Post by redwolf on Oct 27, 2007 9:47:46 GMT -6
I thought this was inspirational.
OCTOBER 26, 2007
To Hell and Back With a Smile
By MICHAEL JERNIGAN
Let me set a scene for you. The time is the middle of the afternoon and the place is Falluja, Iraq, in April of 2004. I am laying face down in a shallow irrigation ditch on the side of a dirt road. There is a lot of noise. The kind that can only be known in war. It is multiple medium-weight machine guns raining the terror of lead. I am looking around and seeing my friends in the same predicament. I also see dirt popping up inches from my face and body. This does not come from just anywhere. The dirt is flying into the air because there are 7.62-millimeter bullets landing everywhere. Was I scared? You bet your sweet life I was. This is when I realized that I was going to die. Not when I was old or even back home in St. Petersburg. I was going to die on a dirt road in a place that if it is not hell they share the same zip code. There was nothing I could do but wait. I lit a cigarette and threw my pack of Newports behind me so my buddy Murph-dog could enjoy his last smoke, too.
Fast forward to October of 2007, I sit in the living room of my fifth floor apartment in Alexandria, Va. I am watching the television. I can not see the screen. Which is a shame because it is a flat panel, flat screen, high definition television. I have always enjoyed the newest in technology and do not see why I should stop now. I am waiting for my girlfriend to call after she puts her son to bed. I can not stop laughing because the program I am watching is just that funny. How did I get here and why am I so content with how everything worked out?
I do not let the anger and depression rule my life. I am in control, at least that is what I tell myself. It is not easy and I falter from time to time. Don’t you? We all do — the difference is how we deal with it. I count my blessings that I am here and not buried next to so many of my friends who are not as fortunate as me. I went to hell and back! Guess what, America? I smell like roses most of the time. There are still times when I can stink up a room with an off-color comment or a bad mood. Please do not misunderstand; I know I am human and capable of making mistakes, which I do more than I would care to admit. I also know from experience that I can be my worst adversary. I try my hardest to make the good days last and the bad ones pass. We all have problems and a lot of us let them control our lives. Take it from me, this is not the way to live.
I have had combat stress. With that comes the demons in the night. The ones that rob you of your sleep and eventually your sanity. There were enormous amounts of pain and some behavior that I am not proud of. I had a brain injury to the front temporal lobes and had both eyes violently ripped from my face. This is the part of your brain that is your social filter. I do not think I have to connect the dots — for a while I was totally out of control. But I have kept my head above the water and not drowned.
My family is now and has always been my life preserver. My mother is the one who is responsible for helping me learn how to behave in society again. I do this by capitalizing on those opportunities that bring me joy. I spend weekends in Richmond, going to little league baseball games. I have gotten involved with the guide dog school that gave me my dog, Brittani. I help with charity fund raising. I go to talk with groups about how to survive turmoil and overcome the obstacles that can get our life off track. I travel when the time permits it. Most of all I spend time with those who love me and have been by my side through the whole affair.
When I went to Iraq I had a smile on my face. I believed in the war. I thought that we could do some good. I wanted to help the Iraqis have the same freedoms we take for granted every day. I enjoyed my time in the gun club we call the Marine Corps. How could I not? That is my family background. I am a third generation marine. Shooting machine guns and blowing stuff up was enjoyable at the time. I did not know then the horrors of combat. I had an incredibly catastrophic thing happen to me. That is what I was told by someone in passing.
I do not agree. I was given a second chance at life.
