It’s late and I am trying to make sense of whatever I have left that is me. The funny thing is that I can write on here a little piece of what I am going through and maybe some of you get it and maybe you don’t. I try to pick out the thoughts racing in my mind around the things that I have done not even 5 years ago. I have children now and I have changed a lot, so much that I don’t recognize that other guy I used to be in the War. I am whoever I need to be now and I don’t know if that is truly who I am. I get off this computer and I’ll have to face real life where once again the thoughts will race, I will be alone inside my head, and I will numb myself. That is all I really do now, I numb myself. I try to make things sound better than they really are. I give myself this gung ho hope that I am a somebody, I did good things, I used to be a good leader and I am a good father. Yet, day after day I am still in the same situation and I am desperately hanging on trying to distort my view of reality so I don’t break and lose control. There is only one part left in me that I know to be mine and that is my will to succeed, to never quit. I can ask myself why and fuck up the whole process but I find that to be unproductive and that is just not good, ya know.
Someone from the VA must have been worried about me because they called the local police to check up on me and make sure I was okay. I just think they are trying to cover there ass with all the mentally ill gun enthusiasts out there shooting people up. Now I personally would never do anything like that, I am a professional and that is once again very unproductive. Then again I guess writing on a blog isn’t very productive either but at least I am not violent, not yet anyway. I am fully capable of being violent but I’d rather be in awe. I would rather see the joy in life again. That is why I hold on, just to feel that feeling again where everything is a miracle.
Christmas Night 2006 I was struck with an IED blast so powerful it blew off the whole side of reactive armor off my Bradley went through all the steel and stopped in two inches of kevlar. I was a dismount in the back and I was 2 inches from being impaled by a copper fireball melting through steel. The point is I never felt more alive after I woke up from the blast, it was a full blown miracle and I was happy. But if I fall asleep tonight god forbid I dream about something like that. Every night it is the same in my dreams, it’s always the RPGs, the grenades, followed by the small arms fire… But the IEDs are the worst because you don’t see those coming, you just feel your body get hit like a shock wave and by the time you come around your checking your junk to make sure it’s still there. I deal with all this and more and I deal with it alone. It doesn’t help to talk about it because I am proud of it but it still scares me. By the morning when the sun comes up regardless of what time I fall asleep I will wake up again with the anxiety in my stomach of the brand new day. I want to get better, I want to be okay, I want to have hope and faith. I want to be normal most of all but I am not like other people, I am not like everyone else.
So here I am, holding on like many of you. I hate to be the one to admit it but I find solace in knowing I am not the only one. My problems are different and they are my own but I am not the only one with problems. I feel sorrow for some of you and the things you write, yet I also find strength and inspiration. I don’t know you but you are people, the only people I seem to care to write to anymore. I like that you don’t know me or who I really am but there is a part of me that wants to tell you everything about me and I don’t even know where to start. It’s having hope in something, it’s having a little faith in nothing and I willing to try anything because I don’t want to die. I don’t want to give up and cry or lay down and take it. I want to live again. The grass is still green, the sky is still blue, and God still loves the Infantry. /Nothing Follows/