...And I Don't Know How It Happened.

I’m not sure why I’m sharing this particular story, I wrote it almost two weeks ago, and thought it was too long and too harsh at the time.  Because things are still pretty much the same today, I feel like I need to share it, even though  I’m kind of afraid I’m allowing the world to watch me unravel in front of their eyes.  I’m not even sure what my point is, especially since I contradict myself every other sentence.  But, I don’t want to edit it, no matter how long it has gotten, because it followed my thought process, no matter how crazy it seems and how insanely long it became.   So, here it is…

There is a new trend in my house lately.  If I start to get upset with my husband for anything, he immediately turns it around on me and never even hears what my issue is.  If he said something that offended me, I am unable to even tell him what it was before he cuts me off, blows up and says something along the lines of “I have PTSD, I can’t deal with this, don’t make it worse”  or the even worse “I have PTSD, if you can’t handle it, you know the way out.”  Then, he walks away.  EVERY TIME.  If I don’t agree with his point of view, if I’m upset, he walks away…period. 

As a result, I never get my say, my issues with the things he’s doing pile up, and eventually I’m angry at him for 30 different things, when one small issue at a time could have been resolved without any anger.  Then, every time, he comes back 10-15 min later and says the exact same condescending thing “Are you over it now?  Are we good?”  The few times I’ve said no he’s lost it and broke things around the house, did a lot of  screaming, and then ended up depressed in bed for hours to days at a time.  So, to spare the kids witnessing more of this, and to spare myself having to deal with it, I’ve just started saying “okay.”

But things aren’t okay. 

It’s gotten to the point where I don’t tell him most things that upset me in the first place.  I’m not sure when this started.  I’m not sure when PTSD became his excuse to not try, his escape, and his out.  I don’t know when I took on the roll of door mat.  I don’t know when I quit trying to make him see my point.  But now that I realize it’s like this, it feels like I gave up on him.  Even worse, I feel like I gave up who I am.  I feel like I don’t have a voice in my own home; like I’m just along for the ride.  My opinions, my input, my anger…they are all dismissed as things he “can’t handle.”  I’m a visitor in my own life.  I’m a non-entity.  I don’t speak.

And somehow, I just noticed it this weekend.  Looking back, it’s been this way for months, and I don’t know how it happened. 

Before I say another word, I want to tell you that I have this sense of guilt that I’m talking badly about my spouse.  There is another side to him that is caring, doting and loving...that puts us first every time, that is a joy to be around. When I say he waits on me hand and foot, I’m not exaggerating at all.  He keeps our home spotless.  He caters to my needs.  In some aspects, he spoils me.

And then there is this side of him. But the thing is I still don’t feel like this is “him” behaving this way.  People have told me that what I’m about to describe isn’t a part of his illness, but I think they are wrong.  I DO feel like it’s the PTSD, because he was NOT this way before.  And I love this man more than I could express.  If I didn’t, or if I felt like this was all hopeless, I wouldn’t be here suffering next to him any longer.   

I’m also not blaming him, or the PTSD.  I take full responsibility for the fact that I haven’t been standing up for myself or working toward a better situation for myself and our children.  I’m not claiming to be a victim.  AND, I’ll say right now, also, that I have a tendency to exaggerate without knowing I’m doing it.  It’s very possible that I’ve made this into more than it is and it's really nothing at all…or maybe he’s convinced me that’s what I do.  Heck, maybe it's even worse than I think it is.  It could even be the case that I was the one who was wrong here, and he was defending himself.  Honestly, I don’t know.  I truly don't know.

I just know I feel like I don't know if my feelings are valid any more.  I wonder if I'm becoming as delusional as he is.

He did something that offended me this weekend.  What he did and said isn’t important (because it’s a long story, AND this is long enough, and I know it wasn't intentional), but it was offensive to me. Instead of confronting him, because we were going away with the kids for the weekend, and I didn’t want to ruin the trip before it started, I decided to do what had become the “norm.”  I just went to my room to cool off.  He came back a few minutes later, and asked if I was angry about something.  This happens a lot also, and usually I just say “it was nothing.”  I don't know why I picked this inconvenient time to tell him what my issue was.  I don't know why I bothered, because I know he can't pay attention long enough to hear the explanation of what I was saying.  I just felt like I had to.  And in all reality, I may have been being overly sensitive. But that doesn’t matter.  What matters is I was offended and I wanted him to understand why.   It was minor, and should have been a 2 minute discussion.  It should have never been a fight.

Instead, the second I began speaking, he started to get worked up.  Every word I said his face got redder, his fists balled up tighter and the tendons in his neck strained more.  He couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to a word I was saying.  And I got the same response I always do.   “I have PTSD, I can’t handle this.  This is your problem, I didn’t do anything wrong.  Why are you trying to get me upset? Why can’t you just let anything go?  You say you walk on eggshells around me, but I feel like I can’t say anything to you.”  And even though I'm SURE there is also some truth to that, the last line was like a slap in the face.

Like I said, normally, when he starts to freak out I’ve just let it go, even when I know I’m right.  But this time, I couldn’t hold my tongue another second.  “YOU feel like you can’t say anything?  Is this a joke?  I’m not allowed to get mad, because it bothers your PTSD.  I’m not allowed to have opinions in our home other than what you believe, because it bothers your PTSD.  Who is it that can’t say anything around here?”  He wasn’t hearing a word I was saying.  He went into a rage and broke the foot board off my bed.  He just split the wood in half and ripped it off. 

