A long day

Today has been a long day. Most of it good, some of it not so good. The wifey is finally home, so that's a definite plus, and softball was good as usual, just being on the field and enjoying the weather, but it's what happened since we've been home that has me wondering. Even after everything we just went through, why do we argue so much? I know that every couple has their issues, but it just gets so tiring. It just seems like there is always something to argue about. No matter how hard I try to make it different. It seems like we are just destined to fight, if that is even possible. Maybe it has to do with mt PTSD, or maybe it's just me. I dunno but It's gotten old real quick. I've got to figure something out before it drives the both of us crazy.

Nothing to report

I'm tired and could probably fall asleep quickly, and just as I get comfy, I realize that I have to get up and take my meds. Such is life. So get up, take meds, lay down and welcome lala land. I do miss my kids though.

Late

This blog is late since I had a long day and nignt and the time ran away from me. So anyway, I hated leaving my honey alone at the hospital but I'm stuck on my meds so if I don't take them, bad things happen to me. It's just hard for me to see her so helpless and not be able to do anything for her. At least I should be there for her for support,  but I couldn't. So now its off to bed for me.

Blah

Today was a very blah day. I was really rushed and stressed this morning and took it out on people who didn't deserve it. By the afternoon things had calmed down considerably but I was still stressed because the wife has been in the hospital all day and night. Things are going good now but it was hard for me to let other people handle it and me stay home with the kids, waiting for the satellite man to get here. I was in rescue mode. Things worked out though, thanks to the support of close family.

Stepping up

As PTSD and TBI victims, we live day by day needing caregivers. Whether we want to admit it or not, some of us would be lost without them. But what happens when your caregiver is the one who needs care? We need to try our hardest to step up to the plate. Is it difficult, I'll be the first one to say yes it is, but it also has to be done. There are still household duties, kids, prrsonal issues and day to day things that need to be taken care of. We would love for our caregivers to be able to continue doing everything they've been doing, but they can't. So it's up to us.

How much is enough continued

There, now I can continue. Through our parenting classes and just my own perceptions, I wonder how much undo stress we put on our kids. With those of us dealing with PTSD and TBI's, how much of that stress is doubled? It woukd be foolish of me to think that my kids don't see that sometimes daddy gets mad over nothing. How do we think that is going to affect them? When it causes problems, how can we punish them? They are definitely a product of their environment. But then, how much leeway do we give them? As I stated, they know there are issues with daddy, and it is in a childs nature to attempt to capitalize on it. Why should they not try? They are living in the "all about them" phase of their lives, so that's their job, that's how they are supposed to act. As parents, we can pick up on these times and adjust fire accordingly, but that doesn't always work with those of us who have to deal with extra challenges. Again, I cannot stress how truly blessed we are to have spouses that are willing to walk through the dark with us and be there to smooth over the rough spots after we get finished causing the turmoil.

How much is enough?

First off, I barely made this blog in time so I'm gonna cheat real quick.

Hmm

Tonight I'm not sure what to write about. It was a good day but nothing really jumps out at me. That's not necessarily a bad thing though, since that means that nothing bad happened either. I'm wrapped up in my new book I'm writing, which is coming along quite nicely and that makes me happy. I feel like this is going to be a good one and I hope I'm right because I'm thinking about sending this one off to a publisher. I dunno, I guess we'll see.

Summer time is back in gear.

