Archive for the ‘Guest Blogger’ Category
October 26, 2009 By tmunson
Posted in Guest Blogger
I recently was alerted to a situation of a “wounded warrior” .. now this shouldn’t really surprised you because of my work with HASMO. I was a little ticked off because of all the soldiers I see who fight for higher disability ratings, services, etc.
This situation definitely had NOTHING to do with combat related injuries much less even being in the Army. This soldier was listed under the Warrior Transition Brigade by the Army. I’m not sure why but I’m assuming that the Army didn’t know how to classify him.
I can’t go into the various specifics for several reasons, including privacy reasons… but this soldier was diagnosed with a disease during Individual Entry Training (Basic/AIT) . It had nothing to do with anything that he did or was asked to do during that time. The Army paid for all his medical care and treatment in order for him to get better, so that he could serve.
I understand the reasons why the Army placed him in the WTB unit but should the Army have to pay disability for this soldier? We hear stories of so many warriors with combat related injuries who don’t get what they need. They deserve to have what they are asking for. They went to war and fought for their country.. they did what the country asked them to do.
Why are we giving special benefits,etc to soldiers that don’t have combat or mission related injuries. I have read or heard some many stories of soldiers who are dealing with the effects of PTSD and other issues and can’t get what they need.
This particular soldier, let’s call him Jason… is getting out of the Army and got a job that was specially created for “wounded warriors”. How is this fair? He’s not a wounded warrior… he doesn’t have a physical or mental disability. He was given a clean bill of health and can get almost any job he wants. He is using these particular benefits of the Army’s Wounded Warrior program to his advantage because I’m guessing he feels the Army owes him something.
The kicker is that this soldier didn’t get sick because of anything that the Army or his country asked him to do. While I feel bad for him and his specific situation, but I don’t think its fair or the right thing to do.
I think its a load of horse hockey. I feel that the benefits of being in WTB and the wounded warrior job program should be available to those that are just that… WOUNDED warriors. (mentally and physically)
What do you think?
Tammy Munson is an Army Wife whose husband is deployed to Afghanistan. She is also mom to 2 daughters, blogger, social media geek and lover of techie stuff. You can read more about her at her blog, ArmyHousehold6.com
1 Comment »
September 8, 2009 By Troy
Posted in Guest Blogger, Military Strategy, Patriotism
The Counterinsurgency Academy is located in Kabul, Afghanistan at the base of the ruins of the Queens castle. The purpose of the Academy is to teach and expand the doctrine of population centric concepts for operations in Afghanistan, and beyond. The contributions the Academy is making to Gen. McChrystal’s strategy can not be understated, nor can the challenges of implementing an expanded doctrine of population centric operations.
In an attempt to support the operations of the Academy, as well as the many soldiers that attend and instruct here, I have developed a "wish list" on Amazon.com of books in hopes of creating an Honorary Counterinsurgency Learning Library made up entirely of donations from our communities back home. The intent is to further expand the awareness of culture, methods and operations that promote the end goal of national unity, governance and security for the people of Afghanistan.
To find the list, all you need to do is log into Amazon.com, click on "Wish Lists" and then on the right side of the page in the search window for "Wish Lists" type in:
counterinsurgency.institute@gmail.com
The name of the wish list is: COIN Library – Kabul.
I am continually being asked about donations for soldiers and items of need. This list, though only in the initial phases of development, is something that will have a lasting use and impact on the soldiers here at the Academy and the students of the Academy who eventually take what is learned here and apply the concepts downrange. If the interest is there to support the soldiers by way of donations, I would encourage you become involved in this effort through Amazon.com. The shipping address is listed through the "Wish List." If you wish to donate another book for the library not listed on the list, or wish to purchase a book from another source other than Amazon.com, the same mailing address applies. For reference, the mailing address here at the academy is listed below:
Scott Kesterson
COIN Academy
Camp Phoenix
APO AE 09320
Thank you all in advance.
Scott Kesterson.
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September 2, 2009 By LL
Posted in Guest Blogger, Spouse and Family
1. Your house is decorated in a mixture of German, Korean, Japanese, and Americana. Somehow, you or your mom make it all fit together well.
2. When people ask you where you’re from, you have to mentally make a decision on whether you want to say the last place you lived or the actual town you were born.
3. The addresses in your address book for friends met in the military have large Xs over them and the addresses aren’t 123 Elm St, but CMR-P Box 114, APO AE 91102 and you have a new entry every 1-3 years.
