Sadness

Today, I have become overwhelmingly sad.

I don't know why.

I'm sure this is just part of the roller coaster of emotions that I should expect to feel.  But I don't usually drop to overwhelming sadness and a lack of hope.  I don't lack hope or faith in my husband.  I don't lack hope in his ability to keep fighting... I lack hope in myself.

Today, I looked in the mirror and saw a failure.  A failure who hasn't achieved very many life goals that have substance.  I've done some cute ones.  But my real dreams?  They have been on hold for longer than I want to admit.  They have been on hold since I met my husband.

At first I gladly placed them to the side to make room for another goal in my heart.  My heart wanted nothing more than to look at his face forever.  I replaced dreams of further schooling, careers, and what my life was supposed to be, with dreams of folding his cammies and taking care of a man who's mere presence in a room made me feel safe.

I looked at this man and he was my goal.  Not to marry him, to love him and care for him.

Today, I looked in the mirror and saw a woman who never pursued further schooling, who gave up her life long determination to pursue the career of her dreams and who has so failed at fulfilling the new goals that had replaced them, it brought tears to my eyes.

I want so desperately to be the woman he deserves.  One who is not quick to self pity and anger.  One who doesn't look at each day with pain, but as a new day to be conquered and another step closer to healing.  I want to be a woman who can bravely say, "My husband has PTSD, but it is not all he is or all we are." I want to stand tall each day and know that he loves me deep inside, and I can help him through this to find that love...

I'm hopeless.  I have lost hope in myself as a spouse who can truly support her husband through the battle for his life.  I have lost hope that I can ever be that person.  I have no hope that I can be who he needs right now.

I woke up sad, without the ability to see how today I was going to be better, when I wasn't any better yesterday.  Because I wake up everyday and will him to be better than he was yesterday, be less quick to anger, to be more understanding, to gain the tools he needs to work through the demons he is facing... But I have done none of those things.

I still wake up angry at the world for doing this to him... I wake up angry at the world for doing this to me, for shattering the dreams I had, for taking away the man I love and making it so hard to find him again. I wake up hurting because of what we are going through and feeling selfish that I even include myself when I say that.  It's what he is going through.  I feel guilty that I worry about myself and my pain and my confusion and anger at all.  And I feel like a failure, when I can't set those feelings aside to be a better support to my husband.

I am overwhelmingly sad today... Because I'm a failure at life, as a wife, and as a caregiver to a brave US Marine suffering from Combat Related PTSD.  Because I never made much of myself and now, I feel like I will never be much of a wife.  That girl who set aside her goals for the new, more powerful goal of loving and taking care of her husband, is failing at doing just that.

I guess what I'm most sad about, what pains me the most, what is causing the feelings of hopelessness and that I have no faith that I can be that person.

Disappointment

Tonight, there are no words to express it.

I'm disappointed.

I understand why things must be this way.  I know what is right, what is good for our future and what must be done.

But the funny thing about disappointment is that, even when someone must disappoint you for good reason, and even if you understand that reason, it never fails to hurt any less.

Feeling that you must always come in second place is never a wonderful feeling.  Being told you must always come in second place is damn right heart breaking.

Forgive Me

Forgive me because I am angry and sometimes act out.
Forgive me because I can be petty and that is not fair to you.
Forgive me because I am in pain, though you can't always see it.
Forgive me because, though I seek to understand, sometimes I don't.

My Husband, forgive me.  This journey is hard.  I feel lost, I feel scared and I don't always know where to turn or what to do next.  My choices don't always make sense to you.  And you cannot know the pain I feel because I cannot burden you with my pain, when you are in so much already.

Forgive me for feeling alone and isolated.  When I have no one to understand me, and I feel I am always having to explain myself, it is not fair to turn away from you.  Forgive me for blaming you for all that we are going through.  You are no more to blame than I am.

I'm sorry for being so angry.  I am angry at the universe for doing this to us.  For putting you through all that you are going through.  For putting us in this situation that feels like a fog too thick for us to navigate.  It's a burden that no one should have to bear, least of all you.

Forgive me because I am human, I make mistakes, and those mistakes hurt you.

Forgive me.

Lost

I feel lost in what to do today.

