The anniversary of 9/11 is a day I spend in part remembering with the rest of the country where I was and how I reacted when I heard the news, and how for the 10 years before, that day already meant something else horrible to me.
On the anniversaries of traumatic experiences, some survivors experience a heightened response to triggers. For me, the anniversary of the death of a loved one by gun suicide is a day spent remembering every detail in vivid PTSD clarity; the psychological imprint of the grief and pain take over my regularly scheduled cognitive programming.
I was born with proboscis lateralis, a rare craniofacial birth defect. My parents were scared; uncertain and overwhelmed by having a new baby with a defect so rare at the time only one other case had been reported. By the time they found a surgeon who could help me, they had endured only cruel and clinical environments.