A Veteran's Request
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As a veteran and an autistic, I frequently struggle with some of the ideas that some civilians have about the military in general and veterans in particular. Of course, I'm biased because to me, it seems like regardless of which branch we served in, we all know or can recognize one of our own. But, oddly enough, it also appears to me that most civilians often look us (and at the military) with a mix of awe, confusion, and an embarrassing amount of cluelessness. For them, it's like trying to understand the plot of a soap opera when they've only seen one episode - there's a lot going on, and they've obviously missed some key context.
Now, I don't want to get off on a rant here, but I'm in a bit of a quandary. You see, I sort of like the admiration. I like the (obviously exaggerated) idea that, to them, we are superhero action figures come to life; that they imagine us as walking around in a halo of glory with a built-in GPS that instantly locates the nearest danger, and that if we had a personal theme song that played every time we entered a room, it would probably be something like "Eye of the Tiger" on endless repeat. Or, in my case, "The Imperial March."
But the earnest intent to support those of us who’ve served our country with well-meaning policies and public sentiments often collides with the contradictory circus of bureaucratic bungles.
For starters, let’s talk about the classic catchphrase: “Thank you for your service.” On one hand, I absolutely understand that it’s a heartfelt expression of gratitude. On the other hand, especially when uttered by non-veteran politicians, it's the ultimate get-out-of-jail-free card for anyone who would rather avoid actually addressing veterans' real needs. It’s a phrase that's thrown around with the same casualness as “Have a nice day” at a fast-food drive-thru, but when it comes to policy changes or funding, any real enthusiasm seems to wane faster than a camel going through an MRE's "Tuna with Noodles".
Then there’s the Veterans Affairs (VA) waiting game. Imagine needing an appointment for a serious issue, only to be told, “We’ll see you sometime next year.” Veterans' healthcare is a classic example of high expectations meeting low realities. On paper, veterans are promised the best care possible, akin to having a personal concierge service. In practice, however, it often feels like we’re navigating a labyrinth of red tape where the only thing we find at the end is a pre-printed form requesting additional paperwork. It’s like waiting for a rare comet to appear, except the comet is our chance to get timely medical care. And when the appointment finally arrives, it’s a celebration of epic proportions, akin to discovering a hidden treasure, but with more paperwork and less gold.
There's a part of me that likes the idea that civilians love to imagine that military life is like it would be in Hollywood movies, with intense training montages set to upbeat music and the kind of camaraderie that can only be built through endless high-fives and synchronized routines. Instead, it's a stark reality that it's less about explosions and defending the nation against the bad-guy-of-the-moment, and more about the paperwork which, let's face it, is a letdown than most civilians are tragically unprepared for.
Transitioning from military to civilian life is often portrayed as a heroic journey, but let’s be real: it’s like being handed a map of a foreign country without a translator. They tell us, “You’ll find the perfect job!” but the reality is more employers are playing an elaborate game of “Let’s see if we can turn your military lingo into a fit for our HR jargon.” The result? A job market that seems to have more doors marked “Sorry, Not Hiring” than “Welcome Aboard.”
There's a part of me that likes the idea that our stories about spending an entire day "field-day"ing the squadbay in an effort to locate a missing sock are sometimes interpreted as epic Nordic sagas, and that casually mentioning that we once spent a long weekend in a field training exercise equates to being in a survival reality show without the TV cameras. One of the most glaring hypocrisies, however, is the issue of veteran homelessness. We often hear Old Party politicians give grand speeches about how "veterans are our national heroes," and yet we somehow manage to overlook the reality of how many of our veterans are actually living on the streets. Yes, some of us are better equipped to handle that than others, but it’s a tragic irony that in a nation overflowing with resources, we can’t seem to find a way to ensure every veteran has a roof over their head.
Finally, we have the “Support From Afar” phenomenon. This is where civilians show their unwavering support for veterans by sharing social media posts, wearing supportive wristbands, and participating in charity runs. All while conveniently avoiding the messiness of actual policy advocacy or hands-on help. It’s like applauding someone for their efforts while casually ignoring the fact that they’re still stuck in a pit of quicksand. The enthusiasm is real, but the follow-through? Not so much.
What's unfortunate for me and most of our other veterans is that the hypocrisy of veterans' issues is a sobering reflection of our collective struggle to balance genuine gratitude with practical support. It’s a reminder that while we can offer heartfelt thanks, we still have some serious work to do if we want to truly honor our veterans. So next time you encounter a veteran, don’t just say, “Thank you for your service”—consider actually making a difference because EVERY man or woman who has served, whether they are in uniform or not, is a real person with real stories, and the best way to show your support isn’t just with words but with actions that match the spirit of gratitude that you so often profess.