I couldn’t take it any longer.  It was like this flood of anger took over me.  I realized all the times in the last few months that I’ve forced myself to just shut off what is bothering me because I didn’t want to deal with his fits.  THEN I further realized that he is using his anger to try to scare me into submission.  I don’t even think he’s doing it consciously.  I just think the intimidation has been working, so he’s stuck with it. 

He proceeded to try to turn the situation around, like usual, to his PTSD, instead of what the real and original issue was.  Everything always comes back to that.  So, instead of standing there listening to it and taking the blame, I did the childish thing and did what he does to me.  I walked out of the room while he was talking to me…mid-sentence.   I did it on purpose and I did it out of anger.  It was wrong, and I was still was unable to get my point across because of it (not that that ever would have happened anyway.) But at that time, it felt as right as could be. 

It took everything in me to remain calm and not to roll my eyes at him when he came out to me, hurt and upset and said “For the record, you just walked out on me when I was trying to explain to you what my problem was.”  I still couldn’t have this fight.  We were about to leave, and the kids were there waiting.  So I walked away again, and he sulked back into the room.

Because I was still acting childish at this point, I took it a step further.  I waited about 10 minutes, walked into the room, took another line from his book, and said “Are you over it yet?  Are we good?” and just stood and waited while he looked at me in shock and finally said “yeah, we’re good.”

And then, I wouldn’t let him act upset.  I carried on for the rest of the day like nothing happened.  I wasn’t going to let him sulk and ruin yet another event the kids were looking forward to.  I wasn’t going to let him be a jerk to me and ruin my weekend.  But of course, that wasn’t the end of it.  Is it ever?

The entire next day he was on edge, but it wasn’t until the next evening he tried to use the PTSD card to his advantage again.  And let me warn you that it was over the dumbest thing ever.  The whole argument doesn't even make sense, and I think neither one of us was at fault at first...it was just a misunderstanding.  If what he thought was happening really was, it would be valid…but it wasn’t even close. 

Along with his PTSD he has some form of OCD.  He tells me the therapist says the things he does are form of control…he has to be able to control some situations because he feels like he’s not in control of his life.  One of those is when he stirs something.  Making his coffee in the morning he has to stir it 40 times, counting to 20, twice.  Stirring a pitcher of tea, he has to stir it 100 times, again in increments of 20.  And that he has to do it with a butter knife. 

We were camping, and I was in the middle of cooking and needed the knife.  I couldn’t walk away from our stove long enough to find it, so I asked him to get up and get it.  I told him the food was starting to burn so I needed it right away.  Instead of bringing it to me, he went and gathered ingredients and started to make tea with his back to me.  It wasn’t a big deal, but I was annoyed and my son and I both kind of scoffed and I said “Um, I need that knife.”  His response to both of us, and mind you…my son is 10, “I know you are laughing at the stirring, and I’m going to tell you this making fun of me is going to stop.  I’ll make you sorry if you keep it up.” 

I said something along the lines of “I can’t believe you are threatening us.  No one was laughing at all, and no one has ever laughed at you about the stirring, unless you were making a joke about it yourself.  You are being paranoid, irrational, delusional and overly sensitive.  You keep imagining that we say or do things to offend you that aren’t happening at all.” 

Guess what it went right back to?  Yup, he KNEW we were laughing at the stirring, and he can’t handle it because of his PTSD.  Why can’t I just keep my mouth shut so I don’t bother his PTSD? 

O! M! G!

I should have just shut up...it wasn't the right time or place....but I was just so full of anger, irritation, and pain at this point it was going to come out.  I sent my son to go hang out with his brother and the other friends camping with us and then I told him what I thought.  I knew I had a captive audience, and I had the courage to speak my mind because I know that no matter how much he uses his PTSD as an excuse, he has enough control of himself that he never does anything that will embarrass him in front of others. (Which, I have to tell you is the only part of PTSD that I have ever resented…the only thing that really angers me.  Why have that respect for stranger, but not use that self-control with the people who love and care about you?  People you say you love and care about?) 

I said a lot of things that had been dancing around in my head for a while, but never as full thoughts, not that I think he actually "heard" any of them.  I said all the things I hadn’t had the courage to say before then.  I told him that I was sick of hearing the PTSD excuse, because there was never an “I’m trying” or and “I’m sorry” attached. I told him I understood he was ill, but if he wasn’t doing anything to try to get better it was as much his fault as was his problem. I also told him that the only noise he heard was our annoyance at him taking the knife after we said we needed it, and it was becoming typical of his behavior…putting what he wants to do in front of what anyone else is doing.  How it seemed as if he’d given up and he wasn’t going to try to be better, but rather use his PTSD as a valid reason to continue his behavior unchecked.  And I said I won’t live like that any longer and I won’t expose our children to it any longer. 

I said a lot of things that didn't pertain to the moment, but they still gushed out.  But I said it all calmly and rationally.  And that, for some reason, pisses him off even more than if I’m upset and crying or yelling.

The first thing he did was try to intimidate me again.  He stood behind me “bowed up” and started breathing heavy…just staring at the back of my head.  I turned around and told him to go sit down somewhere because although he didn’t scare me, he wasn’t going to stand there behind me looking like he did with our friends and their kids around to witness it.  Then he moved to a chair, doing the same thing, flexing his fists over and over and trying to stare me down. 

