It has been over 40 years since I was in the Navy or at least since some of the events that seem to have such an impact upon my life even today.  As my previous post alludes to, most of those events will remain behind a curtain that keeps me from sharing it with anyone.  As a pressure cooker with a faulty valve, over time this will lead to a catastrophic failure of the pressure cooker and the person so impacted. 

The VA seems less than adept at handling such problems even with active-duty personnel; for those of us who are of by-gone days (makes me feel like I sailed with John Paul Jones), often the only response we receive is a shrug and a finger pointing us to the exit.  To be told by some pencil-neck bureaucrat whose most dangerous activity involves driving to and from work that I am “only” a veteran of submarines and so am ineligible for assistance and/or compensation was a demonstration of how my faith in Christ has changed me.  Previously said person would be either in the morgue or ICU, but I just shook my head and stood aghast at the ignorance and lack of understanding on the part of many of those who make such decisions.

Even when a friend snuck me in the back door (as it were) to be seen by one of the staff psychologists in the PTSD clinic who diagnosed me with PTSD, even then he had to admit that regardless of the confirmation of my need for help, they had none to offer me!  Through a series of ‘happenstances’ (I do love the way God can work) I met Amy Gressler, a psychotherapist with Harbor Reins who suggested a rather unusual form of therapy to address my struggles; equine assisted psychotherapy. 

The combination of one-on-one therapy in an office setting with working with the horses at the Corral is almost magical in uncovering the hidden emotions and rationale that serves only to cause more and more pain.  Often what is uncovered is not pretty; the raw memories can cause us to explode at those with whom we are the most comfortable, those with whom we feel safest.  The pain (as with any sin) is passed along from generation to generation (often in more than one way), but caring folks and loving families can bring healing over time.

What has been so wonderful about my experience at the Corral is the long-suffering animals that most would put off as just ‘dumb animals.’  Two horses in particular that I’ve been working with have shown me how the phrase ‘horse sense’ must have come into being.  A definition I found puts it nicely; “…sound practical judgement independent of specialized knowledge or training…”  These horses do not have any formal training, but they can sense emotion and tension better than many people I know (especially those at the VAMC in Durham!).  Bob (a Belgian…just picture needing a parachute) and Chester have taught me much about myself and how to get along with others when it is not possible to have a conversation per se, but oh how we do talk! 

One of my favorite parts of each weekly session is at the end when Amy tells me to relax against the horses’ side and relax, matching my breathing to his.  There have been a few times when I could almost fall asleep; once Amy told me that the horse (it was Bob I think) seemed to be relaxing as I did.

Yeah, there is still a journey before me, but with the help of such friends as Bob and Chester (as well as Amy and Lisa), it is one that is doable.  Thanks for reading along with me on this part as well.

Recently saw the image below and it seems to put in context why my frustration with the VA continues to climb. There is much that we in 'the boats' did that was laughable and open for dissemination to our friends; even some of the serious stuff has been released to the public through such books as Blind Man's Bluff that tells some of the 'derring-do that we in the Silent Service accomplished in defense of our nation.  When I saw this particular image posted on Facebook (one of the bubblehead sites I belong to), it 'clarifies' as no one else has why my hands shake to the point that I can have some difficulty feeding myself (no medical/neurological reason for it) and why dreams still steal sound sleep from me.

I am proud of my service and grateful for the small part that service played in keeping our nation free from tyranny.  So, if you see me with a far away look in my eyes when you ask me about what I did in the Navy, remember this image and the wonderfully circuitous 'explanation' it provides.

When did politically correct become so pervasive and powerful in our nation.  Has this nation always had the opportunity to voice opinions contrary to the mainstream as long as such were done respectfully and without being so hate-filled?  Lately it seems if you post, show or state opinions contrary to what the mainstream media, that person or persons are soon vilified.  Anyone professing support of our troops and the seemingly never ending war on terrorism is cast aside as an idiot and now Facebook (that bastion of what is ‘good’ and ‘normal’ in this land of ours) states that the flag of the United States Marine Corps is not up to their community standards!

Where have we gone wrong folks?  What has happened to this nation when such happens?  Yes, it is totally within the rights of the founder and editorial board of Facebook to state such; after all many Marines (and other military) have shed blood and given their lives to ensure that liberty.  My question, however, is what happened to respect?  Are we on the same road we travelled during Vietnam?  I pray not, but I do hope that those of you who also wonder at this statement of Facebook’s will let them know of your disagreement with this statement.  I have changed my profile photos to reflect the flag of the United States Marine Corps and encourage all who feel the same to do likewise.

I’ve not had the honor of wearing the uniform of a Marine, but have been in dark places where I was glad to be with them.  This country would be a very different place without the Marines standing tall against all enemies.  God bless the United States Marine Corps!