Apathy

Apathy is a dangerous emotion.  It does more damage than rage, it hurts more than sadness, it’s more isolating than loniless.  Apathy, more than anything is the downfall of everything.

Apathy causes good men to do nothing, it causes great people to never achieve what they could and it causes love to die.

That last one.  That is the worst.  That is why I truly believe that apathy is what will be the downfall of everything.  Even when we are hurt, we can still love someone, even when we are the ones doing the hurting.  We can love through rage, anger, frustration, loneliness and fear.  We can not love through apathy.  Don’t believe me?  Try it. 

Try to love someone deeply and keep a relationship with them when they are apathetic about that love and relationship.  Try to love someone when you are the one who feels apathetic.  Try to love someone who has hurt you so much that you feel that way about them. 

Apathy may be the most dangerous feeling we can have.

Rough Month

This last month has been tough.  Especially tough.  I have tried to keep my distances, but for some reason, that isn't working.  Talking isn't working. Pleading, crying, nothing is working...

I found a journal from high school.  I used to write a lot.  Not like a diary, but a collection of poems and thoughts and things I felt in a non-linear form. I noticed a striking similarity to my thoughts then and now. I was lonely then.  I won't go into why.  Who I was in high school is not important at this moment, but it struck me that so much of my life I have been lonely.  Am I married to my husband because some part of me knew this would be my life? Is it true that people are doomed to repeat the same patterns over and over?  Is that why this is so hard?

I don't know.  Seems silly to think that somehow I created this mess in a subconscious way...

This all seems so stupid to think of, but I don't know what else to think.  He is no different today than he was three years ago or last year or yesterday.  We are not in any better a place and at some point I feel like I must be deluding myself to think that we are moving forward.

Sometimes I don't know why I stay.  I don't know why I'm still here.  I feel defeated, what else is new? But I guess this new defeated feeling is the feeling that I will stay not because things are improving, but because I don't care enough to leave.  Am I that person? Am I the person who stays purely because she doesn't care enough to leave?

Maybe it's just the toll of having such a long period of time that has been so hard.  A month is a long time to be going through this.

No One To Turn To

It’s always been an interesting phenomenon, the idea of no one to turn to.  It’s amazing how often we hear that from someone we love.  Someone we want to think would have wanted to trust in us.  But how often do you feel that yourself?

I feel alone all the time.  Right now in fact.  While basking in the glow of an amazing triumph in my life, I’m feeling very alone.  Alone because all those people who said they would be there, who never were, have suddenly come out of the woodwork.  Suddenly they want to talk to me and be there for me.  But where were they when I was trying to get to where I am at now? Your guess is as good as mine.

And now I find myself sitting here, alone, with a heavy heart.  In spite of this major triumph, I have a mind that is weighed down with thoughts of loneliness.  It’s the kind of loneliness I imagine success must usually bring.  Because while everyone wants to pat you on the back when you win, who is going to be there to hug you and offer a hand to pick you back up when you lose?

That is the spot I’m in.  Looking into the faces of those who have used me over the years as shoulder to cry one, a hand to hold, a friend to talk to, but who have all failed to be there when I needed those things.  People seem so quick to use up what you have to offer, and offer nothing in return.  And they are beyond quick to join in your limelight, to share in your glory, but want nothing to do with getting you there.

I’m feeling tired of having no one to turn to.  I have few people in my life that I would consider a true friend, let alone people I would actually trust to be there for me.  I have few people that I feel I can turn to when I need a shoulder to lean on.

When the world feels like it’s too much to bear, who is going to be the person to help you remember that you are not alone? I don’t know that I have anyone in my life that I truly feel that way about.

I guess that is really the definition of “no one to turn to.”

Sensitive

There’s a funny thing about me that most will never have the privy to know.  But, being that I started this blog to be honest about who I am and the struggles my husband and I are facing, it’s time I share something with you that may well be something no one will ever know.

I’m a deeply sensitive person.  “Deeply’” is not even a strong enough word, “profoundly” maybe more accurate.

The odd thing about admitting that is that by all outward appearance, I am not.  To my friends and family, to those I socialize with, I’m funny, I’m thoughtful, I’m empathetic, but I’m not sensitive.  I’m sensitive to the plight of others, that goes along with my innate ability to empathize, but I’m not sensitive to the criticisms of others, nor do I care what they may think of me.  I am who I am.  I’m not callous, or mean, I’m friendly, but most people never see the softer side of Annie.

