Sometimes You Have to Learn to Dance in the Rain

Life doesn’t always go the way you plan.  I did not look at who I might be and think, “I hope that someday I’m married to a man in the military who comes home with PTSD.” No one plans on their life having those kinds of challenges.  We dream of marrying for love, we plan on having a great career, but we don’t plan, desire or dream of a life turned upside down by war.

I look at my husband and think, “Why am I still here?”  He can go weeks without speaking to me.  He gets angry, but never happy.  He is struggling to understand who he is, who he has become and what is going on.  He lives in a world of flashbacks and pain and I can’t live there with him.  This is a journey we are on together that he refuses to include me in.

I wake up all the time wondering who I am.  I used to be the loving wife of a handsome Marine.  I used to be the girl who cleaned his house and folded his laundry.  I used to find meaning in the scent of his pillow and the brush of his skin and it made me feel like my life was whole. If I am not that person, who am I?  I am the wife of a man with combat related PTSD, and that is not something that I want to define me.

Sometimes if feels like my life has been shaded a hazy color of grey that is clouding my ability to see a future. Sometimes if feels like life is raining on us and that we will never see the sun again. Can we navigate this stormy weather to find a place of calm? I don’t know.  I don’t know what will happen in the future anymore.  I don’t know what our plan is, or if we even have one.  I don’t know how our dreams will change because it feels like we don’t have any anymore. But I do know that even if this rain never lets up, life is what you make of it.

Sometimes, the rain will come down so hard that you fear your life is flooding and that you might drown.  Sometimes, it’s hard to know if it will ever let up.  Sometimes, all you know is that it has been raining for so long, you are not sure if the sun will ever come.  Sometimes all you can do is learn to dance in the rain, just in case it never does.

PTSD Can't Be Fought Alone

This journey has been a long one.  Three years ago, my husband came home with PTSD.

After his first deployment, he admitted to me that he had thought about suicide and had a hard time coming home and adjusting back into life.  This time around, he came and refused to speak at all about what was in his thoughts... And just like that, the man I loved was gone.

I reached out to him, but he has shut me out.  This is a battle he is trying to win alone.  And in that process, he is forcing me to fight alone.  He has refused to let me tell our friends, family or anyone I know.  He has refused to let me talk to other spouses, join support groups that want my real name, or even talk to him about my feelings and emotions.  But this is not something that can be done alone.

He cannot expect our marriage to stay together and our life to keep functioning if he is going to insist that we fight individually.  I cannot keep our life together and keep my sanity if I continue on the track I am on in this isolated exsistence.

Each day I can feel the void between us growing wider as we each seek ways to conquer this alone. 

PTSD is not a problem that effects only one person, but the whole family unit.  While my husbands inner turmoil is his own, the outward manifestation of that struggle bleeds into every aspect of his life, whether he wants it to or not.  This means that, while I am not the one diagnosed with PTSD, I am having to struggle with it and fight it right along side him. It is not a battle that can be fought alone because it's not a battle between just one person and the diagnosis.  While I am trying to find ways to understand and cope, so is my husband, but we need to be finding ways to understand and cope together.

He worries that he doesn't know who he is and thus cannot know who I am.  I feel the same way in reverse, but while we are trying to figure out who we are individually, who we are as a married couple is being neglected.  It's quite possible that if he would try to listen to who I am, and who he is to me, that he might begin to find who he is in the process.  Who he is in relation to me just might be what gives him the clue to who he is to himself. 

The point is that while this journey is a hard one, and while a war rages inside of your thoughts, ultimately this is not a journey that effects only one person.  Trying to understand PTSD, how it manifests in your individual service member, how it will change your life and thinking are all things that must be worked on together as a family.

A spouse, you may need to seek understanding and support from other individuals and that's OK, just as he might need to seek the same.  But what matters is that you are coming back together and working mutually towards the goal of besting your common foe and finding ways to cope.