4. You have never had a “family doctor” and your medical record are incomprehensible.
5. Your pets answer you when you talk to them in German.
6. You can pick up and drop an accent better than a Hollywood star so you will fit in at your new school/community
7. You use papa and whiskey and juliet and Quebec and xray when calling out letters in anything that has letters. Non-military people will……pause when you do that cuz they recognize it from movies.
8. You don’t ever completely unpack cuz you KNOW you will move again soon, so why bother?
9. Class Six has meaning to you and it’s a little slice of heaven
10. You know your dad’s and/or husband’s social security number forwards and backwards. Even 20-something years later.
11. You have people all over the world who understand you and understand what you went through because of a shared experience, no matter your duty station. They will be friends for life.
You’re welcome to add your own in comments!!
2 Comments »
August 26, 2009 By LL
Posted in Guest Blogger
You know, my friend JP wrote a seminal piece on how not to send crappy care packages when he was in Afghanistan about 5 years ago (It is tongue-in-cheek and STILL riles up the masses). He pulls it out, dusts it off, and updates it occasionally, to remind all us supporters to mind our p’s and q’s.
Well, I think it’s time to give a tat for his tit. (Whoa, that SO didn’t come out right, but you know what I mean)
1. Don’t ask for electronics. I’m way better looking than Bill Gates, even though HE could probably get you the iPods and such, and I will send stuff to you, but asking for electronics is greedy. I have 2 kids to fulfill the greedy need-need-wanna-gotta-have hole in my life, m’kay? Unless I squeezed you outta my hoohah, you’re not getting a new iPod, thankyouverymuch, so stop asking. (By the way, I still don’t have one, so I’m considered a luddite in JP’s eyes. Whatever)
2. Generic food items should be appreciated. Oh my gosh, do you know how many starving children in Africa one generic instant mac & cheese cup could feed? 20. That’s how many. Stop yer whinin’! You can always go back to MREs and not poop for 3 weeks. Our bowels work just fine and we’re happy to send that stuff to someone else. (Yes, I’m a mother, and yes, that “starving children in Africa” phrase is in the Mom Handbook as a legitimate use phrase.)
3. Any clothing item requests should include colors and sizes. I’m used to buying for 3 people-a 13 year old girl, a 7 year old boy, and myself. Unless you want white t-shirts in Boys Youth M, or underwear with the Twilight motif, or a push up bra in size 38DD, be S.P.E.C.I.F.I.C.
4. Communication is our strong suit. Here’s a clue…if you ask us how we’re doing, we’re gonna tell you. Most of us are girls. We like to talk. We will tell you how we’re doing, what we’re doing, what we’ve done, what our dog just did, and what color we painted our toenails. If long boring emails or letters aren’t your thing, don’t ask.
5. Communication is a two way street. Don’t assume you’re the only soldier we support and that we know your every tiny like and dislike. If you didn’t tell us that cheese-in-a-can and crackers are your favorite snack EVAH and we just by luck threw some in a box and now you’re disappointed cuz the second box didn’t have it…blame yourself. If you TELL us you can’t live without sourpatch kids, we will send you 30 bags of it. If you don’t, you’re left sucking on butterscotch disks and cursing the gods for a crappy supporter who doesn’t know your proclivities. Bad communicator. Bad, bad communicator!
6. The word “entertainment” covers a lot of ground. I have it on good authority that some soldiers find tossing pebbles into each others mouths and torturing boobahs entertaining. These were infantry guys, so take THAT fact however you like, but we supporters are not mind readers. If you like to read Maxim for entertainment, let us know. If you need a deck of cards and some poker chips, sound off. If sudoku is your thing to while away the time, a head’s up is nice. Otherwise, you may end up with a box of pebbles. And I’m not talkin’ about the fruity cereal kind either!
