In The Lord of the Rings, the Return of the King, there is a particular scene that always seems to grab me by the throat. Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin are riding back to the Shire when Gandalf notices that Frodo seems somewhat disconnected from the others. When queried by Gandalf, Frodo’s response is particularly poignant;

“’ Are you in pain, Frodo.”
 
“It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me.”
 
“Alas! There are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,” said Gandalf.
 
“I fear it may be so with mine,” said Frodo. “There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same, for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?”
 
Gandalf did not answer.’”

 
Gandalf had fought in the same war as Frodo, and so understood the wounds that are often unseen, yet remain deep within those who fought.  Changes that occur within anyone who has seen conflict are little understood by those who never have done so.  It seems to me that often even my beloved wife, Kathy, just doesn’t get it despite the many times I have tried to explain my wounding.  Enduring the unendurable and moving on (“Just get over it already!” is something I have heard) is, at best, an exercise in futility.  Even speaking with other Veterans can be less than helpful as we each have experienced a different part of ‘the elephant’ that is experiencing combat in its various forms.  ‘Seeing the elephant’ is a descriptive phrase first used following the Civil War of those who had fought.

 
“In some military quarters, having "seen the elephant" has been used as shorthand for having experienced combat.”

War and its many facets, affect those who have been through it in many ways. Even those in the same unit can have dramatically different views on what has happened; for those who seek to understand what the other has gone through, is best illustrated by the parable of five blind men discovering an elephant;

“A group of blind men heard that a strange animal, called an elephant, had been brought to the town, but none of them were aware of its shape and form. Out of curiosity, they said: "We must inspect and know it by touch, of which we are capable." So, they sought it out, and when they found it, they groped about it. In the case of the first person, whose hand landed on the trunk, said: "This being is like a thick snake." For another one whose hand reached its ear, it seemed like a kind of fan. As for another person, whose hand was upon its leg, said, the elephant is a pillar-like a tree-trunk. The blind man who placed his hand upon its side said the elephant, "is a wall." Another who felt its tail described it as a rope. The last felt its tusk, stating the elephant is that which is hard, smooth and like a spear.”

For me to have an intelligent conversation with a MARINE who has been through ground combat (or for him to understand my view from inside a submarine), we must first realize that, like the blind men, we have ‘touched’ a different part of the same beast.  However, for the person who has never served…well, that is a different animal altogether. 

As with Frodo, there can be no ‘going back’ to the person we once were or viewing the world from the same eyes.  Hopefully, those who love us will understand and continue to walk with us through life.  My travels through life have shown me that few will remain despite the idiocy I can do as my mind fights with itself.  Through the good and evil, they stay and my heart treasures them above all riches.  My beloved wife, Kathy, is chief among these for she sees (and experiences) the depressive episodes, the rage that can appear without warning, and just wondering if I’ll ever be sane again.  Our faith sustains us through it all (both while I was in prison and since), and Scripture is a constant reminder that Jesus is the “God Who Stays.”

Again, like Frodo, though, it seems that until I leave this life (pictured in his journeying with Bilbo, Gandalf, and the elves to the land across the Western Sea from Middle Earth), my struggles and my desire for my friends to walk with me, will continue.  God’s grace and the real friends that I have found (that God has gifted me with) are a reminder that no matter the struggles and failures, there is a “far country” waiting.

The journey continues…

In our ongoing study through the Gospel of Mark, the last two Sundays have dealt with what Ethan has termed, “Bold Faith.”  This past Sunday, the 28th of January, his theme for Mark 11:12-14, 20-25 was “Speak to the Mountain” that dovetailed with what I have been experiencing in the last two weeks or so. 

