Two weeks after I was diagnosed with PTSD, and seven months after I lost my second little brother to drugs, I found myself lying down on my bed, trippin' on mushrooms, doing everything in my power to gain insight on how to steady the ship. My relationship with my wife was rocky at best, and we were gearing our family up for another long-distance move at a time when the pain and suffering that had been weighing me down for the majority of...