American Sniper - Boekje Pienter

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I had to tell him there were a lot of people who cared, not
just for the troops in general, but for him. He had me, he had
friends in San Diego and Texas, and family.
But the adjustment to being home was hard. He’d wake up
punching. He’d always been jumpy, but now, when I got up in
the middle of the night, I’d stop and say his name before I got
back into bed. I had to wake him up before coming back to bed
to ensure I wasn’t hit with his basic reflex.
One time I woke up to him grabbing my arm with both of
his hands. One hand was on the forearm and one just slightly
above my elbow. He was sound asleep and appeared to be
ready to snap my arm in half. I stayed as still as possible and
kept repeating his name, getting louder each time so as not to
startle him, but also to stop the impending damage to my arm.
Finally, he woke and let go.
Slowly, we settled into some new habits, and adjusted.
SCARES
I didn’t quit the SEALs.
I might have, if my contract hadn’t still had a lot of time to run.
Maybe I would have gone to the Marines. But it wasn’t an option.
I had some reason for hope. When you come home and the Team
returns from a deployment, there’s a reshuffling at the top and you get
new leadership. There was always a chance our new head shed would
be better.
I talked to Taya and told her how pissed off I was. Of course, she
had a different perspective: she was just happy that I was alive and