I don’t know what came over me this weekend.  Maybe enough was enough, maybe I had courage from the amount of people around, but I just looked at him and said “Look, if you are going to punch me or stab me or something, just do it…I’m sick of this.  I’m not afraid of you, I won’t live in fear.  I am not going to live like this anymore.  We are not going to live like this anymore.”  And his reply “You are on your own now.  You don’t have a clue to the level you are alone now.  Better start to get used to it.”  A typical threat, now days.

((Just to make something very clear, he’s never hit, smacked, pushed or touched us.  He does tell me that he has a hard time refraining from hitting me and that I’m going to “make him” someday.  I’ve never been afraid of him doing it though, and still am not.  Its part of what makes him so angry, I’m not intimidated by him, I’m just sick of hearing him.  I am also sure this sounds very abusive to many of you, but I tend not to take him seriously, so it really doesn't feel abusive to me.))

That was Saturday evening, and since then he’s only said the necessities to me.  He’s angry and pouting, and trying to take it out on me by ignoring me (another of his favorite tactics.) And here is where the reflection comes in again.  This is the history of every disagreement we’ve had for at least the last 6 months, maybe longer.  I’m just as angry with myself as I am with him over all of this.  HOW could I let this happen?  How could I let myself shut down to the needs and feelings of not only myself, but much more importantly, my children?  When did I allow PTSD to rule our family over everything else?  What kind of parent does that make me?

Wish I could end this on a more positive note, but the only positive about this (which is actually a big one) is that I’m finally aware of the truth of the situation.  I finally see what is really happening here.  I thought things were going better in our house, and that he was feeling better. He wasn’t breaking things as often.  He wasn’t screaming as often.  He wasn’t locking himself in the room for days at a time. Now I realize that what really happened is I gave in to his way to try to keep the peace. It wasn’t that he was doing better; it was that I wasn’t allowing anything to happen in my house that he could react to.  I was shutting us off from life.  I allowed us to lose our voices.

I won’t do it anymore.  I could say I was tired, worn out, stressed, etc., etc., etc…but then that is using the same kinds of excuses he is.  I have to start to fight for us again.  I have to do what I can to create a living environment where people are comfortable giving their opinions and expressing their feelings.  I'm not the victim here, I'm an active (or rather, inactive) participant in what is going on.

The truth is I don’t know where to start.  I’m looking for a new therapist for myself.  I’m going to call his therapist this afternoon.  But how do you start to stand up for yourself when you’ve allowed yourself to be walked on for so long?  How do you speak to someone who won’t listen?  How do you say anything when it could lead to violence in front of your children?  And I'm not sure how to really explain any of it to anyone, because re-reading this...I still think I may be making mountains out of mole hills.  I need help as much as I believe he does.

I’m at a point now many people thought I should have been at long ago.  I’m at the point of ultimatums.  It doesn’t matter that he is the love of my life. Either he starts doing the things he is supposed to be doing to help himself, or he is going to lose his family.  Because I realize now that although I don't think he's abusive, it's also not healthy.  I don’t expect miracles, I just expect him to put in the work and effort.  And that is the bottom line. 

Now, I just have to figure out in what place I can speak to him about this that everyone is safe, secure, and he is in a position where he has to hear me out.

I may sound desperate, or lost, or upset….but the truth is, I feel more aware and hopeful than I have in a long time....even if I am still unsure about it all.  For whatever reason I see the situation in a different light, and I know that I have choices to make.  I realize for the first time that I can’t make him do the things he needs to do to help his self.  And if he refuses to do those things on his own?

I realize that I not only can, but have an obligation, to do what is right for my children.  I realize now that we may be at a point where we can’t stay together as a family.  And I realize if I have to leave, I can do this now without guilt, because it wouldn’t be my choice.  It would be his.   

I think? 

Why is it always the simple things that make such an impact on me?

I got a new counselor at the Vet Center....I love him...and I'm so glad to be speaking to a man.  I had hoped, and was right, that he'd help me see things from a man's point of view.  Yesterday was the first time I met with him, and I can honestly say it's the first time in my life that I've walked out of a counselors office feeling fantastic. Usually when I leave whatever we've talked about makes me introspective and sometimes depressed.  So, I was afraid to go in yesterday, because I've already had a pretty depressing week. (probably self inflicted depression...I spent a lot of time making mountains out of mole hills recently)

Okay, so first of all, this guys smile was contagious.  We've all met people like him, those people that smile even when you are talking about horrible things, but somehow, it doesn't seem inappropriate at all.  Instead, I was hypnotized into smiling back.  GREAT start!

Second, he was also incredibly positive.  Not in an annoying cheerleader (no offence to REAL cheerleaders, it's cool when you're doing your thing!) kind of way. But for every negative thing I said, he had the "antidote" and it wasn't at all fake or pushed on me.  It just felt real....and darn it if it wasn't contagious too!

"ALL" I wanted out of that visit was for him to tell me HOW to talk to my husband so he'd actually hear me....okay, well in retrospect, that is insane...I mean, I've been seeing people for years now for the same reason, and I had no reason to believe it would be any different then.  But it was...it honestly was.

