Page 666 - Total War on PTSD

After returning from Afghanistan in early 2005 I started physically preparing to attend Special Forces Assessment and Selection. I went through my only divorce before starting the course and felt I was ready to tackle this mountain of a task. I was selected as a Team Medic and was about to go through two years or more of training. I was missing the fight.
I was dismissed from training near the end of the medic portion. I had made it through the patrol phases, SERE, and some language. I made it through the first six months of the medical course known as Special Operations Combat Medic (SOCM) and was into Special Forces Medical School. I was nearly done with training when I lost focus. I was distracted by a second job I had taken to help pay my bills and child support as a Physical Fitness Coach at a local gym, and my grades were suffering. I started watching my GPA slip from mid 90s to mid 70s. I failed.
I learned a lot in that failure but not until years later. At first, I was angry at myself and the “long tabbers”, that were tab protecting in my eyes. Regardless, I re-enlisted as a 68WW1 (SOCM) and went to USASOC to support operations in Iraq as well as other key areas of interest in the region.
I went on to become a technically proficient Medic but wasn’t a very good Soldier. I didn’t like cutting my hair or wearing regulation boots. I didn’t want to wear those stupid PT uniforms that chaffed the crap out of my chest. This was the next step backwards for me because with that lack of care came a level of recklessness. I was caught with steroids and demoted and later kicked out of USASOC for improper PT attire in a DFAC.
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