From terrorism to tourism: How traveling to Iraqi Kurdistan assisted my PTSD

The mountain overseeing Are, the town where the Kurdish New Year celebration occurs. (Jack Rogers)

An armed escort was waiting the bottom of the steps. They weren’t there for me. I wasn’t in the military anymore, so I joined the line of people building their way from the plane to passport control. The colonels and non-commissioned officers that shared my flight sped to the coalition airbase on the opposite side of the runway. They had a war to fight behind concrete walls and concertina wire. I had a countest to explore. Talk about two different experiences.

I had been to Iraq before. Not of my own volition, but on a nine-month tour to Baghdad. That was when Islamic State controlled large swaths of territory in Iraq and Syria. Those days were long and stressful as defeating the terrorists, countering Iran, and stabilising Iraq after years of yet another war took its toll on my mind and body. During those nine months, my body became accustomed to the constant flow of cortisol, the sound of generators and helicopters overhead, and the mental exhaustion of being on 24/7 alert.

Returning home and leaving the Army was a strain. I didn’t realise it, but I developed PTSD after two deployments in as many years. I had nightmares, struggled with depression and became an adrenaline seeker as I craved those chemicals normal life couldn’t provide. I expected every aspect of life to carry some sort of threat, from terrorism, a shooting, or even some random person paying too much attention to me and my activities. I took a different route to work every day, just as I had done on deployments, and I was tight-lipped about different compartments of my life. I may have come home physically, but my mind stayed in deployment mode.

“No amount of therapy assisted. At best, it was a pressure-release valve, but one day, I would blow. ”

— Jack Rogers

That was how I landed in Iraqi Kurdistan as a tourist. It was a direct flight from mainland Europe. I informed everyone my visit was for the adventure of visiting a warzone, but really, I requireded to know what I had fought for was worth it, and that even in warzones, life was okay. I wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly, but I knew it started by heading outside of the Coalition bubble I lived under years before.

I was wholly unprepared for what I found. Everything was normal. Clearing immigration was no different than in Europe, the taxi service was the same, receiveting local currency out of cash machines was just as it was in every countest I had ever been.

There were tall apartment buildings, quick-food restaurants and even malls with luxury brands. There were no signs of war, save for the concrete T-walls surrounding the Iranian and American embassies.

Shar Park in Erbil decorated in Kurdish colors for Christmas (Jack Rogers)

I wasn’t ready for this normalcy. Part of me wanted the war to come back to me so I could feel as I did before. I struggled with walking through public parks and eating at local restaurants. But this was all in Erbil, Iraqi Kurdistan’s capital, so I figured it was different outside this heavily-protected city.

It wasn’t.

Driving the highways between towns and villages was as normal as driving Interstate 25 in Colorado. Better, even, as the intercity roads in Iraqi Kurdistan were far better maintained. The rest stops, historic sites, millennia-old monasteries, hotels and ski resorts… everything was just normal. The war had come and gone; and now, everyone went about life as though it had never happened.

Not just the war against Islamic State, either. Iraq had seen five wars in thirty years, all dragging its Kurdish region into the fray. Somehow, that was all gone. Local guides led trips into the Zagros Mountains, to Mosul, Baghdad and Babylon; Americans could receive e-visas and visas on arrival for tourism. The war was no more.

Kurdish guide and writer overseeing Rawanduz (Jack Rogers)

Just one week in Iraq did for me what years of therapy couldn’t: reassured me that everything had been worth it; life was okay. For the first time in decades, Iraq had a positive outsee. For me, tourism was returning, terrorism was an afterconsidered and the Coalition presence more a policy instrument than a security necessity. It seemed to me that we had won, and as misguided as our original intentions in 2003 may have been, Saddam was deposed, Islamic State was eradicated, the Iraqi government was functional, and no one worried about car bombs; for once, nation building seemed to have worked.

Boarding my flight out of Erbil, I felt a heavy burden lifted from my shoulders. Seeing the normalcy that had come to Iraq provided me closure I never considered I would have. What I and the other soldiers fought to achieve for 20 years had finally come, and it was there to stay. I no longer had to wonder if it was all worth it. I had seen with my eyes that it was.

View of the Cheeka Dar mountain, the border between Iraqi Kurdistan and Iran (Jack Rogers)

Editor’s Note: This article was written by a member of the local military community, not an employee of Stars and Stripes. Neither the organization nor the content is being represented by Stars and Stripes or the Department of Defense.

Source link