By Tom Schilling | June 11, 2018 10:29:53I don’t think I’m alone in thinking that the best charities are the ones that provide people with a sense of purpose and meaning.

The purpose of the good, after all, is to make a difference.

The people who run these great organizations have no idea that their work is meaningless, because their primary purpose is to create meaning.

But for me, I’m a veteran.

In 2016, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.

For the first time in my life, I felt a sense that I wasn’t quite right in the world.

My PTSD symptoms intensified, and I was losing sleep.

I started to feel like I was missing out on something.

The last thing I wanted to do was spend my time alone in a dark, lonely place.

My brain started to become numb to what I was experiencing.

I didn’t feel I could connect with other people, or feel safe in my own home.

I became increasingly distressed and isolated.

As I continued to suffer, I became more and more disenchanted with the world, and the lack of purpose.

As a result, I began to feel isolated and lonely.

It was at this point that I started thinking about ways I could provide purpose to other veterans.

The answer I came up with was an idea that’s been running through my head since I was a child.

I have a great story, and it has nothing to do with a veteran’s cause.

It’s something that I grew up on, and has shaped my character since then.

When I was 11 years old, my parents separated.

I grew to like my dad, and my mom.

They were always close and friendly.

They took me to many local parks and played games.

One day, I saw a sign that said, “Hands Up Don’t Shoot.”

I quickly figured out that it was a military base, and decided that I would never have to go anywhere near a military installation again.

I was 14 years old and, for the first year and a half of my life in the military, I had a very positive impression of my military service.

But then, in early 2016, the government stopped paying for the VA hospital in my hometown of West Virginia.

This meant that I was no longer able to go there for medical care.

I didn’t have any money.

I had to rely on my mother for everything.

My mom had just given me $30,000.

So, after I graduated from high school, I found myself in a job that paid very little, and was extremely stressful.

The unemployment rate was above 25 percent.

I felt like I couldn’t go back to school or make friends, because my job was so stressful.

I struggled to make ends meet and was struggling to make it through the day.

When my mom was working at a grocery store, she would call me into her office to get help.

I’d tell her about my struggles, and she’d say, “Just tell them you have to get out.”

But I knew she wasn’t going to listen.

She didn’t want me to talk about it.

I would sit in my cubicle and watch her work, hoping to get a better job.

I would then spend the rest of the day just staring at my computer, unable to move or think.

I also had to get up at night, which was very difficult.

I wouldn’t get up until 7 a.m. because it was too late for my work.

Eventually, my mom had to take me to a local VA facility to get my health insurance and to get me a prescription for a medication.

I ended up paying $1,000 for the medication, and that’s how I got my PTSD diagnosis.

The most important thing about PTSD is that it doesn’t stop after you’ve had it.

PTSD is a mental health condition that causes severe symptoms, like anxiety and depression.

The longer you’ve been suffering, the more severe your symptoms become.

If you’re not treated for it, your symptoms will only get worse.

The more you struggle with PTSD, the worse your symptoms get.

As my symptoms worsened, my family struggled with how to help me.

My dad was a former Marine and an avid hunter.

He was a big supporter of our local animal shelter, and we went to see him every other week.

I wanted a job, so he told me I had an opportunity to come work for him.

It turned out that my father was the one who had the best idea to help us out.

He told us to come to his house and sit on the porch with him, and then he would start to talk to me.

He would tell me about his job as a police officer and how he had been a SWAT team member for the past three years.

I was skeptical at first.

I thought he was making it up as he went along.

He had told me this before, but he was telling the truth.

But after talking with him