by Kimberly Wolf

Created on: March 22, 2009   Last Updated: April 15, 2009

I couldn't wait to be home again. Everyone was already trying to make out their spouses, parents, and kids in the crowd of waiting family members as our base came into view. Some were in tears as they waved to the loved ones that they spotted through the tinted glass of the bus, myself included. We exitted the buses and held formation directly in front of our families, seeing them but not yet able to greet them. The nerves and anticipation were palpable.

After the formation was finally dismissed and liberty commenced, fathers reunited with daughters, and mothers with sons. The sense of joy and relief for me was overwhelming. I was safely back home from a year long combat tour in Iraq, surrounded by my family and friends.

The months to follow were a hectic blur of visits with whom I was certain was everyone on my family tree, homecoming parties, and local news and radio interviews. More often than not I found myself regurgitating the same answers to the same questons that everyone I came in contact with with was sure to ask, including the inevitable "how many people did you kill?". After a while, the dust finally settled and I was regarded as "me" again and not "the combat veteran who just returned from Iraq". I was looking forward to returning to a sense of normalcy again.

Then the nightmares came. Loud noises would make me jump out of my seat. I didn't feel safe in crowded public places and would intentionally avoid them . It was hard to concentrate on simple tasks and I found myself getting easily irritated with family and friends who couldn't understand my sudden change in mood and behavior.

The fact was, I couldn't explain to them what was going on with me because I didn't fully understand it myself. I didn't even know what I wanted from those who were close to me. I resented my loved ones for not understanding what I went through but on the same token I didn't want them to treat me any differently than when I left. It was a losing situation for everyone involved. Family and friends got tired of trying to figure out how to deal with my erratic behavior so they just left me alone.

I was slowly pushing away the people I needed around me the most. It started to occur to me that my family would never understand what my experience in war was like and that I needed to stop holding that fact against them. I did try to let them understand how those experiences affected me by letting the family and friends who were interested read my journal that I kept in Iraq and

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