The Wounded Warrior: A Survival Guide for When You're Beat Up, Burned Out, or Battle Weary (Paperback)

Chapter One

April 26, 2003, started out as a normal day.

Aron Ralston, a twenty-seven-year-old climbing expert, drove his pickup truck to a remote place outside Canyonlands National Park in southeastern Utah. Then he rode his mountain bike fifteen miles to begin his climb in a rugged, narrow canyon. It was supposed to be an easy Saturday adventure, but it turned out to be much more than he expected.

After climbing for a few hours, he was reaching for a handhold when an eight-hundred-pound boulder shifted, dropping two feet and crushing his right arm. Aron was trapped more than seventy feet above the canyon floor. The pain was excruciating. He needed help, but he knew there was nobody within miles.

Aron knew that in order to survive he had to keep his head and try to move the boulder. He applied ropes and anchors and brute strength, but the rock would not budge. Night fell, and the temperature dropped to near freezing. Aron wasn't sure whether he was shivering from panic or pain or cold. The next morning he reconsidered his situation: He could do nothing but wait.

That day he ran out of food. On Tuesday he ran out of water. On Wednesday he could smell his own flesh rotting. If something didn't happen quickly, Aron knew he would die.

On Thursday morning he decided upon drastic action. With his free left hand he tied a tourniquet around his right arm. From his shorts pocket he produced a small knife. Then with a gritty, mind-boggling determination he focused his attention and methodically cut off his right arm. Then he lowered himself to the canyon floor and walked five miles until he found help.

"I've never seen anybody that had this much desire and tenacity to stay with it and stay alive," said one of his rescuers.

Aron knew he was in trouble and faced his situation headon. He hadn't expected a crisis, but when it came he dealt with it. Because of his determination and refusal to give up, Aron not only survived, but he grew strong through his ordeal. Aron says, "I had to make a decision to go forward, not knowing what was going to come."

When asked what was the most significant lesson he learned, Aron said, "We each have it within ourselves, through courage, faith and perseverance, to turn adversity into possibility."

Few of us will face hardship as traumatic as Aron's, yet adversity is certain to visit us all. Troubles and challenges are a part of life on planet earth. An old country pastor once said that there are only two types of people in the world-those who are wounded and those who are liars. I believe he had a point. We all face difficult, unfair, painful situations, and most leave their mark.

So the important issue is not whether we will be injured, but rather:

Which wounds most need my attention? How are my wounds affecting me? Where am I on the path of healing? How can my wounds make me a stronger person? How can God use my wounds for good?

When we slow down and force ourselves to be honest, we often realize that all is not as it should be in our lives. Certain emotions such as anger, anxiety, fear, depression, insecurity, irritability, defensiveness, confusion, negativity, melancholy, and hopelessness are potential signals that somewhere deep in our hearts is a wound that is still tender.

Some of us know how to assess our wounds and what sort of attention each one needs, but many of us don't. So let's gain a little better understanding of the varieties of hurt.

NINE KINDS OF WOUNDS

While the categories of male hurts are numerous, here are some that I've found to be most common:

Physical wounds. Your body is what allows you to operate in this world. When it betrays you-through disease, injury, accident, genetics, or aging-it forces you to face life differently. These wounds are like shrapnel. They limit you and your potential, temporarily or permanently.

Bad choices. Sometimes we make selfish, stupid, or impulsive decisions that lead to painful consequences. We all have our regrets. If we could only go back and choose differently, most of us would do so in a moment. But here we stand in the midst of a mess, with no one to blame but ourselves. Which only makes the pain worse.

Verbal wounds. Words can be as painful as any physical wound, sometimes even more so. When grenades are hurled, intentionally or unintentionally, by those we respect or trust, the hurt can cut us to the core. Words of discouragement, rejection, or ridicule can easily squash us, stealing our confidence and our dreams.

