We tried to tell you...

 I meet once a week (or so) with a therapy group consisting of a half dozen combat veterans dealing with PTSD. Two Marines, two Army, one Navy, one Air Force, and myself. The psych running the group is sharp, knowledgeable, and dedicated. There are three of us who come from the ‘Nam era,  and the rest from the Gulf wars. We’re like...no, we are...a functional “unit,” a squad of brothers and sisters with a common objective, and an unshakable faith in each other.

I made a promise today to the group, that I was not going to surrender to the insanity going on in our reality. We don’t discuss politics in group. We do, however, talk about how we are/aren’t handling the triggering that inevitably comes as a result. 

I will not stop writing (hold the laughter...or cheers...please). After today’s perverse display at Quantico, I cannot in good conscience hunker down and just try to stay invisible. I have to take a position, whether it has any effect on others or not, but only because...even though the stress I will almost surely see from haters and assorted asshats will also almost surely result in shortening my quality of life (being polite). The PENE aspect of the ME isn’t forgiving.

The only really halfway comforting part of this “situation” is that I feel validated, in that I and others have seen this coming for a long time, and...well…

...we tried to tell you so.

-30-

 


 

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