Great day today. Another form of therapy that i have found is softball nights, which we have many of in my family. There is something about softball, the people, the companionship, the snack bar food, that brings back a sense of nostalgia, which in turn leads you down the road of better days, carefree days. Yes, this is all fluffy bunny stuff, but it's better than the hulk smash stuff that is usually following me. Which would you rather have? I thought you'd say that, fluffy bunny. I think that sometimes I take for granted the simple things, like a cool breeze blowing off a softball field, a hot dog  a box of popcorn, and the cheering of the crowd over a great catch or a home run hit. Win or lose, it's another memory put back to help combat those helpless feelings that we sometimes get. Is this a end all be all for what ails us, of course not, but I think it's a step in the right direction. Maybe it's the feeling that we have that define us, not really our actions. A look can speak volumes they say. That look imparts a feeling in the one on the receiving end of that look. Feelings. So in that same vein, maybe the feeling of a softball field experience is more important than the actual experience. The actual experience only happens once, but the memory and feelings from that experience live on forever. I'd like to think I've touched on something here. If I'm wrong, then so be it, but what harm can come of it? The worse that can happen is the faraway look that you'll get when you get a whiff of that certain scent, and go careening off to softball land. Summertime is finally here, that old ballpark, man, is back in gear out on 49, man I can see the lights. It's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine, it's summertime. Thanks Kenny

Tired again

So this post is going to be very short, but a post nonetheless. I got some stuff done today that I'm very happy about, and I think that is very therapeutic in and of itself. Just having that sense of accomplishment, and the knowledge that I could do it on my own, does a lot for my self esteem and drive. I hope that having those feelings will help to propel me to greater lengths, especially on my down days.

Average

Really nothing to say tonight. It was just an average day. We got a lot accomplished actually. It feels pretty good to know that you have something to show for your work at the end of the day. I guess that just shows hlw blessed I am. I'm sure some people would love to have just an average day, but because of our problems, those days just seem so few and far between. So if you're one of those that have average days every now and again, cherish them. Sometimes few and far between is all we have.

Good day

So today was a good day. The evil monster didn't raise its ugly head and everything was quiet on the homefront. Why every day couldnt be like today, I'll never know. Maybe that's just it though. Maybe they aren't meant to be perfect days, or even good days for that matter. I guess if they were, we would end up bored and stagnant, which would only lead to more issues. Funny though, I only say this on days that are good. On those bad days, all I want is to become bored and stagnant. I think that Hamlet said it correctly when he said To be or not to be, because ultimately, that is the question.

When is it enough?

Here's my rant about the VA....when is it enough? When do we stop fighting? When do we stop trying to get the help we need and deserve? They can put you through the ringer and do some serious damage, all in the name of veterans rights, but I think we are just a number to them. Just another case that passes across their desk, or their review board meeting. They put you through all kinds of testing to make sure that you qualify for their benefits, and sometimes those tests can set someone back days, if not longer, in terms of therapy. Just to have them say Sorry, we don't think that you arr severe enough to warrant our support. I guess they forgot the support that we gave to them. I'm glad I don't work for the VA. I would love to say that I would never think of anyone as a number, but who knows. Between all the red tape and paperwork that it must take to pass paperwork along must be astronomical. It would drive me crazy. Maybe I'd turn out to be just as bad. Maybe I'd get tired of not being able to belp a fellow veteran and fudge a report, ending my career and making it harder on any vet that comes after to get aid. It just drives me crazy to sit here knowing that in my case, as I am sure it is the same in a lot of other cases, all it would be is a simple review of one form. But instead it takes years and paperwork requests that they already have. We are taught to be happy with what we have, so does that mean roll over and give up? No. We put in our time. We have the scars to prove it. So we demand the help and support that we deserve.

Perception

Perception.  We hear that a lot and I think about it a lot also. In terms of PTSD and TBI, perception can be a killer. Those of us in the family, and I consider every last one of you dealing with this on any level at all my family, we say, and realize, that some wounds aren't visible. Unfortunately,  I believe that those are the hardest to deal with. Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that someone with a physical handicap doesn't have a tough road, but in most of those cases, there is something to fight. You know pretty much what to expect. With us, the only thing that we can expect is a rollercoaster, somehow and somewhere. 90% of us have friends and family who either don't know about it or don't understand the extent of it. What about in the workplace? How many bosses and peers know what we keep in our closets. We don't have skeletons, we have whole cemetaries. Why is this? Why do we keep silent? For me, it's easier to keep silent than to answer hundreds of questions or get those looks, like if we say boo the whole place would clear out. I'm afraid that they would call me unstable, and I couldn't dispute their claim, because I am unstable. Even on my meds I still have horrible days. So what can we do about this? Nothing. Only you know what's best for you. Only you know who you can open up to or not. Only you know what the supposed consequences, and there will be, both good and bad, might be. All I can say us weigh your ootions heavily before opening up. Talk to your therapist and your spouse about it. On a side note about talking to your therapist and spouse, yes, you are granted confidentiality in all that is said to your therapist, but I feel that your spouse has a right to know also. They have signed on for the long haul. They are trying to stand by you as best they can, go give them the means to help be keeping them informed. It might not be easy for either of you, but if the roles were reversed, wouldn't you want that same courtesy?

