PTSD At The Ball Park

Always Fun At the Ol' Ball Game

Howdy,

It’s been a rough week or so. A buddy of mine died last night. General G came back from the past, and Mrs. Yelner passed away. Plus, I’m grieving over some info I received about General Surab Azimi’s death (see below).

When it rains, it pours.

Thus, we’re going to cut it short today. Sorry, the pool beckons, and I need some sunshine.

Last night, the Aggies dropped a heartbreaker. It was close. Tennessee just had better pitchers. If we were going to lose the National Championship, I’m glad it was with to that great fan base. The Vols showed out last night (as did the Ags).

It was a lot better game than my first experience with UF. On three separate occasions, UF fans either started talking shit to me or harassing me. Look, I understand that for most people, that’s no big deal.

But, for me, I start getting violent. I’m not one for that type of talk at me anymore. 4+ years in Iraq & Afghanistan, and I learned one thing: escalate. Always escalate. Or, at the very least, don’t back down.

Many American combat veterans have walked through villages, towns, and cities and received the death stare from the “local populace.” Sometimes, it’s because we did something wrong (which happens), but often, it was because they were ready for a fight.

When you got the death stare, the fight was about to commence.

People don’t understand shit like that, ya know? And I get it. I have to somehow comport with a society so divorced from the wars fought in their names that they like to play Alpha Male in front of their drunk friends.

So, last night, I compromised and wore an Iraq veteran shirt and my favorite Padre Island hat. It’s not that I want everyone to know that I was in the war—I could care less—but it’s to protect you from me. It’s a warning sign—and perhaps a small request for grace.

All was fine until I turned around and saw a security officer standing right behind me. Now, that scared the motherfucking shit out of me, so I pushed back with my left hand and took a step back, immediately saying “Hey, bro, do not do that to me. I’m a combat veteran.”

He apologized profusely to the security guards' immense credit, saying, “I just wanted to see that game, bro.”

After that encounter, I felt a little weird, so I shuffled along to another part of the stadium and finally found a good group of Ags to watch the game with.

I don’t want my PTSD to control me. I want to control it. To do that, you have to learn how to enjoy things again. I love sporting events, but I have to put myself in situations that ensures my safety—-and yours.

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Operation Recovery

My BFF,

Kate Kovarovic

, was on her game during this week’s episode. Check it out!

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What Happened to General Surab Azimi?

You don’t want to miss this episode about my brother, General Azimi.