We are not all so lucky. I attended the funeral of the Navy corpsman who saved my life. He died on his third combat tour in Iraq. The times have not always been happy-go-lucky. There were a lot of hours in surgery and in rehabilitation facilities. I can stand tall today and wear a smile on my face that is a country mile wide. I can do that because my family loves me. God blessed me with more days in this world. I have a girlfriend who is everything that I was so certain that I would never find. I beg of you, when it gets too deep and you feel like that it will never get better, smile. Sometimes it is all that we have to fight off the blues and get back on our horse and push through.
homefires.blogs.nytimes.com/?hp
OCTOBER 26, 2007
To Hell and Back With a Smile
By MICHAEL JERNIGAN
Let me set a scene for you. The time is the middle of the afternoon and the place is Falluja, Iraq, in April of 2004. I am laying face down in a shallow irrigation ditch on the side of a dirt road. There is a lot of noise. The kind that can only be known in war. It is multiple medium-weight machine guns raining the terror of lead. I am looking around and seeing my friends in the same predicament. I also see dirt popping up inches from my face and body. This does not come from just anywhere. The dirt is flying into the air because there are 7.62-millimeter bullets landing everywhere. Was I scared? You bet your sweet life I was. This is when I realized that I was going to die. Not when I was old or even back home in St. Petersburg. I was going to die on a dirt road in a place that if it is not hell they share the same zip code. There was nothing I could do but wait. I lit a cigarette and threw my pack of Newports behind me so my buddy Murph-dog could enjoy his last smoke, too.
Fast forward to October of 2007, I sit in the living room of my fifth floor apartment in Alexandria, Va. I am watching the television. I can not see the screen. Which is a shame because it is a flat panel, flat screen, high definition television. I have always enjoyed the newest in technology and do not see why I should stop now. I am waiting for my girlfriend to call after she puts her son to bed. I can not stop laughing because the program I am watching is just that funny. How did I get here and why am I so content with how everything worked out?
I do not let the anger and depression rule my life. I am in control, at least that is what I tell myself. It is not easy and I falter from time to time. Don’t you? We all do — the difference is how we deal with it. I count my blessings that I am here and not buried next to so many of my friends who are not as fortunate as me. I went to hell and back! Guess what, America? I smell like roses most of the time. There are still times when I can stink up a room with an off-color comment or a bad mood. Please do not misunderstand; I know I am human and capable of making mistakes, which I do more than I would care to admit. I also know from experience that I can be my worst adversary. I try my hardest to make the good days last and the bad ones pass. We all have problems and a lot of us let them control our lives. Take it from me, this is not the way to live.
I have had combat stress. With that comes the demons in the night. The ones that rob you of your sleep and eventually your sanity. There were enormous amounts of pain and some behavior that I am not proud of. I had a brain injury to the front temporal lobes and had both eyes violently ripped from my face. This is the part of your brain that is your social filter. I do not think I have to connect the dots — for a while I was totally out of control. But I have kept my head above the water and not drowned.
My family is now and has always been my life preserver. My mother is the one who is responsible for helping me learn how to behave in society again. I do this by capitalizing on those opportunities that bring me joy. I spend weekends in Richmond, going to little league baseball games. I have gotten involved with the guide dog school that gave me my dog, Brittani. I help with charity fund raising. I go to talk with groups about how to survive turmoil and overcome the obstacles that can get our life off track. I travel when the time permits it. Most of all I spend time with those who love me and have been by my side through the whole affair.
When I went to Iraq I had a smile on my face. I believed in the war. I thought that we could do some good. I wanted to help the Iraqis have the same freedoms we take for granted every day. I enjoyed my time in the gun club we call the Marine Corps. How could I not? That is my family background. I am a third generation marine. Shooting machine guns and blowing stuff up was enjoyable at the time. I did not know then the horrors of combat. I had an incredibly catastrophic thing happen to me. That is what I was told by someone in passing.
I do not agree. I was given a second chance at life.
We are not all so lucky. I attended the funeral of the Navy corpsman who saved my life. He died on his third combat tour in Iraq. The times have not always been happy-go-lucky. There were a lot of hours in surgery and in rehabilitation facilities. I can stand tall today and wear a smile on my face that is a country mile wide. I can do that because my family loves me. God blessed me with more days in this world. I have a girlfriend who is everything that I was so certain that I would never find. I beg of you, when it gets too deep and you feel like that it will never get better, smile. Sometimes it is all that we have to fight off the blues and get back on our horse and push through.
homefires.blogs.nytimes.com/?hp