At My Purple Heart Ceremony, My Stepmother Swung a Folding Chair Into My Arm—Then My Father Looked Down Instead of Protecting Me

“because I wanted something bigger than myself.”

True.

Incomplete.

Gertrude had made the military look peaceful.

Imagine the level of dysfunction required for an eighteen-year-old to view basic training as emotional rest.

Dr. Ruiz asked:

“Do you think your service saved you?”

“Yes.”