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A Direction For Demons

Dealing with the aftermath

By Mike CaseyPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 4 min read
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A Direction For Demons
Photo by Sigmund on Unsplash

Have you ever lived your life without inner peace? There are people out there who claim to have their demons and use them as an excuse to act the way they do. But, then, some are just the opposite—people who pretend that everything is fine. But things are not fine, and they’re just ignoring the warning signs, red flags, and their own toxic behavior.

I am a veteran of both Iraq and Afghanistan. I am not unique because of this, especially since much of my social circle consists of friends I met while serving. When I finally retire from the military, I look forward to not being that guy—the one who can’t seem to go 90 seconds without mentioning their service.

My time in the Army has left me with memories and intrusive thoughts that will never go away. Sometimes, I’ll even speak with an old friend and discover a new memory that I had conveniently decided to forget. But, you cannot run from your demons forever; I’m sure I’m not the first person to say that.

This feeling is obviously not exclusive to service members. Right now, Simone Biles is on the world stage and dared to step down for the sake of her own physical and mental health, I do not doubt she has her own demons. I am in awe of her personal courage. There are countless rape survivors, children who have lost a parent, spouses who have experienced betrayal, or any other person who has had to look the dark side of the human experience in the face. These people do not want their demons; they want to be healthy and want to be happy. Maybe some of these people are not even aware they have been running; the demons don’t tell you they’re chasing you.

Between ’06 and ’08, I had gotten married. A deployment to Iraq followed that moment in my life. I was injured in combat, witnessed the death of my friends, and shoveled the remains of dead bodies into black body bags. I had seen enough death to normalize it. I half expected to die on the other side of the world. Instead, I returned to the U.S. after over a year and got divorced. I acted like this was fine; everything was okay. Just don’t think about it, right?

Years later, I could feel the figurative wall being torn down. The wall that I put up to keep those emotions and memories at bay. Those emotions and memories, also known as the demons.

I would find myself leaving a room to find a place alone to break down. Typically, I could hold it off until I was driving home from work. Then, I could stop holding it back, finally. If it happened at work, I could go to the bathroom and then splash my face to hide the fact that I had been crying. At home, I would use the shower. My wife, friends, and colleagues had no idea.

I also did the cliché thing to do, I drank. No, it does not numb the pain, but it does make you care less about the pain. When the demons crawl over the wall while you’re drunk, only bad things will happen. This is one of those “it’s a when not an if” situations.

If you’re reading this, there is a chance you are screaming, “go to therapy!”. Well, I did. It was 98% unhelpful.

I had a few sessions, and they told me I was fine and sent me on my way. Here’s the thing though, I lied. When it came down to it, I didn’t want to say many things out loud. She knew I was holding back; she told me to make another appointment if I ever felt I needed to. I probably will one day.

She did make a suggestion. She told me to write, and I decided to try it.

So now I write. I haven’t had to run out of a room or keep myself composed until I leave work since I began. Writing lets me say something that I have needed to say for years, and when I say it, I am telling no one and everyone at the same time.

I can write a short story with part of me inside it. I can turn off my brain, write and watch what the character does on the page. See how they deal with a situation. It can be emotionally taxing. It is often emotionally taxing, but it is the closest to honest I can get for now.

I have had friends ask me if I am any of the characters I’ve written, and I am all of them to a degree. That is the beauty of it. I can act out my rage, sadness, guilt, or exultation through fictional characters.

I can still feel the wall inside me. I have kept it up for so long that I don’t know if it will ever be taken down completely. I still feel it breaking sometimes too, but now I have a direction for those demons. I point them at this screen, sometimes at 2:51, like right now.

Humanity
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About the Creator

Mike Casey

Aspiring writer, father and husband that just likes to tell stories.

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