#immersiontherapy

During my immersion therapy session Thursday we went through me talking about one of my traumatic memories from the war.  We started with what my psychologist considered to be one of the "easier" ones for me to process.  I got through telling the story.  Not without crying, but I got through.  Thought I'd share here...

It was day seven on the march to Baghdad, and I was exhausted.  A sandstorm was raging the entire day.  It took us 12 hours just to move 17 kilometers.  Just a few days before, the 507th maintenance battalion had been ambushed, so our advance was much more cautious than it had been previously.  Visibility was 0 at times, the wind was so strong.  Due to lack of sleep and constant fear I had been operating on sheer nerves for several days, and it all caught up with me this day.  By the time we reached our objective, it was late, and still too windy to set up our tents to sleep.  So, I climbed up on top of my soft top HMMVW and settled in to sleep.  The last thing I remember thinking before I drifted off, was that I didn't care anymore if we were bombed, or shot, or even gassed, because if I died at least it would all be over, and I just wanted it to be over.  I was so tired of constant fear, so tired of the death and destruction, so tired of watching young soldiers coming in to our medical tent dying or dismembered... so fucking tired of it all.  

That was the first time in my life I had ever thought it would be better to die than to continue in that horror life had dropped me in.  Obviously, I didn't die that night, I woke up to a stunning sunrise the next morning,... but I was changed.  Something in me died, a part of me that had always been bright and sunny and optimistic about the future was gone.  I don't know if I'll ever get that part of me back again... I'm still mourning the loss of that side of me...?