Honest Conversations

Having an honest conversation with my husband is a struggle.  It is not because I have a hard time being honest, but because he has a hard time listening and responding honestly to me.  He tends to hide his feelings, shut me out and refuse to look at our life square in the face and accept how things are.

The reality is that I have thought about leaving.  The reality is that if he doesn't start accepting that I am a part of this fight and this journey, there is nothing more I can do.  It is not realistic for him to expect that he can spend his time figuring things out and that I will sit by and wait for him to decide he's ready to part of OUR life again.

The past two weeks have been awful.  Beyond horrible.  It was so painful when I tried to speak with him about the apathy that I could feel developing in my heart towards our situation.  It was even worse when he ignored me and I didn't even have the energy to fight to be heard.  He has been unbearable, but not because of temper tantrums or arguing or rage, because for two weeks I have ceased to exist in his life.  He literally fell asleep while I was trying to tell him some very honest and painful things I was feeling in my heart.

5 days ago, I gave up.  I whole heartedly stopped trying.  I didn't bother to make the effort to talk to him, I didn't get angry when he didn't listen to me, I didn't even really care when he walked away while I was speaking to him.  Emotionally, I threw my hands up in defeat and surrendered to what our life had become.

Today, an honest conversation was forced at his feet when I told him that I didn't care if we stayed married and that I was likely going to pack up and leave one day very soon.  Not likely to pack up as a threat, but I honestly haven't been able to get the thought out of my head to just throw my clothes in a bag, walk out the door and never look back.

He had to listen.  He had to finally admit what was going on: He cannot feel.  He is apathetic towards himself and thus cannot be a part of my life.  He doesn't know who he is, he doesn't know who I am and he doesn't know how to be angry, sad, happy or outraged.  All he knows is that life is a struggle to not relive every horrible thing he's seen each day when he opens his eyes.

Honest conversations do not happen often in our house.  Hopefully today's honest look at our life is going to be a jumping point for him to face some of the things he doesn't want to...

Thankful

When things get particularly hard, I find that it becomes necessary for me to try to be thankful.

This is not the easiest task and with all that has been going on lately, it's become impossible to remind myself to do this on a regular basis.  But it's something that must be done.

So, in light of the apathy that is creeping into my feelings about my marriage, the stress I've been under, that pains in my soul and the general malaise that I've been feeling about everything, I think now is a good time to work on being thankful for the things that could have been.

I am thankful my husband came home in one physical piece.  Though at times it seems that his soul is fractured, his body is not.  We were lucky.

I am thankful that he has yet to act on his violent urges.  He has come close to hitting me a few times, but I have been able to prevent it and move out of harms ways, thus saving him from making that choice.

I am thankful that he is able to work.  Not all who suffer from PTSD are in a place that they can hold a job and my husband is managing to do that well.  This means that we are able to deal with the financial challenges slightly better.

I'm thankful that I have always been a very insular person.  I have never been much for needing to leave my house all the time and take quite well to solitude... Which is all my life is made up of lately.  Lucky for me, reading a good book, sewing, crafting, and other hobbies tend to do well to keep me busy.

I'm thankful on most days that no one in our life knows what is going on.  Though I would love to have someone to talk to on bad days, or even just be able to be honest with people in certain circumstances, I understand that stigma and know that it could make many things in our life very awkward.

And the big one... The one I try to remind myself of everyday, especially on the hard days:

I'm thankful he is alive.  Though there are times that I feel it would have been less painful to have lost him over there, I'm thankful he didn't.  Trading the one pain for the other is never a conflict I want someone to have to feel in their heart.  But I know that we are lucky he came home.

Today, I'm going to work on being thankful.

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The Problem Is...

I'm sitting here, at nearly midnight, in front of my computer with a pain so deep in my chest that I am unsure if it is coming from within me or being done to me.

I'm sitting here, writing this because for the first time ever, the thoughts I have of leaving him are not out of frustration, an argument or even anger... They are out of pure sadness and defeat.

