The Ups and Downs

Being that my spouse has PTSD, we live with a lot of ups and downs.  I often feel like more downs than ups to be honest. 

The other day, my husband woke up mad at the world and frustrated with life.  When he wakes up in these moods, it's a safe bet that it's going to be a down kind of day. He fights, he's grumpy and nothing I can do is going to be the right thing.

So he woke up and stomped his way around the house.  He yelled belligerently at me, he made wild accusations and refused to let me end the conversations.  This is what he does.  He then refused to talk to me for days because I wouldn't give in.  This is also what he does.

Then he just came home one night in the best mood he could be in, apologized and that was that.  The mood was lifted, the down became an up and life moved on. 

That is just how our life is sometimes.  Like I said, sometimes it feels like it's more down than up, but it swings both ways.  But I never know which way it's swinging until he opens his mouth to speak to me (assuming he's speaking to me at all). 

The ups and downs can be a lot to cope with.  It's not that I don't scream back or cry or walk away.  It's not that I always react perfectly, it just means that this is our life.  The ups, and the downs.

Sacrifice

This weekend was the weekend of meltdowns.  It was the weekend of me throwing my hands in the air and telling him I wasn't going to keep talking and being ignored and I wasn't going to keep arguing in circles.  When I do that, he tends to stop talking to me.... For a long time.  He hasn't spoken to me in 24 hours and is unlikely to for a few more days at a minimum.

This post, entitled Sacrifice, is not about the sacrifices of the spouses and children, it's not my sacrifice I'm talking about.  It's his.  It's the very idea that I log onto Facebook everyday to see people arguing their points of view on raising children, gun control, the war, our governments choices, our President and any number of other things.

At work the other day two close friends asked how things were and I had to admit that he was melting down again.  I talk candidly about what was happening in our secret life behind closed doors, on our own private battlefield.  Both said they felt I should leave and that he should no longer be in the military.

To all of these people I want to say, my husband made a sacrifice for you.

He has sacrificed who he is, his marriage, his life, and sometimes, his sanity for you.  Think about what he is going through, the hell that he lives, the hell that I live and remember that you get on Facebook and spout your opinions without fear of reprisal, because you live in a land where others fought for your freedoms and others stand ready to at any moment to fight again.

And while you will read articles about how we spend months, sometimes years apart, and you will read about the sacrifices of military families, there are large points that they miss in those articles.  True, distances from your loved ones is hard, true we spend months apart, spouses suddenly become single parents, kids miss their mommies and daddies, money can be tight, benefits can change, and stress abounds in this life.  But what about the other sacrifices?

What about my husband who went to war, who loves what he does in the military, who was willing to give up who he was, he was willing to sacrifice his marriage, his love, his life as he knew it, to do what he believed in?  What about that sacrifice.  Me?  I love him.  And I am here.  And I will be here if he yells, refuses to talk to me, shuts me out and tells me he hates me.  Because tomorrow, he may not feel that way at all.  That is not a sacrifice, that is love.  That is determination to help the man I married find himself again.  But him?  He gave up everything for his nation.  His life is crumbling, his identity gone, his mind is fractured, his soul is wandering all in honor of the nation he loves, filled with people he's never met.

Sacrifice.  Though there are times that I feel I sacrifice a lot for this nation as a result of loving a military man, the sacrifices he has made are so much greater.

The Little Battles add up

Do you ever have times in your life where you just feel so defeated that you don't know what to do?  It's not even military related, it's just a situation I've been put in, that unfortunately isn't something I can really talk to anyone about. I can't go into specifics here either, but I'm hitting a point where it's not any one BIG thing to go wrong, it's these stupid little battles and frustrations each day.  Stupid little things going wrong, that are all building each day and I just had the final nail in the coffin. 

I just... I've hit a point where I feel like throwing my hands in the air and giving up.  Giving up on my dreams, giving up on everything.  Why wake up each day and fight?  Why wake up each day and push through?  My mantra has always been strength, nothing that is worth it comes easy right?  But why?  Why fight this hard for something so simple?

