#ptsd
Expedition Recovery: Riding Out the Demons of War
I did the wrong thing 9,085 miles ago. I left late in the day, on little sleep, and on a time crunch. I waved goodbye and headed north from my home to the extreme northern end of the Americas at Deadhorse, Alaska. By a little after midnight I was camping in the Arctic Circle, and all alone with my thoughts. Surprisingly, I had an actual dream, something I’d rarely done since returning from combat in Iraq in December, 2006.