Slowly, over the course of three years I have watched my marriage strain, then twist, then bend against pressure.  I have watched all I hold dear crumble, I have watched the man I love dissolve into someone I don't know.  I have watched the life I fought so hard for chip away slowly at the hands of an invisible wound that I don't fully understand.

I have spent three years screaming silently for anyone to know me well enough to know that we are not ok.  That I am not ok.  I have spent three years clawing at things that are not there in hopes of finding a foothold to grasp onto.  I have scoured the internet for information about what is happening to our life.  I have prayed that this would not be all we ever know.  I have feared a man that I never thought could hurt me, I have cried when I thought I had no energy left to produce tears, and I have buckled under the burden of carrying all of this.

Last week, I was doing laundry when I realized that all of MY clothes were clean.  I could just pack up and leave.  It was not spiteful, it was not furious, it just simply was.  There will be no long, drawn out argument.  There will be no lists of what I would like to take with me.  There will be no terms.  There will be no empty dog crates meeting him when he gets home from work.  It will be as simple as if I had stepped out to buy milk.  I will simply not be there, and the only lasting impression that will be left behind on the trail of my heels will be the empty space in the closet where my clothing was once hung.

I'm writing this, at nearly midnight, alone in my living room because tonight, while lying in bed, the thought of simply leaving and never looking back came flittering back into my mind as I stared blankly at the television, not truly absorbing what was on.  It occurred to me that, were it not midnight right now, I actually would have gotten out of bed, packed my clothes and left.

An act so simply that it would take no time at all to complete, but so meaningful, that it would be impossible for him to ignore it.

The problem is that I had the thought at all.  And that when I did have the thought, it was neither angering, nor painful... It just was.

The problem is that I can see myself doing it.  Daydreaming in bed, waiting to grow tired from three years of pain and isolation, of waking up in the morning, going to a doctors appointment and then just never coming back.

The problem is that I don't know how much longer those thoughts will stay locked away from action before I simply wake up, as if I'm still dreaming, and pack a bag and leave.

Someday, Probably Someday Soon

We got married and had less than a year together before my husband deployed.  That means that for the bulk of my marriage, more than half of my married life, we have been struggling with PTSD.  It means that I never really got the chance to have a happy marriage, a successful marriage, or even a peaceful marriage.

Spending all those months gearing up for a deployment meant stress and fighting.  Spending all those months planning a wedding alone, while my husband worked, meant stress and fighting.  And now, all these years later, we have had nothing but stress and fighting.

Since returning home, I have tried.  I have tried harder than most to keep us together and I have tried harder than most would to stay with my husband.  I have tried to be his support system, however flawed that might be.  I have tried and tried.

But my husband doesn't seem to be trying at all.  He has spent the last three years rolling over and falling asleep while I am talking.  Even when it's something super important.  Even when I really need him to listen to me.  Even when I really need someone. Even when I really need him.

So where does that leave me? It leaves me sitting here wondering how many more years he is going to take all I have to give and give me nothing I have in return.  It makes me wonder how long he expects me to support him and be there for him, when he doesn't do the same for me.

It pains me to think about the last three years and how lonely it's been.  How can the man I married not think that sometimes I need someone too? Sometimes I need to be able to come home and know the person waiting for me is always going to be there.  Instead, I have been living life alone.  And it scares me because I get better at it everyday and someday, probably someday soon, the reason I needed my husband isn't going to be there anymore.  Someday, probably some day soon, I will be self sufficient.

I'm already learning what I can accomplish without his help.  I've already started to live my own life without him.  I have my own friends, I have my social life and hobbies.  I'm realizing that he doesn't know anything about me anymore... He is so all consumed with his own issues that he is failing to see that I sometimes have things going on in my life too.

And someday, probably someday soon, I'm going to wake up and realize that I can live life without him.  Someday, probably someday soon, I'm not going to feel compelled to stay.

Lend Me Your Darkest Hole

I just want to crawl into a hole never to come back out.

That's all.  Nothing profound to say about my feelings.

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.”