Tired

So I just wrote this huge post and my phone deleted it. I'm not doing it again. I'm so mad I'm literally seeing spots.

Aggravated

So I'm aggravated tonight and can't tell you why, I just am, and it really sucks. Today has been a really good day as days usually go, so I have no reason to be grouchy. Maybe because the wifey is leaving? Maybe cause I'm tired, a little hungry? The dogs are getting on my nerves? I dunno. But anyway, good day. Stopped eating Hersheys Kisses cold turkey so maybe the withdrawals from that are killing me too. But I'm hoping to start shedding some weight so I have to. To many sweets. Anyway, off I go. Hopefully tomorrow will find me in a better mood. Plus we get paid tomorrow. That always helps. Lol

Another day...

Another day has gone by, but this one has actually been pretty decent, besides not being able to sleep for like, ever, last night. Made me tired and a bit of a grouch the first part of the morning but the day got better. Well, except for my daughter being sick. But such is life I guess, as long as she doesn't give it to me again. Then its no fair. Last time she got me sick, I ended up with the flu and they just got sick. Plus, the nurse says Yep, you've got flu strain B, but since you waited this long to come in, we can't do anything for you. But here's something for the family so THEY don't get it. Sheesh. I guess that's what I'm here for. To catch the sickness bullets. So all in all today, Shane 1-PTSD and TBI 0. My kind of day.

End of week

So, I've done pretty much nothing today, but I think that was pretty important in and of itself. I needed to recharge myself. I'm feeling standoffish, like I'm holding people at a distance and have been feeling this way since maybe thursday. Not sure why. So I figured today I'd recharge a bit more. We will see how I am tomorrow. I think I do it to myself a little though. I start down that path and don't stop myself, because that's the norm. PTSD related, I dunno. I don't know what's related and what isn't anymore. Sometimes its like one long string of feelings with no break in between. Like a constant whisper in my ear. My ears ring constantly, I have tinnitus, and its kinda like that, always there, whispering, sticking its claws in me. Its aggravating because its nothing that I can fight against physically. I think that's why we lash out at those we love sometimes. We want something tangible to fight against. That's no excuse, there are no excuses, just a supposed hypothesis from my mind to yours. Maybe one day things will get better and that whisper will go away. Maybe pigs will fly too....hmm....if we put them in a plane, does that count?

Good day...mostly

So today was a good day for the most part, but PTSD and TBI always seems to figure out a way to insert itself into my life. Got off to a great start with Upwards Soccer. My team tied, which to me is just as good as a win. Besides, my kids had a great time and that's what matters anyway. Got to see my parents since dad coaches the 1st and 2nd graders and mom runs the concession stand. My brother helps me coach, Donna takes pictures and one of my kids is on my team. The other just hangs out and has a good time. Then I came home and took a nap, which was great too. Then my little friend shows up in the form memory issues, whichs sets me down depression lane. Its okay though. I bounced back pretty quickly so all was not ruined. One thing I'm glad about is that I've kept up with my blog. I never stick to it this long so I guess I'm doing something right. Too bad you can't smell my shirt btw, it's Gain fresh. Random, I know.

