by Kimberly Wolf

Created on: March 20, 2009   Last Updated: April 15, 2009

The teen years mark an important transition in our lives from dwelling in the care-free days of childhood to successfuly accepting the responsibilities and societal expectations of an adult. This is often a difficult time and it isn't without its moments of self doubt, uncertainty towards the future, and obstinance towards the inevitable burdens of adulthood.

This transitional stage is when I decided to join the military while the rest of my classmates were preparing for college. I knew where most of the Armed Forces of the United States were most likely going to end up when I signed into the military because of the then recent 9/11 attacks but like many teens, I did not fully understand what I was getting into. I would soon find out.

In January of 2003 my unit got our marching orders participate in Operation Iraqi Freedom. We crossed the Iraqi border on March 20th, 2003; two hours behind the British and American infantry forces where I was positioned on the turret of a Humvee behind a M-19, a heavy automatic weapon. The heavy stench of burning oil mingled with death singed my nostrils as our convoy crept by the gory aftermath of recent firefights. My 18 year old mind tried to process the gravity of my surroundings that wouldn't differ too greatly in the coming 8 months.

I, like many, brushed aside the mandatory post-war debriefing when it was time to come home. Several months after I got there I realized that not all of me had came home. I lost countless hours of sleep from the memories and re-enactments that replayed themselves in my head where sound sleep and peaceful dreams should have been. Sometimes all I wanted was to be left alone and no one wanted to accept my feelings or try to understand why. I would become increasingly watchful in public and jump out of my skin at the sound of loud noises.

Geographicaly Iraq was thousands of miles away but subconciously affected my thoughts and behavior as though it was located right next door.

War is difficult for anyone to handle, especially for a teenager who is expected to handle it with the maturity of an adult. Friends and family asked questions like " How many people did you kill?" as though I just came back from a video arcade instead of a battlefield. My former classmates were stressed over final exams while I was in a power struggle for my mental and physical well being.

I eventually became tired of going through the motions of living like a normal young adult of my age should be. I was falling apart from the

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