Week 10b: Why Armstrong's War Hurt So Bad

The Citadel's promotional art for Armstong's
War.

Content Note: WARNING! HUGE SPOILER'S FOR THE PLAY ARMSTRONG'S WAR! IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT, BUT WANT TO, SKIP THIS POST, I RUIN THE WHOLE PLOT.

So Armstrong's War hurt deep on a lot of levels for me. I was a mess after watching it, and walked out of our talk-back afterwards, because I physically couldn't hold it together any longer.

So this whole post is basically going to be one big shit-show glance into my mind, and explain why I was such a bloody mess, and why I am how I am.

• In the show, Michael struggles with dealing with his post-traumatic stress, especially in the form of flashbacks, triggers and nightmares. For years I dealt with this, and even now still have nightmares about things that happened years ago, or wake up having a panic attack.

  

  Shane and I from about a year ago.

• Seeing Michael like that for me, was like seeing my worst nightmare played out. One of my friends from Elmira, Shane, is stationed out west right now, and since I found out he was going to basic training I've had the continual fear that he'll get sent to the Middle East, and come back a different man than the guy I knew in high school.
• An even bigger fear for me is that one day I'm going to pick up the phone, and it's going to be his girlfriend, or my best friend and that'll be it. Like, I can't even fucking spell it out, that is how scared I am. My heart always skips a beat when I see that it's her calling, because I'm terrified of what the first words out of her mouth will be.

  

  Ricky, on a school trip to Ireland. I know I talk about him a lot, but I love
  this guy. He taught me one of the most life lessons I'll ever learn.

  
  

• Hearing Michael talk to his friend killed me. For months after my friend Ricky passed away, I used to lie in bed and talk to him, yell at him, curse him. Even now, sometimes I still talk to him. I know he can't hear me, but I want to so badly believe that he can, even if it's just for a second, because I don't want to think about a world without him.
  

There were two things that really sealed the deal for how much this show hurt, though. 

• When Halley told the story about how she lost her father and how she ended up in a wheelchair I completely lost it. I was just straight up sobbing by that point. (Which, sitting in the front row, I feel bad about, because that would've been hella distracting for Alex and Paolo.) Hearing about how Alex was paralysed in a car accident killed me. I've mentioned it before, but I was in a car accident in March. We were so lucky not to be hurt worse than we were (concussions, whiplash, cuts and bruises everywhere), but a few of us were still brought to hospital on spine boards. I'm never going to forget the look of fear in the paramedics eyes when I said I had pain in my head, neck, shoulders chest and spine. That feeling of being viced, knowing that this isn't lifeguard training, this time it's real. That night is such a blur, and yet some moments will haunt me forever. I remember lying on the board, shivering in the -20C degree air, with my coat fallin

  

  A silly selfie Abi and I took a few hours before. It's
  still so weird for me to look at this photo.

  g off and bare legs. I remember looking at the stars and wondering what was going to happen. I remember thinking about how cold I was, and thinking about how that meant that nerves in my spinal chord were still connected. I remember panicking as the cold started to ebb away, because I didn't know if that meant that I was numb from the cold, or numb from something else. My mind raced about Sheridan, which suddenly didn't feel so certain; Khalil and Avery, whom I'd just met there a couple weeks ago; would I ever dance again? I thought about Peter, Staci and Abi, none of whom I could see or hear anymore. I thought about Shane, so far away from Abi, and the panic he must be feeling. Slowly, the realization of my situation begin to sink in. I was strapped to a backboard so tight that it left cuts in my arms and legs, a collar that left digging bruises for weeks after. The paramedics weren't talking to me, but I could see the worry and grim emotion etched into everyone's face. That look of "Oh shit" was seeping out of their pores, like some kind of noxious cologne. Seeing all of that, remembering all of that, and seeing how different my life would've been if Abi would've let me have the front seat still terrifies me. All that. All that stacking emotion, mixed with the look on Halley's face as she painstakingly accounted every last second, every last breath of her dad's life, seeing the scars and the hurt that will never really, truly leave her fucked me up bad.

Graphic designed by Nick Pegg.

• That look of disgust and dejection painted on Michael's face when he started to talk about hope, and what it does to a person. Hope, this honest, pure emotion that is supposed to get humans through the hardest, most painful experiences in their life. And now, Michael was describing it like a cancer, like something vile. All because for one moment, he let himself believe that things could be okay. And that thought, that worry that one day I may become as jaded and damaged as Michael, or as irrevocably broken as Halley scares me more than anything else.