Another day

Another day and it started out well. Slept in, then quality time with the wife, a wacky dinner and then a movie. Amazing how something can ruin it in the space of a breath and set me off like a rocket. Sometimes I wonder if my buttons are being pushed intentionally. I dunno. I hope not. I'm not in a good place currently so I'm ending this blog early, but I didn't want to go to bed without writing something down.

Quality time is therapeutic

So I have come to believe in the power of family and a strong spouse as a ward against all that PTSD means. Scream Free Parenting and sitting in a car for around an hour with the wife, then soccer with the son, which made me smile to see how much he takes to it. After that, family dinner when my brother comes over, which is nowhere near enough, but sometimes life gets in the way, but just the same, something kinda special seems to happen over Tater Tot Casserole. Then playing C.O.D. with the daughter was a blast. Now that the evening has wound down and i sit and reflect on my day, I guess sometimes I forget how blessed I am, when so many others like me are not. I know how bad my days can be, how much worse can someone elses be? I am a firm believer in a level below rock bottom. Be careful of thinking that you can't go down any further. Just when you think you are, I can guarantee you, something can ALWAYS get worse, just like some things can always get better. So today's message is to cherish the little things. Hugs, smiles, kind words, happy dogs, xbox 360, tater tot casserole, family......you know, the small things. But if you think about it, doesn't all those small things add up to something huge? Just sayin.

Totally Blah.....

I really don't have much to write today, well, not even much, I have nothing of significance to write, and I really don't feel like it, but they say that when you don't feel like doing something, that is EXACTLY the time when you should push through that barrier. Well, I'm pushing. So anyway, today has been a huge blah day. I've been tired the past two days and today has been extremely hard. I don't know if I'm not sleeping well or what, but it's been really effecting my mood. Because of this, I've pretty much stayed to myself since I've been crabby. I dunno, I'm taking a higher med dose, which worked really well for the first four days, but then it stopped working for sleep. This is what I don't get though, they say that it takes six weeks before I see any real effects from the meds, but if I were to stop taking it now, I think I'm on week three now, I would be at the mercy of side effects, first off, how is that fair, I get no rewards but all the pain? Second, am I supposed to be feeling anything at all? What happens on week 6, does it do this miraculous thing, like I see fairy lights and pink unicorns, and all is flowery and grand? Whatever. I think it's all a load of hosh posh. I figure I should be feeling something. But when I go back to the doc and say hey, I need something for sleep, is he going to say that I have to wait the whole 6 weeks? Let me tell you, at first the vivid dreams side effects were pretty cool. I couldn't tell if i was awake or asleep for a few minutes. Had a dream about vicks rub and tootsie rolls at one time, ask me about that later. But at least I had those dreams for the first full week or so, but now even they are starting to wear off and I'm being left with waking up just as tired as I was when i went to bed, and laying in bed trying to sleep for like, forever. Seriously, I take these meds at around 9 or 10ish and expect to start getting groggy 30 minutes to an hour. Nope, I lay there in bed, reading or playing subway surfer until 1 or 2, in which case I have had enough so I turn off the phone and lay there for, well, I dunno, I can't see the time. The clock is off and I turn my phone upside down so the charging light doesn't bother us. But i lay there for what seems like another hour, but to be fair it could be five minutes. But I have tried not playing on my phone at all and all I do is lay there, singing that chorus Counting flowers on the wall, that don't bother me at all........if you know it sing along, HEY smokin cigarettes and watchin Captain Kangaroo.......you get the gist. Life is like a box of chocolates.....I wonder if Forrest Gump had PTSD. Never said but I figure he must have, trying to save Bubba and all. But I digress....my point is, this crap sucks and I want my normal life back, but that will never happen, so I get to be one of the ones who sit around complaining about my problems and how life dealt me a bad hand. How did i get this low? Yes, I know, I joined the Army and I myself have said that I knew what I was getting into, but to be honest, I never signed up for THIS. Neither did thousands of other guys and gals like me. Sorry, I'm whining. It just sucks. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.....well, there was that lady in the Best Buy parking lot that took my spot and almost made me pull out my PTSD card in the court of law. Your honor, she had it coming, she stole my parking place and I just snapped. TOWANDA! (for those of you who have seen Fried Green Tomatoes. If you haven't, get it.) Well boys and girls, it is time for me to go off to lala land. Who knows, maybe I'll fall asleep quickly this time, I took my meds about 30 minutes ago. And maybe I'll be graced with some vivid dreams. At least the wait will be worth it. BTW, thanks for everyone who reads my blogs. I don't blog for you, I blog for me, but I blog BECAUSE of you, the people like me and the people like my wife. Makes me feel not so alone with this. Wow, this has been one weird blog.

