From Baghdad To America (14 page)

Only, as I sit there and become a little more comfortable in what's happening, I realize that we
are
making progress. That I'm learning things about myself I didn't previously know or wouldn't acknowledge that will help me become a happier, more effective parent and a better, more responsive husband. That this soul-searching, touchy-feely shit isn't so bad after all. That maybe—dare I say it—I
need
this interaction with a professional. Someone who can help me figure it all out.

I won't go into all the dialogue from this first appointment because it might bore you and, yeah, there's some stuff I just don't feel the need to share. Suffice it to say, we did get down to some deep-rooted issues and emotions that needed to see the light of day.

The transition from military to civilian life is a difficult one at best. Compound that with having made the military your life for all your adult years—that is, the Marine Corps is the family you've been around the most, and those interpersonal relationships weren't exactly all healthy—then throw in some combat, and what do you have? You've got a bunch of guys and gals who need to figure it all out all over again.

I've lived a fairly martial existence my entire life. My parents were strict, as I've mentioned; my football coaches were screaming lunatics; the Marine Corps gave me more discipline and screaming. Now you go home to live in your communities, where most people are so self-absorbed that they don't even realize anymore that they're on their cell phones while standing in line at the grocery store and talking so loudly you now know things about them you could have easily lived your life without ever learning.

Times have changed, too. What was normal for you as a child—punishment, accepted behavior—is considered barbaric by today's standards. You have to learn to accept the small things, pick your battles, not worry if your kid doesn't always chew with his mouth closed. In the grand scheme of things, it won't make him a better person. Giving him love and understanding and patience will. If the dresser drawer isn't closed that last eighth of an inch, so what? It doesn't mean your wife doesn't love you or care about the house. Be grateful that she's raising the children and doing so with love and compassion so that when they have to deal with the likes of you, they're equipped to do so.

Look, I know I can sound really casual and even mock all this stuff, I'm serious though. It's important to you, your friends, and your families that if you need help you get it.

You may think it's a sign of weakness in character and body.
It's not.
That there's ever been a stigma attached to therapy or to seeking help is wrong. As horrific as the physical wounds are that our warriors receive, it's the emotional trauma that leaves the truly lasting scars. The body is far more capable of healing itself than is the psyche. There are many qualified people to talk to about anything you think you need help with.

Me? I need to be in control, and I have a bad temper. There, I said it. The first and most difficult step is admitting whatever it is you think (or don't think) might be a problem. After that it's pretty easy. In fact, it's downright empowering. That's why I'm going back. That's a promise.

As resistant as I was initially to going, I'm glad I've taken that step. Yeah, it's a real scrotum-punch at first, when you're just getting into it and you worry about what others think. But you know what? Fuck 'em. Because this isn't about anyone else. It's about you. It's about making our warriors whole again and giving them the lives they deserve. The life you deserve.

“The time not to become a father is eighteen years before a war.”

—E. B. WHITE

Life is short.

The day Lava was hit by a car served as a sobering reminder that everything you hold near and dear—no, wait, scratch that. The day Lava was hit by a car served as a sobering reminder that everything
I
hold near and dear can be taken from me in the blink of an eye. It's critical to recognize those people and things that are truly important in life—those I should hold in the highest esteem and treat with the utmost respect. Not only am I lucky to have found Lava and learned the lessons he's taught me, but somehow I also lucked into a wonderful wife and two amazing children.

The experience of therapy has been . . . well, frankly, unsettling. I've opened myself up to a complete stranger and answered questions even Lava knows better than to ask me. If it helps any of my fellow Marines to realize that
help
is not a four-letter word, though, it will be worthwhile. I've learned quite a bit about the collective psyches of our military units, and if the numbers are right, survival at home is just as critical and uncertain as it is in the combat zone.

Those numbers show a generation in trouble. Unless more and better ways are found to address the difficulties of multiple long-term deployments and the inherent problems they breed, we'll be facing even higher rates of suicide, divorce, and substance abuse among returning veterans and their families. There is counseling available, and the services offer marital retreats. The Veterans Administration has established the National Center for PTSD, whose goal is to advance the clinical care and social welfare of U.S. veterans through research, education, and training on PTSD and other stress-related disorders. This is all well and good, but until there's a paradigm shift in the military culture—one that will make it okay to have a problem and seek help for it—we will still be faced with a surge in deployment- and combat-related family crises. Every marriage that ends in divorce; every serviceman who kills him- or herself; and every time a young warrior experiences substance abuse issues, we witness a casualty of war.

So what are you going to do about it? Therapy is one way to go, and it's an important option. Researchers have found that many of the Iraq veterans who screen positive for mental health issues don't get the care they need. That's just wrong. Screw the “snivel book” and take advantage of whatever help you're offered. Lava being on antidepressants has made a big difference. He's not doped out and sleeping all the time. He still gets his bark on, but he calms down quicker and listens better. He doesn't seem as stressed as he has been in the past. His vet felt it was the right thing to do, especially in light of his upbringing. Without these meds, lots of problem dogs would be put to sleep by their owners because they're simply too difficult to deal with anymore. So don't knock it.