After I unloaded on this guy everything that has been bothering me since 2005 he started to look desperate himself.  He then did something no other counselor has done before, he said "what can I do to make you leave here TODAY feeling better" and I asked "How do I word this to my husband....I don't think I can take care of his needs, since he is unable to do it himself, and my family and maintain a full time job any longer. I've tried to speak to him about it several times, I've tried the crying approach, I've tried the detached unemotional approach, but he isn't hearing me, and I feel like I'm losing my family"

His response just felt RIGHT (paraphrasing here) "You said your husband gets up all night looking for anyone breaking in your home.  Put it to him in those terms.  Tell him PTSD is the thief coming in your home and robbing you of your happiness and family.  Tell him he couldn't fight the war alone, and he can't fight this alone.  Tell him you are standing on the front line with him on this instead of back in the rear.  Tell him an Army of one will always be defeated.  Speak to him like a soldier and a man, and he may not get it, but he will listen."

I walked out of there on cloud 9, because I KNEW he'd listen....I didn't know how he'd respond, but I knew that at least he'd finally hear me.  And he did.

It actually took a few days until he was in a mood that I knew I could approach him.  I said almost word for word what the counselor had said to me....and he listened.  Not only did he listen, he finally got it.  He understands why and how I feel helpless now, and that he needs a partner in this...that he can't do it alone.

Like always, it's not all better, and he's been a nervous wreck since we discussed it...and there is no plan of action yet either....we can only take baby steps...one big idea at a time is all he can deal with.  But he's calling HIS counselor tomorrow, and telling him he can speak to me about anything I ask....and I only want to speak to this man to tell him, my husband always puts his best foot forward when he's there with him...I want him to see what is going on from a point of view OTHER than my husband's.

On my own, I've applied for the care giver benefits, and I'm looking for a differnt (part-time) job....things are going to be very tight around here once that happens....and I've decided that I won't leave my current position until after Christmas unless a great opportunity comes up....but I finally see things moving in the RIGHT direction, instead of just moving without my guidance.  I feel empowered, and it's been a long time since I felt that way.

I've been writing a children's book on PTSD for a while...my most recent draft

I was disgusted one evening when my kids were asking me about what was going on with their dad, and I couldn't find a single book or article aimed at their level.  I intend to finish this book, and add discussion points to each page for parents and children to talk about AND writing one at my older child's level.  I'm still looking for an illustrator, and this is nothing more than a rough draft….but it’s my start.

I’d love to hear HONEST opinions on it, don’t hold back and don’t worry about my feelings.....

PTSD, My Daddy & Me

When I was little, my Daddy went to war.

I was so excited when he came home & so was he.

But Daddy wasn't happy, he was sad and angry all the time.

 Mommy said he got sick when he was gone-he has PTSD.

Sometimes my Daddy is a lot of fun-

we play baseball and go swimming and go to the park.

But sometimes, all my dad wants to do is sit in his room alone.

Sometimes he even cries.

Mommy says he's thinking about the things that made him sick.

When Daddy is sad I try to cheer him up.

I'll bring him a drink & candy and lots of hugs and kisses.

He always loves when I do that!

But sometimes it doesn't make the sad go away.

Mommy says it's not my fault

Daddy is sick-he has PTSD.

When Daddy is really mad he yells a LOT.

Sometimes he throws stuff and sometimes he even breaks things.

Sometimes I get scared,

but Mommy said it's her job to protect me

and she won't ever let me get hurt.

When I get mad I try to yell & break stuff too!

Mommy & Daddy said I can't do that.

Daddy tries very had not to do those things, and he even sees aDoctor to help him control his temper

because Daddy is sick-he has PTSD

On The 4th of July I was so excited to go see the fireworks!

They are so cool and pretty and loud!!!

Daddy doesn't like the fireworks anymore.

Mommy said they give him "flashbacks" and make him think of when he was in war-

Because Daddy is sick-he has PTSD.

AT Christmas my whole family celebrates together at a big party.

It is so much fun and everyone is there...

Except Daddy

Mommy said being around a lot of people & noise makes him nervous and upset-

Because Daddy is sick-he has PTSD

One night Daddy heard me crying in my room.

He asked me what was wrong and I said

“Daddy, you are sick-you have PTSD"

Daddy scooped me up in his arms and said

"Little one, I try every day to get better.

I see Doctors who help me all the time.

I know I'm a different Daddy than before,

And I know some days I'm sad and some days I'm mad

But we'll be okay, because I love you and you love me back"

My Daddy is sick

He has PTSD

But he still loves me!!

I Didn't Know I Had So Much To Say

Fair warning again...this turned out much longer than I expected, but I think I need to talk a little about who I am as a person and it’s really important to me to clarify something about the last few posts I’ve made.  Reading them over,  they seems to be a lot of doom and gloom…and that isn’t me.  That isn’t my family.  (Okay, I’ll be fair, it IS my husband)

PTSD hasn’t been all bad for me.  Don’t get me wrong, given the option, I’d rather I never had to even learn about it.  But, in spite of the negatives, I’ve learned so much about myself, my capacity to love, my strengths, my weaknesses (that’s a great thing to know) and the kindness of others and their willingness to help.  PTSD has been a life altering experience for our entire family, but something much more simple changed my life in an equally dramatic way.

When all of this began, if I had a bad day and someone approached me and said anything along the lines of “cheer up” or “you create your own attitude” or “you choose your mood” that person would have gotten a LARGE piece of my mind. Over the years I grew so so so tired of all the worn out clichés.  Not just tired, I was angry.  How did your cutsie sayings and words matter?  You had no idea what my life was like, so how could you possibly think you were doing anything other than running your mouth?   

Oh, how time changes us.