7. Expect the occasional prank box. Ummm, some of us have a sense of humor. We can and WILL send inappropriate items such as pedicure kits, flip flops with daisies on them, or if you are arachnaphobic, you may get…..spidery things, etc. If you are a Serious Dexter, maybe you should tell us up front so you don’t have to explain the blinking pink princess crown to your buddies. We’re just trying to make you laugh and lighten things up a little. Barbie band aids handed out by medics amuse us. You have been forewarned. (Oh, and all items listed have been sent by myself or a small group of supporters that I coordinate with, so I’m really not kidding that if you don’t have a sense of humor, I’m not your gal or tell me you have no sense of humor. Then again, I may just send a prank box and have your buddy video record you opening it. I’m evil that way)
6 Comments »
August 24, 2009 By LL
Posted in Guest Blogger, Spouse and Family
A couple of weeks ago, ArmyWifeToddlerMom, one of my favorite milspouse bloggers out there, posted triumphant video of her slaying the broken toilet and like a phoenix, it rose anew, to be flushed with glee and ease (she also has a suggestion for earning brownie sash patches for successful things accomplished and it’s a funny post).
I started thinking that single moms like me (newly divorced or not) and military wives could really help each other out. See, some of us are pretty handy with tools. I have a toolbox that is overflowing (I keep meaning to buy a bigger one) and I’ve changed the brakes on my car, fixed many a toilet, fixed my dryer, replaced power switches and on and on. My friend, who was newly separated, she was clueless about a lot of stuff and I made her at least TRY to fix things. She’s a veritable Tim the Toolman Taylor after 2 years (or maybe I should say Al cuz she’s pretty successful in her repairs, unlike the grunty one).
So I want to encourage you women out there whose husbands have deployed and you are looking at the lawn in terror cuz the grass is getting high and you’re not sure WHAT to do to even get the mower started, let alone how to use the trimmer or how to wield a screwdriver, BE CONFIDENT. You actually CAN do things without testosterone coursing through your veins and without having a hairy chest (If you do have the unfortunate latter, I suggest plucking). This is not rocket science. It’s so easy a Man can do it, ok? Even the 12 year old neighbor boy can do it because you see HIM out there mowing. Or trimming. Or edging.
So pull up your big girl panties and look things over (my daughter read this over, laughed at this part in particular and said, “Even put on some boxers if it makes you feel better!”). Instead of spending $50-$100 on a service call for the repairman to get behind your dryer to plug it back in (only to later find out your kids were playing hide & seek and accidentally unplugged it), look around. What’s the worst that can happen? You have to call a repairman to come fix it? Yeah.
Email friends. Ask if they’ve ever come across something like “this.” Have a Mowing Party! Invite your girlfriends over and, with pitchers of sangria or mojitos, look over the lawn mower, read the instructions on it, look your model up online for a user’s manual. BE FEARLESS. Teach each other. Support each other. Get greasy and dirty!
When hubby comes home and sees that not only is the lawn mowed, it’s edged neatly, and you can tell him you did it yourself, his eyes may pop out of his head, but you will feel such a sense of accomplishment. You can show him that scar on your thumb and say, “Honey, this is where the torque wrench slipped when I was changing the brakes. I hit my thumb on the lugnut bolt. But I got it done and saved us $300 at Midas!” He will most likely faint, but then you can be the Rhett Butler to his Scarlett and help him get over the vapors. It will be a defining moment in your relationship, trust me.
Above all, know this, we are all out here supporting you. Any one of you are welcome to email me, or some male milblogger, and ask, “Hey, listen, this weird thingamajig fell out of the dishwasher and I want to try to fix it myself. Have any clue what it is and how to put it back in?” (A picture is always helpful in these instances). We may not know what to do, but then again, we may. Or we may know someone who is an outstanding mechanic or repairman who could walk you through the process over the phone.
Be confident in yourself. You have such huge burdens, keeping the homefires burning for your deployed husbands, and worrying them is something that I know a lot of you try to avoid. So reach out. Learn how a toilet works. Learn how to replace a doorknob. Find hubby’s secret stash of WD-40 so your front door will stop squeaking and making you nuts. (Word of advice, if you go digging around his workbench, leave it the way you found it. Men are territorial about that kind of stuff. If you inhale deeply, you might smell pee where he marked the legs of His Space, m’kay?)
Anyway, as they say, DRIVE ON. We’re here when you need us, and we might even let you borrow our tools.
4 Comments »
August 21, 2009 By LL
Posted in Guest Blogger, Military History
I was thinking about military women the other day. Past and present. They have made great strides since they were first allowed to serve openly (besides being nurses) during World War II. I say openly because when our country was founded, a woman by the name of Deborah Sampson served in disguise as a man for 3 years, taking the fight to the British. She even did surgery on herself to remove a musket ball from her own thigh.