Why fight so hard for anything if you will just be waking up tomorrow to a new battle, a new struggle, something else going wrong, someone else being unwilling to help.

I crawl in bed every night and tell myself that tomorrow is another day.  Tomorrow is a day to start over. I don't have to carry these burdens.  Each moment we live is another chance.  Each day an opportunity to try again.  But why? 

It feels like I've been walking up hill for so long.  When do I finally reach the peak?  I'm not even talking about PTSD, or the troubles with my husband, but just... life.  just... life.

Envy

Envy is a dangerous feeling to have.  Envy causes good people to do bad things, it can topple friendships and relationships into rubble.  The reason?  Because envy begets resentment.  I know this first hand.  You see, while I have a blog to vent my feelings and hobbies to past the time, my husband has nothing.  Now, he chooses to have nothing, but his choice has led to envy. 

The way my husband cycles is pretty predictable in a way.  Not that he has a rhythm in the sense of a time frame he always gets into funks, but he has a rhythm when in them.  These "funks" as I like to call them, start easy enough.  He's a bit grumpy or moody and a little difficult to work with.  But he does what all good funky people will do.  He makes it worse.  He feeds his funks with isolation and alienation.  He alienates me by being angry and mean and distant.  He can go months without directly speaking to me in a social manner.  And when he is speaking to me, he argues with me about everything and his behaviors become so unbearable that I withdraw from him.  So, over the years, I have developed hobbies. 

These hobbies all involve being home so that I can still offer support and take care of things, but I can dive into them for days or weeks on end and never think twice about entire days spent doing them.  And I enjoy it.  It's time just for me.  It's something I look forward to and it's something that keeps my mind off of the situation we are in.  It's helping to heal my anger.  I may not be blissful, but I can settle for less broken.  But my husband doesn't have anything.  He has hobbies, but he gives into the malaise that his funks cause.  Video games no longer enthrall him, he doesn't want to see friends, he just sits on the computer diddling around on Facebook and websites that have funny meme's because it requires no effort to do either of those things.  Toss in a few beers and he's now unwilling to do much of anything.

He hasn't spoken to me in weeks.  And the other night, we got into a huge argument about money.  I wanted some extra money to buy some items and he flipped out about how much my hobbies cost.  Per usual, his reaction was over the top.  And per usual, I was hurt and sensitive, so I argued back instead of walking away.  But what came out of this situation was pretty amazing.

I told him that I need my hobbies to cope.  I need a reason to get out of bed everyday.  I need a means of having time that is not spent constantly worrying about him.  It is SOOOO easy to lose yourself in your spouse and their PTSD (and/or TBI) and it's SOOOO important that you don't.  This is what I do to make sure I stay separate from his issues.  And he looked at me and said, so sadly that it broke my heart, "I don't have anything like that. I don't have a reason to get out of bed.  I have nothing." 

Then came the anger and the resentment that will always follow envy.  He told me that he was envious of my having found blogging and that I have it as an outlet because he doesn't feel he has one.  He is reluctant to tell me his feelings and stories and I don't blame him.  Not only would I not be able to truly understand, but I would probably be horrified by what he's been through.  He prefers to speak to his counselor.  And hobbies?  Well, he doesn't have anything that holds his attention long enough, and he's angry envious that I do. 

Envy is a dangerous emotion and I worry about that fact that he is so envious.  What I have to cope with is not the healthiest way to deal.  I'm not speaking to someone, I'm hiding.  But it works for me for the time being and that's all he sees.  And he's angry and resentful.  And that anger and resentment means he doesn't want to speak to me. So where does that put us?  I either give up my escape so that he will be less mad at me, but possibly lose myself in the situation without them, or I keep doing them and live with the angry outbursts, the escalations, the emotional neglect and occasional verbal lashing. 

I don't know that there is a right answer here.  I feel like it's a lose/lose situation.  I want to help him, I want to do what is best for him, but I have to weight that, as a caregiver, with my own needs and the priority I need to have to take care of myself as well.  And I fail miserable at that. 

