Please note that this article includes non-graphic discussion of violence; reader discretion advised.

Marcel Proust says, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” When we take the time to center ourselves in our hearts and truly listen, we venture to see things differently; we uncover the voyage of discovery between our souls and the world of souls around us. These discoveries are our love stories. The love story that I share with my husband, Brian, a post-9/11 Marine Corps Veteran, is profoundly interwoven with the experiment in deep listening and collective healing known as The Moral Injuries of War. 

We first met Jack Saul and Esther Perel in 2015 when I was working for a social innovation conference in NYC at which Esther was a speaker. It was opening night and they were the first people to arrive. I was with Brian, who was about ten years home from his deployment in Iraq and grappling with the psycho-spiritual fallout of his wartime experiences. We were introduced and immediately, without pretense, began speaking about war and its traumatic and relational impact. Jack explained that he had conceived a project that would allow veterans to share their stories and asked if Brian would consider participating. Aching to share his experiences since returning home, Brian agreed, explaining, “My worldview changed after I came home; the senseless violence, the killing, the families that were torn apart on both sides of the war. I can’t make sense of it. All I can do is share my story and hope that something good will come out of it.”

On the balmy night that we met in late May of 2010, Brian shared a written account of his time in Iraq with me. His words illustrated a bright, sensitive young man struggling to reconcile his experiences. Experiences soaked in blood and punctuated by heart-wrenching decisions; experiences largely cloaked in metaphor because they were too terrible to recount. Experiences are too heavy a burden for one person to shoulder alone. His suffering was clear and painful to behold, yet his eyes sparkled with aliveness and honesty. I could not turn away. 

A third-generation firefighter, Brian was raised in a family that holds service as the highest calling. His family comprises doctors, nurses, firefighters, civil servants, and service members fighting in every war since the Revolutionary War except Vietnam. Brian fought in the first and second battles of Fallujah, Iraq; some of the bloodiest urban warfare in modern history. When I tell this to other Marines, they always nod in deference and say something like, “those Marines are a special breed,” which I take to mean that, much like the D-Day veterans of WW2, the Fallujah veterans endured uncommon sacrifice in warfare and in doing so have earned the respect of their peers. It wasn’t until I read one of Brian’s Commendation Awards that I began to understand the scope and significance of these battles and how they might affect one’s soul.

Like most members of the military, Brian kept the trauma of war locked away. He had mastered a thin façade of “okay-ness” that was largely a coping mechanism for living in a civilian world that had now become almost foreign and riddled with triggers. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that this was at a heavy expense to his own mental health. Below the surface, he was haunted by traumatic memories, violent nightmares, and paralyzing panic attacks. His patience was short and at times punctuated by anger. He was trapped in the psychological wounds of war and the accompanying unresolved emotions. Although we were actively seeking out resources and support from the VA and private veterans organizations, Brian was becoming increasingly isolated; self-medicating with a dangerous combination of alcohol and prescription medications. I, too, felt isolated and powerless, like I was witnessing a slow suicide.  

As he began to share his story, something began to shift and he began to process the trauma of his experiences more profoundly. “Participating in Moral Injuries of War prompted me to reflect on what I’ve been through, which I had been afraid to do. I’m proud of my service, though I judge myself harshly. Jack offered a judgment-free space for me to bare my soul. Talking with him allowed me to open up and share my story with my wife and my family. Breaking the code of silence gave me the opportunity to be vulnerable to those close to me. It was freeing,” he said.

Initially, opening up to me about the brutality and senselessness of his experiences in Iraq opened a deep well of grief. Tears came in torrents. The trauma of war that was locked in his mind and body began to release. It was so intense that at times his body would shake uncontrollably. These exhausting episodes would sometimes last for hours. Having read trauma therapist Peter Levine’s book Waking the Tiger, I learned that shaking is the way that animals release the physiologic effects of traumatic events from their bodies. I held him and did my best to soothe his dysregulated nervous system using a gentle touch. Together, we allowed the animal instincts to play out. Thus began an intensive chapter of caregiving, of creating a safe and nurturing space for Brian to process the difficult memories. The Moral Injuries of War was the catalyst and vehicle for integrating them into a life of deeper meaning. 

“I hope my story will shed the light of truth on the devastating consequences of war,” Brian said. “I hope that it will encourage veterans to open up to those close to them about their experiences. I hope it stops someone from joining the military. I hope it makes people think twice before resorting to violence.”

The Moral Injuries of War is a container that allows for this thoughtful contemplation of war. We have discovered, in the liminal space of deep, compassionate listening, a refuge that invites vulnerability, open dialogue, and inquisition around subjects largely considered unspeakable. There is an alchemy in bearing witness, a golden opportunity to build a bridge between civilian and military experience that allows us to integrate the senseless violence and destruction of war into deeper learning and awareness. We are no longer bystanders but active participants in helping to shoulder the heavy burden of war. In accessing this collective wisdom, we are mending a tear in the fabric of our society. We are nurturing more resilient communities. We are loving each other back to life.

About Isa Rosenbloom

Isa Rosenbloom has over 15 years of experience in the film, fashion, nonprofit and social innovation sectors. A passionate entrepreneur, project coordinator and development professional, she thrives on building meaningful partnerships and facilitating impactful work.

Isa’s career took a turn when her husband, an Iraq War Veteran was in crisis and in dire need of support. Trained by the Department of Veterans Affairs as a Veteran Caregiver and certified as a level two practitioner of the Usui System of Reiki, she devoted herself to a path of healing the invisible wounds of war. She is leveraging her connections, skills and experience in all of these areas to advocate for trauma informed mental health interventions, to bring greater visibility to the plight of the caregiver and for the advancement and development of the Moral Injuries of War.

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