Some glazed over war story in The eye of every storm

The War(s) messed me up. It doesn’t come up in life, not like it used to, and now I function normal. I have a sense of humor, I laugh, I smile, and came out on the backside better than some. Hell, I’m alive. There’s a major plus.

If OpenDiary were still around, you could actually read my entries from 2002-2003, from the front lines of Afghanistan and Iraq. I have them saved, and in retrospect, they’re written matter-of-fact, as if I were the journalist in Full Metal Jacket versus some Intelligence Analyst plotting the demise of an entire nation. There’s moments when people have adrenaline rushes, where they’re so hyped, and then afterwards, they’re so exhausted- a theme park visit for example. The rollercoasters give this super energy boost, but it depletes you, and as you’re drifting off to sleep, still feeling the ups and downs in your blood, you’re exhausted- drained, spent, depleted.

I lived on that adrenaline for nearly two years, constantly. I’ve been through 72 hour shifts salted and peppered with missile attacks, small arms fire, and as terrible and tragic as the whole affair was, it was exciting. Mind you, I didn’t want to be there, constantly feared for my life, but there’s something incredibly human about the fight or flight instinct that builds us up or destroys us into a thousand pieces.

I don’t know. You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s a good thing. Trust me.

On May 12, 2003, Lt. Col. David came up to me and told me to have my gear and meet him at 1730. Myself, a two other intelligence analyst were loaded into a humvee, driven to Baghdad International Airport, and two hours later, landed safely at Camp Doha Kuwait from a Chinook. Forty five minutes afterwards, I was eating Burger King, drinking soda. Thirty five minutes later, I took a shower. Six hours after that, I was on an ATA Airways flight from Kuwait City to Amsterdam. From Amsterdam we continued on to Baltimore-Washington International, and as I touched down on May 14th, the birthday of the fiance’ who had left me during the war, I broke down into tears. It wasn’t because I was sad it was her birthday and she left me. It was raining on green grass. I had forgotten what that was like, what that felt like, and I could smell it as we deplaned.

Less than seventy two hours after firing my weapon at an enemy, I was eating a hot-dog on American Soil.

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I got out of the Army etc. Started a quite successful punk rock band, opened a tiki bar with a war-buddy in Augusta, and traveled the country, seeing all of the national parks. Later, I joined college, and made all A’s. I was offered and accepted a partner position on an AM afternoon-drive political talk show. Things were good. Things were really good.

And then I met cocaine. Her lovely white lace, her smooth satin skin, her beautiful pearls of wisdom. I fell for her, hard. It cost me nearly everything- my relationship with an incredibly wonderful woman named Rebecca, the bar, my band. Within two years, I had lost nearly everything and woke up in a hospital with my parents staring at me, confused, bewildered, and lost.

I tried to get up, but I had tubes in me. I tried to pull on them, but one of them was inserted into my cock, and with horror, I realized my mom saw it, but I was too out of it to do anything about it. I couldn’t sleep one night. So I took all of the sleeping pills in my ex-girlfriends apartment. All of them. I sat on her couch, and played her guitar, and woke up three days later.

It wasn’t until 2009, almost six years later, I was diagnosed as having PTSD. I was able to kick the drugs but it was hard. And I never really felt right afterwards. Until I hiked the Florida Trail and Appalachian Trail.

Man, that was the ultimate reset button. Being out in nature, challenging storms, snakes, alligators, bears, vipers, cliffs, drop off’s, running out of food. THAT recharged my adrenaline I had always missed, and had longed for, without the pressure of dying, or killing someone. It was my mental reset.

I don’t know where I was going with this.

I guess war sucks. Don’t do it. I covered a song about war. It’s below if you want to hear.

Last updated December 18, 2015