Dealing, or Not Dealing

[Drinking in Nairobi]

We all cope in our own ways.  During the most stressful times in Afghanistan, I'd smoke hash in the evenings to help me sleep.  Mostly, though, through Afghanistan and Africa, I prefered to drink.  Not alcoholism - or if so, a highly functional sort of alcoholism. 

(One sign of maturity - getting drunk on red wine instead of beer.  The glories of living in Nairobi.)

In Iraq, I barely drank, though that was mostly a function of living on a dry base.  It was also the only time in my life I actually found myself using the gym.

And then, after three years working overseas, I came back to the States.  An apartment in Los Angeles, consulting and writing, a more settled life. 

As I've written before, I missed those worst-times the most, a friend's kidnapping in Kabul, or just driving down the road in Mosul. 

Those feelings of fear and adrenaline, and a sheer, almost fierce joy. Everything heightened, everything that much closer to the surface. 

A feeling of being completely alive, of being present in each moment.

Late at night I'd find myself walking around the block, almost shaking, sometimes shaking.

In Iraq, someone told me the best way to deal with fear was just to ride it through, to accept it and continue to function. 

I thought that, no matter what else, I could always function.

 [View from inside a Humvee in Iraq]

And then one night in Los Angeles, months after I returned, I thought I heard a gunshot.  A sound that made me think of other gunshots, of all those moments spent waiting - and then it all suddenly came together, this jumble of memories, all that fear and sometimes panic and sometimes terror. 

Moments later, I was curled on the floor of my bathroom, sobbing, unable to stop.

It's been hard to come back, much harder than I imagined.  And the best thing I've done over the last ten months is see a therapist - to accept that sometimes I can't just ride it through. 

Others have seen, experienced different things - some far, far worse.  And some people cope better than others, or at least better than me.  

But I think that what we do marks us all.