This was from a friend and R.I.S.E. member who asked if I'd post it anonymously in regards to suicide.
"It was official. I was a Private Military Contractor, or PMC. A PMC is a soldier who is hired out to provide fighting support, reconnaissance, personal protection, or simply security to those who cannot provide these services for themselves, many times due to political reasoning. There are many other names for PMCs including mercenary, or soldier of fortune, but I prefer the more politically correct name of private contractor. To each other we are simply known as; “operators”. It is funny, the misconception that people have regarding PMCs, and all one has to do is watch a few Steven Seagal movies and those misconceptions will be displayed in high-definition.
I was hired by a large private military company to act as their operations manager. I was in charge of all operations from the West Coast of the US, and operations South of the United States in several third world countries. Although I was in charge of these areas, I seldom traveled to them, except when there were problems that needed addressing. By that time, things could be really out of control. I wished that I was still in the Army, but a knee injury during a rappel ended my career, so I was forced into the same work, only for much more money and with less politics and even less rules. As a PMC it is simple; if it is a bad guy, then take them out. It is that simple, and there are seldom repercussions for engaging someone, even if they are unarmed. That is the way our beautiful world works. While the poor sops in our armed forces were having to wait to get shot at, we were already engaging and destroying targets that we perceived as a threat.
On the date of February 27th 2006 I was on duty as a sniper, covering the movements of equipment and convoys, at a location inside CONUS (Continental United States). It may sound exciting, but in actuality it amounted to this: A corporation had Teamster Union problems and were experiencing vandalism of equipment, with damages approaching one million dollars US. My job was simple, observe and call in the security force when activity was spotted. When the team arrived it was my job, as sniper, to insure their safety, and provide a documentary evidence of said conflict. It was nothing new to me, for the previous 2 years I had been doing audits, or breaking into secured facilities and writing reports as to the effectiveness of their security that was already in place. I had done these “assaults” all over the US and in select other countries. Everything from Harbors to Airports have seen my wrath as I have engaged in activities, which at times had severe penalties if I was caught. The last place I wanted to see was the inside of a third world country’s prison simply because I got careless. All of this for Businesses, Celebrities, Politicians, and Government Agencies at home and abroad, who somehow felt that my services were necessary to help them better prepare for trouble, and so that when trouble came knocking, they would know how to answer. The only problem here is security. Police and military are never informed of what you are doing, so they do not realize that it is a test, thus it is easy to get shot and killed by these forces, so you make sure that you have enough ammunition to get yourself out of Hell, should the gates open up! Back to 2006. While I was crawling and dragging my gear, I had a painful snap and the pain shot from my neck down to the tips of my fingers. As a sniper I had roughly 90 lbs of gear with me. Video Cameras, Night Vision, Combat Equipment, Change of Clothing, Weapon with lots of ammunition, all of this translates to excessive weight, which was the cause of my injury. After approximately 16 hours, I was relieved of my duties and driven to the nearest hospital. After several hours, I received a diagnosis and was given morphine for the pain and sent on my way. The company I worked for immediately told me that I was no longer fit for deployment (because of my injury) and terminated my contract. The healing process was much longer than I had anticipated, taking over 4 years to have 6 surgical procedures on my shoulder & hand.
The injury itself combined with all of my other injuries (70 fractures, 35 concussions/ head wounds, and being stabbed, slashed, gutted, and shot) caused a unique pain syndrome to set in. I was living in pain, day-in day-out. Ultra Strong pain medication only took the edge off of the pain, but made living hard to say the least do to putting me in a narcotic state of mind. Apparently me being home and injured was not what my now ex-wife had dreamed for her future, and she decided to start an affair with a young man from the next town over. Not being one who enjoys drama, I simply divorced her, and now have joint custody of my two children, ages 3 and 4. My oldest son is named after me, Dusty Jay, while my youngest is named after a knife (something I hold dear to me) Bowie Wyatt. While going through multiple surgeries I had yet another obstacle to clear which was forced upon me. I actually had a newspaper retaliate against me for something I did calling me a security guard who is a “wanna-be hitman”. I thought about suing the newspaper for slander, which I would have won, however, it would probably still be in litigation if I had done so. It may not seem like much,but when you have dedicated your life to it and suffered heavy repercussions for it, all for the protection of people, it leaves a bad taste in your mouth about humanity in general.
Due to my divorce, public lack of acceptance, and the constant pain, I began spiraling downward. Despite having 2 kids that needed me, I felt that my life was over. When I began my career I was told that the average lifespan of someone in my line of work was only to the age of 30, and that is what I had planned as my expiration date. Now here I am at 33 years old, and I do not have a clue how the rest of my life is going to go. It is hard for me to talk about it, but I had contemplated ending my life, for it seemed the world no longer had a place for me. I felt less than worthless, not because of any one thing, but rather a conglomeration of things, which included living in intense pain, day-in day-out. I tried it all…but no success, just more pain. It seems that certain things from my past which strengthened me, also made me more vulnerable to ending my life, for example taking a full bottle of pain killers (Demerol, morphine, or even Hydros). I have a large collection of weapons, however would never use them to end my life because of a simple philosophy. With all of the violence and pain in my life, I desire for my death to be gentle, not violent…So I got passed this after a few botched attempts, which simply led to stomach aches and terrible constipation (Yes, more pain)...
I have found that I must live day by day, each day finding a new reason to press onward. Be they my children, recreational activities, my loved ones, or longing for physical affection (After all I am still a man). With all of my problems I know that one day my body will say, “OK enough is enough”, but until that day I am at the mercy of my pain countered only by my desires, which at times are just a mere glimmer, but at other times burn with a fiery passion. I have learned that suicide is never the answer. I suppose for every person the answer is something different, no universal answer can be inserted. It is my hope that others do not pass down the road which I have, for it is a lonely road of pain. And with that pain comes depression, and with the depression, stupid thoughts. Conquering it has been the most consummate enemy I have encountered. . .
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