As I said I'm a Soldier, and deal with my own personal demons through PTSD. On one of the Facebook groups, MilitaryMinds, that I follow for my PTSD they had this post. While it is written about PTDS and doesn't fully apply to FM, there are some similarities.
YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO QUIT!
I am aware that we are collectively the lowest percentage of any of the demographics in our respective nations. I am aware that we are the few that stood for the whole. I am in full understanding of the concept that our hearts carried a love so heavy that our only viable option was to put it on the line with no guarantee we would live through that very act. I fully comprehend that a global collection of sheep in three-piece suits have fumbled the ball when it comes to honoring a contract signed with our very blood.
Times are not easy. The terrain is unfamiliar. We trade a 360 degree battlefield for 360 degrees of uncertainty when we return. People will not understand you. People charged with the task of repairing the damage done have little to no concept of the type of commitment it takes to voluntarily do the things we have done. They have been measured and they have been proven to fall short more times than F#$king not. I am aware of all of this.
You are still not authorized to tap out, to give in or to yield. We do not give up ground.
What were you taught about casualties? One man down means a total of five out of the fight. Two to carry, two pulling security, one on the stretcher and that's the bare minimum. When one of us goes down, we all go down.
There has been a gauntlet thrown at our feet. It has been there since the very first tip of the very first spear was sharpened. This challenge was issued to the very first men who had the balls it takes to become a war fighter. Survive. The challenge is not just to survive the battle but to survive the absence of the battle. Survive the denial of the very purpose for your existence. There is not a single one of us who knows the meaning of the words "I can't" when beneath the familiarity of our chest plates and behind the sights of our weapons of preference.
This new threat is a sneaky little ******. It comes to us when we are most comfortable. It creeps in our bedrooms, our kitchens, our dinner tables and behind the wheel of our trucks on our hometown roads. It has been the same for centuries. Until now. It stops now.
It's not enough that you are the most highly trained, the most accurate, the most destructive, the most lethal f%$king fighting forces to ever walk the earth. While that in itself is an epic feat, it is not our legacy. It is not our calling. Our true enemy, our true victory rests in the evisceration of an unseen force that feeds on the misery of kind. It devours our very own. You can stop it. Every single one of you.
All that is required to defeat this son of a ***** is the simple extension of your hand.
If you are falling behind in your fight, reach out to the man nearest you. He will pull you free or he will call for enough men to drag you out. If you are ahead in this walk, look over your shoulder. Check your six. If someone is falling behind, you extend your hand and pull them forward. If the weight is too much, you call for help from the man in front of you. It's just that simple brothers and sisters. That's all it is.
You are not authorized to quit. You are not authorized to not extend your hand. Regardless of whether you are reaching up or reaching down, you are not authorized to allow the absence of so simple a gesture to defeat us.
Brothers and sisters, assume the phalanx battle formation. It stops here. It stops with us.
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