I took a break for an anniversary, mainly because I had a few choice words for everyone, and none of them were productive. I had a miserable day coming down from the colonoscopy, and I seriously needed just to keep my mouth shut. I am sure that no one would like to read the post that would have come out. No matter what, this post will still be offensive because I am letting some very huge opinions roll out.

This is going to speak about trauma, and it will not be pretty. However, you need to read it. You need to stop brushing past something and dismiss it as “triggering” because that fucking word is so overused. Too often, it is an excuse to avoid something, and while we assume self-protection, we are only practicing avoidance. Of course I am not talking about a relationship or work anniversaries, I am talking about trauma. It’s not going to be pretty, but it’s going to be said.
Let’s talk about triggers. According to Psychcentral’s website

A trigger is something that sets off a memory tape or flashback transporting the person back to the event of their original trauma.

Triggers are very personal; different things trigger different people. The survivor may begin to avoid situations and stimuli that they think triggered the flashback. They will react to this flashback, trigger with an emotional intensity similar to that at the time of the trauma. A person’s triggers are activated through one or more of the five senses: sight, sound, touch, smell, and taste.

It is individual, and honestly, it should not be an excuse. Yep, I said something seemly heartless (shocking). I have survived my traumas, and I cope. Many times not as healthy as I could, but who the heck are you to judge my coping mechanisms while you shove that 4th doughnut in your face to distract you from your disease infested kids and your go-nowhere job, Karen.

All of this is heartless, and yet it is necessary to be aware of your triggers and embrace them. Figure out what makes those unhealthy things happen. You know there are half a dozen things that will take you back to trauma, and while you will find new ones, there are always the old reliable ones that will still cause a reaction. Mine is hearing Puerto Rican Spanish (My rapist and his accessory were just that), being in a large crowd, being confined, and of course, loud noises. I find a new one from time to time, but these are consistent. I overheard, “I am so triggered by this test,” one day on the train and thought, wow test trauma must be severe. Also how accurate that metafor is. Since every trigger is a test. Every trigger is your opportunity to look at the cause, find something that mitigates it and work towards desensitizing yourself to it. What does that mean? It means to be in the moment with the understanding that it will trigger you. Practice, being in those situations, knowing you will be there, and learning to deal with the emotions. Sort of a controlled exposure. Conventional wisdom says at about 20 minutes of being in a stimulus that usually triggers you, you will become desensitized to a large part of that trigger. Ok, this does not imply you go get raped frequently to desensitize (which I know a bunch of literalists are already teeing up their outrage emails anyway). Let me give you an example. Spanish is typically triggering. Especially the melodic type that Puerto Ricans use. For a long time, the word “Mira,” which in Spanish means look, set me off. It was my rapists’ favorite word. My therapist used prolonged exposure therapy and sent me to shop at a local mexican market or to the mexican flea market to provide sustained exposure.

While I am on the trigger warning thing, those that have experienced this kind of bullshit know precisely what this hell is like. I have heard trigger made fun of a lot by people who have no idea what the hell they are talking about or what any of this is. I have also heard it overused. I overheard a person say it, with no history of trauma. The word is too overused for situations that it does not describe. Read above. A recall, not a fear.

I survived my traumas, but I have no clue some days how I did or how I do. I know that I have been fortunate to have a couple of excellent service dogs. I know that Ranger saved me on two occasions from taking my life. I know they are trained, but he seemed to know shit was going sideways even before I did. He died 2 years ago, and yet it feels like it was yesterday (and we all know what a lousy day yesterday was). I have several different major traumas from being in combat. Probably the worst is Military Sexual Trauma (MST). It is a problem that is mostly ignored by the service (boys will be boys), as well as military leadership, and civilian leadership that is far more interested in making a buck off the lobbyists as well as using the service to do its bidding for those same profits. We weren’t in Kuwait or Iraq, and we would not keep rattling our sabers about Iran if they didn’t have oil interests. Sorry, I have been to these countries and it ain’t much more than that. Until the command climate changes, it’s still going to happen. Boys will be boys. Well, Karen folks must be following your parenting. Teach your children better.
My story, as well as a couple of other servicemen’s stories on their assaults, are here. I have changed all the names, although mine is first.

