cellini's Diaryland Diary


Why we with PTSD miss combat

The anniversary was two days ago.

Here's the fucked up thing about PTSD: You miss it. You miss the combat. You hate it and you miss it all at the same time.

To stand in the line of fire and have every pressure to leave, but still to stay. You do that and you know who you are.

I was in the middle of the alt right, at the top of the steps into the park. With a press pass around my neck. Neo Nazis were standing and running all around me and there I was in the middle of all that and my assignment was to stay as close to them as possible and to get the story. They could see who I was. I had Nazis trying to order me to leave and I stood there, with no help, no backup, just standing there looking them right in the eye and refusing to leave. I quoted Lincoln's Cooper Union speech back to one of them. He ordered me to leave and I said, "we must each of us do our duty as we understand it," also deliberately alluding to Admiral Horatio Nelson's orders to his fleet before the action at Trafalgar. I don't know whether all that went over his head, but I stared him in the eye until he moved along. There's a video of it on Rewire's FB video feed from the day.

I knew who I was. I knew that I was doing what I needed to do in order to do my duty and I didn't care if I was killed while doing it.

That kind of clarity has been missing in most of my life since then. I hate what happened. I miss being who I really am. I miss facing death for what I know is right and good. Normal life is messy and complicated and it was so much easier to decide between possible death and dishonor.

I'm not cut out for this civilian life. I belong back in a war zone, or in an uprising. I should be in Hong Kong right now if I spoke the language. But I don't know exactly how to get back there.

12:35 a.m. - 2019-08-14


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