The World is Full of Ordinary People

I'm often reminded of the quote from Pride and Prejudice, "there are few people of whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well."  It's not a great way to feel about the world, but every time I hear it, it rings in my ears.

I don't want you to be under the impression that I hate everyone, it's simply that one day, this young lady grew up. 

As a younger version of myself, I was freshly optimistic about everyone and everything.  Everyone got the benefit of the doubt and I rarely thought ill thoughts of anyone.  You can call it naivety, but I simply call it a young heart full of hope for the world and the future.

But, like all young things, my heart grew up.  It grew up under the tightest of clutches.  I desperately clung to that youthful belief system and I wake up weary and sad that I am not that young, doe eyed girl anymore.

I still try to think the best of people.  I want to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but it's a funny thing, growing up.  Your parents, who are the first people you ever truly know that well, and who spend much of your life shaping who you will become... Well, they become just ordinary people.  Your mom doesn't have super powers, your dad isn't the strongest man you know.  They are just people, doing the best they can.  And because they are ordinary, they are just as flawed as anyone else. 

It can be a tough realization for youthful hearts to see the world for what it is.  We are all just ordinary people, trying to make the best of what we have, working to be the best we can be, and struggling against our flaws.

There are few people whom I really love, and even fewer of whom I have a good opinion... people are flawed and I have a very guarded heart.  And I wish, more than anything, that I could go back to being that girl, that youthful heart so eager to love everyone and think nothing but wonderful things of them.  But I have grow suspicious of anyone new, I have been hurt by the flaws of those I once thought infallible, and I have begun to see the world for what it is, full of ordinary people.

But I have seen ordinary people do extraordinary things and it gives me hope that this cynical and painful view of the world I have taken on will be proven to be wrong. 

"It's Hard" Is an Understatement

To say the life I lead is hard feels like so much of an understatement, that it may actually be the cliche that everyone is talking about.  Without divulging too many real details, my job is innately stressful.  It's the field I work in, the the nature of what I do.  It's nothing but stress from start to finish and I have always loved it.  But now that things at home feel less stable, things at work feel less stable.
My job has always been the place I looked forward to going to get away from my life.  I didn't have to think about PTSD or the struggles that take place behind closed doors.  I just showed up and do what I do best.  And I do it well.

But suddenly there has been a shift.  That shift happened when I could no longer allow my employer take me for granted.  I couldn't let them use trusty ol' Annie to pick up the slack, fill the shifts and generally be the dependable one.  It happened when one day I woke up and looked at my life and no longer had the will to get out of bed.  For two weeks, I got up, ate and went back to bed.  I wasn't sleeping, I was hiding.  I was hiding from my life. 

I sat in the dark, blinds drawn, TV on, computer in my lap, refusing to accept that outside of the door of my room was an entire world that functions without lying.  Most people don't go to work and lie about who they are.  They don't lie to friends about why they can't come visit, to family about why they can't make it to dinner or to themselves about how they really feel. 

I hid because opening that door meant having to admit that I don't always have all the answers.  It meant having to admit that good ol' Annie had no one but herself to rely on and good ol' reliable Annie couldn't bear to face the world feeling like no one knew her. 

So I hid.  For two weeks I told my husband I was sick, I told my friends I had a headache, I left my phone on silent and buried my pain and heartache in the shadows the fell in the corners of my closet. 

To say this life is hard feels like calling the Great Wall of China a stone partition. And I don't know how I can ever expect anyone who is not living it each day to understand why.  So, it's likely I will take to my room again one day.  I don't suppose it's so terrible to need a break everyone now and then.  But where do you go when your home is the place you are escaping from?

I take to my bed.  I hid in my room behind excuses, until I can find the strength to live the lie.

"It's hard" is an understatement. 

We All Need A Win Sometimes

I disappeared around Christmas.  I did this because the holidays are stressful enough, but for some reason, everything triggers my husband making it that much worse.  It means that I spend the holidays being ignored or yelled at. 

It's not his fault, I know that.  And there is nothing we can do about him not knowing what is triggering this stuff.  It also doesn't help that the holidays are harder times to get appointments, which means he went a number of weeks without talking to his counselor. 

