Red Friday - Battling Bare

Broken by Battle

Wounded by War

My Love is Forever -

To you this I swore

I Will -

Quiet your silent screams

Help Heal your shattered soul  

Until once again

My Love

    You are whole

http://www.battlingbare.org/ 

From their web site:

Battling Bare is a private organization in its beginning stages currently seeking non-profit status.  We may challenge the status quo of what is acceptable and appropriate for a woman to do or how she is to behave. Because our husbands battle daily with their demons of war, we have to. These unseen wounds of Soldiers all over the world have the names depression, anxiety, night terrors, PTSD, and others. As wives, we have tried everything we know to help. Searching actively for a way to answer the question we all ask - "what can we do, we are just the wives?"- the idea for Battling Bare was born.  Our hope is that together we can inspire more "silent supporters" to "battle back" and let our voices be heard by creating an outlet of support and providing resources for wives that are at their wits end trying to help their husbands heal. 

He loves me (Trifeca Trifextra Weekend Challenge)

He knows everything he loves either gets taken away or destroyed.

He loves me.

He promised I would never see the bullet.

He doesn't want me to be scared – he loves me.

~~~~~~~~~

While this is my offering for Trifecta's Weekend challenge - 

"Write a horror story in 33 words, without the words blood, scream, died, death, knife, gun, or kill. Good luck."

most of my regular readers will also recognize this as the true story of the end of my relationship with the Wolf.  When I sat down to write it, I wasn't sure I would share it.  The very first draft, what I considered to be just getting the bones down to work around, was exactly 33 words ... so I let it be, and offer it to you.

The story so far ...

Before I go on too many ranty posts, I suppose I should fill you all in on what actually happened over the last month or so.

You might remember this post, from January 13th, 2011, when my gut told me the Wolf was the "anonymous someone" trying to find my new home address.  I did end up talking to S about it the next time I was with him, he strongly encouraged me to go to the Wolf's Chain of Command (CoC); which I did not do ...

Since then, there had been a few more random forwarded e-mails; some bulk forwards, some forwarded to me only.


On May 17th, a good friend from "home", who had gone to high school with the Wolf and I, let me know the Wolf had contacted her looking for my address.  He claimed that he had discovered some new gluten-free food that he thought I would be interested in.  She declined to give him my contact info, and offered to pass info along to me; although, as she succinctly summed up, she assumed this new product was called "Bullshit".

I was rattled by this news ... and was still rattled 1/2 hour later when Sebastian contacted me to see how my day was going.

S: {angry} OK, that's it, give me {The Wolf's} last name and squadron info

{I did}

S: {Pause ...}  {much softer} You didn't argue with me ... it's gonna be OK, sweetie ... I'll call you right back.

He called back a little while later with the Wolf's CoC contact info, and asked if I would do it, or if I wanted him to.  I replied that I knew I wasn't making good decisions with regards to the Wolf, and told S to tell me what to do ... which I think really rattled him.  He looked after contacting the Wolf's CoC for me, and they relayed again to the Wolf that I wanted no contact from him, directly or indirectly.

Unfortunately, I know that statistically when a male individual who is involved in harassing-stalking behaviour is confronted by a male authority figure, more often than not the harassing behaviours escalates into actual violent acts.  So, I have been a little edgy lately.   The local regional police force is aware of the history between the Wolf and I, and have an open, ongoing file.  They were waiting for more info from me; none of us thought there was an immediate threat or sense of urgency, and I was in my crazy season for work.

Two weeks ago, there was an incident at the Legion where I used to bar tend, with a military individual matching the Wolf's description entered the bar, gave his rank and trade as the same as the Wolf, but a different name, acted very oddly, and after he left a package of "date rape" drugs were found in the men's washroom.  The next day an individual consistent with the same description was seen hanging out in a black SUV outside my office door (I was away on course, thank goodness!).

I obviously immediately notified the police, and the MP's.  After a very stressful few days ( during which I was placed in "protective custody" at Sebastian's place ~ quite enjoyable! ) it was resolved that the individual in the SUV was not the same individual from the bar, neither one was the Wolf, the Wolf was safely at the base where he belongs, and the Military Member who was at the bar claims not to have a connection to the Wolf. 

The police are suspicious, and are still entertaining the possibility that he was sent to "deliver a message" to me.  The police and the MP's have both contacted the Wolf's CoC, and had them re-enforce to him that if there is any further contact, direct or indirect, that criminal charges will be laid, including things from the past that "meet the threshold for assault under the criminal code". (Yes, I now can talk like a cop)

I am home again, albeit with a new "safety plan" in place, and a much greater awareness of some things. I truly, truly hope this is the end of this. 

As I said earlier, it has been a growth experience, and more thoughts from this will continue to drip out of my head in the days to come.

Red Friday - PTSD is a bitch

http://redfridays.ca/

This post has been brewing in my head for a little while.


As the PTSD Awareness slogan says, not all woulds are visible.

The troops that come home.  The troops that don't come home.


And the troops that only come partway home.

Support the Troops, Support the Families.

All how you look at it

Yep, its supposedly wordless wednesday, and here I am doing 2 posts in one day.  I am a rebel.

Last night I was watching NCIS LA with the roomie and her oldest offspring.  (I still prefer the original, but the spin off is growing on me)

**Spoiler alert**

The perpatrator of the crime (who I will NOT refer to as "the bad guy") was a naval member whose job was compliling statistics on American KIA's, especially those killed in covert (black) ops.  He compiled the statistics using their service numbers (serial numbers?), not their names, because of the nature of their deaths.

He had two issues he kept emphasising - that these were HUMANS that were killed serveing their country, "names not numbers".

And that he kept requesting an active duty assignment ~ because that's what soldiers do, they fight ~ and kept getting told he was too good at what he did, too valueable to risk.  And that haunted him.

About this point in the show, while he was talking about his work, my roomie's kid says "Oh, he works with statistics, that's why he's crazy"


And I, before thinking, piped up "Actually, I think its more likely vicarious trauma survivor guilt, just based on how he is talking"


**blink**

**awkward silence**

OKayyyyy, everyone go back to watching TV now ....

I truly, truly appreciate how the producers, actors, and everyone involved in the episode presented the charachter.  While he could have been more developed, they did not feel the need to push it in anyone's face.  They type of people who will understand, likely did, and the type of people who wouldn't, didn't even catch on.

