The Trigger You Don’t See Coming…

I bought a new (to me) car on Friday — and I was so excited. Nothing was really wrong with my old one, except it had high miles, no warranty, and I drive a ton for work and life in general. So when I found a newer car that fit the budget, I jumped on it.

I even made the fun Facebook post — the “look how far I’ve come” kind of moment.

Almost four years ago, I was broken. In pain. Struggling just to get that first car.

Now? Healed-ish. Less pain. Happier. Getting the new car felt symbolic — like closing one chapter and opening another.

And then it happened. The trigger.

That night, I had the kind of night terror that shakes you to your core. I was being smothered. Beaten. Crying. Screaming for help. I couldn’t wake up. When I finally did, I was drenched in sweat, shaking uncontrollably, bawling — full of panic. I’m crying now just thinking about it.

I didn’t let myself go back to sleep. I’ve kept myself busy all weekend, trying not to think about it. But every time I stop, my mind replays it on a loop — trying to rewrite the ending, to make it feel different. It never works. The panic returns. The tears follow.

And that’s the thing — this is PTSD.

People often think PTSD only happens to soldiers, but it can affect anyone who’s experienced trauma. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, about 6% of Americans will experience PTSD at some point in their lives — and women are twice as likely as men to develop it. It’s not just flashbacks or bad dreams; it’s the way your body and brain refuse to let you feel safe, even when you are.

With Veterans Day approaching, I can’t help but think about those who live with this on a much deeper level. Veterans face PTSD at rates estimated between 11% and 20%, depending on the era of service. Many deal with those same sleepless nights, panic attacks, and invisible flashbacks — day after day, year after year — all because they stepped up to protect the rest of us.

So as you head out to eat, enjoy your day off, or just go about your life — talk to a Veteran. Thank them. Not just with words, but with genuine appreciation for what they’ve endured. Because for so many, the war doesn’t end when they come home.

For them — and for anyone living with PTSD — the vice grip doesn’t always let go. The pain doesn’t disappear. The memories linger.

And yet… we keep going…or for those that know me, we “just keep swimming”