Then The Machine shuts
down and coughs out the humanbeings. The human-beings go home
to families who don’t understand.
A society which labels them. A
stigma they can’t escape. The human-being is a good person, but the
human-being has a memory. The
human-being remembers what The
Machine did during combat and
feels as if the people who profess to
love him knew what The Machine
did, they would be horrified and
they wouldn’t love him anymore.
The human-being has feelings of
guilt mixed with the pride he feels
for the job he did as The Machine.
The human-being feels isolated.
None of his family or friends really
know him as his Marines do, but
they are all gone. The human-being
is tortured every minute of every
day of his life with memories of the
functions of The Machine. All the
human-being needs is for people to
understand him. What he really
needs is for those who say they
love him to understand he loves
them too, but he is different now,
and it may never change. He may
forever and always be dealing with
these feelings. He needs acceptance
anyways.
This is our life now. We
live with the ripple effect of PTSD.
Some days are awesome days,
some days are awful days. This is
our normal. We don’t need to be
judged or labeled or looked at differently. My husband is the same
man he always was; only now he is
a combat veteran as well. I couldn’t
be any prouder of him if I tried. He
is a man of honor, and I will never
stop loving him.
I am the proud wife of a
United States Marine. Not just any
Marine. I am the proud wife of a
combat veteran. —
The Warrior Heart November 2014 - 12