I went to a New Years Eve party with a friend from law school, her husband, and my sister. I didn’t know anybody outside of the small group I went with. I am not a shy person, I have no problem with people I don’t know and talking to them. Add a little alcohol and I am usually quite good in social situations. I was the designated driver (Yay safety and responsibility) but sobriety doesn’t affect my ability to socialize, just ask my coworkers. What affects my socializing ability more than anything else, is the massive feeling of disconnect I have around the vast majority of my generation. I cannot relate to the rest of the world, and I do not have the energy or the desire to try and explain to people why.
It is referred to as The Civilian-Military Divide and it has been growing wider every day during the course of our two wars. A good article on it was featured as a cover story in Time magazine, An Army Apart: The Widening Military-Civilian Gap.
I should give a disclaimer before I get into the meat of my little discussion here, these are all my opinions, views and experiences. I am not trying to speak broadly for the military, or my fellow combat veterans. I am speaking for me, about me, and how I feel.
One of my favorite things about being the designated sober person at a party, is watching all the non-sober people progressively getting louder, rowdier and more excited by everything. I enjoy watching people, because people are fascinating. I can be having a good time without talking, interacting, or doing anything other than sitting and watching. The problem with this is that people around me are convinced that I am not having a good time, I blame my resting bitch face for that, and they try to engage me. I appreciate it, I do, but they end up ruining my good time by introducing actual human interaction. The more intoxicated people become, the more they insist on me talking, and moving around, and saying hi to people I don’t know, and will not meet again after this one night. I let them, it is easier then fighting them.
During this particular new years party I was sitting in front of a fire, a lovely fire, listening to the music and enjoying everyone else happiness and unbridled joy at the welcoming of a new year, a fresh start. Two people next to me were talking about upcoming events in their lives. A young man, I say young because I felt older than 99% of the house, was talking about how he was going to attend a 3 day Navy Seal style training camp. I am not sure if this is the one he was referring too, but this gives a good overview of the general concept. Now I respect the Navy Seals to a degree I cannot fully articulate, their mental toughness is to be admired by all. 3 days of training does not, I repeat does not, give you any fucking clue what it is like. I have no idea what it is like, I would never presume to be able to speak as if I did. This mans perspective obviously is different, and the more he talked the more I wanted to body slam him to the ground and describe to him how wrong he was. Since I am not writing this from a jail cell, obviously that didn’t happen.
The gentlemen he was talking to, an older guy who probably was a teenager during Vietnam, or a younger kid, but definitely not draft age during the War, then started to talk about how he “totally understands the mental component” because when he was pledging a fraternity (my head almost exploded at this point, and I am was glad I was sober) he once had to stand for 3 hours straight. 3 hours of standing, oh deal Lord how did you recover from that. I should bow down to your supreme mental toughness you warrior you.
This is my experience with the civilian-military divide. The house was decent sized, there were a good number of people there, and I had not felt so much like the 1% then I did that night. I had experienced something that no one in that house could ever relate too, I had done things that no one could ever relate too, I was a completely different type of person.
My time in the military has served me incredibly well. My training, experience and support structure has enabled me to get through some of the most difficult things in my civilian life. Compared to everything I had to deal with in Iraq, my first year of law school, notoriously stressful and difficult, was so similar to my undergraduate time that I had to refrain from asking people why they were so stressed out. After treating combat casualties in Afghanistan, the Bar Exam was 2 days of very structured time, which I appreciated. Working long hours, on minimal sleep, is something I can do. Physical endurance I can achieve through pure mental determination. I can also identify all of the exits and escape routes in any room or building I am in quite quickly. I am proud of my service, I am grateful for the person the military has helped me become. I would never trade any of it. Not the poor sleep, PTSD, anger issues, respiratory issues, joint and back pain, the list could go on. For me, it was worth it.
I am now, permanently disconnected from those that I have served. I was a different person after Iraq, and I am a much different person after Afghanistan, and I can see it in my friends eyes when I do or say something that puts them off. I may not know what they are thinking exactly, but I can see the change in their eyes and behavior around me. They don’t know the new me, the changed me, the slightly more broken (to a degree shattered) Shannon that came home 2 years ago. They don’t know what to do. God love them, they try.
So as I sat, in this house full of strangers, surrounded by their optimism and their love for each other, I felt significantly more alone than I had in months. It wasn’t because I was being isolated, or people were ignoring me, or I wasn’t having fun. It was because when you belong to such a small minority, such a tiny population, you will always feel alone. No matter how inclusive those around you try to be, you will feel alone. I feel alone. I always feel alone. Surrounded by love and compassion, support and attempted understanding, I am alone in a room full of people.
FeministGIJane 