Living With PTSD – A Cowards Life

Ptsd and life - Ptsd can have a bad effect and can destroy lifes

Learning To Live with my PTSD!

start of my PTSD
My goal for these next few posts, or but many it may take me, is to work through my issues. To relive and sort out what happened and share my story along the way. I also hope that I can help others living with any level of PTSD in silence. That they will find the courage to do that same and remove their veiled mask of PTSD! #BreakTheStigma
Some may find the following to be graphic or triggering to read. I am being honest and open!
After what was a quiet and somber chopper ride back to KAF, we landed. It was between 8 or 9 when we got back to our barracks, showered, shaved and dressed down. We met up with some of the guys at the hangout area called Canada House. There was a concert at the boardwalk that evening, we missed it. But, we ended up sitting down to have a cup of coffee with Blue Rodeo. We shot the sh*t with them, chatted about their tours, Concert tours that is. Mentioned to one of them how much of a fan my Mom was, not knowing if that was true, but that band was more her generation. So, I asked for an autograph for her, I have no clue where it is, or what ever happened to it.

A Coward?

As we were talking with the guys from blue rodeo, another soldier friend of ours came and sat down.
I can still remember him saying “Damn boys I heard you got to shoot a towelhead! Way to go!”
All I could think was “Towelhead”! What the f*ck did that mean? Why would he say that? But, as others are coming around they were high-fiving us and giving us congrats. I was not able to shake the feeling that I should tell them to shut the f*ck up!
Never thought of myself as a racist! I don’t get sometimes why we all can’t get along with one another? It is no excuse, but I did not stand up against the blatant racism that happened that night, or during my service. I would smile, nod and walk away.
I regret and feel shame from this every day!
Such A Coward was I!

What Glory?

I took the praise, the glory, if you use their words. I sure as hell didn’t feel any glory or praise for what we did. But, I took it in, and allowed them to praise us. We were all trained to be killing machines, to hate the enemy, fed racist shit to fuel that anger. But like any country, or race, there will always be a few radical fanatics among them. Who are we, who am I, to judge all for the actions of the few? Then again, I was who ever they ordered me to be. I was a no hook private, the F*cking New Guy. No one else from my battle school was there with me. I had to conform or be left out.
So I took in the glory, all while denying to myself I even did anything. Convincing myself, I had no part in that child’s death. Why was I living, and he wasn’t?
What glory was there to be had?

Anger and Hate!

They trained us so well, that even the sounds of morning prayer would trigger me, even to this day. At my civilian job after getting out of the military,  I was asked to go to a mosque. Upon arriving it was near their evening prayer time. The parking lot was full. And as I sat in my work van, I began to sweat, shake, heart racing. I said to my friend, whom is also a veteran, I can’t do this man. He nodded agreement and we high tailed out of there.
I didn’t expect anything bad to happen, but the sounds of that prayer playing was enough to trigger me. Enough to bring out anger and hate. Hate I didn’t know where to place. Anger at who? I had no clue. But it was there that day.
So much hate and anger!


It was awesome“, I said. “Guys it was like a video game, brains everywhere, guy fell down crossed his arms and died.”
Why did I say this? I have no clue, but I do remember seeing that child fall, arms crossed, head blown open, and his dark eyes. Those piercing eyes, rolled back splatters of blood in the whites.
But, I bragged to my peers how “awesome” it was! I hate myself for that. It did not make things easier for me. I had told that story so many times, that I made myself believe it was awesome. But even in describing these events, I always claimed I never fired a shot. I knew they knew, but I believed what I wanted.
I’m so jealous man“, someone said. I punched them, said f*cking right you are.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
The End For Now..
This is where I am going to stop for now, but it is just the start! I don’t know what else to say right now, other than remember you do not have to live in silence with any form of PTSD! It feels good to write this out, even though it kills my stomach and makes me want to almost puke. Thank you for listening. I hope this made sense. Feel free to comment if you want clarity on something or have a question.
Peace and Love 
- MysticMike 
"Living with PTSD, Not Suffering"


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