Social wounds. We all want to be liked and respected. So when we are humiliated, excluded, or attacked by others, the resulting wound is real. Yet we frequently tell ourselves we shouldn't care. We try to act tough and ignore our wounds. But this does not ease the pain. Injurious treatment by people takes its toll on us, whether we wish to admit it or not.

Family wounds. Wounds from anyone can hurt. But if you feel rejected, disrespected, or injured by family members, it can be devastating. You expect support and caring from your parents, wife, and children. When parents turn against you, when your marriage falls apart, when children rebel, the pain can be intense. In some cases, you may feel as though your whole world is caving in.

Spiritual wounds. When we feel hurt by a church, a fellow believer, the clergy, or God Himself, the wound can lead to overwhelming spiritual loneliness and depression. We conclude that if God or His people wound us, He must be against us or not care about us. And who can stand against God? At this point, our wounds feel like a curse, with no remedy and no hope of healing.

Financial wounds. The ability to provide for one's family's basic needs is a part of being a man in our culture. Financial crisis and the need for financial help from others usually make a man feel as though he hasn't met one of his life's central obligations. A sense of failure haunts and burdens him. This can easily carry with it guilt, humiliation, and self-reproach.

Occupational wounds. An old saying declares that work makes the man. As guys, too often we wrap up our identity in our jobs. So the wound cuts deep if we're fired, laid off, unemployed, stuck in a dead-end job, or just don't like what we do. For the same reason, our sense of identity takes a hit if we feel harassed, ignored, minimized, abused, or powerless on the job.

Emotional wounds. Each of the above wounds carries with it an emotional component. Sometimes the original wound is buried so deep beneath the feelings that we can't even find it. We are only aware of a deep, overwhelming, anonymous ache and a cloud of emotions surrounding it. These emotions confuse our thinking, blur our judgment, and too frequently block our awareness of God's caring presence with us.

Most wounds are some combination from among these nine types. No matter what the category of wounding, every hurt reminds us that we live in a broken world and cannot make it on our own. Wounds keep us from a positive, accurate sense of who we are and may lead us into a downward spiral pattern of low self-estimation.

The truth is, each one of us is a package containing great potential and great limitations. The book of Genesis teaches that humankind was made in the image of God and from the dust of the earth. Our Creator is well aware of our humble origins-and always takes them into account. David tells us that "he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust" (Psalm 103:14, NIV).

Our spirit longs to soar, but our wounds tether us to the ground. They hold us back and force us to lean on the One who can truly heal all wounds. "Listen to my cry," says the psalmist. "For my life is full of troubles" (Psalm 88:2-3). We all have our troubles, and each one has the potential to create a wound.

Just the other day I was speaking to a handsome, confident CEO of a successful company about why his relationships fail and he feels so empty inside.

"Why don't you tell me about the greatest hurt in your life?" I asked.

"I don't have any hurts," he laughed. "After all, I make ten times more money than you. I can get anything I want."

"Tell me about your childhood."

"It was tough, but it taught me character," he responded glibly.

"What made it so tough?"

He then told me how his father had abandoned the family when he was four. His mother did the best she could as she went through five more husbands and a multitude of boyfriends.

"Were you close to any of them?"

"No," he said thoughtfully. "They were mostly jerks who didn't want to have anything to do with me. I was a stupid nuisance that was just in the way." He wiped something from his eye and demanded, "Why are you wasting my time with ancient history? Let's get down to business."

"I think we just did," I said. "As a kid you felt rejected at a crucial time when you needed security. That left a gaping hole in your heart. You stuck a bandage on the wound, but it hasn't yet healed."

"But how can that be?" He looked at me intently. "It's been thirty years!"

"Most memories fade over time," I explained, "but traumas, no matter how old, tend to stay raw unless treated."

Certain wounds touch the very core of who you are. Personality, situation, or age can increase a man's vulnerability. The intensity or duration of the injury, or the identity of the offender, can also make them more painful. For a variety of possible reasons, these soul-shaping wounds are more traumatic than other difficulties we may face.

