Photo by urban_data | CC BY 2.0
I was sitting by myself in a bar in Cali, Colombia when I suddenly burst into tears. Seemingly out of nowhere and for no apparent reason, the tears just flooded down my cheeks and I could not stop them. I didn’t know why I was balling but I was conscious of being in a public place and needed to get out of there. I took a taxi back to my hotel room where the crying continued. The next day I flew home to Canada on a journey filled with more tears. During a layover in Panama City I sat in an airport restaurant crying for more than an hour. On the long flight to Toronto I cried some more. What was happening to me? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I was having an emotional breakdown.
The emotional turmoil continued when I got home and my partner Terry convinced me to see a therapist. Terry thought I might be suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) as a result of my work as a war correspondent, but I wasn’t convinced. Nevertheless, I acquiesced to her wishes and saw a counsellor who specializes in treating PTSD. He confirmed Terry’s suspicions. And so began a new journey that has required both me and my family to learn how to live with my mental illness.
Covering Colombia’s Conflict
For almost two decades, I worked as a journalist in Colombia, Venezuela, Cuba and the West Bank. I conducted most of my work in Colombia where I spent 13 years investigating the US war on drugs and the armed conflict. My primary…