Back to it.....

So, back to the matter at hand. I think I said that up next was going to be the spouses turn, and so it will be. Feel free to chime in whenever ya'll would like. In the Army we have a saying, The NCO is the Backbone of the Army, and that is the truth. Without the NCO's running things and dealing with the troops on a day to day basis, nothing would get done. Well ladies and gentlemen, the spouses are the backbone of the family. Without you guys, nothing would get done. Could I pay the bills, sure. Could I cook and take care of the kids, sure. Could I keep the house clean, sure. Notice a few things that I didn't say. I didn't say the bills would be paid on time and I didn't say the money would be managed properly. I didn't say the kids would have a wholesome meal all the time, and I didn't say the house would be kept up to standard. Thanks to my wife, I could most likely survive without her since she has things so organized that even I couldn't mess them up.....for a month. But when the next month rolled around and the bills came in again, I'd have no clue of how we do things. Which bills we have to pay when, which bills we can pay later to take use of their grace periods, since our budget is SO not flexible. Which bills won't be shut off for a specific amount of days, giving me time to get the next check. Your jobs are never ending, and usually thankless. I know I don't tell my wife thank you. I only think about what would happen if, when I had too, and even then, I really have no real concept of what it would be like. You check on our appointments, tell the kids that daddy is a bit tired today so he needs to rest when what you really want to say is that daddy is being an ass to mommy and she would love to throw him out the window, which is why he couldn't make it to your school function or some such activity. It's amazing what you go through. You are often the silent PTSD victims. The ones that the system lets fall through the cracks. I can get assistance and mental health appointments, but who assists you and gives you an outlet to vent? And you surely can't vent to us, especially when it is about us. How many of you feel trapped in this life, because you care too much to get out, even though you're stressed too much to stay? I would love to tell you that this blog is going to end nicely, but it isn't. Yes, there are a few programs out there for you, and a few facebook groups that let you vent, but there is no escape for you until it gets so bad that some of you literally have to take your kids and run for your lives. There are so many issues that our spouses do for us that are behind the scenes and I just hate that I can't give voice to them all here, but for those of us that care enough, I apologize for your caring treatment of us. I'm so glad my wife loves me. You guys should too. See, my wife  fixes all my meds for me, and I have no idea which ones I'm taking at which time.....need I say more? No, seriously, thank you, all you spouses, who struggle quietly, so we can struggle out loud. Thank you for defending us when no one else will. Thank you for caring enough to stay. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Off the main trail for a second.....

