When ‘If I Told You, I’d Have to Kill You’ Is the Most Honest Thing We’ve Said In Years

We stand in circles, blocking with our backs and elbows anyone who wants to breach the perimeter and look up at us, especially with big eyes. We laugh heartily, wear our advancing-flag hats, stick out our bellies, and make enough noise that others wish they were us. Only they can’t be. And if we told them why, we’d have to kill them. No joke. No lie.

If we’re infantry or above, we have dissociative identity disorder. We were either selected for it or had it induced in us. It’s not a bug; it’s a feature. God made it so our brains would section off memories of trauma that occurred in childhood or young adulthood. The abusers were people we depended on for our care or looked up to as recruits. The abuse was systemic, meaning all avenues of escape and comfort were blocked. If you were a child, you were threatened and scared into silence. If you were a young adult, your advancement stalled and you were shuttled into positions of little importance or drummed out of the game altogether. The result is that we are wiser than snakes as far as how this world operates. It also means we either bat for the other team, or we’re spiritual warriors of the top tier.

The excuse is that you can’t send innocents to war. You have to make monsters to go up against the beast. If those innocents-turned-monsters go to war against themselves, their families and communities, well, that’s just a cost of doing war. God allows a time for all things, even war, but He said that He would say when and how, and we would take a bended knee and wait on Him. Period.

We’re not hiding any more. There’s no such thing as a quiet professional. We are non-verbal. Incapable of speech. We’d rather drop hot sauce into our eyes than hold a conversation. The public has no idea what’s going on in our waffle brains. There’s a little boy who has lived through so much abuse that he’s incapable of looking at it. It involved physical pain, sexual pain and emotional pain. The goal was spiritual destruction. And it all starts with pain in the derriere. Prostate stimulation is the gateway drug to hell on earth. The feel-good stops along the journey, with their pleasures, career rewards and fixer protections are many. But they all lead to only one place: a state of being where you are never satisfied, nothing matters and you feel nothing.

Because this system begins so early in life, and there was zero raising us up in the way we ought to go, we know nothing different. Television and movies modeled so-called normal human behavior so we mimic and pass on the street as humans. We know what costumes to wear, the mannerism, the facial expressions. We know what to say from scripts and song lyrics, but our innate ability to love and trust was crushed to the soul.

Dissociative identity disorder, not surprisingly, involves much identity confusion. Add an abusive or emotionally distant father and a mother who might be overbearing or absent because she’s fighting her own demons, and you create a lot of questioning about gender and sexuality. Acting out sexually ranges from a self-medicating coping mechanism to a part-time job. It loses all meaning. Our heart may beat from the exertion, but not from anything deeper than shallow affection. The jokes about black hearts made of stone are the truth of our shame.

The list of bodily ailments that accompany our lives is lengthy. Correlations have already been made between childhood sexual abuse and ADHD and autism. We’re more likely to be misdiagnosed with every mental health condition under the sun, including Alzheimer’s, when what we have is dissociative identity disorder. We lose large chunks of memory because each part of our mind is holding trauma that it protects us from facing so we can function day to day. The state of our health is a cycling of plumbing, digestion, panic and anxiety issues.

We’re not talking about the stereotypical gym rat, wearing no socks, loud aftershave and shorts shorter than our UDTs. Veterans are on a whole ‘nother level. Baked into our system is a training more dangerous than the combat and a suicide dropdead to protect the Doctors Frankenstein who make us. And, let’s be fair, they’re only trying to survive in their world, too.

This is why it’s imperative that every man, woman and child learn to fight the good fight within their own selves. Only then can we possess the moral surety that we’re making the right decision for ourselves, our families, the military and our country. And it all starts with the male-on-male gateway drug. It’s a habit the world pushes to get you hooked on sinning. You fight by saying, No. An upright man needs a backbone of steel. It’ll cost you. It’ll cost you women. It’ll cost you money. It’ll cost prestige and position, even family and friends. But the shame will start to dissipate, because love covers over all wrongs. Not just some wrongs, all wrongs.

Women, even women on our side, are arrogant in their ignorance, and we made them that way. We ourselves lack knowledge. The Hebrew word for helpmeet, is actually a military term. Yeah, a military term. It means a warrior who meets you eye to eye. How ‘bout that? A clean house, laundry, home-cooked meals and a passel of well-behaved kids is nice and all, but the term means that your wife is a warrior and she meets you eye to eye. An ezer is a helper, a rescuer, a protector. It is used most frequently in reference to God. God intended the wife as a tactical reinforcement for the man in battle. Kenegdo literally translates: “as his counterpart,” “corresponding to him” or “a match standing in front of him.”

If you ain’t leading her to the Lord, she’ll fall over herself to accompany you to hell. God made her to be a gift, but not the leave-at-home, “keep in the dark while you hit up your brothers” type. We’ve been wired to physically desire only the strange. We don’t even know what making love is; we only know that if being unashamed is required, we don’t know how to get there. God does. He made a wife to be the Battle who inspires you to be a better man, a partner on the plain of spiritual warfare. You show her how to fight her demons, so she can support your effort to be a righteous man. And together you praise God for pulling off a miracle of such proportion!

