Disillusionment

Tonight's post is brought to you by the letter "D". For disappointment. And for disillusionment.

Let me explain.

My husband....yep, him again..... was part of one of the most vaunted establishments in our country. The United States military.

Here is where I'm going to pause and warn you all that this is going to be bitter and it's going to be sad and it will probably offend someone. I'm okay with all of this, though. Bitterness, sadness and being offensive all falls under the heading of "allowable" emotions when dealing with what life has thrown our way. So. Sorry, those of you I offend, but this is real life and real life is messy and offensive.

Back to what I was saying. The United States military. You hear those words and for so many people, it brings to mind honor and courage and well..... commitment. Heard that before? For me, it brings bitterness and anger.

I'll tell you why.

Because, to the military, my husband and his brothers were and continue to be, disposable. They took a strong, young man who had so much promise and wrung every bit of usefulness out of him that they could. Which, I get it. That's the way it works. BUT. The kicker? They used him, wrung him out and then abdicated  all responsibility that they had towards him.

Disappointment.

In this process, we start questioning more and more what that damn honor that comes from serving looks like and well, it's not what it was presented to be. My husband, literally, risked his life for this honor and ideal. He sacrificed years of his life, because, let's face it, disability takes it's toll on a body and he has yet to gain this status. At least in the eyes of our government. He is my hero and my children's hero and he will always be. He fought a war that well.... he shouldn't of.

Disillusionment.

This, folks, this is the dirty secret of war. This is the elephant in the room of veterans. It hovers, man.

It's rarely discussed. There are reasons for this, of course. How can you embrace the fact that you wasted your life for someone else's dirty games? How long can you sit and contemplate this before you break?

So, it stays rarely talked about, but it's always there. I walk into the VA hospitals and Vet centers and I see the defeat in our fallen warriors eyes. I see it everyday sitting next to me.

You should be ashamed, America.

Love in the face of war

Well, I blog a lot about our struggles, because, well, we struggle. Mental illness is not all it's cracked up to be, folks. Even with all the struggles, though, there is so much good.

I tend to focus on the negatives. It's a personality flaw of mine, I suppose. I do it to protect myself, but in protecting myself, I sabotage myself. It's a vicious circle, I know. So, today, instead of nurturing the negatives, I thought I'd look on the brighter side of life.

My husband and I are about to celebrate our 11th wedding anniversary. Which, is, incredible. We've been through a lot, my friends, and that is oversimplifying in the extreme. We've, literally, been through a war and we keep fighting that war every day. Even though we have been drug through hell and back, our marriage has been strong and steady. It's been the one constant in my life for these past 11 years.

My husband has been my rock and my inspiration and he's been my world. He's encouraged me, in so many ways, to be who I really am and not who other people want me to be. And through it all, through the very dark times and through the war, he's showed me love. Lots and lots of love. I can't say that I would be the person I am today without him.

All of this seems trite and cliche. It seems like a sentimental rant, I get it. What I need for people to understand, though, is that even through all of my husband's problems and through his internal war, he can still step outside of himself enough to show me what I mean to him.

So, I mean, 11 years. It's an accomplishment. It's a huge milestone. And every day, every hour, every second of those 11 years has been precious to me.

One day at a time.....

How does that saying go..... the best laid plans of mice and men?

I can relate. It seems like, in PTSD land (which, believe me, is not as fun as it may seem), things never go the way that you want or the way that you plan. Things can be going so great, so well one week and the next, it's just not. It may seem melodramatic, but it's the way that it goes. "One day at a time" is the motto du jour. We cling to the motto. It's silly, but that one phrase brings comfort. It's like throwing a warmed blanket over a chilled body. We have a bad day, a bad week, a fucked up month and we look at each other and one of us utters "one day at a time" and it's like we just released our breath that we didn't realize that we'd been holding. Our lungs fill back up with fresh air and we move on. 

Some days, though....... some days, no matter how much we seek that comfort and fresh air, it's just out of reach. We can feel it brushing our fingertips in a maddening tease, but it stays there, taunting us. That one day  remains elusive. 

So, we get back on the roller coaster and we ride that bucking bitch called PTSD and we grit our teeth and we do what we have to do to get our "one day at a time" clarity. 

That's what fighting for a relationship in the middle of PTSD is like. 

A little direction

If I could ask anything from this whole experience? journey? whatever you want to call what we're going through, it'd be for a manual. An instruction sheet on how to handle things. I'm not just talking about things like, triggers, although, let's face it, that would be nice. I want a manual that details exactly how I should react to outbursts, how to soothe a rage, how to make things easier. I want a detailed, outlined, full proof direction for my life.

I started this blog with the intention of helping other people in the same place that I'm in. Which, I know, is a lofty goal, but as time goes on, I find myself using it more and more as a sounding board for my own travails and obviously, for the obstacles that my husband faces.

You see, when you're sent home with that imposing PTSD diagnosis, no one explains to you what comes next. No one says, here, let me tell you what comes with that diagnosis. They don't tell you about the mood swings, they don't say anything about the anger and they sure as hell don't tell you about the fear. They don't tell you how to comfort your husband when he's struggling with facing his dark thoughts.

I wish they did.

They sure as hell don't tell you how to rebuild a broken person. I want a diagram for that. I want to know which piece goes where. Right now, I feel like I'm playing a giant game of Operation and I'm losing. That annoying buzzer and vibrations that sound after you touch the sides? Yeah, that's my soundtrack.

There are always the good times. I'll never deny that. And love. My life is full of love. My husband is a strong, capable person and his diagnosis will never define him.

For me, though, I want to be a better partner. I want to have a clear direction. Instead of muddling my way through murky waters. I wish there was a manual.