Most memories are stored in our minds chronologically. As time passes, even if the facts and images remain vivid, the emotional intensity softens, and they have less impact on the here and now. Traumas, however, are stored topically. This means the pain does not fade with time. When we focus on this type of wound, whether the pain occurred long ago or yesterday, it packs the same intensity as when it first happened.

HOW IS YOUR WOUND IMPACTING YOU?

Facing your hurts head-on and recognizing how they might be affecting you is the first step toward healing. You may have become so accustomed to your wound that you're hardly even aware of it. Absence from awareness, however, doesn't mean nonexistence. That deep hurt you've covered up, denied, and run away from can still affect your life in many not-so-subtle ways.

Here is a diagnostic list of twenty common symptoms of emotional trauma. As you read through the list, be cautious of the tendency to rationalize, minimize, or explain away your symptoms. Try not to dismiss your responses to pain with statements like, "This is just the way life is," or "Everybody has their hurts," or "I could be doing a lot worse." Which of these show up in your life?

1. You are surprised by spontaneous emotions with no apparent cause. 2. You find yourself eating when you aren't hungry. 3. You are anxious about taking risks. 4. You have difficulty trusting people, even yourself. 5. At times you don't like yourself. 6. Feelings of guilt and shame can be overwhelming. 7. You struggle with periods of deep anger or depression. 8. The world doesn't feel like a safe place. 9. You wish you could live your life over again. 10. You feel like something is wrong with you. 11. You are easily startled. 12. You feel isolated and detached from others. 13. You do certain things to try to numb yourself to pain. 14. Your future doesn't seem very positive. 15. It's hard to let go of the past. 16. You're always expecting something bad to happen. 17. Life doesn't seem fair. 18. Nightmares, flashbacks, or emotional flooding can leave you upset for days. 19. Feeling safe and in control is very important to you. 20. It's hard for you to fully relax.

THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE

Wounds are a part of reality, and reality frequently serves up hurt and harshness in large portions. When I stood on the beach at that lowest point of my life, I cried out to God but heard no response. It was at that moment I turned to wise and godly counsel. Surely they could give me hope. They told me to pray more and read Scripture more and trust God more.

These are good things. Every one of them.

But they did nothing to ease my pain.

Instead, my friends' answers felt like salt and sand rubbed deeper into the wound. My "counselors" gave me formulas. But nobody listened. Nobody came alongside me. Nobody encouraged me. They gave their quick fixes and kept their distance. I shook my head and walked away, feeling alone and abandoned.

Coming out of this situation, I became determined never to leave a wounded man behind. I wanted to learn how to encourage those in pain and do what I could to pull them off their battlefields for first aid and healing. In Jeremiah's darkest hour he heard God say, "I will give you back your health and heal your wounds" (30:17). This is the promise we all yearn for when we feel most desperate and hopeless.

The twenty-two-year-old Charles Spurgeon was considered the most popular preacher of his day. By the time of his death, at fifty-seven, he was regarded by many as the greatest preacher of all time. Between these two dates, Charles experienced persecution, suffering, and discouragement. Someone once wrote, "There are few men that would not have succumbed to ... the difficulties which had surrounded him." Yet he preached every chance he got, drawing large crowds. And he wrote nonstop throughout his career.

Charles believed that our wounds make us better people. He wrote, "Trials teach us what we are; they dig up the soil, and let us see what we are made of." He also wrote, "Many men owe the grandeur of their lives to tremendous difficulties." At thirty-three, his beloved wife became an invalid who could rarely leave her bed. Shortly after this, he suffered from a series of ailments that stole his good health and left him in severe chronic pain the rest of his life. Then came the darkness of depression, which left him "so low that I could weep by the hour like a child and yet I knew not what I wept for."

Regardless of his wounds, Charles marched forward. He refused to give up, he would not step down, and fading away was not an option. His philosophy was always strong and clear: "All that befalls us on our road to heaven is meant to fit us for our journey's end." After all, "The Lord gets his best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction."

(Continues...)