Today’s post was going to be about PTSD from the point of view of the spouse/family, but I was asked to do something different, so I will do that one tomorrow. Today I am going to talk about a subject that hits close to home, especially for me. Suicide. Unfortunately, that is a very real threat that we, as PTSD victims, have to contend with, sometimes on a daily basis. There are a million and one reasons why someone would want to commit suicide, and at those times, things do seem quite bleak, but let me tell you, for those million and one reasons for, there are a million and two reasons against. A little personal story for you. I have this close friend named Jeff. While in Iraq we were pretty much inseparable, well, since I showed up to Ft. Campbell on April 28, 2002. He came and introduced himself to me while I was still in the inprocessing company. Apparently they knew they were getting a new Commo Dog so they he wanted to come check me out. From then on we were tight. But especially so while in Iraq. We used to talk about coming home and all the cool things we’d do. He was into street racing and such and lived down in the Orlando area, so I was gonna go visit him. He got out of the army about a year before I did but we still kept in constant contact. Finally, it came time for me to either re-up or get out, and I chose getting out. (Dummy) We talked a lot, me, Jeff and another of our friends Mike. On July 4^th, 2006, Jeff called to give me some news. He hadn’t served all of his time, so as the Army will sometimes do, he was recalled. He didn’t wanna go. I told him tough cookies, they call, you go, unless he wanted to move to france, in which case, let me pack a suitcase. Then he dropped the second bomb on me. He was already supposed to have reported but he didn’t. He was awol. Not good I told him. We had planned on going out to Orlando, me and Mike, on the 4^th but plans got changed and we couldn’t. I told him to give me a day or two and I would fly out there, and we’d take care of this together, like we always did when one of us got ourselves in a jam. He said cool, he needed all the help he could get. We hung up and I started getting things ready to go. He called back that night telling me thanks for helping him, he really needed a friends right now and he knew he could always count on me. I said ALWAYS BRO! July 5^th, 2006 I got a call from Jeff’s roommate, telling me that Jeff left the 4^th of July party early, went to their apartment, typed up a not, then put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. It was a joke, it had to be. It wasn’t. He called to tell me by that last time. There is a hole in the middle of my chest still and I hate the 4^th of July now. It will always be that way until the day I die. It still feels like a joke and I still wait for him to call me and laugh about it, but it will never happen. This is what you leave behind when you take your life. This is the pain you leave when you decide that you can’t go on. It turned out that Jeff could have gotten out of going but he never tried. He never asked for help, no one knew. This is the pain that will never die. If you are contemplating suicide, think of the hole you are going to leave in someones chest. The feeling of not being able to breath.  Over and over. Coming across a picture and feeling it all over again. He was a jerk, a scared jerk and I hate him for it. I love him always, but I hate him. Think about your families. And families, keep your eyes open. Jump at shadows. Be ever vigilant. ALWAYS.  Sometimes we are bullheaded. We think we know everything and we don’t wanna listen to reason sometimes. We’ve commanded troops before, so we’ve got this. Then before you know it, things have spiraled out of control and it’s beyond our scope of reason. Yes, we know this is happening, and we usually can see the pattern, but we think that this time, THIS TIME, I’ll do better, I’ll control it. Some of us yell, some of us hit, some of us cheat, most of us ignore. We leave you with calling for appointments, worrying about family matters, bills, the car needing tires, the baby needing changing. But all we want is to be better, to be normal, to be like we used to be. I used to want to go back to the combat zone. At least there I was at peace. There everything was cut and dry. There I wasn’t damaged goods. But for those of us that are like me, try to take a second and thank your spouses, thank your loved ones, because THEY are going to be the ones who will try to talk you down when you can no longer deal with it. They will go frantic looking for you because you can’t remember your way home. They will be there as long as it takes. I don’t envy the job that you spouses have. I don’t know if I can do it. I only hope that my wife knows how much she is appreciated, even when I don’t say or show it. Because of her, I still live.

PTSD cont.

