First, some good news. I just got the call that I am to return to work tomorrow. Still not sure about back pay, but that doesn’t even matter, because even though some bills will be late, we will still make rent in November! YAY for that!
Now that that’s over with…
I can’t help but want to stir up some shit.
When I woke up this morning, I saw this story on one of my friends’ Facebook pages. It’s the story of a young Air Force officer, who deployed to Afghanistan and came home to untold stress and trauma.
Was she captured by the enemy? No.
Was she in a firefight and saw numerous battle buddies blown into bits? No.
Was she injured by the enemy? Nope.
‘Wearing my bulletproof vest and helmet, carrying an M4 rifle and M9 pistol, with 225 rounds of ammunition strapped to my chest, I looked much tougher than I felt,’ she recounted.
Limited internet and phone service added to her feelings of vulnerability as did the fact she was a woman in predominantly a man’s world.
The the pretty brunette said that sexual assault a constant worry for her on the front line, because she ‘knew the stories’ and ‘overheard vulgar talk.’
Oh noes! We haz no Internets and phone! I had to wear a HELMET and ammo strapped to my chest like a real member of the military or something! And the vulgar stories!
Oh, the humanity!
And apparently the food was not up to her usual standards either.
The traumatic, horrid experience affected the Princess in horrible ways!
Recalling her state of mind, she writes: ‘Nearly every night I get takeout from the same place. I’m too tired to cool and too antisocial to spend any more time in a restaurant than it takes to pay.’
She also found getting to sleep on her quiet army base an ‘extreme problem’, as she missed the white noise of war.
The lack of ‘helicopters,’ ‘rumbling armored vehicles’ and ‘chatting smokers on break’, she said, made for an ‘unsettling peace’.
And back at her desk job as a public affairs officer, she found it difficult to maintain focus because ‘everything seemed trivial’ in light of what she’d been through.
So her hardship includes takeout from the same place, no restaurants and the inability to do her job, because she heard rumors of sexual assault and was paranoid downrange.
And the horror! SHE CAN NO LONGER ORGANIZE KARAOKE!
I’m wondering if Princess thought she was joining the military or the Girl Scouts! Although, she’d probably cry in the Girl Scouts too, because some cranky old lady only bought three boxes of cookies instead of four!
I was deployed to Kosovo in 2007. I did not see battle. I was outside the wire all the time. I had to wear full battle rattle, and carry weapons on my person.
Somehow, I didn’t come back with any kind of adjustment disorder, and there was no sand in my vagina after the deployment.
This one… I’m seriously appalled at the thought that this snowflake is airing her “trauma” pity party to the world as if it was a war story!
For the record, Princess, lack of Internets =/= trauma.
Carrying ammo around in full battle rattle =/= trauma.
Being a public affairs FOBbit =/= trauma.
Being afraid of getting raped because you “heard stories” =/= trauma.
Now quit your whining, you blibbering twit!
Go read the Duffel Blog about REAL trauma!
But, according to Woodley, her most traumatic experience occurred inside the base’s Green Beans Coffee shop, where she had hoped to enjoy a chocolate-vanilla blended smoothie while catching up with friends after a long work day.
“It was about 2100 and the whole place was just crowded wall-to-wall with other soldiers and their dates. It took about fifteen minutes just to place my order. That would have been bad enough, but then they added whipped cream to my drink—I specifically asked for ‘no whip!’” Woodley paused, choking back emotion. “But the worst part, was that right after I had them remake the whole drink, and finally got the right order, the base starts getting mortared.
”In the ensuing rush to the exits, Woodley said she pulled her drink close to her chest, in order to protect it. The maneuver proved more harmful than helpful, when an “enormous” Air Force Senior Master Sergeant charged into her in a blind hysteria, crushing the frosty beverage and spilling it all over her uniform.
“It was terrifying. I had to sit in this tiny concrete bunker for 45 minutes, dripping smoothie and freezing, with two dozen other people. Half of them were crying, the other half were sipping away at their own safe, tasty drinks. I remember thinking, ‘God, please don’t let me die covered in smoothie goo.’ And I just knew the Green Beans would be closed by the time the sirens stopped, so I wouldn’t even be able to get a refund. It was the worst night of my life.”
Counseling for broken nails and lack of a pedicure too!