Monday, December 03, 2018
Elder of Ziyon
Scorpion by Nature: PTSD and other labels
What do a tattoo artist, an IDF wounded warrior and a scorpion have in common?
by Forest Rain www.inspirationfromzion.com
What do a tattoo artist, an IDF wounded warrior and a scorpion have in common?
by Forest Rain www.inspirationfromzion.com
Brilliant blue eyes
and smile lines etched in his face could not diminish the horror of the event
he was describing. Possibly it was this inherent charm, his almost apologetic
leaning towards me as he spoke, as if subconsciously pleading for
understanding, that evoked in me an intense reaction to what he described so
calmly:
“It was in 2000. On
the way home from the army, the car I was in was ambushed by terrorists. The
soldier next to me was shot. I was shot too. I got out, returned fire and
killed two terrorists. We drove off but they had already spread the news and
before we got much further a lynch mob was waiting for us. I was shot again, in
the chest. I killed two more terrorists and then we got away. They told me
later I had been mortally wounded.”
Ambushed. Shot
twice. Surviving the first ambush only to end up in a much worse situation.
Battling for his life. Struggling to protect himself and the other passengers
in the car while he was bleeding out. How is it possible to do something so
amazing?!
A man like Yossi
would probably answer: “How is it possible not to? What other choice did I
have? Death by lynch mob is much worse than death by bullets and there were
other people with me.”
I say probably
because I didn’t ask. That’s just what people like Yossi say.
I have lived in Israel
long enough to learn that no real hero will call himself a hero or be
comfortable with other people giving him that title. He will tell you about the
people he didn’t save. He will tell you about others who deserve grand titles
more than he does. He will tell you he did his best, that he wishes he could
have done better. That he just did what needed to be done.
“Just.” Such a small
word…
What comes to mind
when you hear the term “hero”? Do you think of a Superman, a comic-book
superhero? Someone with big muscles and a loud voice? Strong and self-assured?
How would you label
someone like Yossi?
For many it is
difficult to understand that the scars left by bullet holes that almost killed
you can be negligible compared to the trenches extreme trauma can dig into your
psyche. Physical wounds usually heal. It is the wounds of the soul that cause
the worst damage.
Quietly, not
searching for sympathy, just as an explanation, Yossi told me that because of
his PTSD he cannot work indoors, in a typical job so he works outside, in
construction, volunteering to help others who are suffering. When he was
injured, after the physical wounds healed, there was no one who could really
help him with the emotional burden. Now he helps other soldiers who have been
through traumatic experiences.
Who would ever
imagine that it would be a tattoo artist from South Africa who would step up to
help Yossi?
Nicholas Mudskipper
is a nice guy.
Nick came to Israel as part of a group of
tattoo artists of an international caliber participating in a unique program
called Healing Ink. The goal of the program is to utilize the art of tattooing
to bring psychological and emotional support to people suffering from trauma
and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). The tattoo serves as a type of
talisman for the recipient, a permanent piece of artwork to transform an ugly
experience of violence and hate into a conscious choice of beauty. The act of
choosing the tattoo empowers the recipient who did not choose to experience the
traumatic event. Sometimes recipients choose tattoos that covers physicals
scars, incorporating them into the art created. Others choose symbols of things
they need to be reminded of when the darkness of remembered trauma overwhelms
them, a kind of light to hold on to when everything else seems too
overwhelming.
Historically Jews
have an aversion to tattoos – due to the practice being explicitly forbidden in
the Torah and the more recent memory of our parents and grandparents being
forcibly tattooed with dehumanizing numbers by Nazis. Today the practice is
becoming more socially acceptable in Israel. Heavily tattooed people are not
common in Israel but people who have one or two tattoos are no longer a rarity.
In Israel, seeing
someone like Nick, covered as he is in tattoos, is unusual. The question is,
would you stop to talk to him and learn about his art or would the tattoos on
his arms (and legs) distract you? Would you see the man or the paintings on his
skin?
To me it seems that
most tattoo artists must reject labels. It takes guts to decorate your skin
with permanent art and disregard what others might think as a result.
Coming from South
Africa to Israel, to help IDF wounded warriors must not have been an easy
thing. I can’t imagine that in the country that would rather go without water
than accept
Israeli technology that would solve the crisis, many would find the
concept of offering support to one of our soldiers acceptable.
But Nick didn’t see
the labels so many others put on Israelis. He saw people, individuals he could
help, just by being himself, doing what he does best. This wasn’t about
supporting a political cause or a “side”, this was about recognizing human pain
and using art to minimize suffering.
Like I said, Nick is
a nice guy.
Most people find it
difficult to understand
PTSD. Often negative or traumatic experiences are conflated with
PTSD. This is similar to people saying: “I forgot where I put my keys, I must
have Alzheimer’s Disease!” Many people have had traumatic experiences. These
leave a residue of negative memory. This is nothing like PTSD that repeatedly
pulls the sufferer back into the horror in a full sensory experience that is
not a memory but the experience relived. Over and over and over. (Read this
to get a better understanding of PTSD).
One of the biggest
challenges for someone suffering from PTSD is recreating their relationship
with the label: “normal”. Imagine yourself in Yossi’s shoes. Would you ever be
able to shake the fear of being trapped in a situation that could kill you? Can
you imagine doing something normal like getting in a car to drive home? What
would it be like to suddenly be caught in a traffic jam, cars piling up and no
way to get out?
Interestingly it was
Nick’s open mind and heart that brought normality to Yossi. For the time they
spent together, Yossi wasn’t a label: IDF soldier, hero, injured, PTSD… he was
just a guy.
They discovered that
both were interested in the same sports. Both are MMA fighters and do similar
workout routines. That was enough to create an instant connection. It was easy
to overcome the differences in language and life experiences because they
weren’t divided by labels.
It was the scorpion
that threw me for a loop. I watched Nick and Yossi excitedly discuss the story
they were both familiar with about the scorpion and the frog:
A scorpion and a
frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him
across on its back. The frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting
me?" The scorpion says, "Because if I do, I will die too."
The frog is
satisfied, and they set out, but in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog.
The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both
will drown, but has just enough time to gasp "Why?"
Replies the
scorpion: "It’s my nature..."
Yossi wanted Nick to tattoo a big
scorpion on his back, next to the scars left from the bullet holes. At first
the choice seemed incomprehensible. Why would Yossi want to brand himself with
the scorpion that stings even when he knows it will kill himself? Why did Nick
feel this was a cool and positive choice to make? What was I missing?
When I came back at
the end of the session and saw the final tattoo, it’s meaning began to dawn on
me.
Yossi straightened
himself, to stand proud, his body no longer apologetic. The scars are still
visible but it is the scorpion that draws the eye – his choice, not what was
inflicted on him.
The scorpion is
dangerous, it stings, it can kill. Knowing this, Yossi chose to put that on his
back. He did not choose the ambush. He did not choose the PTSD that changed his
life forever. His desire to carry the scorpion on his back is an acceptance of
his “new normal” and a bold statement of power and freedom.
It is a declaration
that being fully aware of the difficult, harsh and sometimes damaging nature of
this new normal, he is strong enough to carry it.
