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Positive Psychology is Killing Me

Fictional Story written by S. Hein

 

I was a soldier in the US army. I was sent to Afghanistan, then Iraq. I was told we were fighting terrorism. I was told I was defending my country. But I felt bad about what I was doing. I felt guilty for killing people, for destroying their homes, businesses, neighborhoods. I talked to my officer and he sent me to the army psychologist. He told me my feelings were a result of negative thinking and he tried to teach me what he called positive psychology. But it didn't work. I just felt worse. I felt dishonest with myself. I couldn't lie to myself and tell myself that what I was doing was ok. So I got more and more depressed. Finally I was sent home. I still feel very depressed. I feel failful I feel disloyal. My father has laid many guilt trips on me. He was a career military man and he always pushed me to become a soldier. But I never felt right about it. I have still been seeing a military psychologist and psychiatrist. But what they are doing isn't helping. I am getting more and more depressed. They keep telling me that my feelings are a result of negative thinking. I have been hearing this for nearly a year. I can't take it anymore. Last night I was seriously thinking of suicide for the first time. I have been thinking about it for a very long time, but last night was the worst. I actually started planning how I might do it, what I would write in my letter to my family.

I know I would tell them to please not send anyone else to fight in any more wars. That there must be a better way. That we are all humans. We all have feelings. I would tell them to listen to their children and not urge them to become soldiers. I would tell them to explain to my nieces and nephews and younger cousins who I love that I feel terrible for doing this and I hope they will never have to be in the pain and confusion that I have been in. And that the reason I am doing this is because it seems no one understands and please, please, please when they are parents, to please listen to their own children. And teach them how to solve conflicts peacefully, in a non-violent way, and teach them that we don't need weapons in the world. That we can find better ways to live together. And teach them not to believe everything they are told by the government. Teach them to trust their own instincts and feelings and if something doesn't feel right, don't do it. Even if someone in authority tells you that you should and you must because it is your duty. Teach them that they have a higher duty. A duty to all of mankind, to all of humanity, not just to someone dressed up in a uniform from the country you were raised in. Teach them that it is possible that the people in authority could be wrong. And that in other countries they teach different things, different beliefs, and maybe we are the ones who are wrong, not them. Or at least maybe we should listen to our enemies instead of killing them.

That is what I would write in a letter to my family. I hope and pray that I never have to write that letter. I hope and pray someone will listen to me now, that someone will understand what I am going thru, so I will never have to write that letter. I am crying now. My father always said to be strong and only sissies cry. But I don't believe that. I never believed it. I always thought it was natural to cry. I love my father but I don't believe he was the right father for me. I feel terribly guilty saying that, but I must speak the truth. To keep lying to myself is killing me. All this positive psychology is killing me. Please, someone, understand.

S. Hein
Jan 22, 2015

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Note from Steve

Writing this has made me cry. I feel so sad that it is hard to keep working. I want to send this to some people, my nephew for example, but it is very hard to stay here in front of the computer right now. I want the pain to stop... I will go take a break. I have some freedom at least to get up, to do something else, to walk away, without anyone yelling at me or threatening me. I wish all teenagers had the same freedom.