“At a field hospital a French doctor bound up the head wound, but was not advised of the thigh injury. When the doctor began to attend another wounded soldier, Deborah limped out of the hospital, and later, with iron nerve, using her knife, managed to extract the musket ball in her thigh. She was some time recovering from her wounds until she was able to rejoin her company.“
And because she was thought to be a man, she served in the Light Infantry. She was a grunt.
Officially though, women couldn’t serve outside of nursing until the WAAC was formed in 1942 (later to be known as WAC). They were “auxiliary.” That word brings to mind typing and fetching coffee. But they were so much more. According to this article, they landed at Normandy a few weeks after the initial invasion. They’ve “been there, done that.”
Other branches opened up and there were WAVEs and WASPs. Women who served with distinction. One thing I discovered was that a handful of women in the WASPs towed target planes for anti-aircraft live fire practice. Stop and wrap your mind around that concept for a moment. Would you tow a plane to get shot at? Seriously?? Another little known fact is that the women who died during this time were not afforded the honor of a flag draped casket or even having the military pay to return their remains. That was left up to family and friends. They weren’t real military, I suppose.
And guess what…women have been receiving awards like the Medal of Honor and the Silver Star going back to the Civil War. Yes, they have served with distinction for all these years, through war after war, battle after battle. Laying down their lives alongside the men.
So next time you see a woman in uniform, think back to this blog post. Think of Lori Piestewa and Leigh Ann Hester or Monica Brown, who both were awarded Silver Stars, SGT Hester in Iraq and SPC Brown in Afghanistan. Think of the WAACs and WASPs and all the others who went before. Thank them for their outstanding service to our nation, going back to the very founding of it.
Oh, and that picture above…the tall gangly woman on the left….that would be Goldie Caroline Hundertmark. She and I share the same middle name. I know this why and how? Because she’s my grandmother and I’m damn proud of her and her service to the United States of America.
3 Comments »
By LL
Posted in Guest Blogger
Step right up, and don’t be shy
Because you will not believe your eyes
She’s right here behind the glass
And you’re gonna like her cause she’s got class–The Tubes
I’m Wendy aka LL, your new Guest Blogger for the next two weeks here on Youserved. I have my own blog called Chromed Curses. It’s not for everyone because I have a potty mouth. That’s why the above song lyrics cracked me up to quote. I talk just like I write and so my posts are mostly conversational, but filled with expletives and ranting. (I have a member only section where I gossip about my coworkers and tell stories about my kids who are HYSTERICAL, and if you want to read that stuff, there are instructions on how to log in and make yourself a profile, but again, I have salty language and inappropriate behavior in that section, so really, think twice before doing it)
I won’t cuss here and for the most part, I’ll behave myself. I may poke fun at my friends, some of whom are milbloggers you might recognize, but it’s all meant in fun and I hope you take it that way.
All of my writing on here will be on topic. Related to military issues, milbloggers, things that I know. How could I possibly know anything about military issues? Well, I was a dependent daughter for 18 years and a dependent wife for another 6 or 7. This was back pre-Y2K and so I can’t speak to constant deployments or the war or some other issues, but I can speak to the things that I see as common factors just from being on the periphery of the military.
About my personal life, I’m a single mom living in WI. I have 2 kids, a dog, a bird, a job. Very….normal. But then again, who is really normal? I have a motorcycle that I love just second behind the kids and pets and I’m sassy and irreverent. That about sums up the personal stuff.
Anyway, if you have any questions, fire ‘em at me, I’m pretty good about answering. I know this is a brief intro, but I wasn’t too sure what you’d be interested in knowing about me.
4 Comments »
August 19, 2009 By Susan Katz Keating
Posted in Guest Blogger
So here’s the SitRep on military-version PTSD. We know it exists. We know that it afflicts a high number of combat vets. And the DOD is all over this issue, with educational programs, treatment centers, research studies, encouragement, awareness campaigns, targeted support, and beacoup portions of can-do talk.
The individual troop, then, can rest assured that if he or she comes up with PTSD, an action plan is in place.
Well, that depends.
The gold standard for PTSD treatment is that your unit commander instantly understands what’s going on, and you are sent to the Restoration and Resilience Center at Ft. Bliss, Texas. There, you will be treated with dignity, honor, and respect in a lodge-like setting that includes the best of Western medicine and alternative therapies. The center offers traditional psychiatric and psychological services, but also uses massage, acupuncture, and even field trips to Wall-Mart as part of an immersion healing program that brings results.
