For the past three years I've spent a lot of time in the homes and lives of wounded soldiers, veterans and families who are trying to live with the visible and invisible wounds of war.
Although my role has been that of a writer, it didn't take long to realize that maintaining neutrality in the face of so much suffering was impossible. It's not easy to listen to a young mother tell you how she walked into the living room after her husband shot himself through the head on their green sofa and not have those lines between writer, friend and advocate blur and crumble.
Fortunately I've had the support of a small group of chaplains and military family advocates, who have been there when I've most needed counsel and who remind me how important it is to take good care of myself if I am to continue doing this work. There are many dedicated men and women who work directly and constantly with severely wounded soldiers and veterans and do not receive that kind of support.
A few months ago I attended a retreat for service providers given by The Coming Home Project (http://www.cominghomeproject.net).
The participants came from military hospitals, VA hospitals and nonprofit organizations from across the country. They were physical therapists, social workers, doctors, nurses and counselors. And most were hurting and exhausted ---- not only from absorbing the pain and trauma of the young men and women they cared for ---- but because there was so little support within their workplaces.
The same code of silence and fear of stigma that is often pervasive within the military appeared to be equally so where many of them worked. When we went around the circle and stories were shared, the relief of being able to release what had been held inside for too long was palpable.
As one participant who also attended the second retreat recently said to me, "What I got out of the retreats is 'I am not alone.'" She described the deep comfort of "being present with others, all who took the dedicated time to stop long enough to take a breath, care for ourselves, open our hearts ..." And how much she'd needed "a soft and quiet room in which to sleep and retreat." And she spoke about "the big circle of faces that were strangers but days later became as close as any friend I've had."
If there is anything salvageable from the massacre at Fort Hood, it is that people are speaking about the unspeakable and waking up to the fact that we need to pay close attention to the warning signs of danger, within ourselves and others.
As the Global War on Terror continues and the traumas deepen and multiply, so will the need to better care for those who care for the wounded. They need quiet rooms to retreat and breathe, to be listened to and counseled and given tools so they can better cope ---- especially on site at each military and VA hospital.
The next Coming Home Project service providers' retreat is in February.
BRIGID BRETT writes from Valley Center. Contact her at brigidbrett@aol.com.