About 5 years ago I started reading http://www.postsecret.com/  (If you’ve never been to the site, check it out…really)  One day I happened upon this secret http://www.flickr.com/photos/tortillamask/3167121368/.  For those of you who don’t want to follow the link, it says “I often wonder if life is easier for other people…..or….they’re just better at faking it”   I actually laughed when I read it, showed it to the people around me.  And I showed it to more people.  Over time, I talked about that secret a LOT.  I don’t know what it was about it, it seemed so simple, yet it was profound.

First I questioned why anyone would want to fake it.  Isn’t our life what it is?  Why would anyone want to be something other than who they are?  Who would want to live a lie?   My attitude about it was “I am who I am, life has dealt me a bum hand, and that’s just the way it is” But the more I talked to people, the more I realized that their reaction to the postcard was a direct reflection of who they were, their attitude toward life, and how happy they appeared to be.  If they felt like I did about the secret, they tended to be moodier and more stagnant individuals.  If they thought it was wonderful and profound, those were the people who had a smile on their face daily. Sadly, I let it go…I didn’t forget the secret, I just let it go.

Okay, so fast forward a couple of years. I’m not sure when, because it wasn’t an instantaneous thing, but a gradual change.  That simple little secret was just sitting there idle in the back of my mind, working it’s magic in ways that I never imagined could happen.  I don’t remember there being a specific time I consciously decided not to spend my life under the black cloud of doubt and worry, but I do remember when my husband noticed. 

There were money problems, one right after the other, and our mortgage was going to be late for the 3^rd month in a row.  He had worked himself into the typical rage/depression cycle about it…and I just didn’t.  You’d think that the calm of one person in the house would have defused the situation in some way, but I am here to tell you, it had exactly the opposite effect.  He accused me of giving up, of not caring, of many other things much worse than those.  I was trying to explain to him why I couldn’t allow myself to get so worked up about something I had no control over, and then, I did the strangest thing. In my snottiest voice I spouted out The Serenity Prayer.

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

WHERE DID THAT COME FROM!?!?!?!  I was a very cynical about religion at that time.  Nothing could be LESS like me than a prayer.  Prayers were useless words used to pacify.  A crutch.  Meaningless.?  Maybe not.  THAT hit me like a ton of bricks.  I actually had to give myself a time out and go sit in the dark of my room to process what was going on in my mind.  How could those words be meaningless if they had so much power over me? (It’s worth noting, although not discussing, that I am still not a believer, this isn’t a conversion story)

Well of course they had power.  Everything we are is directly related to simple words.  Our every action is our thoughts played out.  And aren’t our thoughts just more words?  I’m not sure if that’s too simple a way of putting it, or too deep…but either way, those moments in my life and these words changed me.  I thought about the times I’d said things to my children that made them smile, and those that made them flinch. I started thinking of all the songs that flooded me with emotion and brought tears to my eyes.   I thought about my wedding vows, poems, great novels, movie quotes, I love yous….. 

I looked up the prayer, not even realizing there was more to it:

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen. --Reinhold Niebuhr

Maybe you see where this is going, or maybe you don’t see the connection, but the first thing I thought of was that postcard.  This really was the secret.  I just had to look at it from a different angle.  It wasn’t really “faking it” but rather learning how to look at and react to events in my life.  We may not all have the same struggles, the same opportunities, the same strengths and weaknesses…but what we do all have is the ability to process those parts of our life and DECIDE how to react to each of them. 

I know, I know…you don’t believe me….you are rolling your eyes and annoyed that this is where we ended up.  I still wasn’t sure I believed it at the time, so I don’t blame you.  But give me a chance…I mean, if you’re still reading this far into it, what are a few more paragraphs?

I decided that day that from then on, it wasn’t going to be an unconscious decision to not worry about what I couldn’t change, but that I was going to make a very serious effort to look for the positives in those negative situations.  Don’t worry, this isn’t where I say that my life completely changed for the better that moment.  I had a huge problem.  I had NO idea how to start.  I’d spent a lifetime looking at the worst case scenarios, so trying to find positives wasn’t easy at all.  So, I started where all nerds like myself start…the internet!    You think I’m kidding, but I created list after list of positive quotations that I read all the time (my favorite, in case anyone is interested is a quote from the movie Auntie Mamie that I think sums this all up fairly well “Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death”)  When I get overwhelmed, one of those quotes would tunnel it’s way to the front and get me out of a quick jam. “This too shall pass”  has been a life saver for me.  But obviously, that alone wasn’t enough.

Eventually, I worked up the courage to ask the more positive people in my life how they “faked” it.  I’m not going to give you other people’s answers…partially because they varied so much I’d end up with a (longer?) novel here.  But more, because that was the most important part of my journey to the here and now.  Realizing I couldn’t keep this all inside, and couldn’t figure it out on my own…and then taking what was an enormous step for myself and asking for other peoples advice, opinions and help was the hardest and largest step I’ve taken.  I don’t think I even realized before then that I wasn’t accepting of what others had to offer.  But once I was not only able to ask, but also accept the help of others, my life became much easier.  And like every other step I’ve taken, it didn’t happen all at once…I’ve gathered bits and pieces from others…used what worked and filed away the rest. Now, not only do I feel better because I’ve changed my outlook….but I am so much less alone.  I’ve surrounded myself with positive people who are willing to give me their ear, and their thoughts…..their words! 