Like I said, that’s the gold standard. But the DOD’s can-do attitude toward PTSD recovery does not always trickle down to the unit level. Some commanders apparently still haven’t seen the memos. They don’t seem to understand what the rest of the military knows about PTSD and how to treat it. In some units, it’s almost as if it’s against the regs to have PTSD.
Witness, for example, the story of “Tug Grogan” (real name withheld at his request). Tug is a combat veteran and former Airborne Infantryman who came out of Ft. Bragg. Over the past few days, I have exchanged a number of messages with Tug. He has agreed to let me tell the story of his own experience with PTSD recovery.
These are a condensed version of his words.
I spent a total of three years in combat in Afghanistan and Iraq and saw horrible things and lost some of my best friends. The unit doctors were told to tell us nothing was wrong with us and they treated us like crap for even wanting to talk to somebody about the stuff we did and saw. The mentality was “we are an elite airborne unit” and if you tried to get help for even something as simple as a common cold you were shunned and called all kinds of names.
If you pushed the PTSD issue far enough in my unit they would treat you like crap and give you a medical discharge or just tell you to suck it up and there is nothing wrong with you. After one of my best friends was killed in Iraq I had 2 brand new soldiers that came to my unit weeks before we deployed. Both of them would stay awake at night because they couldn’t get the image out of their heads. I tried to talk to them as much as I could because I had already been on multiple deployments and had learned how to “cope” with stuff like that. I went to my platoon leader and platoon sergeant, both had never been deployed before, thus, making them even worse than a brand new private because they had all the rank and no real world deployments, and told them about the guys having problems and they did not do a thing about it. I pretty much got in trouble for saying something to them about it too.
I don’t know if I have PTSD or not but I can tell something is not right. I’m not the same as I was before and the doctors in the army and the VA keep telling me that basically I’m a walking poster child for PTSD but they do nothing to help me. I can’t get anywhere with these people other than occasionally they give me medications that make me feel worse than I did before. Medications that make me think more about what I’m trying to forget.
I love my country and I am proud I served but to get this kind of treatment is beyond words. “You are no use to us anymore have a good life while you have a broken down body doing the things we ordered you to do.”
Tug is not so much worried about himself, he writes, because “I’ll live.” He’s deeply troubled, though, that other soldiers are getting the similar brush-off:
I cannot stand that soldiers are getting treated this way!!!
The DOD needs to find out how many other unit comanders and health providers have not read the memos, seen the websites, heard the lectures, studied the brochures, and basically igonored what the Pentagon, the VA, the SecDef, and military health leaders have been saying.
PTSD is real. We have good programs in place. We need to make sure they are implemented every time, without fail.
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August 12, 2009 By You Served Editorial Staff
Posted in Guest Blogger
Jeff Zahratka recently wrote us with a synopsis of his new memoir Sweepers Sweepers Man Your Brooms:
Sweepers Sweepers Man Your Brooms; Dogear Publishing
From the author
What compelled this old salt to write a memoir about my twenty- six years of naval service? After all, minus a few accidents I was never really in harm’s way. My personal saga pales in comparison to the perils of the many heroes you often read of on this site and others. In the beginning I created my book Sweepers Sweepers Man Your Brooms in order to educate those who chose other pursuits, and to inform the young of what our accomplishments entailed in the last quarter century prior to this new Twitter-paced millennium. Yes that is certainly factual, but what actually developed in the process was an overwhelming desire to pay tribute, a lasting salute if you will to my peers and mentors, those wonderful people that made my career such a personably enjoyable journey.
One can’t go from high school drop-out to command master chief of a navy man of war without a tremendous number of kicks in the …. Or shall I say mentoring; and mentoring evolved as the underlying theme of this story. The book seizes moments at every turn to commend those who mould, demand, and discipline. In my book I referred to those efforts as calibration. All too often I found myself in need of timely calibration, and I discovered an a list of experts throughout my entire career.
Sweepers Sweepers Man Your Brooms is a light hearted tale. I left writing of heroics and spectacular explosions to those much better qualified than I. Mine is a memoir laced with humor that commences on an airplane ride to Great Lakes in 1972, sails the reader on descriptive adventures throughout the world, and culminates with a retirement ceremony blasting the Pittsburgh Steelers Polka through Norfolk’s pier twenty-one waterfront twenty-six years later.
