This story is about life and death, but in reverse. It begins with a death and ends with a life. Both are Mine. On October 7, 2014, a part of me suddenly and violently died. More than two years after the events that occurred that day, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Since then, I have been on a journey of self-discovery, where night terrors, panic attacks and hopelessness consumed me as I blindly wondered through a seemingly endless wilderness to strange and unexpected places. Even so, I have to acknowledge that through the hardships I endured, I learned to see myself from a new perspective and, in many ways, I learned to love the self I now see reflected in the mirror. I have no illusions, however, that the world around me has become a better place since 2014, or that prejudice, discrimination or humankind's cannibalistic demolition of each other's character or reputation has diminished. My journey did not lead to world peace, but it did bring me a sense of inner peace as I sat with the Universe alone on a bench in a chapel nearly three years after the traumatic events of 2014 surrendering to my higher power, whispering the words, "I believe."