That softer side didn’t used to be there, which may actually be the reason it’s such a closely guarded secret.  Crying was viewed as weakness when I was growing up.  The world was a tough world, and I was expected to handle it like an adult, and adults don’t cry, they suck it up and find a solution.   I grew up in a tough household and was expected to be tough as well. 

I am a problem solver, I am an understanding shoulder to lean on, I am a fierce protector of my friends, a loyal companion, I am strong in character and in spirit, and I am the pillar which holds up the life I have and that my friends have to come to rely on when they have no one to hold them up any longer.  I am not soft, I am not weak, I do not crumble.

But behind closed doors, I am aching.  I only cry when no one is looking, including my own husband.  And even then, I limit it to short bursts of emotion that I view as unavoidable, rather than a release.

This change, even the fact that I have tears to be shed at all, all stems from the deployment that changed our life and nearly broke us.  I have found that post-deployment, I am quick to tear up at things that I never would have given a second though to prior.  I find deeper meaning in words of inspiration, thoughts of the pain of others, and suddenly find that considering the losses suffered from this war is more than my mind is able to cope with at any one moment. 

I am deeply affected by the words of others, I am easily wounded, easily pained and easily set into a motion of hiding which had never really been something I had done before.  I’ve never been confrontational, just diplomatic in my handling of things, but now I find that I avoid rather than face things that I might have been more willing to deal with head on in the past. 

But most of all, I cry. 

This strange thing feels like it alone makes me the most sensitive person in the world.  Objectively, I can look at myself and say that I’m carrying a heavy burden.  I’m holding up the life of two people, I’m constantly putting up a front to the outside world, I’m alone, I often feel like I have no one to turn to and no support and am facing a man that I don’t recognize on a daily basis in a situation that can go from serene to volatile and threatening in an instant, without warning.  Objectively, that is a lot for any one person to try to cope with alone.  Objectively, that would make even the most hardened of military spouses lose her sh** every now and then.  (pardon the expression), but I look in the mirror and all I see is a women who cries at the drop of a hat.  Who is sensitive to the perceived slights of others that three years ago wouldn’t have even registered at her level of notice.   

All I see is a sensitive girl, scared of what is happening to her life, growing increasingly afraid of her husband, a man she used to trust her life to, and unsure of where to go.   All I see is a problem solver without a solution, and a once strong woman who is unsure of why she is crying today, but is unable to stop. 

Distance

It's been 10 days since my last post.  Give or take.  I really wish it was because we had had a great week.  For some reason, I will never understand, the last three weeks in general have been terrible.  I'm resorted to keeping my distance.

This is not to say that things are worse than ever, I have just found that when he is in these funks that he just can't get out of, the best thing to do is for us to go our separate ways for a while.  This means that we largely spend time doing our own thing until he is back into a better frame of mind.

I saw a good friend, who did not know the diagnosis, but has known we have had trouble for a long time.  She asked how we were.  A while back, I simply stopped talking about it to people.  Not in the sense that people knew what was really going on, but I simply stopped calling to talk to people I used to.  The truth is I had grown weary of being constantly mad, hurt, or angry and I was positive that that means others had gown tired of it too.  But she asked anyway.

I looked at her and said, "He's still in his funk."  She seemed to understand.  I told her the truth.  Probably the only person who I knew in my heart I should not tell the truth too that I have.  The reason is her direct relationship with us as a married couple.  The very few others I have told are people who are not close to us as a couple, but are friends of mine only, or were on a need to know basis.  But I told her, and I told her that we are currently in one of our avoidance periods.  I did not elaborate, but simply told her that he now seems to improve in one area, only to begin suffering worse in another.  And lately, that has meant a couple of situations that have become "unsafe" and which I had to walk away from for that reason.  I'm sure she clearly understood.

But she looked at me with the love of a good friend and someone who understands and said, "But you are sticking by him, and that counts for something.  At least for the moment, you are giving it your best."

So, for now, I will keep my distance until his funk is lifted and we can talk again.  And I will remember that I am sticking by him, and giving it my best, and hopefully that will be enough.

Wordless

I have been forced into a state I call "wordless."  It is not the same thing as being speechless.  I have well rehearsed speeches I use at work, with my family, with my friends, our neighbors and everyone else in our life.  I am wordless.