~~~~~~~~~

Later in the show, towards the end, the officer's girlfriend is talking to one of the NCIS agents, and says:  "Every time he applied for a posting, I prayed they'd say no . And they did. And it haunted him."

This was another truly well crafted moment, they didn't dwell on it, or hit the audience over the head with it.  Again, likely only understood by those that have "been there done that".

As much as we would like to keep our loved ones out of harm's way, keep them safe at home, it is not who they are, and we stifle them if we try.  If we truly love them, and want what is best for them, we have to let them do what they feel called to do.

OSISS

I spent the afternoon at a Family Support Group (FSG) meeting regarding PTSD. The intention of the meeting was to make the families of the soldiers soon returning aware of some of the possible causes, signs, and symptoms of PTSD and other OSIs (Operational Stress Injuries) and some of the places that they can go for help if they suspect their loved one is suffering an OSI.

OSISS is a peer support organization primarily staffed by volunteers, with a paid coordinator who generally looks after a large region. The volunteer who came and spoke to us today is the wife of a combat veteran who came home from Bosnia-Croatia with PTSD. Kinda like the Wolf came home from Bosnia-Croatia with PTSD. We bonded pretty darn quickly.

The presentation was interesting. Becasue of where I live, the majority of the others in the support group are parents of reserve soldiers, with a coupld of girlfriends, but all the other loved ones are on their first tour. When we were doing introductions and I mentioned Sebastian was on his 4th tour of Afghanistan, the looks I got were mostly horror. Kinda like people look at a car accident. Awkward. I was also the only other one in the room, beside the speaker, who had "lived" PTSD.

The presentation was awesome. As the speaker kept explaining to us what her role was, how OSSIS works, etc, I was feeling drawn in ... like this is somewhere I can help, something I could do.

After the presentation, the speaker came and talked to me about an OSI/PTSD family support group. OSISS is mandated to facilitate these groups, but there has never been one in our area. The speaker and I have decided to start a small group, the 2 of us, and see if we can attract more members.

I will start with this, and then see if I still feel called to do more, and can find the time in my schedule, or make the time, to do more. I have been feeling less than completely satisfied with my career and my volunteer commitments lately, and I am wondering if this is what I have been waiting for.

I ♥ technology ...

Sorry I have been a bit quiet lately, peeps, I have been crazy busy with work.  I have a lot to share, just not much time to share it!

I managed to have 2 chats with Sebastian today - an MSN chat when I got up, just before he headed to supper, and a video chat tonight as he was getting ready for work, and I was chilling out before bed.

I love that he is in a place right now where he has access to high speed internet, and we can video chat.  The sound wasn't working well, so we went back to typing, but I could see his face, his expressions, his reactions to things.  I could look at him and know he is well, he looks happy enough, healthy.  I got to look around his room where he is now, see his "place", how he is living.  He got to see me, and the dogs.

And at one point as he was getting dressed, he was standing so that I could only see him from chest to just above the knee, and he was strapping on his side arm, thigh holster ... oh baby, get me a glass of ice water.  Not fair to do that when I am not going to see him for a while longer. I don't know what it was about watching him strap the holster to his leg, check the weapon, and casually sit back down again ... I don't think I have any bondage fantasies ... but it works for me!  Of course, I honestly don't think he even realized wht he had done.  Men.

The countdown is on to him being home for good.  For this round, at least.

He has been mentioning the Wolf lately,  and I don't know if it is out of an insecurity as the end of deployment approaches, or what is causig it.  It may just be because of where he is right now, which is where the Wolf spent the majority of his time.

So I realayed to Sebastian this little story tonight:

A friend is doing her Masters in Social Work, focussing on PTSD/OSI's effects on families & loved ones.  She asked me to write my story with the Wolf out for her, to summarize it, which I did.  And when I was done writing, I realized I was done.  I can comfortably put the incident in its box, and put it on the shelf.  It will always be with me, but it no longer has any power over me.  I am done.

And it feels really, really good.

Nightmares ...

We are in the single digits until the Wolf is back in the country. 

I had my first nightmare last night where someone was hunting me with a sniper rifle.  I was trying to find a place to hide, worrying about my dog, and regretting the fact that "lots of windows" is a personal requirement for any place I live.

Do I really think the Wolf is going to come after me with a gun?  No ... not really ... I don't believe that.

Do I think things could get ugly?  Yep.  To the point where I have talked to a neighbour who is a cop and told him if he hears anything at my house, to assume the worst and act accordingly.

The Wolf has been continuing to reach out to me in little ways, MSN conversations, FaceBook comments, etc.  I also know he is back in Anger Management, but I don't recall if that is a standard part of the whole decompression process or not. 

WIth me, he is acting like nothing bad ever happened, that things are fine, that we can go on to being the good friends we once were ... he seems to have forgotten both the intimate times, and the pain.  He is certainly taking no ownership of anything that happened.

He knows me well enough to know that playing on my sympathy, trying to make me feel guilty, that he was "suffering" before, and I "need to" talk to him, to help him through this, has a chance of working. I need to stay strong, to remember that I have rights too, to remember that he does need to take ownership of what he has done.



I know I need to listen to my heart and my gut; I have (mostly) dealt with my pain and moved forward.  I have found closure, and I do not owe him anything.  I should not let him have any power over me, even the power to make e feel scared, to be jumping at noises, starting when I see tall people with brush cuts ...

~~~~~~~~~

Aside: when I flew home from California last week, I saw a man getting off another flight in the Denver airport, a soldier in desert camo, tall and broad shouldered ... I hoped he was coming home to someone who loved him ... and I had a little cry.

I'm tired

I'm tired of being alone - not alone physically, that I can deal with, but alone in my heart, and in my head.


I'm tired of "I was drunk" being an excuse for the hurtful things, mostly mental, but occasionally physical.


I'm tired of hearing what "all civilians" and "all air force wives" and "all women" are like.


I'm tired of you telling me things, but not backing them up with your actions.


I'm tired of letting you use the horrific things you saw many years ago be an excuse for you being an asshole.


I'm tired of you using "I'm broken" as an excuse, and then complaining, and rejecting it, evey time anyone offers you help.

I'm just tired ....

Does He Deserve Me?

Does the Wolf Deserve Me?

I have been asked variations of this question a few times.  My answer is yes, unreservedly.  He is a good man, and deserves the very best of me, the best I am capable of being, the best I have to give.

The more relevant question, and the one harder to answer is;

What do I deserve?

I deserve to be happy.  I deserve to not suffer.  I, in return, deserve the very best of him, the best he is capable of being, the best he has to give.

But what is the best he has to give, the best he is capable of being?  And who gets to define that?

And will the best he has to give, all he is capable of giving at this point in his journey, be enough for me?

I spent 2009 in a quest to quit striving to live up to the expectations of others, and start living up to my own.  A friend of mine observed that a great deal of my angst and pain is caused by the failure of my relationship with the Wolf to live up to other people's standards - my friends, my parents, society at large.

He does make me happy, the majority of the time. 

So I wait, I bide my time, until we can be face to face and sort some things out.

This Wednesday is wordy ....

The Wolf is on HTLA (R&R Leave) and has gone somewhere we had talked about and planned on going together. Somewhere he had been before, knew I would love, and was very excited about sharing with me.

He is there without me. I am still here in Canada.

While that does hurt, sometimes more than others, I am still glad he has gone. A number of friends have indicated that really, they almost wish they had not seen their loved one on leave; that they weren't "all the way" there, and that the second good bye was as hard, if not harder than, the first.

Now a lot of guys, especially someone who is still an infanteer in his heart, would spend their leave, if without their partner, drinking and carousing. While I am under no delusions that there will be some of that, it is not his main focus.

The wolf has gone to spend his leave with the father of a friend, a 7th Dan in the martial art he trains; and to visit temples and meditate. I know from previous experience that he won't be sharing those stories with the folks in his unit; some of them might understand, but most would harass him.

I truly hope that his time there brings him some peace. He has still been fighting the survivor guilt demons, harder lately with the deaths of some people he knew. He feels he is not doing his share, safe behind the wire while his friends and "family" are giving their lives.

I hope he finds his center again, his place of peace. I can't even begin to imagine what he is going through. I know this can give him a different kind of peace than I would ever be able to offer.

I hope the universe sends him love and peace, and that he is open enough to receive it. I hope he finds in his friend's father someone he can be open and honest with; a mentor in more than just the martial arts. I truly hope he enjoys his leave, and it is good for him.

He has promised to relay the stories to me, and I know he will be honest with me. As much as it hurts to be "left behind", I really do wish him nothing but the best in this.

Dear John ....

Side Note Re: Wordless Wednesdays: My new laptop won't talk to my card reader, and I have lost the battery charger for my camera. I am also trying to not be so OCPD about "rules". Wordless Wednesday will resume when I find my battery charger, or when I feel like it. :-)

I just watched the trailer for "Dear John" over at Married to the Military. It is the latest Nicholas Sparks novel to be turned into a movie. Don't think I will be seeing it in the theatre, since the trailer caused tears; but we'll see.

(aside: I think I have only seen one movie in the theatres in the last 2-3 years, so this isn't really a stretch)

There is a scene in the trailer when the male and female leads, a soldier and his girl, are taking shelter from the rain in a partially built house.

She: The way people act around you? Its like they're scared of you.
He: Maybe scared of who I used to be.
She: You don't scare me, John
He: Well, you scare me.

This reminds me of the first time the Wolf and I got together after his Gulf tour. When we dated in high school it was fairly "innocent", if you will; then we spent 24 years as friends before re-conecting. Round two of dating at this point had been dinners and coffee houses, and a lot of time on the phone and MSN.

I had gone to where he was training ( a re-occurring theme) and picked him up; we went for dinner and then to a hotel. We went to our room, and put our bags down, and then stood there rather awkwardly. The Wolf came over to me, wrapped his arms around me, put his forehead down on top of my head and said


"I've faced mine fields and been less scared than I am right now"

I think my heart melted right there on the spot.

I have been thinking the last few days that the Wolf's pull back is more about this than anything else. He is used to the things he loves hurting him, failing him, or being hurt or killed and he is unable to protect them.

There was another incident that had been on my mind the last couple of days, for no real reason. This summer past, while the Wolf was on work up, he called me while I was out ont he trial running. I hadn't heard from him in a week, but I was in an area with really bad reception, and we only got about 1/2 a sentence in before the call dropped. When I got back to my truck I had about 5 more messages from him, but none of them had made it through. I was sad that I had missed him, and there were a few tears.

I was headed over to a friends for dinner that night, and over divver prep I told her about it. Her hubs, a 2nd Lt, was also in the same location at the time.

About 2:30 in the morning my phone rang. It was the Wolf. Calling in the middle of the night is not unusuall for him, so I really didn;t think anything of it. After we had talked for a minute he said "Babe, is everything OK? Is something wrong?" I replied that I was just tired, but no, nothing was wrong. Then he told me that he had received a note from a 2nd Lt to call home right away .... **sigh**. I told him what had happened, appologized profusely, and told him I would do my best to make sure it never happens again.

(Side note: really note sure of the 2nd Lt's long term career potential, if he would actually listen to his wife when she tells him to do something like this. This is the same guy (only in OT for a year to date) who pulled off a trip because his wife was upset and was going to miss him)

It has occurred to me that the problem we are having isn't that the Wolf doesn't think I am strong enough to survive this kind of life style; it is that he doesn't think he is strong enough to let someone that far into his heart.


He is scared of what he feels for me. Because people he loves get hurt or killed, and he can't fix it.

Wolf update

~ I know, its wordless Wednesday ... this is me working on my OCPD for 2010 ~

I alluded to the fact the Wolf is not doing so good right now.  At least as far as I know; we haven't spoken in a few days now  (Although, yes, we are still playing on-line scrabble.  This relationship lately has been defined by scrabble)

A bit of background:

His childhood sucked.  Both of his parents were alcoholics.  The kind of alcoholics that would get drunk enough to pass out and not notice what the losers who hung out with them were doing to their little children.  The Wolf had been sexually abused by the time he was 5 years old.  When he got old enough to escape it got a bit better - he would spend most of his time at friends houses, but some of those friends had home lives that were only marginally better. (I love small, factory towns...)  In high school a large bunch of us used to spend a lot of time at my parent's house - as much as I can complain about my mother, our house was safe.  Whenever the gang was going anywhere together, the Wolf would be standing in the drive waiting when we got there, no matter the weather.  No one ever made it to the door, let alone inside.

We trained martial arts together.  For many of us, the dojo gave us the sense of family, community, respect, and trust we couldn't find anywhere else.   It became our family, and folks from many different walks of life became friends.  We crossed the boundaries of high school cliques and created our own bonds.


Like many young men from small towns across the country, the military promised escape and a better life.  The Wolf enlisted right out of high school.


He has seen active duty in many places, but Croatia in the mid 90's was the one that had the most impact on him.  In Croatia he was still in the infantry; in a recce platoon, a sniper.  I have only heard a few of the horror stories; some from him, some from others.  (I will not get into the politics of how that conflict was handled; leave it that I have some very strong opinions concerning the UN's ROE (Rules of Engagement) for that one.)


I know he has held friends and comrades while they died.  I know that he has held the tourniquets on the stumps of a friend's legs.  I know that he was slated for a mission and at the last minute a friend took his place; and that the vehicle they were in hit and IED and his friend came home in a box.


I have heard from a third party that some locals were torturing some children - dousing them with gas and then setting them on fire -  in front of the soldiers to try to draw them out into something that was against the ROE; they couldn't stand watching the children being tortured, so they shot the children/young women to put them out of their misery (also against the ROE...) .  I don't know who the actual shooters were, and I am not sure I want to. 

He also has a history of women reinforcing his childhood belief that love hurts and is about misery; that he is not worth loyalty.  That the only thing he can count on is the "Band of Brothers" he has found in the military.  This also contributed to the pre-deployment bomb that he dropped on me in September.



The Wolf admits he has PTSD.  He thinks, at the moment, that sleeping pills, whiskey (which his family, helpful that they are, is smuggling to him where he is), and shutting off the emotional parts of him are the right way to deal with it.


He had been doing really, really well.  He was relaxing, getting back to his old self a bit.  Now, the recent Canadian casualties have flared up his "survivor guilt".  In our last conversation he was calling himself old and weak; gutless; he should be out there with his friends not "safe" behind the wire. It doesn't help that the infantry unit that is there with him now is his old unit; and at least one of the guys who is a combat driver there now was a combat driver with him in Croatia. The Wolf says he wants to find a way to stay in country for his second HTLA and "go hunting" outside the wire.  That was the last "real" conversation I had with him, 4 days ago.


I am worried about him.  I made a couple of the other guys in his unit aware of my concerns pre-deployment and they promised to watch him.  These are not guys I am in regular contact with, but guys I have met through him, and who I thought had a good head on their shoulders; but not people I get feedback from.  I also made the base social worker aware of my concerns; I like to think that went somewhere.  I have to trust that the system will work; that he will get the support he needs.  That at some point he will realize that what he does now is just as important, that it is not just a platitude when someone says that to him.  That he will realize that where he is now is not Croatia all over again.

I hope he realizes that he does need to come home.  For those of you "new" to the story, there was a cancer scare this summer, and the Wolf's way of dealing with his tentative diagnoses was to hide the results from the military, deploy anyway, and make sure he didn't come home.  He didn't want to waste away and be pitied; he wanted to die doing what he was trained for.   He told me that the test showed no cancer after all ... but in my darker moments I wonder.



I hope he realizes that he is worth loving, and worth being loyal to.  That I am not the past women in his life, that I am built on a solid foundation of 24 years of friendship, and that I will be here when he comes home.

Support vs Enabling

I have been wrestling with this for a while, mostly because a good friend, who I will call Sebastian (another soldier, and a PTSD survivor), has accused me a couple of times of "enabling" the Wolf's denial of his PTSD as a problem, when I see myself as being supportive. When I challenge Sebastian on where the line is between support and enabling, he doesn't seem able, or willing, to answer me. When I am discussing it with him, I am confident in what I am doing; but, when I am by myself "thinking too much", I wonder.

(My therapist thinks I should get Sebastian together with the friend that accused me of "ruining {the Wolf's} career" when I expressed my concerns to the Social Worker at the base hospital, and let the two of them sort it out)

The conversation arose again last night. There has been confirmation of the rumour we heard about where the Wolf's squadron will be posted upon their return. Now, I know better than to take this as gospel until the day it happens; but I made the comment to Sebastian that it gave the Wolf and I some time to sort things out, since the new posting will be driving distance (for weekends and visits) from where I currently live. While things seem to be on track really well right now, I need to know, for my own sanity, that next time he deploys he will not pull the same crap that happened at the end of September. I honestly don't know if I could survive that again intact. I definitely need to feel secure in that before I start looking for jobs at the new posting!
I then said I need to figure out how and when to have this conversation with the Wolf. I need tone of voice and body language - while I could do it on HTLA*, my instinct is to wait until he is actually "home". Further, I don't feel the need to tell him how messed up I was there for a while after he withdrew. In my mind, that is guilt tripping him, laying more stuff on him that he doesn't need to deal with, and reinforcing his belief that I "deserve something better than the life he can give me, the life of a MilSpouse". I am not sure I can make him see that my pain was cause not by his physical leaving, but by his emotional leaving.
Sebastian says that not making him face the music, and "making him" feel guilty for what happened, is "enabling" him. Sebastian feels very strongly that the Wolf will never deal with his PTSD unless he is pushed to a crisis point, and that I am the one best suited to push him to that point.

I don't feel that guilt is a very useful emotion, and I think encouraging it in someone else is manipulative. I don't want to manipulate. I don't want to be dishonest, either. Sebastian feels that not going for full disclosure is manipulative, because it denies the Wolf the opportunity to take responsibility for his actions and the result of them.

**sigh**

I think this might go back to a discussion the Wolf and I had about honesty. I told him once that I fully expect him to lie to me about things that will stress me out - the specific example, if I remember, was telling him that the proper answer to "our guns are better than theirs" was "Yes, dear", whether it was true or not. I see this as kind of the same way. I see absolutely no good coming out of telling him the complete, detailed truth. I can tell him I was hurt, and I don't think I can do it again, without telling him the degree to which I sank. I don't think it will help, and I do think it will hurt.

So, is that being supportive, or enabling his un-healthiness? When I can sit back and be his friend, his close friend, and the only one he is still in regular communication with, without turning every conversation into a challenge, into something the pokes his psyche - am I enabling his OSI*? Or am I, in my own way, trying to firm up that belief that he is worth loving, that there are people in this world he can count on, who will be there for him, and not turn every thing into drama?
I think I am being supportive. Thanks for listening ;-) As always, your opinions, insights, and comments are welcome.
(HTLA = Home Travel Leave Allowance; R&R for the Americans in the audience.
OSI = Operational Stress Injury {the "official" name for things like Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD} )

When normal is weird ...

First off, I know most coloured ribbons have multiple meanings; but I learned today that the awareness ribbon for PTSD is generally considered to be teal. So my blog is now sporting a teal ribbon, in honour of all those who still carry their battles with them, and the people who love them.

I had a 2 hour MSN conversation and a few on-line scrabble games with the Wolf tonight, and it was so normal it felt surreal. And now I am asking myself a million questions - did the last few months really happen? Did I imagine it all, and over-react? Why can't I just be happy, why am I second guessing this? Did he find out I made the call, and now he is trying to win me over to convince me to recant? Is he "better"? Did he "come to his senses" finally?

I feel like such a bitch that I can't just take this at face value and be happy about it.

He says he is just winding down right now, spending his last few days getting organized before he heads over to the base he will deploy from. He was going out to dinner tonight with some friends who wanted to see him one last time before he goes. (really trying not te be petty about that, since I didn't get my "one last time before you go" visit)

We shot the shit. We joked. We laughed. We talked about nothing, about the weather, about another on-line game we both play, about people and places and stuff. Plain old every day stuff.

I miss normal. I miss every day stuff.

I miss my Wolf.

But it still seems surreal. And I am soooo waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The Aftermath of War

The Aftermath of War

By Chris Woolnough

We found a wounded veteran,
And held him in our hearts.
We've seen the bravest soldier,
Break down and fall apart.
Yet we love our heroes,
Like no other has before.
We're the wives of combat veterans,
In the Aftermath of War.

We had to learn the hard way,
When coping with PTSD,
That their war is never over,
And freedom is never free.
We bandage up their broken hearts,
The best we can each day.
We see the scars upon their souls,
That never go away.
Knowing we can't heal the wounds,
That cut their very core.
We're just trudging through the trenches,
In the Aftermath of War.

We've seen them lose their faith in God,
And in the human race,
As they try to hide the anguish,
That's still written on their face.
We've witnessed all the symptoms,
That they're not willing to admit.
We've dodged the screaming bullets,
And been crawling in the Sh*t.
We've felt the anger,
guilt and blame,
Of these men that we adore.
As we stumble on the battlefield,
In the Aftermath of War.

Each day we share the horrors,
Of a pain they can't forget,
And we feel we lived through combat,
Because we love a vet.
But we are all survivors,
And we're learning how to cope.
Hanging on with all our might,
Just holding onto hope.
And our soldier's heart will cry out,
That they couldn't love us more.
Because we're sitting in their foxhole,
In the Aftermath of War.

Double Ended Candles

I am burning the candle at both ends this week; busy with personal and business commitments.  So, of course, also fighting a cold, and dealing with the whole Wolf situation. 

I spoke at some length with a social worker at the base hospital yesterday.  While, due to confidentiality reasons, he couldn't confirm or deny anything, of course, I could tell from a couple of the questions that he asked, that he had the Wolf's file in front of him.

His standard answer was "you definitely have some legitimate concerns".  They can't, again due to confidentiality, tell me what sort of follow up they will be taking, or even if they will be re-screening him prior to his scheduled d-date.  Unless he gives them permission to discuss it with me, and I expect my chance to make snow angels in hell will come first.

I have also decided that for the next while I am going to start all conversations with "No, I don't feel he is an immediate danger to himself, nor do I feel he is a danger to me, but thanks for asking."

So I wait, and continue to see my own therapist (or counselor or whatever the right name is).  


And take my Cold FX and my garlic and my pomegranite juice :-).  Here's hoping they can make up for serious lack of sleep.

Mourning

So I made the phone call yesterday, the phone call to alert the proper folks to everything that had been going on in the Wolf's life lately, and to hopefully start the process to have him re-screened.  The person I spoke with on the phone was great; made sure I did not feel I was in any danger (I have been getting asked that a lot lately), made sure I didn't feel the Wolf was a danger to himself,  and then started the process rolling to get the re-assessment done.  The individual on the phone agreed that the Wolf should definitely not be DAG'd green at this point.

The person on the other end of the phone line also spent a lot of time trying to convince me not to beat myself up over leaving it this long to call.  There have been a number of other things that have happened over the last few months that should have been warning signs, things that I have not written about here.  I should have made this call 2 months ago.

I drove 2 hours home from my parent's place today. I have always loved driving, I do some of my best thinking while driving.  I have processed a lot in the last 24 hours.

I am not sure why I left it so long to make this call.  Part of it was denial - I didn't want to believe it was really as bad as it was.  Some of the comments the Wolf had made, I convinced myself he had been making in jest.   The same comments that I didn't really admit out loud to anyone until yesterday.

I also think part of it is I know the man he was, the man that I still believe is buried under there somewhere.  The man that would only be joking if he said the things he said.  The man that would recognize that he is in over his head and ask for help.  That he would be strong enough to do what needed to be done, so I didn't have to.

Part of me just feels that I am weak; that I wasn't strong enough or good enough; and I have failed him, and myself, by my inaction.


I spent a good part of this morning's drive back in tears.  Of course, I analyzed my tears.  They are not tears of regret; neither regret for doing what I did, nor regret for waiting so long - I feel bad about that, but not to the point of wasting tears.  I did what I did, based on my mind and instincts at the time, and it cannot be undone.

No, I was crying tears of mourning.  Mourning for the man I knew, who if he is still there, is buried down so deep I don't know if he can come back.  Part of me is desperately afraid that my dear friend, the man I loved, my Wolf has died; that he will never come back.

Resolutions

I spent last night with a good friend; someone who also went to high school with the Wolf and I.

While she is going through a lot of stress in her own life right now, which is not my story to tell, she listened to everything I had experienced in the last few weeks, the most recent crisis.

She held me while I cried, while I mourned, and then looked at me and simply said "You know what you have to do. You don't need me to tell you, but I will. You need to make the call. For your own peace as much as for him."

She's right.

One of my other dear friends, a PTSD survivor, asked me what was more important - my relationship with the Wolf, or his life. I know that if I call OSIS that he will likely figure out it was me, and will hate me for it.

But I would rather have him hate me, and be alive, than let me be his "friend" right up to the point he goes over the edge, and hurts himself, or someone else.

So in a few minutes I will be making a call I knew all along I had to, but had been putting off. My life will change, again.

My only hope is that it is not in vain; that they take me seriously, and the Wolf gets what he needs.

Wolf Training

Soundtrack for this post:  The Tower, Vienna Teng

I had my first appointment today with the counselor provided by the Canadian Forces, to talk about the issue with the Wolf.  He was talking a fair bit about "Fight or Flight" responses.

He feel that the Wolf is in full "Flight" mode.  I, however, am at about 90% Fight and 10% Flight, in the counselor's estimation.  He thinks this is a good thing.

Counselor dude, hereafter refered to as CD, thinks the wolf is running away from his emotions, and how strongly he feels, because he doesn't want to deal with them.  

Me, being stubborn, determined, and used to getting my own way, am still trying to work things out, wait things out, and figure things out.

We also talked about the concept of "Pre Deployment Separation Anxiety".  I mentioned, jokingly, that the only "seperation anxiety" I was used to dealing with was in regards to dogs.  What am I supposed to do, send the Wolf a milk bone to reassure him, and keep him busy?


CD says I should send the Wolf a shirt that smells like me, to give him some comfort.  I laughed.  He said, no, I am actually serious.  Wear a t-shirt for a couple of days, then seal it up in a ziplock so it still smells like you, and send it to him.  The same theory holds - sub-consciously, it will remind the Wolf of me, and trigger "safe" memories.



I'm thinking about it.  CD also recommended a couple of books we should both read; if I do the shirt thing, I will wrap it around one of the books, and send it as a package.


For those of you that are interested, the two books are : 


Hold me Tight: Seven Conversations for a Lifetime of Love, by Dr Sue Johnson


and


The Seven Principles For Making Marriage Work, by John Gottman


The Wolf and I did talk on Tuesday night; I challenged him, among other things, to go talk to either the OSIS folks or the Padre, and tell them everything that has happened over the last 4 or 5 months, and see if they agree that the way he is handling it is appropriate.  I will not write his response here verbatim; let's just say he declined. 



I also told him that I had been chatting with a good friend, another soldier, another vetran, another "lifer" and a PTSD survivor, although he almost wasn't.  My friend tried to take his own life a few years ago after returning from the sandbox; thankfully he was discovered, his life was saved, and he got the treatment he required.  He now has his head screwed on straighter than most people I know, and he has been my saviour as I work though this.



When I relayed this to the Wolf, and said my friend was recognizing a lot of his own behaviour in the way the Wolf is now acting, his response was "I didn't need to worry about him trying to kill himself".  Not that "I don't have PTSD".  Just that I don't have to worry about him trying to kill himself.


Food for thought.