I've been search for help, understanding and a better way to support my husband, but I don't understand.  Everything out there insists that I can't make my whole life about him.  I can't have my whole world revolve around him, I have to have ME time.

Riddle me this: How can I have "me" time when I can't trust him to do the most basic of things?

I'm supposed to give him responsibilities.  I'm supposed to let him do things.  But I'm supposed to help him.  I have to have a way to remind him, make lists, blah, blah blah.

Ok, so I ask him to do stuff.  Then I email him the list of things I asked him to do, then I remind him verbally.  And you know what?  It doesn't get done anyway.  So, now, I have my list of stuff to do, his list of stuff to do, oh, right, and I have to follow around and re-do or fix the stuff he did do, but didn't do correctly.

Forgetfulness is part of PTSD.  That's what they say.

What am I supposed to do when I wake up and find that he did laundry.  Oh, but he FORGOT to go through the pockets and washed ALL of our clothes with an ink pen.  Oh, and he FORGOT to check the dryer before putting the clothes in and dried ALL of my clothes on HIGH, when they can't be dried on that setting.  Oh, and he FORGOT that when air drying stuff, you have to lay it flat on the clothes rack and you can't hang clothes over the pointy edges of stand so now ALL of my clothes have pooches and stretched areas and are wrinkled and need to be ironed... Oh, right, but we don't have an iron because he keeps FORGETTING to put it in our budget.

What am I supposed to do when he does things like he did last night?  He said, let's go to bed.  YOU clean up my mess and I'll walk the dogs.  No, you can clean up your own mess.  Well then YOU walk the dogs.  No, your job is to walk the dogs in the evening.  Then I'M not going to pick up all of this mess.

I woke up this morning to half the dishes done, half of his food picked up and a huge mess on the table.  Yet, it's acceptable to him, that I have to wake up everyday and walk the dogs in the morning, clean the house, pick up his mess and my own, do the dishes, laundry, call the people that need to be called etc, etc.  Oh, and I have a job too.

I'm so ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!  I'm trying.  I am.  I'm trying to understand.  He forgets.  I'm trying to understand.  He can't always do things.  I'm trying to understand.  I can't do everything for him.

How can I not do everything for him, but I'm also supposed to do everything for him?

One website, said, "... if that means the dishes don't always get done, that's ok.  You don't have to do everything all the time.  It's ok if the house is a mess."  True, but what about the ruined clothes we can't afford to replace, what about the dogs he forgets to take care of, the work clothes that have to be clean or we can't go to work (we both wear uniforms to work), what about when we run out of clean dishes, a spill that doesn't get clean up?

How am I supposed to wake up everyday and, with patience, say, "It's ok that he ruined my clothes.  We don't have the money to buy new ones, but I had too many shirts anyway, I can live with three."  "It's ok that food got left out over night.  We live on a budget and those were left overs I could have eaten at work, but hey, who needs to eat?"  "It's ok that I want to cry." "It's ok that I spend my life walking behind him re-doing everything he does, fixing his messes, making his excuses for him, smiling, understanding, talking calmly, never arguing, afraid to set him off, having no one to talk to, and not knowing how I am supposed to live the contradiction of terms that is being a spouse and caregiver to a man with combat related PTSD who is not supposed to let her whole life revolve around him and his illness, but doesn't have time to do anything else because our life will fall apart if I'm not there to keep it together and keep us moving forward."  "It's ok that you're life doesn't revolve around him.  You need to provide structure for him, make lists, hold him accountable, have an emergency plan for anything he might do, have a backup plan for the bills he doesn't pay, make a schedule for him, remind him, and generally run his whole life, but your life shouldn't revolve around him."

It's all ok.

Hard Truths and an Honest Look

I've been doing my part of this whole PTSD thing... At least, I'm trying to.  I'm researching, looking for information and tips on how to cope as a spouse.  It's an overwhelming process.  It's beyond overwhelming.  It's painful because I cry with each new thing I read.  I tear up and think, "It's like they are talking directly about us."  It's painful because there are truths out there that I have to confront, but don't want to.

The truth is, we fight because of me.  My husband is not picking fights, nor am I, but I have continued to try to force him to be helpful and mindful and thoughtful.  None of which are things he is all that capable of.  We fight because I'm hurting and feeling ignored, none of which are things he can do anything about.

