Honestly, I would've given this book a slightly better rating if I weren't in such a bad emotional state. I feel like, compared to the people profiled in this book, I've been wasting my life. I know that's not the intent of the author(s) and they do go out of their way to acknowledge the fact that not everyone who has been touched by trauma will come out the other side a superior being, improved, empowered and eager to help others and improve the world. I know I didn't, having been nearly killed at age fourteen when a passenger in a car where the driver had fallen asleep at the wheel and careened off the side of the highway. I know the author(s) did not intend to make anyone feel bad for not becoming a superhero after reading this book. But I look around myself, remembering how the author offered a hint into my daily experience... imagine being afraid of death every moment of your life. I live that every day. In August of this year, it will have been a quarter century since my own initiation into the world of survivors. I cannot say that my life has improved as a result of my trials. I experience physical pain and mental anguish every day, nearly every moment of my waking life, and often while I sleep. Why do they feel motivated by their pain and one like me, clearly no great idiot, lives trapped in my own life, in poverty and suffering, each day considering suicide and afraid of everything? As I finish this book, I'm left with no answers. I don't credit or blame some "god" for my problems (I'm an atheist.) Maybe it's just the way I'm wired. Maybe I shouldn't have lived through it; every day, that thought crosses my mind (and if there is a god, maybe that's why I'm so miserable - I failed to meet my fate!) I suppose I came to this expecting some insight, but I achieved none of that. I did enjoy hearing some of the others' stories, as biographies of incredible lives interest me. But answers to my own puzzles didn't come out of this book, and I fear I may never know.