Everyone has a story, everyone, even Me. Sometimes I can share my story, sometimes I can’t. One is not always sure how much they can share with those who have never seen what they have seen or experienced what they have experienced…..One is not always READY to share what they have on their minds.
I can fall into both situations, where I don’t know how far I can go in what I have to share, as in detail wise, as in what would actually end up causing my “listener” indirect trauma through my sharing…..and there are times I just can’t delve into my memories, the sights remembered that I have locked behind closed doors. I know for a fact that many soldiers, Military Veterans, had it “worse” than myself, but I like to remind myself and others that share WITH ME that nobody has the right to judge you and your experiences. What one person would consider “not a big deal” may cause another long lasting emotional turmoil.
This video touched me when I watched it because just this afternoon I had a daymare about my own memories. The short of it was, I began having an emotional breakdown, a SEVERE panic attack when the traumas from my time in Iraq were reopened for me. When it was explained to those around me that I was a War Vet, they tried to calm me by reaching out to my Warrior side by addressing me as my rank and name. The person called out to me, “SPC Poston….SPC Poston, you’re home….You’re home and you’re safe.” I weakly looked up at the person and simply said, “No, I’ll never be home.” I woke up, for real, in a cold sweat and crying…..this is 11 almost 12 years after coming home from that war zone. It became all too real to me that these five words rang loud and clear, and so very true that it was painful, my heart swelled and ached…..No, I’ll never be home, and mentally and emotionally, I truly never will be wholly home. A piece of me….some small piece of me, my soul was left there in Iraq, never to return to me. This I understand, and this I have learned to live with, although it does come raring back full charge every once in awhile.
This was a daymare, but a daymare of reality for me. I live with this “breakdown” this “panic attack” just barely held back. This is how it is for many soldiers, marines, airmen, sailors….any Vet who has been traumatized at all. They live knowing it could happen at any moment….that breakdown….and they live in fear of not being able to control when that breakdown happens. Groups like this, the Warriors and Wolves program, bring hope…so much bright and shiny hope.
Yes, I may be an ordained minister. I may be a well read, skilled, and active spiritual learner, but I am human, I have wounds, I have a memory bank and things I cannot shake. It does not make me less; I believe it only makes me more…just as it does each and every other person out there. I like to live my life with the windows thrown open and sunshine flowing in, with faeries flying around farting glitter…..because I never can tell when my curtains may become steel walls that I cannot open.