All of that really hit home to me at age 18, in a college English class. We had an assignment to write about where we would be in 10 years, and we had to give an oral presentation about it. I pretty much zoned out on the women (sorry, ladies). I keyed in on the guys as they gave their presentations. They all talked about dating, marrying, careers, and especially about having kids (well, maybe they all didn't, but I had a laser-like focus on the guys that mentioned that).

Because the relationship/kids issue ... really hurt. There was one guy who spoke, and it really, really cut to the quick. He talked about what a great dad he had - apparently his father was also the coach of his HS basketball team, and he idolized his dad (or at least said he did). And, he talked about how he wanted to be the kind of father his dad was.

Obviously, that really cut to the chase of my issues. These other guys had dads who coached them in basketball, took them on fishing trips, whatever ... I had the nightmare transvestite who pointed rifle barrels at me and called me a worthless piece of excrement.

I remember what I did after that class - it was a late morning class, so it got out like 11:30 ish - it was a cool, windy early April day, with the grass just beginning to green up, and the sun popping in and out from behind puffy white clouds. I walked towards the center of campus, towards the river, about maybe half a mile from the where the class was, and I went down to the river bank behind the Administration building, in the middle of this crowded campus just before lunch time, teeming with people going by, and I sat on the seawall and dangled my feet over the water and cried. Luckily, no one approached me - I was controlled enough that I wasn't obvious, I could have passed it off as an allergy attack or bad cold or something in my eyes if I had to. But, I was glad none of the religious zealots who were always running around trying to proselytize to the "vulnerable" students saw me (I hated that ... I knew I was miserable, I didn't need someone to come up to me and ask me if I wanted to be saved by Jesus - it would take a lot more than Jesus, trust me).

I just new I would never be a husband, or a father ... my childhood was too traumatic, I had serious questions about the stability of my gene pool in terms of mental illness - I just figured that it would be grossly unfair to ensnare another human being in the quicksand of my life.

BTW, my presentation and paper was just pure bullsh**. I made crap up, just to make a good public showing. I knew then none of it would come true, because at 18, I honestly felt like I would NEVER live to be 22 or 25, let alone 30. So, it didn't matter - I was already a dead man walking. Why bother planning for the future when you don't have one.

And THAT is PTSD, in a nutshell.