“Master Sergeant, It’s Time To Put Your Ruck Down.” — Part 11 of 14

If the eyes are the windows to the soul, I wonder if the soul leaves the body as tears.

My life from tortured child to Green Beret, fall to darkness due to pain & PTSD, and healing through vulnerability.

Expulsion, Service Dog Training.

The extreme pain tweaked my brain after many surgeries back to back. I isolated and blamed. That was my reason I exclaimed. But in reality, I didn’t want the rays of the sun to see that I became lame.

Right after my second hip surgery (and first hip replacement), I isolated. I felt empty without the intense hip pain’s nagging.

In the end of another beginning, I was expelled from service dog training.

I was in so much physical and emotional pain — that slight dejection — my soul could not contain.

I painted Moose a few months before the scheduled graduation. This connection was not to be. Disconnection was the best from this (I)rreversibly (R)igged (B)oring modality.

That amazing transitionary object was not to be.

I often asked: Why Me?

Life took another unexpected turn…inching ever closer to a well-glazed urn.

Unlucky 3s Case Managers

In unison, 3 separate case managers stopped answering. I thought it was just another repeat hypocrisy of organizational meandering. I felt counterfeit hearts — tiptoeing close to the limit of advance — to act out the confused reality of spoofed parts. They never spoke another peep. Or check if I was already buried deep.

Typical of half-priced, bargain-counter heap.

Implosion During Family PTSD Retreat.

With help from a friend, my entire family was able to attend a week-long PTSD retreat.

That was going to be our final chance to heal, to cry…and to finally laugh — a dream that for many years, seemed too great.

Sadly, there was too much trauma at different stages. Deep trauma buried deeply in a well-marked book with dusted pages.

Some trauma did not want to be disturbed…asking why heal in the mountains when trauma was picked up in the burbs?

It’s tough to dislodge trauma.

If the meticulous record of each other’s misdeeds is opened too quickly…pain scurries out at speeds deadly.

Trauma likes to be coaxed.

Quick healing is a hoax.

We imploded and did not finish the 6-day course. Because it was my idea, I felt so much remorse. My wife and children left early. I tried to keep myself together, but barely.

On a boulder I stood to get close to heaven. I cried while looking up, and peeked below — to witness tears try to erode the jagged rock with salty flow. But like my life, the rock stayed uneven.

Universe said:

“You won’t get your wish, even if you cry 24/7.”

I will honor that spot. I will return where I cried that liquid promissory knot. I had reached my breaking point, so I called a friend…then the VA Crisis Line… and then more friends.

They listened without judgment, most of all. They knew that in order to finally live, well below the lowest bottom, I must fall.

I moved away to a northern city with a smaller bay. It felt like the Universe reached into my heart — to squeeze out fragments of my soul to fillet.

Ego — Friend or Enemy?

As a result of being on the receiving end of social, cultural, and political drama, I began to daydream about saving my family and classmates from attacks by armed enemy fighters.

Maybe this is why I became a soldier?

I daydreamed often. Although I couldn’t articulate it then, I needed an enemy to vanquish.

I desperately wanted to be a hero.

Today, I have come to the realization that the — real enemy — has always been the many — but one — : ego, shadow, sadness, and the scared little boy in me.

Continue to Part 12

Back to Part 10

All Rights Reserved (January 2022).

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