Each day I take care of a man who refuses to let me talk to people about my life. - Wordless
Each day, I cannot say how I really feel. - Wordless
Each day, I am forbidden to speak the truth about my feelings. - Wordless

But most of all, my wordlessness comes from being in love someone who couldn't care less about my existence.

I lie in bed at night, unable to sleep because the loneliness is choking my own sense of self.  I desperately want to be loved.  I want someone, anyone, to care how I feel, to care how I'm doing, to care about my day, my life, my thoughts, my existence.

I just want to talk and be heard.  Or simply responded to.  What must it be like to live with someone who actually replies to your statements, who answers your questions, who tells you the information you need to continue to make their life function.

I am wordless.  Because to have words, to speak them to people, means that someone must be able to hear them. I am left to think my thoughts, but never allowed to voice them.  I spend my time in a world so silent, that I fear I am losing the ability to communicate.  Soon, the wordless state I've been forced into will be all I know...

9/11

I do not need to remember 9/11, I live with the aftermath every day in my house...

Please remember all those lives lost, and those who continue to serve on this day.

Breath...

There are days when I wake up exhausted.  Not from a lack of sleep, but from the very thought of what is around me that I must now take on.

My husband was asked to dust.  He has been home a number of days this week due to the holiday, but I have had to work.  All I did was ask him to dust and pick up a little.  I told him that the sheets were clean, but needed to be put on the bed, I told him that the dishwasher was dirty and thus could be loaded.

Today, I saw that he dusted one end table.  He dusted half of the dinning room table, but opted to not move the items on the other side of our table to dust.  So, the dust remains on half the table.  He dusted no other items or objects in the house.  The dishes remained in the sink, the sheets remained unfolded and not put on the bed.  His shirt is still on the couch, the blankets remain unfolded, his clothes still on the bedroom floor.

I am breathing deeply to keep from crying.  I'm breathing deeply to keep from screaming.  I'm breathing deeply to put one foot in front of the other.  To meet one corner of the blanket to the other and gently crease the middle.  I'm breathing deeply to keep from crawling back in bed in a fit of depression.

I must not give in.  I must trade the frustration for patience.  He will begin speaking to me again in a few days, I'm sure.  He will remember to dust the entire table next time, I'm positive.  He will not walk out of the house for military related duty, to be gone for an extended period of time, and leave me with days worth of work to accomplish after asking me if I really need to see my friend while he is gone.

I will take a deep breath and say, "The dishes can wait, because I do need to see my friend. I need time away from the mess that is in my house, and my head, to just laugh at nothing and enjoy the sunshine."  I will repeat this everyday, to remind myself that breathing, patience and time away is something that will help me remember that these are things that cannot always be helped. 

Slaughterhouse Five

This book was always special to me.  It always spoke to me.  In recent times it's been sung as a phenomenal look at what PTSD is like for our warriors coming home.  

Kurt Vonnegut wrote it as a means of sorting through his own experiences.  I have always wondered if he realized how it would come to be a voice for those unable to express the turmoil in their minds.  I have always wondered if after writing it, he sat and thought, "This is my own experience, but one others are going through too." 

After I heard he wrote it about his own experience, I thoughtfully looked back at a book that had long since been thought of as a classic in literature and realized the interesting prose, unusual plot line and the idea of being "unstuck in time" were all a means trying to make sense of the mess that was jumbled and locked away in his own mind.  I had no idea that years later, this book would be my primary way of relating to my husband, a man I had yet to meet when I first read it.  

There are a million books out there about PTSD.  Books to cope, books to explain, books to show you as a spouse how to understand, ones that help you see what symptoms to watch for, but none of them so poetically and lyrically take a very real experience and show you how if must FEEL for your spouse to be so "unstuck in time."

Of course, this is just my own opinion.  But I have to say, dealing with what we are in our personal life, in the privacy of our home, I read quotes from this book and realize how strongly they help me see the pain, the fear, and the utter incomprehension of what they must sometimes be feeling.  It's almost hard for me to read this book now, because I see Billy Pilgrim as my own husband, struggling to stay in one moment long enough to feel it, love it and know that it is real.  Sometimes wishing he was not in the moment he is in, and sometimes wishing he could hold on to one just a little bit longer... But always afraid that it might change at any moment, because he never knows where in his life he will end up next. 

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.