It’s times like this that I’m so thankful to know how to help. Within 15 minutes of tapping with me – without his saying a word – he was on his feet, shaken but OK enough to be able to speak and do more tapping until he truly felt good.
I remember my dad doing the same thing on July 4th when we went to the beach to see the fireworks. My mother and I used to dread it because we knew what he’d do.
He’d be OK until the huge, no-lights boomy ones went off, and then he’d hit the ground, crashing onto his belly, taking anyone close enough to be within arm’s reach down with him. Shell shock, they used to call it. PTSD now.
So this year it happened again. I was at a friend’s whose neighbors like to build those…