The truth is, I have not accepted the situation we are in entirely.  I have continued to look back at who we once were and who we might be someday.  But I have refused to look at who we are now.  Who we are now is a couple, living with PTSD.  It doesn't matter who we once were, it doesn't matter who we might be, or if we can be those people again.  What matters is the here and now.

The truth is, I have become the person they warn you not to be.  The caregiver who is all consumed by caring for their spouse.  I have become unable to do much else and it's become all that I am.  I do not see my friends, I don't have an escape and I have nothing that is just for me.  My whole world is centered around him, his needs, what I can do to be better...

The truth is, I'm making it worse.  Every time I make excuses and take the blame for why we aren't going somewhere, every time I try to cushion the blow, soften the punch, downplay the situation, I'm making our life worse.  Every time I put my foot down and say I will not tolerate this behavior, but never follow through, I'm making it worse.  Every time I tell myself that I can take on more, I work harder, that I can pick up more slack, I'm making it worse.

But there is this odd contradiction in terms of how to make PTSD fit in your life so that you can heal.  On the one hand, I'm not supposed to be all consumed by being a caregiver.  I'm not supposed to compare myself to others, I'm not supposed to try to force him into a role he can't play.  But on the other, I'm supposed to create a structured environment for my spouse, I'm supposed to make lists to help him, I'm supposed to create buffer zones financially to be sure we can pay our bills, I'm supposed to be prepared for anything.  It's overwhelming to think I'm supposed to do all of that, but I'm supposed to fight to not be all consumed by this situation... How can you do both?

I don't know how to cope to be honest.  I can look at these lists of real life symptoms and think, "I can't remember a life before that."  I know how his laugh used to sound, and how happy I *think* we were, but we've been living this life so long, I can't remember.  Did his need to always sit facing the door of a restaurant start before or after.  Did he used to clear the house when he heard a noise before?  Did he not used to respond to my emails/texts/calls?

I talk about our before and after.  I talk about who we once were and who we are now... But so much of how life is is a blur.  I look at these lists.  They say the clinical symptoms are fine, but look at all the ways they can manifest.  "Does he forget to clean this, or follow this request?  Does he do this or that?  That is his PTSD..."  But was he like that before?  I don't know.  I can't remember.  These little nuances that I've never thought about.  These small behaviors that feel like they just always have been.  Have they just always been?

I don't know.

But I know that as I seek understanding, I find heartache.  As I learn more, all I do is question more.  And all I can feel is guilt.  Guilt that I might be making things worse.  Guilt that I can't help him more.  Guilt that I'm afraid to actually reach out to a real person...

No one ever tells you how painful this process can be for the spouse.  And now I have a new thing to feel guilty about.  Guilt that I'm thinking of my own pain in this process, when his is probably much greater. 

Escalations

Today, my husband made a plan for us, but failed to share it with me.  When he finally did, I wasn't as enthusiastic as he had hoped... Though this in it's self didn't cause a problem, a few minutes later, I asked an simple question.... 

This simple question turned into a tantrum of how rude I am, how horrible I am, how dare I.  When I got angry, which I know I shouldn't have, I told him that wasn't fair.  He began to scream at me, "How was I telling you were were horrible?"  Each time I attempted to speak, he would close ground on me and scream his question again.  I don't know why I did it, but I threw a cup into the sink out of frustration.  It was plastic, no damage done physically, but exactly the opposite of the appropriate behavior to exhibit when your emotionally escalating husband, suffering from PTSD, is yelling at you.

Keep in mind, that by the time I threw the cup, I had tried three times to calmly walk away from the situation.  I told him I wasn't going to talk to him if he was acting that way and talking to me that way.  I told him I wasn't going to spend time with him if he was going to behave that way towards me.  Each time I tried to walk away, he refused to let me, pursuing me and continuing to argue and yell at me. So, I threw a cup.  I threw my hands up in the air in frustration.  I turned quickly to face him, hands in the air... 

A normal woman would have grabbed his shirt or hand and said, "Why are you doing this!?"  But in that split second... I saw it.  The flash.  I had thrown a cup that cause a loud clatter.  I had moved swiftly and turned quickly.  I had, in that moment, hands raised in the air... And he was going to hit me. The look in his eyes, was one of steely determination.  I was a foe to be subdued.  I was a threat to be neutralized.  

