Don't Tell Me You "Support the Troops"

Don't tell me you "support our troops." Don't give me that worthless catchphrase that is useful for nothing more than making you feel good about yourself while actually doing NOTHING. Don't show me the worthless yellow bumper magnet on your car. Don't point out your fake American flag magnet and tell me you are a patriot, that you are "here for the vets." Don't tell me how you gave five bucks to the homeless vet on the corner and how that's supposed to show how much you care. If I could, I would burn every single banner, flyer, and magnet with the phrase "Support the troops," because in reality, your "support" is merely lip service. You buy a magnet, slap it on your car, and tell us that you support us. In fact, most of the time, you get the magnet for FREE. After 9/11, the US was chock full of people with American flags and "support the troops" stickers. Once they realized it was not going to be an easy and quick war, all that "support" dissipated. Sure, you feel proud of the fact that you've got a sticker on your car or in your window. But what is it that you actually do???
Instead of giving that vet $5 so he can eat a meal for that day, why don't you hire that vet so he can feed himself for a lifetime? Instead of buying a $4 magnet, why don't you go down to the VA hospital and spend 4 hours with the guys who have no one to visit them? Why don't you take that $30 you spend on movie tickets, Chinese food, haircuts, or beer, and give that vet an HRT bus pass so he can get to work, or at least to interviews? How about you take that bike just sitting in your garage and give it to that Vet so he has some self sustaining transportation? How about instead of spending $200 on a pair of shoes, you buy a $40 pair, and use the rest to send a package to some poor bastard overseas that wishes he had something you take for granted, like beef jerky and toilet paper?
Guess what?
My brothers are still over there in the sandbox. While you complain about the traffic, or about the rain on a 70 degree day, they are still over there, in 130+ heat, driving 10mph, hoping that some radicalized jackass isn't sitting off to the side somewhere or on a rooftop with a cell phone, waiting to push the button that will either blow him sky high or send him back missing body parts.
Guess what?
23.
Do you even know what that number signifies? That is how many veterans commit suicide a day. A DAY. Did you know that? Do you care? It's not because we are crazy, or ticking time bombs, or whatever it is you think we are when you see us walking down the street, getting a beer at the local watering hole, or sitting across the room from you in a restaurant. It's because our government, our so-called leadership, doesn't care. We go, we do what we are told, and we come back. But at some point, we become sub-citizen. We forgo your luxuries and simple pleasures for something we believe in. We join, we get broken down and built back up into what we have to become to survive. And we survive. But when we come back, we can't find a job. Our skillset does not exactly transfer to your comfortable world. Our credentials in our world do not translate to yours. Your companies use empty words to tell us they have veteran preference in hiring. So we tell you that at 19 years old, we were in charge of 15 people and hundreds of millions of dollars worth of weapons, equipment, and vehicles. We could run your office better than your masters degree could ever teach you to. But you tell us that we are over qualified for the position, or that we didn't go to a school that did nothing more than blow sunshine up our asses and hand us a piece of paper, so unfortunately, you can't hire us. But "thank you for your service."  Don't tell me that. We go to the VA, the place that tells us "We are here for you." And for 6 hours we are shuffled around to various offices, none of which actually know what the hell to do, only to leave with more questions than answers. We call the VA and get attitude from some pencil-pushing moron who gets irritated when we ask about our status and rudely informs us to read the mail they sent, even though we filed 8 months ago and have yet to receive mail, hence the phone call. Because the system is inadequate and the personnel are incapable, we are told that we have to wait 2 years for our claim to go through the system. We don't even know if we'll be alive in two years. We didn't tell you to wait two years. We did what we had to do. We can't sleep at night. We can't be in crowds of people we don't know, even ones we do. We keep to ourselves and we keep to our own. We are ever alert because we know first hand that your worst nightmares will manifest the moment you stop being vigilant. But you tell us to "Stop acting like that," "Stop thinking like that," "we aren't over there anymore," "Why don't you just chill?" or that "It's all in your head." The war at "home" is worse than the war over there. We seek employment and we are denied. We seek the help that is rightfully ours, and we are denied. We break our own unwritten code and go to the shrink, and we are given prescriptions, pumped full of more drugs, and sent on our merry way. It gets to be too much. Every avenue we venture down, we are denied and blocked. We have nowhere else to go, this is not our world. We are no longer in our unit, our family, with our brothers. Everyone is spread across the globe. We seek, but do not find. So we wake up one morning, calm and resolute, because we have found the solution. We do not wake up the next day.
Do you know?
Do you care?
You see it every day. You see it in our eyes, but you convince yourself otherwise because the lie is much prettier than the ugly truth. So after our bodies are cold and buried, you ask, "Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he ask for help? Why didn't anyone see it?" But we did say something. We did ask for help, we cried out for it. You didn't see it because you didn't want to. We shield you from the evil the world has to offer, but you shield yourselves from us. You slap a sticker on your car, you share a picture on Facebook that says "I support the troops," you give a homeless vet a couple bucks (most of you don't even do that). You sit comfortably within your sheltered lives, complaining about your jerk of a boss, or that you don't make enough money. Did you know the average soldier makes less than a public school teacher? Do you care? Then you tell us, "But you get all this free stuff." But it's not free. nothing is free. The money just never makes it to our pockets before we can see it leave. We are all around you. We are in your neighborhoods, in your restaurants, in your schools, on your streets, next to you at the bar, in front of you in the theater. Don't tell us, "Thank you for your service" so you can feel good about your self-indulged life for the day, and then go home and post on Twitter what an awesome and caring person you are.
Save your pity. Save your empty platitudes. You want to call yourself supporting the troops? DO something. Don't just say it. After you DO it, you won't even have to say it, because WE will say it for you. Keep your words. Give us your actions.