Today we welcome another contributor to CONUS Battle Drills: Spartan. As a young man he joined the US Army and was an 82nd Airborne medic. He left the military and got a doctorate in psychology then practiced as a naval officer for over 20 years before retiring. He’s been in special operations and worked on several secret squirrel programs. In order to protect his family, his patients, and his current job, his identity will remain a secret for now.
A Psychologist’s Turn
They will beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks (Isaiah 2:4)
…For I will turn their mourning into joy, and will comfort them and give them joy for their sorrow (Jeremiah 31:13).
While these verses refer to a time in the future when God will turn our sadness into joy and Peace will reign on earth, for many of us, as we transition out of the military, this can become our hope as well as our challenge.
As we leave the fellowship of the warriors and the sights and sounds of war begin to fade, we are faced with the new task of finding a new purpose, a new direction in a world that is much different and in which we don’t seem to fit in very well. We are left with our memories and our hurts, and for many, those are constant companions that will haunt our everyday, as one senior NCO dramatically confessed to me when he told me his fallen comrade would come to him in dreams to blame him for his death. Of course, he was not responsible for his death, but all the same he felt guilty; at the end, he had survived, while his friend had given the last “full measure of devotion”. However, he needed to punish himself because at least, that guilt kept him alive, authentic, and engaged.
Each one of us has a particular story, and we need to understand it, process it, own it, and then make it our motivation to propel us forward to make our lives and our journey worthwhile. Just as the last scene in Saving Private Ryan, when the now old soldier stands by the grave of the man who gave his life, so he could have his; in this moment, he believed he had lived a life that had been worth saving.
But the process is difficult for all, for some, even so much more. Once a hardened Delta Operator guy came into my office to discuss something “embarrassing”. As he sat in front of me he begins to tell me he is retiring from the military in a few weeks, after many years of service. He had been a boxer, a soldier, a veteran of multiple combat missions. He had seen great horror and suffering, and through all, he had been steadfast, loyal, courageous, and always did his duty. He had recently married, and together with his new bride, they were building a new business. Life was good, peaceful, and he felt happy and confident regarding his future.
Then, he tells me why he came to see me: “Doc the other day my wife and I were home and decided to have a quiet night watching a movie and being with each other. My wife chose a “chick movie” to watch and I didn’t care.” Then he paused and with great effort he continues-“Would you believe doc, that half way through this movie, I began to shed tears, and my wife turned to me and said What’s wrong honey?” There was the perennial tough guy, proven in battle, now crying to a chick movie, in front of his new bride!
We discussed his story in detail. We understood that through the years of service, he needed to keep his emotions under control in order to do his job; he needed to do this for himself and for the others that depended on him. Now, as he was transitioning to a new life, and this control was no longer necessary, he was allowing himself to feel those emotions; that was an important part of his own healing. I suggested that for a time, he would probably be more emotional than usual, but eventually he would feel better. I also encouraged him to follow up in psychotherapy to work out the kinks. Last I heard from him was three days before I left SOUTHCOM. He wanted me to know he was doing well, he was happy with his life, back to himself and he had fired his Psychologist (that is another story).
While we all may have different needs and challenges, these two tasks are necessary: we must find new meanings and new projects and we need to heal our hurts. We can’t live stuck in the past, chained to our present, and fearful of the future. There is no shame in admitting to our need for help; we owe this to ourselves, and to those with whom we share our lives. This is now our new mission.
Spartan