I immediately took steps back.  I stopped my yelling in frustration.  I had heard my voice crying, "Listen to me! Listen to me!  Let me talk, let me explain!"  But in that moment, the noise, the quick and unexpected movement and close proximity were nothing more than an enemy encroaching.  

I told him, as calmly as I could, that I would no longer discuss this with him and that I was done. I walked for the stairs and quickly put distance between us.  He told me if I wasn't going to talk to him, then he wanted a divorce.  I told him that was his choice, but it was quite a large leap to make in the situation.  I calmly did my best to explain that I had not said anything wrong, but that he had perceived a threat and had escalated and that I was not going to continue to escalate the situation.  

He began to grow angry again.  He rushed to the stairs where I was and pushed past me and stormed to the top.  I stayed at the bottom and continued to try to talk him down and talk him through what had ACTUALLY happened.  I discussed the fear I felt.  He told me, quite honestly and still very much so amped up and escalating, that he thought I was going to get physical with him and that he was prepared to subdue me in that moment we had had.  His words: Subdue.  He was fully prepared to subdue the threat, neutralize it, and move on. 

We were able to talk.  We were able to discuss the origin of this escalation (my inability to meet the expectations he had set forth), and how it had escalated.  We were able to calmly talk, and work back to a deescalated point and move on with our day.

But the fact is, that was the fastest escalation from perceived threat to unable to communicate EVER.  That was the first time I actually felt physically threatened.  That was the first time I was able to look back and see that for the last few weeks, we have had a pattern of behavior that I had no recognized.  And for the past few weeks, he has been having fewer outbursts, but the ones he does have, are much worse than they ever have been.  

Hind sight is 20/20.  

Poems From His Deployment: Part Seven

Memorial Day

Each Memorial Day

A national cemetery in California

Spends days reading the names

of all those who lay to rest there

Day and night, they read

in 15 minute increments

the names 

of bothers and husbands

sons and nephews 

They never pause 

They never take a moment

to comtemplate the history

of those names.

Some read to remember

Some read because they themselves

could not serve

Some read to honor those

who have been forgotten.

Each name has a rank, 

a family,  a friend.

Each name has a story.

Dog tags dangle from the hip

of one of the readers.

He is there

to take the shifts

that no one wants

Evenings, nights, weekends, 

he reads.

And he knows the story 

behind every dog tag

Recounting them

Like old friends

he has grown so familiar with.

They do this night and day

until the last name is read

some time on Memorial Day

They do this to honor the fallen.

They do this so that we will remember 

those who served

So that we didn’t have to.

The Question No One Has The Courage To Ask

There are very few people in our life who know what we are dealing with.  Even fewer who understand.  I have opted to tell a few select friends at work, though I rarely, never really, discuss the life I have at home.

The other night, a girl I would call a friend asked me what exactly PTSD was.  What is it that we are going through at home?  I don't know what a doctor might say.  I don't know medically what is going on in the brain, when the synapses are firing, that might be the cause.  What I do know is what I told her:

My husband is in my house in body, but his mind is still fighting a war.  He sees threats everywhere we go.  Even a kind tone of voice that is explaining a frustration can be perceived as a threat.  He fears groups of people, trash cans on the street and unknown situations.  He has a hair trigger for anger, he often gets mad for things I don't even understand.  I am in an un-winnable situation, no matter what I choose to do or say, it will be wrong and he will get angry.  I don't know why, I don't understand what happens to the body that causes the mind to be unable to come home, but I know that the man I see everyday is not really here.

She asked if he had changed.  I told her that he is not the man I married anymore.  I explained that it's a lot like living with a stranger who looks a lot like someone you love, who used to love you.

She was silent for a moment.  She told me she couldn't imagine how hard that must be.  She then asked the question that everyone is afraid to ask.  The question I often ask myself...

"Why do you stay?"

I stay because I love him, even if he is unable to love me back right now.  I stay because I have to believe that someday, he will get better, or at least be able to cope.  I stay because if he doesn't get better, I can still love the man I have and he can learn to love me again too.  I stay because I would't leave him if he had shrapnel in his leg, or had lost a limb.  I stay because he is injured, it's just not visible.  The new term "invisible wounds" is very apt.  I stay because you can't see the wounds he has, but I can.  I can see them in the way he talks, in his reactions to what he sees, and in his new behaviors.  I can see his wounds.

