I have the thing, I might as well use it.

[pecunium]

It's been a year, well more like a year and a half.

It feels like less, as though the desert swallowed it, a temporal tesseract wherein a vast amount of the real world went by while I was sleeping.

And the sleep seems to have been so real, and vague.

Notes, at semi-random.

Saw Farenheit 9/11 yesterday, with some reservations. I dislike much of HOW Moore says things, his distortions, presented as though they were fact do more harm than the good he is attempting (for more on this a column a few months ago, or perhaps last month, see above) in a gun magazine on the parts of Bowling for Columbine which are important matters for discussion, and the difficulty if getting past the lies in the piece... where a discussion of the merits might come, it is slain abed because someone will bring up, e.g., the rifle at the bank) but I am not fond of Bush fils (I thought I was displeased with his father, how wrong I was, that was a momentary fit of pique, compared to my sentiments about the man presently at the helm) and I wanted to see to it the film was well received.

I was also given a ticket, and it was a family outing.

The last half of the film was hard to watch... it was almost all in Iraq, and most of that from when I was there...

I was very contained when I got out... probably looked, as one friend commented I looked back in Oct., scary.

It's been a hell of a year, and only just recently rounded out. I am, finally, home, inasmuch as I can be, since we are moving in Sept..

The trip to Seattle was the last gasp of far travelling... a nice (ignoring the cause) capstone to some 20,000 miles I rambled last year. Spring, shading into summer.

It was good to feel useful, I've been at odds and ends since I was sent from theater. Two-months in Walter Reed (topped off with a near death/disfiguring illness), a month of screwy leave (to convalesce) and then six months of limbo, and waiting... I had structure; in that there were, at any given time, about 15 people I had to oversee, and a half dozen others I had to keep tabs on.

But I was broken... I wasn't home, and I wasn't away. I didn't want to go back to Iraq, but I did (sometimes) wish I'd never left. The news was painful... the dread of the daily casualty figures, the joy at some trivial piece of e-mail (Mills on a toilet in a palace in Tikrit... the Library staff gave me ugly looks when I guffawed).

The wondering about my disease (it's in remission, talk to me in a couple of years and I'll better know how I am).

So I stewed. I ate fried clams, and I drank some beer, I hung out with friends, and knit myself back together.

I went to Arlington, the only time while I was at Walter Reed when I wore my uniform, the only time from May to Oct. which I wore boots.

I am home now... dirt under my fingernails, plants in the ground, horses in the yard... not enough books, or film, or money (since I'm between jobs and living off the fat I stored up on deployment) hanging with friends, and being reminded, at wedding receptions, movies, by odd sounds, that I am not who I was before.

There are small kernels of grief, sadness, anger and (dare I say it) rage nestled in my bosom... dark moments in the wee hours, clouds before the sun on days of brilliant sunshine.

They make me wonder for the rest of the world, I had a quiet war, no one (so far as I know) tried to kill me retail, and I saw little of the horrors of the immediate aftermath of battle. My fight was all at a distance, some of it a great distance, but I am less, and more than I was.

It's been a hell of a year.

Comments

[editrx.livejournal.com]

Hi Terry -- I "met" you through TNH's blog, Making Light, and you were kind enough to allow me to read you here. I hope you keep writing; it is graceful and insightful and a privilege to read. You are enduring many griefs: your health, the war, moving, job changes -- all of these will weigh as grief. It is rare that someone in the middle of the experience sees it as such, but you seem to have rare insight in general.

I would like to write to you, briefly, if that is okay.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

If you feel so inclined, you may write at length.

TK

[spankful-sprite.livejournal.com]

You have written with absolute clarity.

It has indeed been a hell of a year for you.

Im actually at a loss to explain how much of an impact your writing has.

Thank you.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

Like all other years, it's had its ups and downs. All in all, it was all right (I'd have taken a by, all things considered, but having done it, I have no real regrets).

Apart from June-August the most of it was one hell of year, in the emphatic sense, more than the awful sense.

TK

[spankful-sprite.livejournal.com]

The emphatic sense was the one that rung true.

I once questioned a magazine that included the death of a popular singer as part of its 25 'great' moments of the year.

It meant great in the sense of memorable. Not in the sense of 'a fabulous thing to occur'.

Again, thank you for sharing your hell of a year.

[eleanor.livejournal.com]

I feel the same way about Moore, and I"m not seeing this one for somehwat obvious reasons.

I'm not sure if you know that I have PTSD, and much of what you say resonates. I think I get it, as much as a civilian can.

[ex-soothemys349.livejournal.com]

Your words touch my heart and bring me a better understanding of who you are. Beautiful, really.

[lahermite.livejournal.com]

I imagine that being in a war, no matter how removed from the battle you are, is something that a man (or woman) would not recover from. Ever. Then with every thing else... I can imagine things being somewhat surreal. My little life has changed so drastically in the last 2 1/2 years that I struggle to catch my breathe sometimes, and my little life has been extremely sedate in comparison!

[just-jenn.livejournal.com]

(((Welcome Home))) in more than just the literal since.

As a military spouse, your words mean a great deal.

Here's to hoping your life sees less hell and more happiness (whatever that means to you and yours).
♥
~JB~

[cluefairy-j.livejournal.com]

Terry,

I'm glad that I got to see you (however brief) when I was out in Seattle. I'm glad we're back in touch. And I'm glad you're here and surviving.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

I'm glad too. I miss you, not all the time, but in the odd moments... When I'm looking for a certain brand of familiar silly, or perhaps just the carefree days gone by.

Can you do me a favor... easy one. I need info, bt Thursday, for wahle-watching out to the Skellwejian (sp.?) Banks, out of Salem.

Maia, et familia, will be in the area, and they leave on Friday.

TK

[cluefairy-j.livejournal.com]

Stellwagen Banks.

Here's some information:
The East India Cruise Company, 57 Wharf Street, Salem, departs daily at 9 AM and 2 PM in July/August (schedule is different in other months, so call ahead). Phone 978-741-0434 or 800-745-9594 for reservations. Tickets are $27 for adults, $22 for seniors, and $18 for children under 14. Children under 3 are free. Whale sightings are guaranteed, or your next trip is free. This had the added feature of on-board exhibits to help the kids (and adults) pass the time.

I took a cruise out of Gloucester, but if cruises are in Salem, it's just as easy to do from there (and if they have a chance, they should visit the Peabody Essex Museum in Salem. It's awesome.).

[iamcompubear.livejournal.com]

I have known you most of our lives. I got the chance to see you and get close to you again just before you left. I have seen the pain and hurt in your heart since you've been back and how it has changed you. I feel bad for that pane and hurt and wish I could take it away. But I also look at it as this is who you are. For what it has done good or bad it is your life experance and if you were not changed but something so dramatic then you would be just one of the mindless solders of which you are not. I still love you and always will no matter how you change. I will always be here for you. You can always call me even if its 2 in the morning. I would fly accross they world if you needed me to.

[jennae.livejournal.com]

I don't know the circumstances of our friending, however, I am pleased to be honored to read your thoughts. This was very though-provoking.

my disease? I either missed something or don't know what you're talking about.

[pecunium.livejournal.com]

I don't recall how I found your journal, but is you go and read (though it is some 20 posts) my memories, you'll see my writings from when I was in Iraq, and a tad bit afterwards), which details my coming down with Rieter's Syndrome, which is an auto-immune arthritis.

All in all it's not so bad, though it has been, and it might be again.