it is like to become a Churchless child of God. As of 2020, only 47% of Americans attend church, meaning million of people are churchless. The majority of people I have helped believe in God and Jesus, but do not attend church for various reasons, but mainly, they did not feel as if they belonged there.
Above all the heartache, I know what it is like to not suffer anymore, because I know what it is like to be healed. So do the all the people in the Society of Survivors in this book.
The Lost Son is for the other churchless children of God. It deals with suicide and survivors of those who were on the brink. It deals with all the causes of PTSD, self mediating with drugs and alcohol. It contains adult language. It also has bible passages to show that the struggles are not limited to time as much as they are embedded in all of us survivors.
The society of survivors knew your pain, because it was theirs’. They knew what your demon looks like, because they had one too. They know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out, because theirs’ was too before it was healed. It’s time to #BreakTheSilence and #TakeBackYourLife from PTSD.
“Fools”, said I, “You do not know
Disturbed The Sound Of Silence
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you”
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence
