They Don't Care

From the suicide note of Daniel Somers

I've wanted to write a post about combat related PTSD and TBI for a while, but honestly I burst into tears when I start putting my thoughts together about what to say. Then I thought maybe I'd research and use stats, and science, etc. but that stuff is so impersonal and I feel like people don't connect with straight information; so instead I will tell our story and how it affects the entire family. 

When P and I met in 2006, he was a relaxed, fun loving guy full of smiles. Maybe he was different at work (he was in training), but with me it was all fun. We went to fireworks shows, restaurants, bars, and just lived a fun life. He would travel to Tuscaloosa and see me, and I would travel to Georgia to see him. When he moved to Savannah, I visited there as well and we decided that I would relocate there while he was on his first deployment. It was a short deployment, but he saw action (he was Airborne infantry, so he was always in the thick of things, and never on a FOB but rather on a COP at best). He returned almost the same, though there were some small differences; gone were the nights of watching fireworks on River Street because he coldn't handle the noise. Restaurant trips changed too; now where we sat mattered because he needed (not wanted) to be able to see the main exit at all times. Bar hopping was hit or miss, depending on his overall mood he would either turn into a brooding, dark drinker, or the over the top "life of the party" drinker. He never would forget where I parked, though, no matter how many beers he'd had that night (there is a reason for me highlighting that fact). He did another short deployment while I was there, but it was a secret one that I only found out about recently when I was pouring over his military records. 

Fast forward to 2010, and we moved to Colorado on military orders. Within 3 months of our move, he was deployed to Afghanistan for a year....a fucking year. I was across the country from my family and friends, in a new job, and in the middle of infertility treatments while simultaneously working on gaining custody of our now children. My new work friends were awesome, and we worked on the Army post so I was surrounded but folks who got it...they understood that I needed my phone on me at all times, and understood if I burst into tears for no apparent reason. My clients were soldiers who were leaving the Army and they would give encouraging words and the obligatory "he'll be okay". Then August 30, 2010 happened. 

There was a communication blackout but P managed to borrow a cell phone from one of the Afghani soldiers so that he could call me. Physically he was fine, but there had been mass KIAs that day, 9 to be exact; and P had been there to see 2 of them. They were on a patrol, and his best friend as well as his Lieutenant were killed in front of them. He witnessed 2 of his friends blown to pieces, with some of their blood and body landing on him. P and others in the platoon did all that they could, and carried them to a helicopter but there was nothing to be done.  In P's mind, he should've died too. He didn't tell me all of those details until much later, but he called me that day to let me know that he was okay so that I wouldn't see something online or on the news and be worried that it was him. Later that week, or maybe it was the next week, I attended the memorial service for all 9 soldiers on post at one of the chapels. It was much like the ones portrayed on fiction TV shows, but so much worse because you know that it's real and as a wife, all I could think of was "thank God it wasn't my husband" which then made me feel guilty for even thinking that way. I cried, a lot, but I went back to work that day and put on a good face. 

June 2011, P came home from Afghanistan to a wife and 2 kids which would be a huge adjustment for anyone but for someone with PTSD and TBI (both which he did not yet know he had) was almost more than he could handle. He received no real emotional, psychiatric, or physical care upon his return. Returning from deployment is a huge deal, and there is a homecoming ceremony, but the military (or at least the Army) really does not care about truly caring for them once they return. They are expendable; there are others that they can send to take their place if they are killed or injured to the point of not being deployable again. They need a certain number of boots in theater, and they honest to God don't care how they get it. I have personally seen soldiers who were deemed "non-deployable" because of mental issues all of a sudden be deemed "deployable" because a unit needed to meet a certain number.

From June 2011 to now, we have been through hell and are working our way back. I knew that he was different, and he knew that he was different, but we didn't know how to deal with it. We also had no idea how serious it was until about a month ago when he got a hold of his medical records during his medical retirement process. Now although we understand it to a degree, we are dealing with a new normal and a new future. 

P is 31, he has PTSD, TBI which in turn have resulted in insomnia, nightmares, daily headaches, depression, and brain lesions. He also has other symptoms of PTSD-anxiety, paranoia, intrusive thoughts, flashbacks, etc. He has degenerative arthritis in his back, hips, and knees. He has 2 other spinal issues (I can't recall the name right now), as well as bunions and other problems with is feet. He has lost feeling in some of his extremities. 