The devil will have none of this. She’s yacking and yelling. You’re abandoning your position of leadership and hiding in that prepubescent teen filled with rage over the outright torture he endured, full of malicious intent. Or maybe you prefer the boy, full of fun and effervescence because he still embodies a time when you could feel something. Or maybe you say nothing and go straight to the trained killer. You don’t need to say anything at that point because you actually are dangerous and you know it, even if few others do. So she yells some more. She doesn’t know about dissociation, what parts are, whether you have them or she does. She doesn’t know you, what God’s Word actually means or how The World works. She doesn’t know the combatants, the terrain or where to find cover.

The devil uses shame to prevent you from being honest with your wife or anyone else. He tells you she’ll never understand, she’ll reject you. He’s only right because you believe him. If you believe you’re too far gone and that even Jesus would reject you at this point, that you have cottonmouth from lack of living water, then you’ll believe the lie that no woman could be enough like Jesus to accept you as you are and love you anyway. What a river of forgiven that would be. 

There is no battle of the sexes. It’s a construct of the devil. You either fight to walk upright or succumb to evil, and there is no other word for the things we’ve done. Then you gently, firmly, lovingly hold a mirror up to your wife and show her that she too is a warrior. She can either face her sinfulness and embrace the goodness, wholesomeness and nurturing within her, or she can harden her heart, laugh at you, judge you, reject you, all while hiding from the truth of who she really is. The good girl-bad boy paradigm only works if both realize she isn’t all good and he isn’t all bad and they both need God.

She’s just as afraid as you are. Afraid of the shame and humiliation of exposure, of paying the price for her mistakes, of making amends to you and people she’s hurt. Her traumas were real, but affected her brain differently because of the interconnectedness of relationships for her. Spaghetti.

At the reduction point, it boils down to a good and simple plan. You must win the spiritual battle within yourself. Stop living a duplicitous life. You may have had no choice in the beginning. Now you do. You say no and you stick to it. The next time it’ll be easier. Then a bad day will happen and you’ll need to learn to say no when the easy and comfortable and familiar habits are warm and inviting. You experience a victory. Then you gain momentum on the narrow way. 

From here, you don’t need to include the world or lost friends. You need to find that warrior eye to eye, or you need to see her inside the woman you already love. It may not be easy. In fact, it won’t be. But if you focus on Jesus, He will remake her heart to be a gift to you, an imperfect but godly man. The reason matrimony is so important is because it was God’s initial and only charge to us: be fruitful and multiply. 

We all excel in banter. We call each other gay as a term of endearment. We need to stop. The percentage of transgenders in the military is roughly double what is in the general population. There might be reasons for that, don’t you think? We need to stop the cycle without dishonoring our ancestors or damning our descendents. We all, male and female, created the problem and we’re blaming the victims and casting them out into the cold. We need to extend compassion, offer a hand and guide them away from the darkness and toward the light, away from the lies and toward the truth and out of the pit and toward the narrow way.

If they see only oppression, rules and sacrifice of everything they are, show them how obeying Jesus and loving only one woman brought a peace and contentment that a thousand men and access to every depravity never could. Explain how everything they were told was a lie, that if they just wear this or act like the other, they’ll finally feel OK. Walk with them. Tell them how Jesus can heal what pills, therapists and surgeons cannot. Be the male friend or father figure that is wise, kind and doesn’t cross boundaries. Make THAT the brotherhood.   

A man and a woman come together as one flesh and in co-creation with God, create love and beauty and the perpetuation of mankind. Even if age or infertility prevent childbirth, the very act of a man and a woman coming together as co-warriors, looking each other in the eye, naked and, finally, unashamed, creates … love. For each other, for God, for their neighbors and the world.

At first, while the evil-escort days have their grip on your upper left arm, it’s impossible to believe loving one woman can change the things that matter to you, namely the country you feel slipping away. This is the hardest work you’ll ever do. Harder than anything you endured or perpetrated. Not because those moments didn’t rumble the earth, but because it’s harder to reach inside yourself for the good, to be humble and vulnerable than it is to continue in the soul-crushing habits of the past.

You may say, you didn’t ask for any of this. You’ve been through enough. From now on you’re going to do your own thing, have fun, be with who you want, do what you want when you want. You humble yourself to no man, no god. You answer to no one. Stack up good works to put a good-guy veneer on a lust-driven heart. I was you. I am changed utterly, and I am responsible for you. I’m sharing my story, risking everything just to share my hope with you. Nobody wants a love that they have to force, not even God. I don’t want to let you go, but out of respect for you, I have no choice. Peace.  

There is a time for all things. There is even a time for war. War that God orchestrates, and that doesn’t involve declaring war on our women and children and neighbors. Healing begins by forgiving God because he didn’t come when you wanted Him to. He came when He could work miracles inside you and all around you. From there, self-forgiveness and forgiveness of others are just whispered pieces of yourself falling into place.

Give us a hand. Do the things. If we can do the things for you, too, just let us know at info@stormtheculture.com.

If you are knowledgeable about DID and would like to contribute to Storm The Culture’s efforts to be there for people coming out of the darkness and into the light, please email us at info@stormtheculture.com.

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