So here we go, Combat PTSD. First, what exactly is Combat PTSD? Well, combat PTSD is just what it sounds like, a classification of PTSD derived from a soldier’s time on the battlefield in which that soldier undergoes stressors that change who and what he or she is. Within this scope, there are said to be 5 likely issues: 1) Heightened anger and aggression response  2) Heightened startle response  3) Heightened alertness  4) Alcohol and/or cigarettes used for coping  5)relationship abuse / issues – emotional and/or physical. So there you have it. Does any of this sound familiar? Sure it does. Nice this is all well and good, such a nice, flowery definition. But what does it really mean to us> One word, HELL. Yes, Combat PTSD is hell for those of us who are graced with its presence. For the families who are graced to be with a soldier who is graced with PTSD. But oftentimes, our real enemy is ourselves. Yes, you read correctly fellow soldiers, WE are our biggest enemy. Why, because sometimes we are too bullheaded to ask for help, to explain what we are going through, who we are now. So for a few minutes, let me be the voice for some of you, and maybe we can start to break the cycle. Anyone who does not understand PYSD, or is a little confused, or is right in the forefront of it, here is the skinny, and it ain’t pretty. Imagine you’re laying in your bunk on a quiet, hot night, You can’t sleep because of the heat, the flies and the stench of the latrines 100 yards away. You turn to your buddy, who has just gotten back from his turn at guard duty and make small talk. All is well. Finally you fall into a light sleep. You’re dreaming of being home, going to the store, talking to family and friends, your old life. Then the funniest thing happens in your dream. You best friend opens his mouth to speak and all that comes out is a high pitched whining sound. What the-? Then the concussion hits and the ground shakes. Dirt and underbrush hits the side of your tent and you sit upright, your heart in your chest. You’re terrified, but also your pumped. You grab your gear and throw it on while moving out of your tent to your planned out safe place. After a while, all is well again. Then next night you’re eating chow with buddies, talking about shop stuff, small talk. Smoking a cigar or cigarette, and again, a concussion, then gunfire. Here we go again, instant rush. But later you find out something that is so terrifying, so wrong, that you can’t even fathom it. Lives were lost, four or five, but those lives were taken by an American soldier who tossed a grenade into his chain of commands tent, then opened fire. Now the enemy is from within. Who can you trust now? You’re driving through a town looking at burned out vehicles with bodies still in them and you can’t help but think that you’re breathing in the ashes of a person, which makes you cough and gag. You’re flying home on a Blackhawk and see a body lying on the ground a few hundred meters from your base, only to find out that who you saw was a friend of yours who committed suicide, but things are a bit fishy. Now imagine coming home, flying back on a plane, waiting to get back to your old life, only to learn that your old life is no longer there, it will never be there, ever. At first it’s because they are different, they don’t understand you, they don’t understand your sense of humor. You’re foreign to them. It’s their fault. But then one day you wake up alone, utterly alone, laying beside your spouse. You’re alone because you realize that the issue isn’t them, it’s you. You miss that smell, that rush, that high, and it revolts you. You’re a monster, a freak. How can you seriously want to do those things again? You struggle with it silently, of course silently. You don’t want ANYONE to understand what kind of monster you are. You start getting angry for no reason. You start pushing people away. Then you get angry with them when you succeed in pushing them away. Why can’t they just understand? Why can’t they just deal with it? It’s so hard to act normal, having two faces. One that is calm on the outside, calm and loving, while the other on the inside is a stark raving loony who just wants to storm around breaking everything in sight. Then the nightmares come. You start seeing bruises on your spouse and when you ask what happened, they say that you were wild in your sleep. Great, now your causing physical pain. Then you start thirsting for that old high, that rush. Maybe you drive fast, maybe you look outside the marriage, but it isn’t the end result that you want, the end result means that the high is over, it’s the feeling you get while you are doing the actions. Life holds very little meaning now except for PTSD. PTSD stops being a byproduct and start being you. You have lost your identity to PTSD. One night you decide you’ve had enough. You’ve lost it all. But there is one more thing that you have that you can control. So you go to your drawer and grab your gun…… This is a worst case scenario, some of it true, some of it fabricated, but for some people, this was the real deal. This was exactly what happened. Unfortunately, those of us with PTSD ultimately cause our own problems. We don’t understand why, or how to stop, and we need help, but we don’t ask for it. Yes, it would be so much easier for all involved if we just opened up and said Help Me, but we can’t. That means that we have lost control, and control is all we feel we have. We are angry and sometimes mean, usually alert and sometimes cocky, sad and sometimes misunderstood, but in the end, we are broken, and we just want to be fixed.

