Well, I haven't written anything in.....forever. Tonight, though, I feel compelled to put some things into words and to explain a difficult time in mine and my husband's life. Be warned, my friends, it's gritty and there are triggers ahead.
You see, I always refer to PTSD as a monkey on your back. A mischievous damn monkey that pokes its head up at the most inconvenient times. I think it's more than that, though. I think it's more like an albatross. PTSD comes into your life and it completely rearranges it. It forces you to a new normal, which is the catch phrase that we all throw around, but really what is normal?
My husband and I have an amazing relationship. We've fought hard for this amazing relationship. Through everything, we never lost sight of the love we have for each other or the dedication that we have to maintaining our relationship. BUT, it's not always been easy. In fact, I'd say that's a gross understatement. We've both fought our demons. We both keep fighting them.
There was a time, about three years ago now, when those demons just about won. Our relationship was shit. We were barely talking. We would pass each other in the hall and do our best not to touch each other with a barely murmured "excuse me". We were strangers existing in our own, fucked up worlds. We were both still in there, though and desperately wanting to connect, without the will or the skills to do it. We were tired. Everything felt like too much and we both tried to shoulder it alone.
This all came to a head one night. A night that I don't think either one of us will forget anytime soon. It started with a dog. A dog that hurt one of my kids. It was a scratch and it was deep and it was enough to trigger my husband in a big way. He was angry and he yelled at me. Instead of backing down, I yelled back. I'm just that kind of person. It escalated in a big way. In that moment, we had both lost control of everything and who we were. We were in each other's faces, yelling every hurtful thing we could think of. We flung that mud deep and wide. We tore each other apart.
Let me explain something here, I'm not a wilting flower and I have never, not once, ever experienced a moment of fear with my husband. He has always respected my boundaries and stayed in control. That night was different.
That night, I looked into his eyes and saw distance. I saw clouds of Iraqi dust, I saw days of living in terror, I saw a broken warrior. He reacted and punched a wall next to my head. The closest he has ever come to striking me, and then stormed out of the house. I sat in the house after he left. In the dark. I remembered that look. I knew that I was losing him.
In that moment, I had to make a decision. You see, I know him. I knew that he was hating himself. I knew that he wasn't there with us. I knew that he was back in those dusty moments. Dirt on his boots, sand in his eyes, and vigilance in his heart. I knew that if I let him go, in that moment, I would lose him forever. He would take his life.
Whew, okay, this isn't easy to write or to relive. Hang in there with me, though, there is good to all of this.
I was at that point where I had to decide what to do. Were my kids and I safe in the house with him? Should I take us to a shelter? I called the Veteran's Crisis line, I lined my ducks in a row, I got the resources I needed together for me and my kids, and then I decided to deal with him.
If anything, this moment showed to me, more than ever, that things needed to change. WE needed to change. Instead of letting our demons run the show, we needed to grab them by the balls and run the damn show.
I called him.
His voice was full of doubt. It was clogged with tears. I could hear the self-recrimination. He still wasn't in control.
This, aside from his physical health issues, has been the closest I've ever been to losing him.
We couldn't let that damn monkey win.
He came home. We talked. We cried. We made decisions.
That night. That night was the restart of the rest of our lives.
We both took positive steps towards healing. We recommitted ourselves to our relationship and to our love. It sounds cheesy and trite, I know. There really is no other way to explain it. We had been beaten and brought to our lowest, though and we were ready to find the other side.
The proceeding years were challenging. We both had to find new ways to reconnect. We also had to find ways to maneuver around the triggers in our life. We started talking, instead of yelling. We started touching, instead of avoiding. We began again.
Now, not everything is all rainbows and unicorns. But, it's a hell of a lot easier when we're facing this together, instead of apart. We are more than husband and wife. He's my best friend (shut up), my partner in crime, my lover, and my life.
Instead of losing him forever, I found him and good God, I'm keeping him.
