Anger

I’ll admit it.

I’m angry.  Very angry.

I’m angry at the influence the military has had on my life.

There is nothing wrong with the path of the warrior, lived honourably, with respect for himself and his adversary.  With calmness, fairness, justice and propriety.

What is wrong with this military is that it does not pay this basic but essential respect to its own members, and particularly not to their own families.

The result is systematic and systemic disempowerment, and in many cases, damage.

But the man I love possesses free agency.  And if I want him to share my life, this anger is something I need to learn to coexist with, instead of denying.  I need to learn to sit in the room with it, and see it, until it is just something else in the room, but doesn’t fill it.