My hands started shaking.
Well... This is new.
Ok hand... uh, stop shaking...
Still shaking... ok.
"You alright Noble?"
'Yeah man, I'm good...'
Staff Sergeant Neal eyed me over... pausing for a couple seconds as we both looked at my shaking oakley covered fists... both shaking uncontrollably...
"I need s..s.smoke."
... as I stumbled out into the blazing hot sun, Iraq finally caught up to me. My body was emotionless. I felt unplugged, out of control... like a trigger that just kept on firing.
"You're going to mental health when we get back... That shit isn't normal. That isn't normal at all."
'Roger that. I'll head over there as soon as we get back.'
"And hey, fuck those mother fuckers that say that mental health is a place where weak people go... you ain't no bitch. You gotta deal with fender brender (a side joke for the Platoon leader we had at the time) day in and day out, barerra as a driver, and smith in the back hatch talking shit non stop for 12 hour stints... You're behind a .50 caliber machine gun, signed for at least 20 million dollars worth of equipment. You've got 8 soldiers lives at risk here, and your platoon leader wants to take a fucking spit bath in the middle of an operation. Your vehicle is in top condition for being that piece of shit they issued you just a few months ago. You got the entire fucking platoon's trucks that were all beat to shit with multiple deadlines in 5 mother fucking days. We lost griff, we lost henkes, and you know what, we're probably going to get more fucked up.. but guess what, we need you to have your head on straight and on a swivel.
If you can't do the job, we need to get you medicated so you can get through this if you choose to. We need everyone we can get..."
.....
A few weeks later I was on Lexapro and Seroquel, and finally my nerves returned to me...
...but a few weeks later changed everything...
My platoon was hit hard and fast by an IED. I nearly lost my leg had I not moved my body out of the way just moments before.
I remember seeing stars, sparks, and smelling the ammonia of the explosives that ripped through the belly of the stryker... the heat was horrific, dust everywhere, shrapnel splattering all over myself and the platoon leader. The smallest pieces of that shit just made you bleed like a razer sliced through you... I couldn't understand what happened.
You think you're invincible, then it happens and you fear everything.
I just snapped into reality instantly. I was taken out of action and I don't think I ever got my mind back from that moment.
It's always a haze remember what I thought about just before it happened.
The thoughts of hating everything in life, wishing I had made a different choice, and then my left butt cheek fell asleep and by adjusting that simple motion, it saved my life.
Through getting through the bullshit, I found myself again.
This helps me think to not think too much.
https://youtu.be/O7gU2XHh3SY
