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Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die
Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die
Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die
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Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die

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Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die presents the voice of a military veteran, Frank White, who struggles, after his active duty’s conclusion, with substance abuse and post-traumatic stress disorder. He begins this memoir by reflecting on his early life, uncovering the roots of his circumstances in the events of those formative years.

At times confessional in tone, always straightforward, Too Pained to Live, Too Scare to Die brings to life Frank White’s efforts to live in the place caught between the two poles contained in the title.

Whether you care about the challenges facing this country’s veterans, you know a veteran who confronts such obstacles, you are a veteran yourself, or you simply care about the issues others face in their daily lives, Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die will tell you a story that will stay with you.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateSep 4, 2015
ISBN9781483436784
Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die

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    Too Pained to Live, Too Scared to Die - Frank White

    WHITE

    Copyright © 2015 Frank White.

    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

    ISBN: 978-1-4834-3679-1 (sc)

    ISBN: 978-1-4834-3678-4 (e)

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2015913539

    Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

    Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

    Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

    Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 9/23/2015

    Contents

    Preface

    Acknowledgments

    Introduction: A Reoccurring Dream

    Chapter 1:   Struggling

    Chapter 2:   Trying to Deal with the Pain

    Chapter 3:   The Long Commute

    Chapter 4:   Job-Hopping

    Chapter 5:   Let’s Go to School

    Chapter 6:   Down Home

    Chapter 7:   The Military Years

    Chapter 8:   End Time Served, But Not the End of the War

    Chapter 9:   Spirituality/Recovery

    Chapter 10:   Pictures

    Chapter 11:   A Struggle at Work

    Epilogue

    Endnotes

    To my two cousins who took their lives: one a combat veteran and the other a veteran of the lifestyle we engaged in while living in Appalachia and looking for a way out.

    I am led to tell my story in the hopes that it helps at least one person.

    Preface

    There have been at least two, maybe three, points in my life when taking my own life seemed a feasible option. These were periods when my existence seemed wrong, and I could not figure out how to move forward. During these times I had no hope, and my problems appeared bigger than my God. I wanted the pain to end and was desperate for peace but not sure how to make it happen. I would wrestle with trying to find some semblance of logic for why I was in this state but could not, regardless of how hard I tried. I would always come back to the same two questions. Was I suffering because God determined that I needed to go through these trials and tribulations by Him, or was I suffering because I made some poor decisions in life and was answering for them? It did not occur to me that maybe I had some mental health issues impacting my emotional state.

    A barrage of thoughts would hit me all at once: my family would be better off if I were not alive; I should have died during some of my encounters in combat or running the streets; it was a mistake for me to be born; or I would being doing humankind some kind of favor if I died. Then I would fantasize about how others would react if I were to commit suicide, and I would even go so far as to devise a plan. Having a plan would bring me relief, because it meant the pain would be coming to an end.

    However, the anxiety of following through with the plan would become overwhelming. I would be faced with another set of options. I would need to drink until courageous enough to follow through, or I would need to abandon the plan and stay miserable. So I would start to drink, but I always ended up with the same outcome: I would forget about the plan as I became increasingly drunk, and then I would keep drinking until I passed out. I would wake up the next day wondering how I was still alive, as I had been sure I was finally going to follow through with my plan.

    The Seeds I Have Sown, 2015

    Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows.

    —Galatians 6:7 NIV

    I am still learning about the seeds I have sown. Some have been bad, and some have been worse. To be honest, they have been so horrible that I don’t like to mention them. I remember when I first truly understood that there were consequences for my actions. I realized that my spiritual walk was going to be impacted by the decisions I had made as well as the ones I would make in the future. This was profound to me, as I was accustomed to living life carelessly without giving a thought to my future in this world, let alone my future in the spiritual realm or any kind of eternal afterlife. I was overwhelmed by the joy I received from being in a place of peace from meditation and from developing a personal relationship with God. Thanks and glory be to God that there were also seeds of righteousness planted in me. I was baptized as a young teenager, and God drew me back to Him when I needed Him the most.

    It is fascinating that when I was the most fulfilled spiritually, I had the fewest material possessions; in fact, I was in a homeless program for men who were trying to get their lives back together. This was shortly after I was discharged from a Veterans Administration (VA) medical center after spending several months in an inpatient post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) treatment program. I didn’t have anything to my name and was carrying a lot of shame and guilt, as I wasn’t able to take care of my daughter. I knew what I wanted but was not sure how to attain my vision. I wanted to be able to support my daughter and live the American dream. I wanted to be part of the social class where everyone had the house in the suburbs with the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids. In the 1990s I thought a hundred thousand dollars a year salary would enable me to attain these things and that everything else would somehow work out for the best.

    This vision was not formed from what I had experienced or seen from my family; rather, it came from television. I had a very impoverished childhood and wanted a way out from an early age. Also, I had a very embarrassing habit: I was addicted to pornography. I remember I would sneak in to my mother’s room and read sexually explicit story books that she had lying around. They did not have a lot of pictures, but they had stories with erotic encounters; I would immerse myself in them, never knowing whether they were real or fabricated. While reading those stories I would get lost in them and imagine myself as one of the characters. I felt something I had never felt before when I was reading those books, though it is difficult to explain the sensation. I felt a kind of warmth and excitement that I had never felt from any other experience. I was so excited and stimulated that I became enmeshed in the lust these

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