Where are you from? So, what do you do for a living?

This standard introduction always makes me pause. Am I from my birthplace/hometown or where I currently live? What about the twelve addresses in between the start and end? Why do you want to know what I do? Should we be measured by that? Currently, I’m not employed in a traditional capacity- should I tell people that I’m unemployed? Retired? Disabled?

Humanity struggles with two basic questions:
1. What is my identity? (Who am I?)
2. What is my purpose? (Why am I here?)

Most people enter the military during their formative years. Even officer’s brains many not be fully matured by the time they reach their first duty station. The prevailing research currently states that the brain is not fully developed until 25 (though some are suggesting later). Just because your brain has reached adulthood doesn’t mean that you know who you are or what the long term ramifications of your actions will be.

Young men and women in the armed forces are told what to wear, where to be and when, for how long, how to act, and what to do. The few choices you do get to make for yourself can have a temporary impact, like those involving career path, OR they can have long term effects like those split second decisions made in combat.

The younger, lower ranking members of the military bare the brunt of psychological trauma when it comes to combat operations. Unprepared for what they were exposed to and the morality of the choices required of them, they return to the US.

Most people don’t immediately process Post Traumatic Stress. It’s still compartmentalized when they return home. The honeymoon period / party phase keeps them from facing the memories they’ve buried.

For me, being in combat felt completely normal when I was there, part of everyday life. It’s after the fact, when you’ve returned to the strange culture of “peace” that you feel displaced.

Hot droplets of water pelt my skin. Though several showers after leaving Afghanistan, this is my first at home. I’m trying to wash the thoughts away. Dirt comes off skin easy enough but memories are harder to scrub out than a blood stain. I don’t believe I’m home.

Physically I’m present; it’s Thanksgiving and I am thankful that Misty cooked. Mentally I’m MIA. Out the window I see the blowing sand and the lack of generators droning enhances the ringing in my ears. The fridge compressor turns on and I jump.

I see the faces of guys we lost. Sometimes I see them in a crowd and go to say hi only to realize they’re dead and I don’t know that person who is now looking at me strangely.
I’m adding contacts to a message and stop when I come to the third or fourth person I’ve had to scroll past… taking them out of my contacts feels like forgetting.

I’m out of the Corps now. I’m not in school and a stay at home dad. There’s a lot of time to think. As my friend Lane would say, “A period of reflective observation” brings up things we didn’t know are issues.

I swore to myself that I wasn’t programmed. Transition from the military would be easy, especially after my time at Wounded Warrior Battalion. I am blessed, many never got that. The journey is never how we expect it to be.

The transition was harder but in ways that I didn’t anticipate. I fancy myself an above average communicator but I wasn’t transmitting on the same frequency as my new colleagues. My dark humor, different vernacular, and disdain for the triviality of current American social interaction created a barrier between me and the rest of the world.

Years after my medical retirement I am finally figuring a few things out. Isolation was holding me back. I had to get out and interact with humans for BOTH our sakes. People need people, we were NOT designed to be alone. Yes, I like to be alone. I’m easily overwhelmed, frustrated, and prone to anger at my inability to control things. I must better myself, overcome, and show others the way.

It was last winter that I took up kitchen hunting. I was feeling pushed down, too domesticated for the aggression that resides in my masculinity (toxicity? HA!). Washing some dishes I dirtied from family food prep, I stared at the squirrels running around my backyard. I slowly opened the window, pausing a few times as they looked up from the ground. The screen was stuck and they jumped, running off when it suddenly broke free and went up.

Not one to let an idea go, I kept my rifle near and continued about my tasks. It’s not that these things are beneath me, it’s just that there was no sense of adventure. It all left a void that these mundane but necessary chores could not fill.

Then… one returned. Silently I pushed the window open just far enough. Moving the dish soap, I put the bipod on the window sill. Good sight picture in the scope and the safety off, I put my finger on the trigger, exhaled, and fired. The grey squirrel flipped and lay motionless in the snow.