He is only 31 years old. 

He is being medically retired, and the VA is recommending 100% disability. Per his TBI and PTSD testing results it is likely that he will not be able to hold a job due to the paranoia, headaches, flashbacks, anxiety and neurocognitive issues resulting from PTSD and TBI. 

He is only 31 years old. 

He has trouble remembering where we park the car if we go to the store. He has nightmares, even though he takes medication for it. He can't run any more. He still has to see all the exits in a restaurant when we go out to eat. He cannot tolerate crowds, and has only gone to one fireworks show in 8 years. He is no longer the carefree, happy go lucky man that I met 9 years ago in Georgia. He is in physical pain every single day. He can no longer watch military related movies or documentaries. His one attempt at going to church with the kids and me, on Xmas Eve to see the kids perform, resulted in his worst panic attack ever. He doesn't really know how to relate to civilians any more, because they "have no idea what it's like".  He thinks about his friend, the one he saw blown up, everyday. 

He is only 31 years old.

I've had to change the way I communicate with him. I realize now that he processes things differently than he used to, and I've had to adjust to that. It isn't that he ignores the fact that the house needs cleaning, it's truly that he doesn't notice (he doesn't get a pass on throwing his clothes on the floor, though). He wasn't always gas lighting me in the past, he truly does not remember things well and sometimes doesn't remember them at all. I've had to teach him how to interact with the kids. He doesn't feel true happiness as much, and his smile is different. He's applied for SSDI. 

He is only 31 years old. 

I am applying to become his caregiver through the VA because I cannot go back to work. The pay will be tax exempt, and it will help us make up the difference between what he makes now and what he will get paid during retirement. The truth is, he needs help from me every single day; and that's okay, I'm not complaining. I make sure that he takes his meds, eats somewhat healthy, makes the calls that he needs to make, and help him stay occupied so that he doesn't spiral into a dark hole of depression. We take walks almost daily, just the 2 of us while the kids are in school, so that we can talk and reconnect. Next week I am making (yes, making him, lol) start a stretching program to hopefully help with pain. I am researching getting one of our dogs trained as a service dog so that perhaps he will feel more comfortable in public, so that maybe we can go out more and to new places without him having so much anxiety.

He is only 31 years old.

The government does not care; there is not enough money or resources to care for the troops coming home who need help. In general, the people of this country do not care; they are quick to say that we as a country need to go to war, rather than exhaust every diplomatic solution. And they damn sure won't sign up themselves, or tell their spouse to sign up, or take their kids to a recruiter to sign up. No, no-that they won't do. They will cry for war from the comfort of their homes, watching news reports, and praying to keep the troops safe but they don't have to experience it IN their homes. There are not enough mental health or physical health services for our Veterans. For some of them, the VA is the only place that they can receive affordable health care, but many times they live hours away from a VA Center or hospital. We are fortunate that we will still have TriCare so he can receive services at the local Air Force bases, the VA Center and Hospital, or private doctors. The fact that there are homeless Veterans, and Veterans who die by suicide every day because of lack of care is disgraceful and unforgivable. 

This is only a small portion of our story, our whole story in living with his PTSD and TBI could fill a book. And we are far from the only ones living this life. So please, share this and share any other military PTSD related experiences. Read Daniel Somers's suicide letter. Watch Restrepo to get a real idea of what our troops experience at war. Volunteer in your community to help Veterans or to even visit Veteran retirement homes (yes, those exist). Take action, don't just pray for them. Do something to help, we are begging you. 22 a day, that's the number of Veterans who die by suicide. Think about that the next time that you think that war is the answer. 

A New Outlook

Today I realized how much P and I learned while we were separated, and how our separation might have actually been what we needed. We are communicating better with each other, which was a MAJOR issue with us before, and we are both making efforts to show gratitude towards each other. Really, we are both making an effort in our relationship which is something that we have not done in a long time. Marriage really is work, not in the bad sense, but work nonetheless; and I know that some people feel that if marriage is work then perhaps you're married to the wrong person but I completely disagree, especially in Military marriages involving PTSD.

I am still grieving the loss of the man I married, and he is grieving the loss of the man who used to be, but we are finding out that it's not all bad. With him getting medically retired and me becoming his caregiver, we will have more time with each other, and with the kids. We will also have time to finally pursue hobbies-cars for him, photography for me. He will be able to grow a beard and stop getting up stupid early, which means that he will be able to help me with the kids and the pets every morning. I will be able to volunteer at the kids' school and go on field trips with them, and P will no miss out on the kids' school activities or sports due to work. We will have time to exercise and get healthy again. If we can find an affordable, reliable house/pet sitter, we might even finally be able to travel to Costa Rica to visit family.

How did I come to decision to change my attitude and be more positive? Exercise...no really, I mean it. I have started working out again (I have 20 damn pounds to lose) and it is clearing my head. I've been doing yoga, pilates, and taking walks outside while listening to the Nerdist podcast (sometimes I laugh out loud and get some looks but whatever), and it all just clicked. That dark cloud parted and I was able to see all the good possibilities in the future. Now, we just need to make them happen.

One Last Chance

This quote pretty much sums up my feelings at the moment. If you are friends with me on FB, Twitter or IG, you know that my husband and I are giving our marriage one last chance. We still love each other, but we obviously have issues that we each need to work through both separately, and together. There are many reasons that I decided to take him back and try again.

P is being medically retired from the Army and has a preliminary rating of 100% disabled. He has brain damage, including lesions, from several explosions; 2 of them knocked him unconscious for at least 10 minutes, and he had concussion symptoms with all of the explosions. Doctors have stated that he will not be able to work in the civilian world due to his brain damage as well as his PTSD. Currently, he is not able to do his job per doctor's orders. He also has physical damage, such as arthritis in his hips and knees, as well as spinal injuries; these make him unable to run, walk long distances, stand for long periods of times, or hike while carrying weight. He is only 31 years old. They already talked to him about eventually needing a caregiver to help him with daily life...so that will be me. 

I didn't take him back because I feel sorry for him, not at all. I agreed to one last chance because he finally admitted that he is "fucked up" and needs help, and he is getting help. We sat down together and came up with a contract of sorts-things that he and I agree to in our marriage, including marriage counseling and some other things (literally, an entire page of items). 

While his disabilities so not excuse much of his behavior, it does explain some of it. Many of the times that I thought he was gas lighting me, he most likely truly did not remember things that were said/done. His horrible mood swings and hair trigger temper? Completely caused by PTSD and brain damage. Reading one of the reports from one of the doctors really enlightened me, and I learned more about what happened during his deployments. It really infuriates me that the Army knew about his concussions, and did nothing at all upon his return from deployment. 

I never stopped loving him, even through all the hurt that he caused me. He came home from the desert a different man; but somewhere in my heart I remembered the man that I met on Tybee Island in 2006. He will never be that man again, and I know that; but maybe we can get back to the love that we had for each other. 

So there it is, the reasons that we are trying again. 

That Night....

Last year, in mid June I called 911 to come to my house for a domestic disturbance. Ex was wasted off vodka, and in a downward PTSD spiral. The police arrested him, he was in jail for 4 days, and there was a no contact order for 30 days. I lied to the police. The police lied on their report...but this is what happened.

Stupidly, ex wanted to watch Restrepo and i let him try to watch it for the 5th time. He couldn't handle it (understandable) and then turned on some other war movie, i don't remember the name but it was fiction. He couldn't handle that one either. He began to scream at me and berate me, about my not understanding what he did, what all he went through, what all of them went through. I managed to get the kids locked into the master bedroom, with a movie going. Ex continued to scream at me about any and everything...for over 3 hours. I tried everything-calm voice to de-escalate, yelling back to match him, walking away (that didn't work-he physically cornered me, raising his fist as I cried hysterically). At one point he decided to dismantle and clean MY 9mm. When I asked him to stop doing it because it scared me, drop the gun piece at me; the pieces bounced up and hit my leg, causing a small cut and some blood. I was freaked out and pissed, so i threw 2 of the big pieces at the wall (not at him, nowhere near him at all), and caused holes. No, I am not proud of that, but it's what happened. He preyed upon that, calling me crazy; then he went for his keys, to drive to liquor store for more vodka....

I made the mistake of trying to physically block him from his keys (he had 2 DUIs already), and he pushed me. I fell over the back of the couch, onto the floor, hitting my head. (It's not the first time something like that had happened; the summer before, it happened but it was outside, and i hit my head on the concrete.) Still, I did't call the police. I tried to reason with him to not drive. Next thing I knew, he'd gone into the bedroom, gotten the 2 tomahawks (gifts from me and an Army unit) and he pushed them into my throat...his arms crossed, blades at each of my external jugulars, and he said something...i can't remember what...and had this disconnected, Joker type laugh. Once I got away, that is when I finally called 911.

