My husband is a veteran of the United States of America Army. He served for our country and saw things in war settings that I could never imagine. He has lost people he knew in that war. He put his life on the line to help maintain the privileges that we have here in the States. That means he fought for his family...his friends...his neighbors...for me...for my children...and he fought for YOU.
To know Justin is to know that he takes his pride for our country very seriously. His body (beautiful body that it is) is beautifully adorned with all sorts of tattoos that show his American and Army pride. He flies the flag, drives a truck with military stickers proudly shown, honors the veterans and respects the men and women in uniform daily. He always takes Veteran's Day off and brings the boys to the Veteran's Day parade. He has taught our boys things like respecting the flag (hats OFF, boys!), respecting elders, thanking our veterans for their service, and honoring the land they live on (no littering...ever!)
I'm beyond proud of him.
That said.... PTSD is a bitch. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is a mental health problem that can happen after someone goes through a traumatic event like a war, assault, or disaster. People who suffer from PTSD can have nightmares, flashbacks, difficulty sleeping, and just feel emotionally numb. What sucks is...these symptoms change their day to day life. PTSD is seen by both physical and psychological problems. You will see depression, substance abuse, memory and cognition problems and other physical and mental health problems. The disorder is also rears it's ugly head in social or family life, including work problems, marital problems and family problems. Statistics say that 11-20% of Veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars (Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom) will be diagnosed with PTSD. Diagnosed, people....which is different from the number of soldiers that actually suffer with PTSD undiagnosed.
Justin has the diagnosis of PTSD.
Yet, we all suffer from it.
I'm not saying that like I'm a martyr either... but it's true.
The nightmares are crazy. I can't wake him up. He is BACK in war and it's completely real to him. He thrashes and punches and kicks and sweats up a storm. His breathing is fast...and there is NOTHING I can do to stop them. :( Sometimes, I can almost predict them. A movie...an incident of some sort. And, sometimes, if I sleep really lightly, I can feel them starting...and if I can wake him THEN, we can avoid them. Other times I can't.
And then there are the flashbacks -- and the panic attacks. Those come out of the blue. Trash on the road. Weather. A noise. A blowing grocery bag. A smell. The landscape. When we go to Rocky Pointe, there is a stretch of road that ALWAYS triggers it. The first couple times we didn't realize it was coming. One time, he was driving -- and he flew us off the road....got out of the car and all but collapsed behind the car in a full out panic attack. It was terrifying for me...and the boys. Now we know that I have to drive...and he kicks the seat all the way back...but even then...I can feel his tension and watch as the tears start to fall...all of us in silence.
I cannot fathom what he has seen -- I know very little of it. I cannot make him better or make it go away. All I can do is love that man -- with everything inside of me. All I can do is honor him....let him talk when he wants to -- and be silent when he needs to be. All I can do is have his back....All I can do is be forever proud of my Army husband and forever grateful to be a citizen of this great country.
I love you, baby.
