So, this might be a little heavier than what you asked for, but here we go anyway.

I grew up in a fairly rural suburbia to a middle class nuclear family. Parents grew up dirt poor, gave every ounce of energy they had to making a stable, healthy home for myself and siblings. Never really appreciated them as this was just "normal america" to me.

Fast forward to about 16. I experienced death for the first time. Not like seeing someone in a coffin at a funeral, seeing someone die in front of me. In my arms.

The following year I saw 9 people get electrocuted, 4 of which burst into flames.

Two years later I saw the immediate aftermath of a head-on collision between a motorcycle and a car, before the cops had gotten there.

I didn't think it impacted me for a long time. Cue the drug abuse, crippling depression and anxiety, failing out of college (a number of factors played into this, one of which is hereditary, so I don't want to lump it all into my traumatic experiences). At this point in life I was a bit of a shitbag; stealing from those closest to me to fuel my drug habits, alienating everyone close to me, isolation so extreme I went 4 months not seeing any of my family even though I lived with them.

Once I realised I needed to get my life on track, I started with therapy. I went for a year, thought I was better, so I stopped. Went a few years being ok, finished college, got a good job (high school teacher; motivated to do so primarily by my psychonautical explorations), fairly uneventful. Met the love of my life in college, and going through issues with her made me realize I was NOT ok. So I started going back to therapy again. The initial mistake I made was thinking therapy would "fix" me. There is no fixing these things. There is only learning to live again despite the trauma.

"Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to face it" - Lt. John B. Putnam