Something came alive in me. Am I sick because the death of an animal makes me more alive? No, it’s part of a larger story- is the lion evil because it kills its prey? No, and neither is a human that hunts, it’s natural. Some were born to be warriors, some laborers, some poets.

Somewhere in my transition from the warrior life I had lost my sense of adventure. Moving to our current house and all the renovations, stopping school, and with the kids, I wasn’t riding my motorcycle anymore. I wasn’t shooting, adventuring, associating with other warriors- I was isolated on the property burying myself in work.

Being busy is an avoidance technique. Your friends can tell you you’re avoiding, but like most things in life, you gotta figure it out for yourself.

Finding fly fishing in 2016, waterfowl hunting in 2018, deer and squirrel hunting in 2019, and my recently discovered love of mountain biking have brought my physical world alive.

Physical awakening won’t cure a dead soul. Exercise plays a key role in mental health but it can’t solve spiritual problems. You can’t run away from moral injury, it’s with you every step you take. No matter how much weight you lift, your burden will still be heavy if you are not a spiritual warrior.

There are battles to be fought not given second thought
living dead to the world as we simply numb it out
Bring the rain, soaked with pain
and with a terrifying shout
Cut the sky wishing to die
because we know it shouldn’t be this way
Who are we really and why did it change?
Ask the evil one, what does he say-
Domesticated warrior sit in your chair
there’s nothing you can do so why should you care?
Worthless, weak, they’re all better off without you
Give up, give in, you know what to do…
Another voice appears but we’re not really listening
The truth it serves, like medicine, brings an awful sting
Often what we need the most we want the very least
Without a change I’ll soon join the departed, deceased
Son, Daughter you are loved and there is hope
“Yeah right,” we sigh, this is just another trope
There is no hope, I’m not down range
looking through a scope
So blindly we push ahead wishing we were dead
Why persist just to exist- is this really all there is?!
And the evil one says-
Domesticated warrior sit in your chair
there’s nothing you can do so why should you care?
Worthless, weak, they’re all better off without you
Give up, give in, you know what to do…
Broken and beaten, our loved ones mistreating
Destroying family from the inside out
Blinded in rage, drug fueled rat in a cage
Disability, injury, no rank, job, just doubt
Then a friend walks in and says we’ve got it all wrong
They’re patient while we sing the same sad song
They take the tired record down and break it over their knee
Knowing that hard change is the only way to be free
It’s time to take your true name off of the rock
Eternal existential transformation starts to knock
Wake our soul with purpose, identity, and freedom
Help us join Zion, the light, the kingdom
Change is painful, it would be easier to die
But that’s what’ll happen if we don’t try
Our families need us to do hard things
Instead of empty promises that we string
Domesticated warrior let your heart be free
Fight for life, choose the light, and finally see

In the days of domesticated distraction writing this, I’ve hit walls and been frustrated. I’m ready for Misty to be out of law school so she’s not so stressed all the time. I knew I needed to exercise yesterday to improve my mood but I let everything else get in the way and then subjected the family to my poor attitude.

I’m not saying I’ve got everything figured out but I am hoping to push you, reader, to exploring why you do what you do and for whom. Self reflection is a powerful tool if used correctly.

Over.

Revelation 2:17 (ESV) He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To the one who conquers I will give some of the hidden manna, and I will give him a white stone, with a new name written on the stone that no one knows except the one who receives it.’

Drew OUT!

Drew founded Mental Grenade Jan 2020. He is a follower of Jesus Christ, a medically retired Marine, EOD Tech, husband, father, writer, mountain biker, photographer, facilitator, and fly-fisherman. He seeks to bridge the civilian – military divide and bring hope through honest communication about difficult issues.

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These Veteran stories of struggle, adventure, and post traumatic growth need to be heard!
Join the cause to de-stigmatize mental health issues.
Please SUBSCRIBE, share our website with friends / co-workers, and support us by donation or at the STORE.