Next up, PTSD from the Spouses Point of View 

PTSD

For those of you who aren’t familiar with PTSD, it is a life changing illness brought about by traumatic experiences. As of late, PTSD has been attributed to soldiers, but a soldier is not the only group of people who can endure a traumatic experience. It can be caused by a bad childhood, a car accident, a dog attack, anything that traumatizes the victim to the extent that their everyday life is altered from the way that it used to be. But there is one group that we often forget about that also needs to be championed in the fight against PTSD, and that is the families of the PTSD victims. These are the silent victims, the ones that have to endure with us, and that more often than not, end up with PTSD of their own. Take in consideration the spouse of a soldier with PTSD. That spouse also undergoes an upheaval of their life. They are forced to live with someone who they no longer know or understand. However their lives were before the traumatic experience is over. What they now are forced to life is something completely different. Something that they have no clue how to handle. Something that comes on instantaneously. Oftentimes, the families end up being abused by those who have PTSD, which in turn continues the cycle. Think of the child who grows up living with PTSD daily, and is traumatized by it. That child now has a high risk for doing the same thing when they themselves have a family. But as bad as this may sound, and it is bad, believe me, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m not going to get into the different programs that are out there for PTSD victims, what I would like to talk about are the victims of PTSD.  Sometimes waking up and getting on with our lives is a hard thing to do. Knowing that we aren’t like everyone else. Knowing that we have to keep control of ourselves, our actions, or we suffer the consequences. What consequences are these you might ask? How many of you have lost friends because they didn’t understand you, or because you no longer fit the mold that you used to? Honestly, can you blame them for shying away from you? They didn’t sign up for that. They never asked to be the friend of a PTSD victim, so why should they stay around you. Besides, you may be a danger to them or to their kids. Sound familiar? AIDS can be transmitted by holding hands. That’s what they used to think in the beginning too, until they did research and learned more about it. We never asked to have PTSD either. We never asked to get in the car accident, to be raped, to be assaulted, to endure hardships on the warfront. But we did. Now is where I’m going to lose a few of you, and that’s okay. You’ll come back once you’ve digested what I have to tell you. For some of us, their behavior IS your fault. Why? Because you hide what you are. You refuse help. You say I’m not that bad. You give a million excuses for the millions of issues that you have, and then wonder why the world is against you. If you want to tell your story, you have to open your mouth. If you want help, you have to open your mouth. This is difficult to most, because that opens the wound again, and sometimes, reliving it is just as painful as the first time. But think about what you are doing by NOT opening up. You are bottling it up, letting it fester. The pain and infection has nowhere to go but in, and it will eat you alive. Think about your daughters and sons. What would you say to them? You would say I know it hurts but it’s for the best. And it is for the best. Once you start opening up, it will get easier, but you have to take that first step. If you keep silent, you are not just the victim, you are also the perpetrator. You are victimizing yourself and those around you. You owe it to yourself to heal, to get better. Will you ever be the same as you used to be by opening up, not likely, but you sure won’t be the same by NOT opening up, so what do you have to lose? For those of you who are the loved ones of PTSD victims, you have a job that almost impossible. You have to be the strong one, the rock. Yes, sometimes the punching bag. No, not physically, but mentally. It takes a loving person to cope with the stresses of someone else’s PTSD, and I do not fault you at all if you can’t do it. It is a tough, often thankless, job. When others are running away, you are running towards. But that is what you do, on a daily basis, you run towards, and honestly, I cannot tell you why. That is an unexplainable phenomenon. Why do you do it? Is it love, a sense of duty, morals? Who knows, and sometimes even you don’t know either, but you do. You are the true heroes in this story. You are the ones who hold it together and without you, well, some of us wouldn’t be here today. So remember, who things seem bleak, like there is no hope, like no one out there understands you and what you are going through, remember that you are not alone. You have your own family. People out there that are just like you, that DO understand what you are going through. Sometimes just knowing that we are not alone is enough to keep us going that one more step. Sometimes that one more step is all we need. This is just an introduction, and in the days to come we will continue to talk about PTSD and what is means to use, as well as what ways we can combat it.

Next-----Combat PTSD