Broken
- By Sylvester Lawrence Jackson II
I remember it well. It was the summer of, 1983, I'd just gotten discharged out of the Marine Corp, right after the Beirut Lebanon's bombing of the U.S. Marine Corp barracks, I was mentally broken. I wasn't the same happy young man that had joined the Corp in October of ‘79, I wasn't that guy who wanted to be a career soldier, that guy who loved his country above all else.
No that guy was gone, all that remained was a broken resemblance, the Corp had let me down, the President had turned his back on us. I was on a ship that dreadful day, not just any ship, it was one of three, the command ship, the U.S.S. Nassau LHA 4 with over three thousand sailors and marines so if you’ve ever seen the Intrepid in Manhattan, same ship “bad ass”, the other two ships that accompanied us were supply ships, and a submarine, let’s not forget the school of whales that I loved to watch during my sailing of the ocean blue, we had sailed close enough that had someone standing on the shore thrown a rock it would’ve knocked me out of the crow’s nest, only kidding we don’t have crow’s nests on our ships anymore, but President R. Reagan wouldn't allow us to go in and help/ save or rescue our/my dead or dying marine brothers, that Sunday morning. We were geared up and ready, we had one foot on the bird, waiting for the green light, waiting to get a “go” signal, It never came, we were told to “stand down”.
My brain stopped working, I was mentally broken, I didn't know left from right, up from down, all I knew was the pain and hatred and anger. I hated everyone, my country, the Corp, it didn't matter..I came home and tried to hurt my friends, then myself. I had no one to talk to. All I knew was I needed the pain to stop, it took many years of meds, flashbacks, nightmares and doctors, and finally A.A.to get me back, to stop the insanity going on in my head.
I fell into drugs and alcohol and the wrong crowd, nothing worked. I ended up going to prison for a long time, prison was easy, easier than the pain, besides I’d just gotten outta the corp, I was used to taking orders, being alone , I didn’t care if i lived or died, nothing mattered, Looking back, maybe this was God's way of removing me from harm’s way, I found AA, in the nick of time, well after all I'd nearly destroyed my life, in a short amount of time, by telling myself that drugs and alcohol were my medication, that living like a bad boy was o.k., and I didn't need friends or anyone to love me, and most importantly that I should've died with my brothers in Beirut, I cursed God everyday for allowing me to live another day, for allowing the pain to continue. It’s my guess God had other plans for me, bigger and better than I could ever imagine. Don’t get it wrong, there are some days when those feelings of unworthiness return, I've just been taught a better way to deal with it.
Here some 30 plus years later, in school, being awarded the covenant title of Writer in Residence, I look forward to seeing another day, even dealing with the fact that I'm dying from stage 4 Cancer. I look forward to seeing my family and friends, and classmates, and professors. Today life is good. It's me and Bentley cat against the world. My heart is finally at ease, and no longer broken. For a long time people would say “thank you for your service” and I didn’t know how to deal with that statement, it would bring back the pain, after all I served, because I loved my country, and the corp, I didn’t need to be thanked for it, today I just say” thank you”, smile and walk away. I don’t know why I’m writing this after all these years, except I’ll always miss and love my fallen brothers, I do remember that when I was trying to take my own life, when I came home, by placing a gun in my mouth three times, it was my fallen brothers that told me to stop, live my life, and they’d be waiting in heaven when I got there. Also the woman i’d end up marrying played a role, she stopped me on that third attempt, I’m forever grateful. My life has had many ups and downs, a lot of heartaches and grief, but also much happiness, an “ ex wife” who’s still my best friend, a son I'll always love and a beautiful family filled with grand nieces, and nephews, many friends, professors and classmates. Today I'm grateful to be alive, I don't take anything for granted any more, especially life. Life is precious, so I live it while I can, it’s too short to waste.
That’s Sonny in orange, with many of the crew at Re/Creation’s Antonio Battle memorial.
Sylvester “Sonny” Jackson is a writer and retired Marine. As many of you know, Sonny is one of the most important and beloved members of our writing workshop for people returning from incarceration. As such, he was recently become one of Re/Creation’s two inaugural Writers in Residence, a three-month paid assignment whereby he is developing and co-facilitating a new writing workshop as well as continuing to devote time and effort to developing and revising his own work.