I made the decision to not tell the cops about the tomahawks, because I was worried about how much trouble he would be in if i did. I told the truth about everything else, but the cops wrote it up in their report that I said he threw the gun at me (I did not, and i did not write that in my victim statement). They said I stated there was a history of violence (there was, but I stated there was a history of verbal fighting). He went to jail.

My intention was not to send him to jail, I just needed someone to step in and mediate. Did he deserve jail for 4 days? In hindsight, yes. Then, he had me so messed up that I was apologizing to him, and I even cut myself for the first time in years. Because of how messed up i was, I went to the ADA's office and begged for them to give him Veteran's Court instead of criminal court. And they did. Has it helped? No, not really. Did he stop putting hands on me? yes. Did he stop abusing me? no.

I say all this, not to slam him, but to finally say it out loud. And to acknowledge all of it. And to show that I have actually made progress.

I also want to say that we were happy once, so fucking happy, truly happy. He was not always this way, and I blame the war, but he also has refused help at every turn. PTSD and TBI mess up people so much, and then so many self medicate with alcohol or drugs. I don't know what to do to fix it, but I want it out there, that ex is one of those; and that I am one of those whose a victim.

I will be okay. My kids will be okay. My fur babies will be okay. My ex? He will not be okay; not until he is forced to get help.

Coparenting...Challenge Accepted

I need to remember this, and I need to share this with my ex. Last night and this morning, we got into it via text, and then on the phone. I am not proud of that, but it is what it is. This shit is HARD, and I am trying my best to keep it civil but sometimes, I just lose it. I am still angry about what has happened, but everyday I am able to forgive a little bit more. 

Today, ex visited with the kids which gave me a MUCH needed break for a few hours. I sat in Starbucks and enjoyed a breakfast. I cleaned out my Twitter and FB, and locked down both of them. I even came up with a proposal about what I want in the divorce. Shockingly, he wasn't opposed to the vast majority of it (I sent it to him via email, and then he called). The kids and dogs enjoyed him visiting (they visited here at the house), and he took them to the dentist. Then I went to therapy and it was great...I seriously cannot explain how helpful it is to have a professional to talk to about all of this. If I did not have my therapist, I have no doubt that i would be nuts right now. 

Next step is trying to foster the relationship between the kids and ex. His brain injury is apparently severe, which makes everything so complicated. I need to somehow explain to the kids how their daddy's brain works differently than other people's brains; and how his emotions, words, and memory are negatively affected. I think THAT is the hardest part, knowing that he is this way because he chose to serve our country; yes, he is also an alcoholic, but the TBI is terrible. 

I pray and hope that he gets help for all of his issues so that he can be the best father possible to our kids. But now, his issues are no longer mine to deal with on a regular basis. My plate is full with the kids, the pets, and my life. Right now, my new life is my highest priority. 

Optimism

Today was a turning point for me, and I don't know why; but today I have felt more optimistic and hopeful about life, marriage, parenting, than I have in so very long. Nothing special happened; in fact, my husband is at work today (and no, his absence wasn't the reason). My only answer to this is prayer. 

I have been praying for so long, that my marriage would get better, and that life would get better. Not to say that I haven't taken some action, but I believe that regular praying and finding a church home has given me the confidence to make changes. I literally chose one night, during a prayer, to "let go and let God." I stopped praying for specifics and just basically said "you know my needs. please, i beg you to fix this, show me a way to fix it." I didn't feel better overnight, but over a few weeks time I have felt the change. 

Some of you are probably rolling your eyes now, and I get that...i really do. I would've rolled my eyes at me a few months ago. But whatever, it's the only reason that I have for my change. I am facing so much shit right now-bankruptcy, marriage stuff (husband's PTSD, TBI, and combat related health issues), parenting challenges, and my own personal shit-yet somehow, I am feeling so much better about everything. Our kids are loved and healthy. Our fur babies are loved and healthy. We are not in danger of losing our house, or our vehicles, or our lives. We've decided to once more try to get pregnant (that's a whole other challenge). I am facing so many challenges in 2015, but right now I am at peace. And that my friends, says a lot.