My husband came home injured, but not in the way that so many understand.  He is not learning to walk again, but he is hurting and he deserves a wife who will stand by him.  He deserves a support system that he can fall back on when he is having a bad day.  It's not always easy walking on egg shells and feeling like I can never do anything right.  It's not easy to watch his pain and know that there is nothing I can do to ease it.  But loving him is easy, even if living with him is hard.

He may not be the man I married, but he is the man I love.  And that is why I stay. 

Poems From His Deployment: Part Six

The importance of a letter

I know the importance of a letter

Sleepless nights spent writing 

I know the importance of a letter

Re-read a thousand times

I know the importance of a letter

The love it takes to send one

I know the importance of a letter

The meaning behind each word

I know the importance of a letter

When that’s all you have to hold.

Scheduled/Mandatory Time Together

It's halfway thought August and there is not much going on in my life that is all that exciting.  I'm finding that the days blur together because I have been so busy.  But the changes we have made to our schedule seem to be helping.

It seems silly to schedule time with your spouse.  It seems silly to have a routine, but that's what we've created.  I didn't know what else to do.  It's forced time together, yes, but it's time.  It means that no matter what, we are locked into this routine.

We have a day to walk the dogs, we have a day to watch TV, a day to cook dinner and a day to eat dinner together.  Out side of the specified activities, we can do whatever we want to.  If we cook dinner together tonight, it doesn't mean we have to eat it together... But while we are spending our scheduled time, there is no phone, no TV (unless it's TV night) and no computers.

Scheduling time together felt strange at first, but it has allowed us to be sure we are spending time together that is undivided.  Mandatory sounds like we are in trouble, but there has to be a way to keep my husband active in our life.  So often, he jumps up and walks away while I'm talking to him, he ignores me, he answers his phone or text messages while I am trying to spend time with him.  He refused to look up from his laptop or away from the TV and as a result, he has further withdrawn from our life.

We are only on week two of my little experiment, but so far it seems to be working out well.

I am finding that once I can get him engaged, he will stay engaged when we have eliminated his ability to disengage through distractions.  We are spending time outside of the scheduled periods talking.  It may not hold, but for now, the schedule is working and the rules are working.

It's definitely challenging.  Sometimes I'm in the middle of something, sometimes he is, but we have to stop.  Sometimes I want to go to bed early, or watch something different on TV, but we are figuring it out.

I never thought I would have to schedule time with my own husband, but I guess the rules changed when our world changed and our circumstances changed.

We'll see how week three goes... 

Poems From His Deployment: Part Five

I was asked to write a poem

for the wives of those who serve

to express their grief and sadness

To show the world their strength and courage.

Instead, I sat and cried

for all those who will not return home

for all those who must bury loved ones

because, though, I too must have strength and courage

I find that I have none

The Ties That Bind Us

There are days when I read about others situations and I feel ashamed.

Some come home with PTSD, some with TBI, some with both.  Some have flash backs, others are violent, some drink, some fight, some withdraw.  The point is that we spouses are all seeing a change in our spouses that wasn't there prior to the deployment.

My husband came home and withdrew.  He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to see friends.  Groups of people made him panic.  He started having beer at 11am.  He started having trouble sleeping.  I said, "It's readjustment,"  "He missed having beer,"  "He just needs time to himself for a while."  What I should have said was, "This is NOT normal.  This is not my husband."

But I didn't.  Because we, as spouses, don't.  And for three years I made excuses.  For three years I fought a losing battle because I was fighting something that wasn't there.  I was fighting a man who didn't live in my house anymore. But I kept doing it.  In my heart, I knew the truth.  This wasn't my husband.  This man who needs to have multiple beers before bed to "help him sleep" is not the man I married.  The man who struggles to go to the mall, the man who tosses and turns, the man who refuses to talk to me... This is not the man I married.

What I struggle with is the idea that so many have it worse.  I hear the stories.  He just snapped one day and the next thing I knew he had hit me, our kid, he pulled a gun, he threw a chair, or whatever the case may be.  My husband has never done that. But what he has done... breaks my heart.