This isn’t some miracle story by any stretch of the imagination.  I have good days and bad days.  I let bad times get me down, even when I try not to.  I cry, often and hard.  I get angry when I don’t mean to.  But I am more likely to put those things I can’t control out of my mind to create situations I can control.  I don’t spend my time waiting on the other shoe to drop.  I enjoy the small moments, hold on to them and cherish them…I save them for the dark days and retreat into those memories when I need them.  I love with everything in me.  And, I smile….lots.

It Was Inevitable

Good news first, right?  Our friend who attempted to take his life earlier in the week is now awake and in a psychiatric facility.  He doesn’t remember the majority of the prior two weeks, and vaguely remembers a couple of his attempts.  He is ashamed, embarrassed and depressed.  And you may think I’m a jerk for saying it, but I’m glad…because that means he is still here with us….and MAYBE that means he will get help before it gets to this point again.

What he doesn’t realize yet is the impact his actions have had on those who care about him.  His wife doesn’t know what to do or how to carry on at this point.  She is angry.  She is hurt.  She is seriously considering leaving.  She no longer feels it is a safe environment to raise their children in, or for herself.  But she isn’t sure.  And I understand that, with every fiber of my being. 

I understand because I haven’t figured out where that line is myself. 

On one hand, you deal with the rage, the depression, the isolation…all of those things push you to this point where you don’t know if you are able to do it any longer.  When leaving seems like it may be your only option.  And then you remember they rely  on you to be their rock.  You remember all the times they have thanked you for standing by them through this.  You remember the happy times you spend together.  Almost instantly, no matter how bad it was, you trick yourself into thinking it wasn’t that bad.  And you wonder, how could I leave?  Who leaves the person they love when that person needs them the most?  You feel enormous guilt for even entertaining the idea.

But on the other hand, you have these innocent children who are daily reminded by the actions of both your spouse and yourself that our life is NOT normal.  Personally, one of my children has come to ME talking about moving out.  This little guy had the courage to come to his mother and say “Mom, I don’t know how long we can live with Dad like this, but if he ever acts like he did today again, I want us all to move or I’m going to live with Grandma.”  It wasn’t a threat.  It had been “one of those days,” and it had been one of the worst.  And even my child 2 days later when talking to me said he thought he was over-reacting and that he never wants to leave Dad.

But that’s not up to him.  He IS just a child.  It’s up to me to figure out the balance.  It’s up to me, and only me, to determine when the benefits of being here for the man I love is no longer greater than the risks of raising the children we BOTH love in this environment.  That is a lot to live with on your shoulders every day.  And that is on top of everything else.

So, on to the “everything else”…the “inevitable” part of this.  My husband was amazing the last few days.  He organized groups of fellow soldiers to call and check on his friend and certain times.  He spoke to the wife several times and was there for her.  He encouraged me to call her, going on and on about how strong I’ve been through all his problems and how I could help her (although she didn’t want to speak to any of the wives, and I understand) He acted as a liaison between the rest of their old troop and the hospital.  He was active, involved, and concerned.  At home he was grateful to his family, and told us several times how much we mean to him and that he would never do this to us (almost like he was forgetting the times he has done this to us) 

And, now that it’s past the crisis, he has crashed.   He put every part of himself into helping his friend…and he has nothing left for himself, or for us.  So, for the next few days I’ll call home from work constantly to make sure he isn’t too depressed or angry to take care of our kids when they get home from school…and cross my fingers that this doesn’t lead to a week in bed or worse.

I really hope our friend takes something away from this….because his actions hurt many more people than he knows.

Someone on a message board just asked : How can I help my husband with PTSD?

(This is also something I wrote a while ago...)

This was my reply...I'd love to hear more input from my friends going through the same thing

Figure out his triggers (you can ask him, I'm sure he'll tell you) and avoid them whenever possible...

Don't try to put yourself in his shoes, you can sympathize, but empathy will bring you down with him, and you'll never truly understand what he feels...and he'll probably tell you that many times if you try.

Make sure that you take time to take care of yourself...if you don't have a hobby, get one.

If you don't have a friend going through something similar, find one...in real life or a message board online...if you don't have someone you feel like you can say anything in the world to without being judged you will feel isolated and alone.

Take time to appreciate and remember the moments when things are okay...hold on to them to get you through the times they are not.

Love him, comfort him when he wants it, give him space when he wants it, and learn to have patience like you never knew you could possess.

Don't get angry with yourself or upset with yourself when you get overwhelmed. This is something so much bigger you have to deal with than you ever imagined it could be. It affects every aspect of your life.

If you need a break...take it...its okay to step away sometimes.

Friends & family may not understand...don't get angry with them, they don't live it.

Fellow soldiers and their families may gossip, call him weak or claim he’s faking it. Ignore them…there comes no good in worrying about what anyone else thinks of you…what is important is that your family is taking care of itself and doing what it can to heal. Again, they aren’t living it …and that’s okay, in fact, that’s wonderful, because it means they don’t have to go through it too.

It’s okay to be angry, sad, disappointed, to mourn what you thought your life was going to be like…if you don’t allow yourself to feel what is natural, you’ll just end up full of self pity.

In spite of everything you do to work it out, you have to understand that there may come a time when you just can't do it anymore. Don't stay in a relationship where you feel you or your children are in danger out of a sense of loyalty. Don't stay in a relationship where you resent the other person for their illness...that just makes it worse for them, and is a horrible situation for you. I hope this doesn't happen to you.

