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We Can't Thank You Enough
Today, around a year ago, I was about a week from leaving Strong Hope, a military mental health program inside the Salt Lake City Behavioral Health Center. I had always wanted to visit SLC! (SLC Punk!) Who knew I would get an all-expense-paid vacation on Uncle Sam’s dime to the looney bin?
(We called it the looney bin inside. Military humor)
I was about 96 hours removed from successfully completing an arduous two-year command tour. Those two years in command were some of the darkest of my life. While I tried to command a new squadron full of eager Airmen, I moonlighted in the shadows, getting my trusted Afghan allies out.
It nearly destroyed me.
For some reason, I told my psychologist that I would like to go to in-treatment following my command. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
I was hallucinating Afghans who died trying to get out. Many of those old ghosts haunt me to this day. Many of those ghosts are still trapped behind enemy lines, living in the shadows, wondering why they were abandoned by their friends. Those ghosts tormented me relentlessly until I walked into that safe space.
There, everyone’s demons were exposed. There was no running, no hiding, only a promise of support to confront the demons we all buried deep inside.
It was the best decision I ever made. My BFF,
, knew that I had no idea what I had agreed upon. She only slightly warned me, “If you really want this to work, it’s going to be hard.”It wasn’t hard—it was excruciating.
The stories I heard inside those sacred walls changed my life. Faced with the human wreckage of the 9-11 wars—something nobody ever wants to really talk about—I pledged I would tell the truth about what these wars did to all of my friends: the Afghans we left behind, those who washed ashore in America, and for my brothers-and-sisters-in-arms who fought a heroic fight to salvage our honor.
After a month of intense treatment, I did a month of outpatient treatment at Fort Eisenhower’s Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI) clinic. There, I learned more practical tools to manage my PTSD, Traumatic Brain Injuries (TBIs), and Moral Injury. It was an excellent practical course.
Finally, I spent a month breathing in pure oxygen, undergoing Hyperbaric Oxygen Treatment—one month, 40 dives.
And BAM
I was alive again. That was the jumpstart that I needed to start healing.
From those three months of treatment, I decided I wanted to write full-time. Fortunately, after my retirement ceremony in January, the Bulwark gave me a shot, and I spent six months writing as their Military Affairs fellow. It was like living your best life. Somedays, I’ll still marvel when I tell my wife, “Oh, hey, I’m just texting with AB.”
LOL.
They are my family. The Bulwark will always be my family.
While I was writing for the Bulwark, I started this here thang. It started as nothing.
The more I wrote, though, the better I felt. I could finally write about anything and everything. I was healing and growing stronger.
And then one day, as I am walking Bucky Boy, the world’s greatest dog, I thought I missed talking to Kate. And then —bam, epiphany!—I could do a podcast with her! So, I asked my BFF
if she would do a podcast with me. I don’t know what she thought at first. But for some reason, she said yes. So we started Shoulder to Shoulder, Untold Stories From a Forgotten War.And then my imagination started humming. All I wanted to do was write and talk with my friends. So we started growing GCV into GCV+Friends.
With
in command, we’re starting a Moral Injury Support group with our friends at Give an Hour. This isn’t an easy lift. It’s hard. Getting those affected by war to give any time to discuss such things virtually isn’t easy. It takes a leap of faith. But I know that if you jump, and Give an Hour will meet you halfway.We’re also teaming up with our Afghan friends. More on that to follow. But we will always be a platform to elevate our Afghan brothers and sisters in the US, those abroad, and those trapped behind enemy lines. That’s why we proudly produce Stories From My Brothers: Tales of the Afghan Security Forces.
It’s why our first featured writer was Aqsa Rahmani, an Afghan refugee in America. Give it a read. Seriously. It’s ok to cry. I lean into that shit.
Over the past week, my colleague
wrote a great column about war crimes. Kate Kovarovic has been dropping bombs about SCOTUS. We’re growing and attracting more writers.We will be writing a lot about Afghanistan next month. It is a very hard month for those who lost their friends, families, and parts of themselves believing America’s lies in Afghanistan. But we will also be talking about resilience, courage, and taking back Kabul from those impostors who murder, rape, and kill Afghan girls.
People ask me all the time, “what are you doing with this thing?”
My answer: Bru, I’m just healing loudly. I’m happy. I lived. And now I get to tell all my stories—and those of my friends, too.
Seriously, that’s this whole thing.
Learn about war from those affected by it.
I wanted to reflect a bit because last night, we hit 100 paid subscribers. And the guy who took us to 100 is one of the best Chief Master Sergeants in the United States Air Force. Respect, brother.
We’re incredibly grateful for all of our first 100 paid subscribers. We’re happy for our free subscribers, too. We need anyone and everyone. Send it to your friends—shit, send it to your enemies. I’m happy to piss someone off on your behalf.
GCV+F isn’t a family. It’s an andiwalaan. That’s Pashto. It means your tribe, but more specifically, “your people.” It’s our people. Those affected by war.
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Will Selber, there's no one like you on the planet. That is why you have so often looked around and asked, “Why is there no one here but me?” You're also a great example of the old Spanish proverb, “G*d writes straight with crooked lines.” And here's another expression that fits you well, “Too much is not enough. "
I know you both your mother and wife understand that you are basically a free ranging lunatic at heart. But with the best possible goals!
This is coming from a woman whose mother regularly told me, “Kathleen, you're weird." BTW, I had 30 hyperbaric oxygen treatments last summer.
As I worked to get guys out, more called. For anyone who had a need four more had more needs. For every guy I had in Afghanistan two more would call from Iran or Pakistan. You get the news… my friend was killed, you inevitably are consumed by this effort. It’s a hardship for all involved.