As many of you know who follow my blog, I have been on a journey since coming out of prison that has been rather ‘interesting’ at times.  Part of that has been my struggle with PTS (Post Traumatic Stress) from my adventures in the Navy and since.  Thankfully treatment with Harbor Reins in Cary (equine-assisted psychotherapy) did much to bring healing; really the only overt sign has been my ongoing hand tremors.  I began treatment while still living in the Triangle part of North Carolina, starting several different medications and finally having a neurologist there settle on Primidone.  After moving to Asheville with beaches (Wilmington), I continued this treatment, gradually increasing the dosage to the maximum allowed.  There were times when with each increase the tremors did seem to subside somewhat, but never for very long.  While the tremors persisted despite increasing dosages, I did begin to experience some, at times, dramatic side effects in the way of easily losing my balance.  It is to the point where I am unable to ride my bicycle, and it would not be a  good thing to have some officer administer a road-side sobriety test to me as I would flunk it stone cold sober.

So, what to do?  The tremors were interfering with handwriting as well as typing (word-processing?) with the result that I all but stopped blogging.  Additionally, much of my morning devotions and Bible study diminished greatly because I was mostly unable to work the computer based study software.  I knew that God wanted me to study (big duh) and meditate on his Word, even continue to blog, but the tremors continued to make it all but impossible.  As the days became weeks and months, I noticed that I was always tired and would take frequent naps each day despite having slept for 8 to 12 hours at night!  It puzzled me why this was happening until one night while driving home from the USO-NC Jacksonville Center where I volunteer, I ‘happened’ to listen to the Good News Network station on Harker’s Island, specifically to a ministry called Know The Truth led by Pastor Phillip De Courcy.  The lesson this particular night came from Jonah 1 and something Pastor De Courcy said was like a Gibb’s slap to the back of my head (if you don’t watch NCIS you won’t understand the reference).  He said that this snoring prophet was exhausted enough to sleep through a storm because he was running from God’s will for him.  I remember ‘speaking’ to God along the lines of, “Okay, that’s why I’m tired because I’ve stopped blogging and studying, but I held up my shaking hands to the ceiling as if to show God why I’d stopped. 

So, what to do?  I spent some time praying and speaking with God about this, and it was as though he was waiting for something from me.  As with Jonah when he wound up in a rather unconventional berth (first ever sub sailor?) as a result of his disobedience, I cried out to God in anguish.  While I don’t think it was bargaining (much), I did ask God to take the tremors away.  At that moment, my hands did stop trembling!  My surprise (yeah, real faith prayer that) lasted for a bit, then I began dancing around and praising God for his delivering me.  Another decision I came to was to discontinue the medication I’d been taking to try and get my equilibrium back (something that is not usually a good idea, going from max dose to nada).  No one knew of my decision for over a week (including Kathy); there were times when the tremors would reappear, each time I would pray and ask God to once again deliver me from this barrier to what I believed he wanted of me.  Then Pastor Ethan spoke his lesson, “Speak to the Mountain!”  I’ve no idea how I managed to remain in my seat; perhaps I was so dumbfounded at this lesson being almost exact reiteration of my previous two weeks. 

So, is the struggle with tremors now over?  No, not really.  They are much less noticeable now than before, and I continue sans medication.  Interestingly enough, once I made this decision, my energy level returned to normal enabling me to awaken early each morning to spend time alone with my King and his Word even if I’d stayed up late the previous night.  As with other areas of my life, the tremors are a reminder of my weakness and dependence on God.  It is not the meds or anything other than God’s sovereignty over every aspect of my life that will enable me to honor him each day in all I say and do. 


The journey continues…

What a day! 

When I pulled up, I noticed that Liza had already put Bob in the ring, so I decided to go over and say hello.  I called out to him, and he came sauntering over to where I was standing which blew my mind, considering our last session.  I rubbed on his nose and ears for a bit, and then he turned and walked away; shortly after Amy and Liza came out, and we began our session for the day.

Bob was standing at the far end of the ring, so I placed the grooming tray on a stand in the center and walked toward him to begin.  He seems to like most of the grooming (at times he does take a nip at me whenever I clean his right front hoof), but Friday he seemed more relaxed and willing to allow me to do whatever I wanted.  As I moved to get him to lift his hoof, he did indeed lift it but then brought it down on top of the toes of my boot (thank God for steel toes).  Yep, it hurt like a son of a gun, but I was able to flex the toes inside the boot so figured nothing had been broken.

