Page 662 - Total War on PTSD

nails he would tap into the hard maple sharply. They stood up straight, spaced out a couple inches apart, there must have been a dozen of them.
SMACK! A miss. Smack, smack. Ping!
The first nail I made contact with went shooting across the shop. I had hit it just enough to move it, just not enough to push it into the hard maple. The second nail started driving through the wood then bent over. I tried straightening the nail to attempt to drive it the rest of the way, but that wasn’t working. You see, I was failing. But that failure stimulated learning. I thank God now for those opportunities now, because it paved the way for me to resume this trade after running from it for so long.
I didn’t always want to be a woodworker. I wanted to get away from home to make my own path. I wasn’t even very good in shop class, I never applied myself. I viewed working every day in a dusty shop as a dead end and not really leading towards a greater cause. How much more wrong could I have been?
I was in High School when it happened. The school rolled out large rear projection television into the cafeteria for the staff and students to stay informed on what was going on. Other kids in my school were crying, some were scared, some couldn’t care less yet. The first tower had fallen. I watched the next plane strike the second tower. I watch my own countrymen and women jump from the windows to face a different death. Just thinking back to that day brings back tears for the families that were directly affected by the cowardly perpetrators.
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