Working It Out.
I’m a returned vet and I haven’t worked since I came back from the war. My family didn’t know me – they kissed goodbye to an office boy – I came back as a frontline combat soldier.
My marriage didn’t last too long – nothing I could put my finger on. Things that my wife kept making a fuss about seemed pretty pointless to me. I lost interest in sex, stopped jogging round the park. Was drinking a few cans of beer a day – my psychiatrist said I had anhedonia.
I remember one evening in front of the tv I saw a vein pulsing in my wife’s neck in the soft glow from the screen. I rapidly calculated how to best to shift myself over to stop the pulse in the artery. It was a shock when I came to myself and realized that I had just made a field assessment on my wife.
One day I was complaining at my mother’s house. She was a widow now. She simply said if it will help you out – come and live with me. So I moved in with my mother and things worked out quite well. She doesn’t mind how much beer I drink as long as I put the empty cans in the sink for her rinse through and recycle.
Was one incident early on when mother tipped a full bottle of scotch whiskey into the kitchen sink. When I realized what she’d done – I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around to face me. Don’t ever do that again I growled – and for emphasis followed it up with – and that’s a direct order. It was about this time that I started to use cocaine with a group of ex army pals – this incident with mother had confused me – I didn’t want issues between us about whiskey drinking again.
I don’t use coke as much as I drink beer – I usually find beer is quite soothing. Sometimes though it doesn’t do anything for me and I start feeling agitated, and aggressive. Doing cocaine seems to give me a handle on things when alcohol doesn’t work.
The other day my little sister sprung a surprise on me – she said that my brothers and sisters had clubbed together for my birthday – and had already paid for me to go into a holistic residential rehab facility.
Well, I said – I have already seen enough trick cyclists in my life – one or two more won’t kill me. What is on offer at this place – antipsychotics for breakfast or sedated ECT?
My sister said that she really did not know much about it, they say it’s a talking therapy. I laughed – oh it will be something like the articles that they get me to write up for the RSL magazine – all about heroes and villains – the power and the glory.
Funnily enough I had often started to write some really interesting stuff about my own wartime experiences when writing up these articles. Had to throw them in the bin of course – no way they would ever get published. Even though I had to throw them away, I always felt better after I wrote down some of what really happened – it got it out of my system.
So, I said to my little sister – ok I’ll go in next week. Not exactly busy at the moment – it will give me something to do.