This happened in 1991. I was a young sergeant who was doing his thing for the first time in a combat zone. I was very gay at the time and lived in the closet. Many people knew I am told years later but didn’t care because I really pushed myself to be the best at what I did. Oh, believe me, I was stellar. I was an excellent tank gunner, small unit leader, going places, so to speak. I was also not liked by my platoon sergeant. I was also not respected by his mafia (which was called the Puerto Rican Mafia by the company). It started with a letter to a friend in another battalion. We hung out a lot in Germany, and honestly, inter theater mail was faster than our mail from the states (which was being diverted from Germany). Because I wrote a friend, I was grilled by him as well as his flunkies about my sexuality. Ironically because his friend (in the same battalion) told him in a letter that I had sent my friend a message. So, it was ok for the mafia to send each other letters, but mine was somehow a love letter.

You know what, fuck you, Dave. This is the kind of shit that breaks morale. Did you and Juan fuck each other secretly? No, then why the fuck do you write to each other? Hmm. I, of course, denied my sexual involvement. It wasn’t this person I was involved with, it was the fact that I gave a fuck and fucking hated my platoon already because they were pricks. Well, except my crew, who were stellar (and I am sure they knew). Anyway, I was constantly harassed about sexuality until October 3. When I woke up choking. Well, it was because his corporal friend had decided to oral rape me while the same platoon sergeant stood guard. They wanted to, “prove I was a queer” (thus my hatred for that word). My performance, of course, slacked. When you are in a combat zone and know that leadership supported my rape, would they have my back when the bullets started flying? Yeah, fuck them. Well, it did what they hoped, it demoralized me, and I got to spend the next 10 months in the same unit as my rapist. I rotated but was always faced with some element of the “mafia.” the rest of my career. I am not racist, but my views of a race are biased due to this behavior.

In another soldier’s life, a young private going through basic training was progressing through the complicated process from civilian to military. He had had words with another recruit about behaviors. So, doing what any sane person did, this other recruit gathered his buddies together for some payback. To silence him, 4 members of his platoon decided to attack and sexually assault him in the shower. He spent 10 days in the hospital with injuries (he let me read the records, and it is evident that rape was suspected) and the beginnings of IBS (which is very common in young male sexual assault victims). He, of course, denied it (men don’t get raped, and boys will be boys) because he wanted to stay in the Army and was concerned about don’t ask, don’t tell. He went AWOL one time, and finally, all these years later, with the help of a VA therapist, he managed to get both a VA pension (Don’t get thrilled, it ain’t that much) and an upgrade on the discharge. This person still has severe issues with PTSD, as well as problems with interpersonal relationships and trust. He has never held a steady job and probably never will. While he has been through many of the same therapy modes as me, he has never been able to shake it. His anniversary is in a week or so.

While this is not MST, it is violence on a soldier. A friend, deployed to Afghanistan, was attacked as he walked to eat a meal in the mess hall at Bagram. These were Afghanis that were trying to assault him to demoralize US personnel deployed sexually. This particular person and his friends had done this several times, and it was common knowledge. This person still had base access as well as his accessories. My friend was in a position to fight and did. He managed to wound 2 of them severely, and while he didn’t say as much may have turned his back on the other 2 when the base was attacked. He still has significant issues due to this trauma and is frequently unable to deal with social situations. He is in the Army still and fights every day to be a good NCO, but the attacks wear on him.

This happens to the lowest private to Non-Commissioned Officers (NCOs) to West Point cadets, to officers. It is also overlooked. It is probably the worst issue that we deal with in our military, and it is mostly ignored. All 3 accounts I gave are from men. All of us were told that men don’t get raped. What a bunch of crap. It is a huge mental health issue, it has caused me and will cause me to deal with it in the background of my life. It affects both my mental health care as well as primary care. In the end, many soldiers come home with visible wounds; many more, however, do not. Many become part of the 22 soldiers or veterans that kill themselves every day.

Please be the kind of person your dog and your mom thinks you are