My husband has made me feel worthless.  He tells me with his actions and words that I am a failure as a wife, that everything is my responsibility and it's my fault if he fails to do something.  He tells me that I'm never going to be good enough.  He is not an alcoholic, but when he drinks too much, he comes home verbally abusive.  He refuses to take responsibility for his actions, but instead, turns everything on me.

I remember one night, I was upset for him breaking his word to follow through on something really important.  He told me that I failed too.  When I asked what I failed at, he replied that I had forgotten to take the garbage cans out a week before and that makes me a failure and a promise breaker.  He says things like this to me a lot.  It's much worse his bad days.

He had a particularly bad day the other week and spent 30 minutes trolling my FB page and his own email to find everything I had done wrong in the last few years.  He saves any emails he sends to me or that I send to him, so that if I don't quote him or myself exactly, he can bring them up and throw it in my face.

I spend my life walking on eggshells. I never know what is going to set him off.  I never know what thing I do today will be seen as a failure in his eyes.  I never know if today is going to be a day we laugh at something that went wrong, or I go to bed crying.

I guess my point is that we all have something we are going through.  I shouldn't feel ashamed of how my situation is different than others.  It doesn't change the fact that he came home with PTSD.  It doesn't change the fact that I am navigating murky waters with no map and no clue what to do next.  It doesn't change that I feel alone in this journey, just like everyone else often does.

This is not a game of one upmanship.  It's a life that we all have in common.  It's the differences in situation that make us who we are, but it's the one very similar thing we have in common that binds us together. 

Change is in the Wind

Well, nothing super major is changing in our life, but things are changing.  After the rough couple weeks we had where it felt like we could barely talk, any change is welcome.  We are talking a bit more, fighting a bit less and generally moving forward again.  It's not always easy, but nothing ever is if it's worth it.

We had a nice talk the other night at dinner.  We discussed how many people we know who are divorced.  We talked about how easy it is to give up.  I told him how often I hear that I have given enough and that no one would blame me for leaving.  No, those people don't really know the depths of what is going on, nor that it's PTSD per se, but they know some of what we have been through.

The truth is, many people would have given up by now, military or not.  My husband was a Marine when I married him.  I knew the military would be in our marriage.  But not in the way most mean it. It's not just carting off at a moments notice and never being able to make plans, it's how my husband has no boundaries.  He doesn't know when to let his phone go to voice mail and when it's ok to answer.  It's a tough balance to find for some reason.

But I can't give up yet.  This is not an easy situation for either of us.  But my husband deserves to have a wife he can count on.  That doesn't mean there isn't a breaking point.  That doesn't mean I can do this forever, but as long as he continues working on things, I can be there for him.

It was a good talk.  He needs to know that I'm here.  He needs to know that I'm fighting for him.  He needs to know that I know it won't be easy, but I'm trying.  He needs to know that I know he's fighting and I appreciate that he is not giving up.  

Malaise

I've been away a bit more than usual.  Mostly because I have been able to schedule posts so that I don't have to worry, but also because... I just haven't had anything to say.

For some reason, well, for a reason I know but am not going to share, the last few weeks have been particularly bad.

This has left me with nothing to say.  Nothing to vent.  I have written about the hurt and the stress and the pain of it all from the spouses side.  I have written about how my husband must be feeling and what he is going through.  There was nothing left to say about these past few weeks.

I have nothing to eloquently spin into a life lesson.  I have nothing to use flowery, emotional words to describe.  I have nothing.  I have all but shut down.  It's what I'm best at in these situations.  I simply shut down, shut out the rest of the world and internalize all that I am attempting to process.

I don't know how to describe how these, the worst weeks we've had in a while, have felt.  Bad days I can deal with.  A few bad days in a row, I can deal with.  But 14 days of this constant secret battle it just too much.

I can't cry about it, I can't scream, I'm not even particularly angry at anything specific... Just a general malaise about myself, my role in this situation and my marriage, and about the world.

So, forgive me if I am intermittently here so soon after having started this as my safe place to voice what we are living through... I just don't have much to say.

I don't really know what to say.  

Poems From His Deployment: Part Four

War

It makes men 

of those who were once weak

It makes heros

of those who were once unknown

it makes valiant

those who once were meek

It makes leaders 

of those who once were shy

It makes orphans

of those who once were loved

It makes widows 

of those who once were loyal