As has probably become clear, I often look to Lava for answers. Dogs are special in that they seem to have emotions much like those of humans, yet don't worry about what others think about them and their behavior. They rarely hold back. I don't necessarily like, but am almost always amused by, Lava's ability and desire to bark at anyone and everyone he sees coming by, as if to say,
Hey, world, this is my house/park/car, and if you don't like it you don't have to live in it. In fact, I don't want you to want to live in it.

Lava truly enjoys every moment of life with glee, if not a modicum of insouciance.

Observations of Lava:

1. Bark at whomever you want, whenever you want, for any reason or no reason whatsoever.
   
2. Pee where the other guy (or gal) just peed.
   
3. Live every day as if it's your last.
   
4. You're always the smartest guy in the room if you don't compare yourself.
   
5. Disobey everything you're told to do.
   
6. Drink from a toilet. Hey, water's water, after all. (Lava's never really done this one, but I think he'd secretly like to try.)
   

It's how you comport yourself and what you do for others in life that really matters. It's the capacity to give—and to receive great joy in doing so—that ultimately gives us happiness. My advice to you is to live your life with all the gusto and pleasure of a dog. Specifically, my dog Lava. I'm not suggesting you crap on your neighbor's lawn, but try to enjoy the simple things in life. Find joy and happiness in just lying on your back in the grass while the sun's rays warm you to your core. Hell, howl at the moon if you want. The true measure of the man on Judgment Day is how he lived his life. I consider these things and I ask myself these questions: Did I live life with dignity, modesty, and compassion for others? Have I lived a full life and shared it with others, receiving love in return? Have I found pleasure in the simple things and the wonders of nature? If at the end of the day I can answer
yes
to these questions, then I've lived a full life.

I've talked about how taking care of Lava has served as a focus for me, taking me out of my memories and keeping me firmly in the present. It's also allowed me to build something of a career out of helping Lava by having him—directly and indirectly—help others. I donate portions of my book sales to charities that benefit veterans and their families. I use Lava's name recognition to bring awareness to causes that I think are important and that require attention, and to raise money for animal rescue and training organizations. I also travel around the country, telling Lava's story and lecturing on leadership, the war on terror, and other topics. I'm even starting my own charitable foundation, The Lava Fund, to assist veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. To help fund this foundation, I'm starting a number of businesses, a portion of the proceeds of which will go directly to The Lava Fund. I'm focusing on the things I love to do and going from there.

Lastly, I find my greatest distraction from the painful memories of Iraq in my family. My wife, Pam, is my rock and my salvation and I love her deeply. My stepson, Sean, is a wonderful young man of whom I'm immensely proud; I'm thankful to have him in my life. Whether I'm watching him excel at soccer, ace a test, create a new cartoon, ski a black-diamond run, or drop on a wave that's only waist-high to me but over his head, I'm filled with happiness that I get to see the look of pride and accomplishment on his face.

And my son Mattox has given me a gift I never thought existed: unconditional love at first sight. It does exist. As I write this, he's just turned one year old. I hold him and everything else in the world vanishes. It's just the two of us. There's no way to adequately describe the feelings you have when you're holding a twenty-pound bundle of innocence, happiness, and potential. All cares and worries evaporate. My only thoughts at these times are how to protect him; how to provide him with a happy, healthy life; how to become a better man and father for him to emulate. I know he'll be his own man one day, but I need to be the example that will help him become a thoughtful and trusted leader, friend, and father in his own right. The possibilities are endless for Mattox, and when I hold him they are for me, too.

I
t might seem odd to begin a book acknowledgment by thanking a dog for anything, but this is what I feel compelled to do. If not for Lava and his constant antics and
joie de vivre
(which is a nice way of saying wild and irascible behavior), there would most certainly be no book to write. I am grateful for his companionship when there were no other companions and for his constant loyalty.

That said, I would like to thank Dennis Wood, Ph.D., for his insight into, and willingness to discuss, post-traumatic stress disorder and the work he and others are doing to combat it through the use of virtual reality. To that end, I want to thank and acknowledge all those involved in the virtual reality project at the Virtual Reality Medical Center in San Diego.

I want to thank my parents for their support and love throughout the victories and defeats of my life. It didn't matter to them whether or not I won or lost—I was always their son.

Thanks also to my agent, Julie Castiglia—though you are often critical (and occasionally contrarian), I'd be nowhere as an author without your guidance and support. Thank you for your grace, counsel, and confidence in my abilities.

I am grateful to Tony Lyons and everyone at Skyhorse Publishing, especially my editor, Ann Treistman, who is as understanding as she is talented, and who believed in this book from its inception. Thank you for your guiding hand, for your sensitivity, and for providing impetus when I needed it most. It was a pleasure working with you again.

To my boys, Mattox and Sean, know that I love you very much and appreciate you every minute of every day. Lastly, thank you to my lovely wife, Pam, for being my best friend, partner, de facto La Jolla editor, and most ardent supporter. Thank you for your patience, love, and understanding (even on my worst days). You make our house a home, and you are the glue that holds us all together. I love you very much.