Chicken Soup for the Combat Soul

My days aren't quite as cheeky as it once was. The only sense of true joy is that alongside my husband. But duty calls yet again and we have to make that horrible adjustment of deployment. And I am scared. Today I paid a visit to one of America's awesome VA hospital facilities for medical evaluations. Diagnoses? PTSD, anxiety, severe depression and once again, my beloved homie, insomnia. After four hours of speaking with three different psychologists, I discovered I'm hitting emotional rock bottom and never knew it.

I never was fond of discussing my pains but today was definitely a break through. I need help.

The first step to healing is medication to regulate the whacked out hormones and finally get some well deserved slumber. And once that's achieved I have to complete another step which isn't my favorite way to heal but it must be done and that is to start one-on-one therapy sessions before gradually moving into group sessions.

But, alas, I had a glimmer of hope. As I was making my way through the corridors of the hospital I was greeted by every WWII and Vietnam heroes. It touches my heart that these old timer legends accept me as their own. I was invited to join them for lunch and just listening to all their war stories truly humbled me.

One of the Heroes looked at me and said the following words I will never forget:
"I know us men can never understand the bullshit you've been put through. But I want you to remember this: you fought when no else did. You're a rare breed of woman who has balls. And it's okay to cry. You'll never forget where you've been but you can't let it eat away of what's left of your life, dear sister. We're always here for each other no matter which war was fought, we're all one and the same."

Slowly but surely, I'll regain the inner peace I've left in Iraqi sands.