Last, and probably the most important thing I could say...you can't help him, you can't make him get better...I know that sucks, and that's the thing I had the hardest time getting past. As women it's our nature to take care of people who need it...but this is something he has to deal with alone. The most and best you can do for him is just love him the same way you always have.

It's never easy...but my husband is pretty wonderful too...so it's so worth it...And Good Luck =) 

Midnight calls are never good news

That’s exactly what I was thinking when I heard his phone ring and my husband jumped out of bed.  Even still, I fell back asleep.  It was just a few minutes later that he came in and sat next to me, put his hand on my hip, and told me “Joe tried to overdose a few days ago.  He was in the ICU, and was released today.  He overdosed again when he got home and now he’s on life support.  X is forwarding us his wife’s number.  We want you to call her”

*******

I don’t remember it being like this in our pre-military life…caring so deeply about, even loving, people I don’t know.  I mean, I “know” Joe, but in reality, I’ve probably talked to him about a dozen times, total…ever.  But that is irrelevant, because on some level I know him better than I know my own brother.

My husband has given a life to the men he’s served with in my heart and mind.  I mean, I know their stories, sure.  But I don’t only know them because of what my husband tells me.  I also know these guys on such a more intimate level.  I know the battles they’ve each fought, both away at war, and in their own personal lives at home.  The PTSD, the addiction, the marital problems.  

I know them because their hell at home is ours too.  I know them because they fight the same demons my husband fights.  I know them, because each of them owns a piece of my husband’s heart.  His brothers ARE our family.  Period. 

And I know their wives.  Some of them I’ve never spoken to.  Some of them married their husbands long after we were stationed together.  But I feel an even stronger bond to them, because these are the only women in this world who know who know MY hell, who share MY battles and demons.

*****

Tomorrow, when I wake up, I will call Joe’s wife.  I’ve never spoken to her in my life, and quite frankly, I’m afraid.  Will she be annoyed to have to deal with someone she hasn’t spoken to beyond FB?  Will she resent me because my husband isn’t the one in the ICU? Will she hear the fear in my voice, talking to someone living my constant and worst nightmare?

Or will she hear the love I have for her and her husband?  The sisterhood I feel?  The support I’m offering?  Will she know that I really do understand, and I am safe to talk to?

I’m not sure calling is the right thing to do.  I’m not sure it’s what I’d want.   I’m not sure what I’m going to say.  But it’s what my husband and the guys would like me to do, and I would do just about anything to make this easier for any of them. 

And I’ll call her, because despite the fact we’ve never met, she is a part of my family---my great big, broken, dysfunctional, but most of all loved—family.

Letter to the Army about breaking my husband

The only place to start, is at the beginning, right?

My first entry isn’t about the “now.”  It was written long, long ago, and quite frankly, it was written by a different person.  I mean, it was “Me” but that life, that person and that world don’t exist any longer. 

I wrote this letter to accompany my husband’s Med-Board in 2007.  Little could I have known at the time, that things would only get worse.

It’s long….so thank you in advance if you stay with me until the end.



To Whom It May Concern: 

 

This letter is about my husband, how much he has changed due to his service in Iraq and my fears about his future. I understand this may be long, but it is very important to me that you see the human side of this and not just what is written in medical records.  I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to go into detail about how much this has affected our family. Our 6-year-old son is seeing a therapist and has frequent outbursts of rage or crying. My 2 year old has become violent.  I have started to see a therapist.  I believe all of those things are important, and worth mentioning, but they are not the main issues I wish to convey. 

Hubby has always been a very ambitious man.  He sets his mind to something and he achieves it, and expects the same from others.  If he ever had a flaw, it was only that he couldn’t accept mediocrity in himself or others. Since the day he joined the Army his superiors have gone out of their way to tell me what an exemplary soldier Hubby was.  He has always been an attentive husband and father, easy going and fun. His sense of humor and giving heart has always ensured friends surrounded him. Three rotations to Iraq have turned him into a man that doesn’t resemble the man I met and fell in love with. 

I think the best way to explain my fears for his future is to take you through the transformation.  When my husband returned from his first rotation to Iraq he had already begun to change, although it was equally good and bad.  He found humor in things that had happened in Iraq that I found inappropriate, although I saw that in all of the soldiers we were friends with in the platoon and I believe it is probably just a coping mechanism.  On the other hand, he showed an appreciation and love towards the children and myself that was extraordinary.  He saw what he could have lost and cherished us even more.  As the year progressed, the things he and his friends had found humor in slowly began to wear at him and before he deployed again he left with a healthy amount of fear and realization about what he was again returning to face. 

On my husband’s second rotation to Iraq I noticed a change in him during our phone conversations within months.  Honestly, I was surprised about how forthcoming he was with me.  If the things he told me about were so bad, and I know (and often find out from other people) there are things he hasn’t told me, I can’t imagine how horrible those things are.  He worked as a sniper that tour and he told me about being in a hide and how close the Iraqi’s were to him, or that they found him and then he was in danger waiting to get picked up.  He told me about capturing insurgents and how much it bothered him that one of them resembled our oldest son. With each of those things I noticed subtle changes, maybe him withdrawing from me a bit more, being more cautious, but nothing major.  The thing that seemed to have the most impact on him was when he told me about a HMMWV that was hit by an IED; a soldier was trapped inside and burned to death.  This was the first of two major turning points.  After this time my husband became very argumentative.  He harbored an anger that wasn’t quite rational, but wasn’t out of control either.  I spent the next several months worrying about his return home and if he was going to continue to behave the same way.

