This moving composition about one student’s experiences in Iraq was originally
written for my composition class and later published in the Ventura County Star.
See note at end for more details. - Ann Reeves
18 Months Later, I Can’t Just ‘Snap Out of It’
by Nadia Beperaza
Even though I returned uninjured, a year in Iraq changed my life forever.
Ever since I got back from my Army deployment
in Bagdad, Iraq, I’ve been having problems. It’s been 18 months
now.
My mother and sister think that I’m depressed. They have
been after me to go see a doctor and get treated. Just take a pill
and feel better. But that’s not going to cure me, only hide the way
I’m feeling. Plus, they forget how many different pills I’ve
already taken: to put me to sleep, keep me asleep and keep me
awake. I want to deal with this differently.
I have been acting strange since I’ve been back. I’m not
the happy, smiley girl I used to be. I don’t enjoy things that I used
to. Maybe I am depressed, I don’t know. Maybe I’m refusing to
name it for what it is.
I say it’s just guilt, a lot of it. I don’t feel I have a right to
enjoy things that others--the ones who died--won’t. What makes
me so special?
I remember the first child I saw dying. She had a gunshot wound to the head. A little girl,
no more than four years old. She was crying out in a foreign tongue; the only word I could
understand was Allah. Through our interpreter, I learned how confused she was, calling for her
mama, not knowing why she was there or what was going on. I don’t think she ever thought she
was dying. I can’t imagine a child being able to grasp that idea the way we can.
She bled to death within minutes. She’s with her Allah now.
I think about all the soldiers in the emergency room at the hospital, too. I can still hear them
ask, “Am I going to be okay?”--feeling my heart drop to my stomach, my knees go weak, a knot in
my throat, saying a quick prayer, giving a comforting smile.
Not knowing what else to say, I’d always answer, “You’re gonna be fine, you’re gonna be
okay.” They’d give me this look as if they knew what my words truly meant but needed to hear
them anyway.
“Am I going to be okay?” I’m not sure how many times I heard that question, but I know
it’s more times than a person should hear in a lifetime.
I can’t forget the soldiers in the morgue either. My job was to take their bodies and place
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NADIA’S STORY, continued
them inside the black bags that would end up carrying them home. I’d have to search the soldiers to
find some type of I.D., to find their name, Social Security number, date of birth, sometimes their
religious preference. Most of the time they were still warm from the blasts that caused their deaths.
I can still remember the way they looked: innocent and at peace. We prayed for every soldier gone.
I feel guilty every day knowing these fallen angels, children and soldiers, will never see
another day, never receive a warm hug, feel a tender touch, fall in love, watch the sun rise, hear the
soothing sounds of rain, enjoy their mom’s cooking, make love to their wives or husbands, embrace
their children . . .
Never.
I feel this way every day, and I feel as if I’ll always feel this way. I keep hoping I’ll wake
up one morning and feel like myself again. Sometimes I think hope is the only thing that keeps me
going.
I’ve finally realized I need to come to terms with this. I have to stop thinking this is just a
phase I’m going through. Who am I trying to kid? It’s been 18 months and I’m still haunted by this
terrible guilt.
I’ve tried explaining how I feel, but no one seems to understand. This is why I don’t like to
talk about it. It makes me feel like I’m yelling at the top of my lungs and no one can hear me. So
I’ve stopped trying.
Instead, I’ve been talking to God a lot. My faith has become stronger and stronger every
day that I pray. God will carry me through this, that I am sure of. But as the saying goes, God can’t
help you if you can’t help yourself first. I need to help myself now, help myself accept and move
on.
In my heart I know this is a journey I have to go through, one day at a time. Keep hoping,
keep praying, keep my faith alive, keep going, keep going, keep going . . .
. . . to the point where I can once again enjoy receiving a warm hug, feeling a tender touch,
falling in love, watching the sun rise, hearing the soothing sounds of rain, enjoying my mom’s
cooking, making love, embracing children . . .
Life.
Publication note: This piece appeared in the Ventura County Star on Sunday, August 5,
under the title “Iraq War Vet Feels Guilt Over Being Alive” and carried the following bio:
Nadia is a 23-year-old Oxnard native of Mexican heritage. She spent three years in the Army,
including 12 months in Iraq. She now attends a local business college, where she is training to
become a medical assistant. This piece was written for English Composition class and submitted by
her instructor, with her consent.