As the back cover advertises Sweepers Sweepers Man Your Brooms has the right amount of history to educate and enough political opinion to cause debate, but above all it reminds Americans of why they love sailors while reminding sailors of why they love the navy.
Warm Regards
EMCM(SW)Jeff Zahratka
U S Navy (Retired)
Visit SweepersSweepers.com and buy the book.
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August 11, 2009 By Susan Katz Keating
Posted in Guest Blogger, Uncategorized
Yesterday I mentioned my old friend, “Brown Water Randy.” I met Randy in the early 1980’s, shortly after PTSD was identified but before American society understood anything about the syndrome. This was in the days when a lot of men still hid their service medals under the bed, and didn’t talk about Vietnam for fear of being branded a “baby killer.” In the public’s eye, very Vietnam vet was Rambo, who had a certain coolness, but also was very deeply disturbed and just a tad bit ridiculous.
Randy owned a shop near my house. He caught and sold his own fish. He was a friendly-gruff, in-your-face Vietnam veteran. Randy was proud of his military service. He displayed his flags and patches on the wall beside his cash register. He also suffered from PTSD, and he didn’t care who knew it. He laughed at the notion that he might “go Rambo” at a moment’s notice, but he openly talked about personal problems stemming from post-traumatic stress. “It’s something I have,” he said. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
When I met Randy, I was editor of a small town weekly newspaper in Dixon, California. Randy knew I had served very briefly in the Women’s Army Corps, and that my then-boyfriend was a closeted Vietnam vet. So he thought I might be interested in hearing – and writing – about his newly formed outreach group for vets with PTSD.
Randy was not the only one working to help his fellows. At the time, the Vietnam Veterans Leadership Program was just getting off the ground. Its founders, many of whom went on to become national leaders in their own right, aimed to teach the public that the overwhelming majority of Vietnam veterans were well-integrated, successful men who were proud to have served their country.
But Randy had a different vision. He wanted to help the vets who were not so well integrated. He wanted to raise awareness of PTSD. He also wanted to offer fellowship and support to others who struggled with trauma-induced problems.
So Randy made his pitch for a newspaper story. He told me about his group while we sat on camp stools behind the fish store, eating a magnificent concoction of abalone and other sea delicacies. My questions probably seemed designed to deflate. Did the group meet with a psychologist? No. Did they have a formal structure? No. Charter? Plan? Twelve-step program? No on all counts. But, Randy said, the group helped in one significant way: It allowed the men to talk openly and without shame about PTSD.
“If nothing else,” he said, “it takes the pressure off.”
The members took solace from knowing they were not alone. They also learned from one another that they could expect certain ups and downs. They met in the nearby town of Woodland, where none of the members lived.
And so it was that I wound up not only writing about LZ Woodland, but also being a part of it. I had a good reason to go. My closeted veteran boyfriend, who never spoke about his service but who got awfully jumpy in war movies, reminded me in some ways of my dad. I brought him along to LZ Woodland.
The group met informally every week or so at a low-key watering hole. We drank beer, played pool, and “shot the breeze,” as my dad used to say. We talked a little about Vietnam; a fair amount about stress attacks; and, as time went by, a whole lot about corner shots and the merits of lager versus pilsner.
From time to time, an LZ Woodlander had a crisis. No one ever went Rambo, but some had romantic problems, or job issues, or – in one notable case – refused to get out of bed. Randy always was first to know, and either was first on the scene or burned up the phone lines to find someone to pay a visit, pronto.
During our time with LZ Woodland, I saw my boyfriend open up. It emerged that he had served with a storied unit, the Army’s First Cavalry Division. I saw the other men reach out to fellow vets, themselves. They always shook another veteran’s hand and thanked him for his service. They always spoke the words, welcome home.
Eventually, PTSD became a widely recognized syndrome. The VA got involved, and hosted its own support groups with trained counselors. The men of LZ Woodland drifted apart, either because they needed more help or less of it. I broke up with my boyfriend, moved to Washington, D.C., and lost touch with Brown Water Randy.
I will, however, never forget him. He opened my eyes to the fact that PTSD exists even in peacetime, and – more importantly – is nothing to be ashamed of. PTSD is a fact of many peoples’ lives, and it can be treated. It may not ever go away entirely, but it really can be treated. And, in my view, the best way to begin to treat PTSD is to recognize that it is real.
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