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I don't talk about my cousin Lisa a lot, because... well, we weren't close. She lived in Illinois. I grew up in Georgia.
We were related, but basically strangers. A few holidays here and there, but that's it.
Lisa served as an officer in the Air Force most of her life.
We were related, but basically strangers. A few holidays here and there, but that's it.
Lisa served as an officer in the Air Force most of her life.
When Lisa got older, she came out. I think I knew she was gay, but anyway, Lisa was gay.
She served during a time when being gay in the military was... more difficult. (Understatement.)
Lisa was a normal, decent, lesbian woman. Oh yeah. And she had a mullet. That was cool.
She served during a time when being gay in the military was... more difficult. (Understatement.)
Lisa was a normal, decent, lesbian woman. Oh yeah. And she had a mullet. That was cool.
You may have noticed that I keep referring to Lisa in the past tense. That's because Lisa isn't alive anymore.
I don't know what Lisa did exactly, but she worked in intelligence. I gathered through family that she saw some things that she had trouble processing.
I don't know what Lisa did exactly, but she worked in intelligence. I gathered through family that she saw some things that she had trouble processing.
Now look, I'm no expert on mental health, but I think if Lisa was given better mental health care in the military, she might still be that distant lesbian cousin I see at every 4th Thanksgiving.
I say this, because I feel like we all have "that story" we tell.
I say this, because I feel like we all have "that story" we tell.
I think this story is common. You probably have a somewhat distant cousin who served in Iraq, Afghanistan, or maybe even Vietnam. (If you're of a certain age.)
And after that, they never really put it back together, mentally speaking. The military just seems to give up on them.
And after that, they never really put it back together, mentally speaking. The military just seems to give up on them.