I was sure when my husband returned home things would get better; surrounding him with our love had to have that effect.  At work he threw himself into his job even more than ever.   At home, he was withdrawing and becoming moodier by the day.  He got to a point where he was so angry he was afraid he would hurt someone and felt he needed help.  He went to the Chaplain who suggested all he needed was to pray.  Less than a month later in a fit of rage he had a seizure.  The doctors and his superiors danced around calling what was going on PTSD.  In the end, everyone decided to avoid damaging his career, they would say he was suffering from stress.  Of course, I’m not trained in anything, but living with him day to day, I was sure he had PTSD from my research.  Still, though, he would get angry and come down from it.  He was able to go to work and do his job effectively.  Most importantly, I wasn’t afraid for the safety of my children or me at that time. 

In March, 2007 Hubby deployed again to Iraq.  He was edgier than the other times, again, because of everything he had seen and what he knew he had before him.  The weeks leading up to it were more difficult than in the past because he was more distant and angrier.  Upon arriving in Iraq things started getting worse almost immediately.  This was during the surge, and the op-tempo was extremely high.  He was living on 2-3 hours of sleep each night and becoming more and more irritable.  After a while the unit tasked him out to work, again, as their sniper.  I had talked to my husband right before his “fall off the edge”.   ((THIS ISN’T ACTUALLY ACCURATE, BUT MY HUSBAND DIDN’T WANT ME TO DISCUSS THE WAY IT REALLY HAPPENED AT THAT TIME, I’LL TELL THAT STORY ANOTHER DAY))  Hubby was sent out on a sniper mission to clear a route.  When he arrived back at the FOB they told him he was going to need to go out with the platoon on a mission on the same route.  He called me to check in and tell me how tired he was but that he had to go back out.  The next time I heard from him was after the incident.  Hubby was inconsolable.  He kept telling me how he had just cleared that route and the soldier stepped on an IED.  He told me over and over again that they didn’t have any body bags with them and the soldier was put in his Bradley to go back to the FOB.    He repeated several times how the solder stared at him the whole way.  Finally I asked him why he had never closed his eyes.  He sounded shocked when he told me it had never occurred to him.  That was the end of normal for us.  My husband has been a different person since. 

The army sent him home a few weeks later on R&R because he was doing so poorly recovering from the trauma in theater.  While he was home he had a massive breakdown. He had already been to the Army hospital here at Ft AnyPost begging for help, but the woman he went in to see fell asleep while he was speaking to her. We were traveling as a family in the car and he went “nuts” for lack of a better way to put it.  He was punching and kicking the car, he was screaming like nothing I’ve ever heard before and hope to never hear again.  We approached our Congressman for help and he referred us to Naval Hospital Florida.  From there we returned home and my husband was hospitalized.  Although things are not as bad as his first few weeks home, I would still describe his condition and our lives since this occurred as awful.  He is not the same person he was when I married him, or even before he went on his last deployment.  

The man I live with now is in his own world.  The thing is, when left alone to do menial things it seems the only time he is at any peace, but only because he’s distracted from having to function in a normal capacity.  Leave him in front of a game of solitaire or working on a car and he doesn’t have to care about anything.  Put a real issue in front of him, as small as working out the logistics of who is going to pick up our child from day care and he is stressed to a point where he may explode in anger.  He sleeps 6-7 hours a night, but I don’t believe he’s ever well rested because of the severity of his nightmares.  He acts out scenes of being chased or fighting, he yells, he pulls weapons on those who are chasing him whenever he falls asleep.  One night I woke up and he wasn’t in our bed.  I found him crying in our living room.  When I tried to talk to him about what was wrong all he could say was “I just can’t go back to Iraq again.”  I tried to hold him and console him and assure him he wasn’t going back.  He replied, “Baby, you don’t understand.  I go back every night.” 

I can’t imagine what his future holds, how he is going to deal with this from day to day.  I can’t see a situation in which he would be able to keep a job when he leaves the army.  Each morning he gets up for formation, and then comes home.  He may have a meeting or appointment throughout the day, and then an evening formation.  Other than that, he sleeps because of his lack of sleep at night and due to his medications.   If he was able to work and stay awake, I can’t imagine anyone would be able to tolerate him.  He doesn’t hear anything anyone is saying to him. While you are speaking he seems to be staring right through you.  He doesn’t comprehend things in full the way they are presented.  He forgets 90% of what I tell him, and if he doesn’t forget, he confuses the details.  If you disagree with him or just say something he perceives is wrong, he blows up.  My biggest fear is he is going to go back into the work force and end up being arrested for harming someone because he is so volatile.  He has told me on many occasions he is afraid he is going to hurt me or himself in a fit of anger.  He is not a well person. 

My children and I walk on eggshells every day.  We never know what will trigger his anger or depression.  We can’t count on him to accompany us on family outings.   We see his pain and it pains us.  Despite everything, he remains the love of my life.  My children and I will continue to learn how to live with someone with PTSD and my husband will continue to learn how to be someone who has to live with PTSD.  When you send your spouse to war, you are afraid.  Afraid they could be injured or killed.  What you do not prepare yourself for are the injuries you can’t see.  My husband was wounded in Iraq the same as any soldier with visible wounds. 

I appreciate that you have taken the time to read this through your review. 

Thank you,

ME