LAMENTING THE EVOCATION OF TEARS
I read somewhere that you know you are truly over something, a loss of a family member or friend or a traumatic episode in your life, when you can tell the story without crying.
That's why I know something is broken in me. And I am truly distressed by it.
In my formative years there were challenges that were very hurtful at the time, but I refused to emote any weakness or sorrow. Tears were weakness. I vowed to never put them on display, I vowed to be strong.
In high school I was a national speech champion, delivering patriotic and emotional speeches with both fire and compassion. I was a fierce debater in college and was a collegiate delegate to the Model United Nations. All of my oratory came from a position of strength.
In the service I dealt with stress and witnessed tragedy on an almost everyday basis. There was no place for emotional display. My return home was not unlike most returning Vietnam veterans, without celebration or acknowledgement of my time and contributions there. So, I tucked those hurt feelings away, deep inside with others I kept there; where I became safe and insulated from the damage of rejection and distain and dealing with the emotional turmoil that emanated from that damage.
Any attempt to tell of my military service now brings tears. Any spoken recollection of a loved one brings tears. Any praise or recognition brings tears. Movies acknowledging honor or meritorious contributions bring tears, and always the furtive efforts to conceal them.
Where did the other me go? The one that could keep everything safely locked away? The one that was able to ration what was visible and available for judgement?
I know this change occurred after my return from military service and intuitively know that there is a connection. But the why and terms of dealing with a more emotional me are a constant embarrassment and enigma.
Where is the other me? The stronger one? I wish I knew. I need him now more than ever.
Keith Wayne Ragan
3/24/2022
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