A Wounded Warrior Reflects: 2 Years in Purgatory and 10 Years of Steps
Commentary
Not a drop. Not an ounce. Not a molecule. Not a bit of comfort. The war didn’t make me feel that way, but I felt that way after the war. The hospital and the two years of Starship Reed purgatory didn’t help, then the zombie dope follow-up finished me. Dead man walking.
Dead but not dead enough to stop the pain, insomnia, or anger. Suicide was my flirtation and my only desires came from war porn. Alcohol was a relief because it brought sadness and sadness was an improvement. Not even God wanted me anymore. Salvation lost.
It has been more than ten years since I left the hospital. I can still “touch” every lack of emotion that I felt then and the two years that followed. I crossed over….