Throughout the session, Bob seemed a different animal (compared with the previous session when he ignored and resisted my efforts to get him to come to me).  It was almost too easy; at one point whenever I would walk away after he came to me, he would follow without being told!  Amy had spoken to me about two phases of this; one where I have him come to me, another where I stay in the center of the ring and have him move around the periphery of the ring.  I started to attempt this, but each time I called to him, he would walk to me.  I would speak to him while rubbing his ears and nose; finally, Amy and Liza told me that by doing this I was reinforcing his behavior, that I needed to be more firm with him to get him to circle instead of approach.

They had given me a ‘carrot stick’ (a metal rod with a length of rope attached) that I had used at times to get his attention so he would approach me.  I called to him and, as he had before, he turned and began walking toward me.  I popped the rope to one side and said, “No!” while pointing to the other side.  He stopped, then walked to the inner part of the ring and began to walk around it.  I continued to stand in the center with my arm pointed to the side while I turned with him, continuing to tell him to move on.

I’m not sure who was more thrilled at what was happening, but Amy had a big grin.  Earlier she had remarked Bob had begun trusting me more as evidenced by his being more comfortable with my ‘snuggling’ with him; all that had happened that day seemed to reinforce this.  I guess our next session will be the ‘proof in the pudding,’ but I am excited at the changes in Bob and me.  One of Amy’s observations was that I was obviously more at peace with myself, and Bob had sensed this and so was working with me as a team.

A great day; a wonderful session and an indication that we (as a team) are going in the right direction. 

​ Hallelu-Yah!

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.

“Get over it!”

I’ve heard that many a time; have to confess to saying it myself at times either directed toward myself or some other person.  Life can hurt, but to be successful it seems important to put a brave face on and ‘soldier on’; to keep on no matter how you may feel.  I’ve done this for years, I thought somewhat successfully, until this past weekend when Kathy and I attended a workshop/seminar on Post Traumatic Stress and the impact it has on lives.

William Tecumseh Sherman once opined regarding war,

“I am tired and sick of war. Its glory is all moonshine. It is only those who have neither fired a shot nor heard the shrieks and groans of the wounded who cry aloud for blood, for vengeance, for desolation. War is hell.”

One of the speakers, a Marine combat veteran, stated it rather succinctly when he said that war kills the soul of any who participate in the hell that is all too real for those who have ‘seen the elephant,’ a descriptive phrase attributed to first being used in the mid to late 19th century as a way of describing someone who has encountered something (usually combat) that results in overwhelming emotion and disturbance. 

War twists the psyche in unimaginable ways, often not surfacing for years or even decades when sleep disturbances, bursts of anger, paranoia and hyper-awareness can turn an apparent normal person into a quivering echo of their former self.  It will take you where you do not want to go, but you cannot gainsay it’s overwhelming command and find yourself watching almost from a third person viewpoint as you either explode or implode.

Thankfully there is help, really only one solution for the horrific damage that war does to people.  That solution, the only real hope for any so afflicted is to recognize your inability to handle it and to seek help outside of yourself. 

Gary Cunha is the Suicide Prevention Coordinator for the Department of Veteran’s Affairs; his task is monumental because as of today we are losing one veteran to suicide every 62 minutes.  He spoke on the spiritual component of obtaining help, of experiencing hope in the midst of despair.  While speaking to experienced counsellors like Gary will help, there is only one solution to bring light into such dark places.

If you are a veteran, you are not alone.  No matter what may have happened to you, there is help readily available through the Veterans Crisis Line.  Call 1-800-273-8255, press 1 and you will have a ready ear who does understand to share your burdens.  An additional resource for all Veterans (and one not directly linked with the VA) can be found here.  For those who have not served; please, pray for our military and veterans and thank God that you have been shielded from the horror and hell that is war by those who volunteer to face it for you.