Grapevine Online Exclusive

Published November 2015.

A Pandora's Box

A Parisian-style picnic in the town of Echo seemed innocent enough

After I had had a few suicide attempts, a concerned drug and alcohol counselor managed to place me into a long-term psychiatric program. It was the very first time I had heard the term PTSD. I drank to stop the noise in my head stemming from my combat experience in Vietnam.

Though, deep down inside, I knew that in large part, I basically drank to get drunk. Sure, my war experiences provided plenty of fuel for the engine of misery and I used that card for many a year to get free shots at my local watering hole and to procure the sympathy of many magistrates prior to their handing down sentences of drunk and disorderly behavior.

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