But here I am, sitting in a post holiday mess of a life and I find that I am randomly bursting into tears.  Not because anything truly terrible is happening, I'm quite literally crying over burnt toast these days, I find that it's more of the fact that, sometimes, holding it all together is just too much.  Sometimes, the energy it takes to be the calm reassuring voice in my husbands life means that I am having to stifle the cries of my own heart.  And sometimes, it means burnt toast for breakfast is just too much to cope with. 

On paper, it all sounds so ridiculous.  Burnt toast.  So, what?  Toss it and start over.  I suppose when your life is a constant mess, you just need the little things to go right.  We all need to win sometimes, and my wins don't have to be big ones.  I just want my toast to be done, the butter to be soft and a moment to eat it in quiet while thinking of only my toast.  That's all.  Just a silly little win before starting the even bigger challenges of my day. 

It's the little things in life, as they say, and I rely on those little things to see me through the big ones. 

So this is Christmas?

Being that this is a PTSD blog, I feel compelled to spend my whole time writing about PTSD.  And given that my husband is very concerned about what I share publicly, not that I blame him, I have been reluctant to share much about my job.  But, this holiday season, my job has played a big part in our little PTSD universe.  You see, like so many other spouses of service members with combat related PTSD, my boss doesn't understand. 

It's not an easy thing to talk about to people without sharing intimate details, so I often try to glance over it.  But when my boss asked me exactly what PTSD was and why my husband needed so much support, I told her about his forgetfulness, how I have to hold our life together and how I had to remind him of things and make sure things got done.  She told me her husband was like that too (a civilian with no PTSD history, mind you).  I'm not under any dillusion that she was trying to be a jerk, but it was insensitive.  But this is how she is.  She doesn't seem to understand. 

So, when I approached my boss about changing my work schedule a few months ago, she didn't understand why I needed it.  And when I brought it up again, she still doesn't, even though there is a different position open that I am more than qualified for. 

There's not much I can do to change this.  It just sucks to feel so misunderstood.  It sucks that just before Christmas, my husband and I had to have a chat about my future at my job, which I love.  It sucks that we even have to feel like we have to choose between my job and his needs.  I know that I can't make the world understand PTSD.  I know that some people are never going to really understand, but it's hard to think that we have to make this kind of choice. 

I don't have any advice for how to deal with an employer like mine.  I love my job, but I can't keep putting their needs before my family.  My husband needs me and when put in a corner, I will choose my family every time, even if that means having to look for other work.  I just wish their was a way to help employers see why it can be so difficult to balance work and home, and why schedules sometimes have to be adjusted.  I feel reluctant to talk too deeply about it though, because I don't want my employer judging my husband and I don't want HIM to feel judged.  He feels enough of that already. 

Just such a terrible thing to have to be worried about around the holidays.  Like they aren't stressful enough already.

Scars

Some days I lie awake in bed unsure of how I feel.  I guess helpless would be the word.  But hopeful is not too far away from the thoughts that are flittering through my head.

I can't force change and I can't force things to get better.  Sometimes I wish I could just scream at the world the way you would scold a child for doing something wrong.  I want to scream at the universe and tell them that what has been done to my husband is wrong.  The pain he is suffering is wrong. The hurt I know he is trying to hide is wrong.

How can you make someone who doesn't like himself understand that you love him?  He wakes up everyday and looks into the mirror at a person he doesn't think deserves life or love.  But I love him.  I wish I could make him see the world around him the way it truly is.  It can be a beautiful place, even when it's been scarred.  He is still a wonderful man, even with the scars he has.

But the Universe is not fair.  Life is not fair.  Good things happen to bad people, or so the cliche goes.  And that means that sometimes, we have to adapt to the challenges we face.  Adapt and Overcome is the motto in our house, not just in the Marine Corps.  And sometimes, you have to make have to make the world beautiful, because it's not always so on it's own.

When Do I Leave?

In the short time since I’ve started my blog, I’ve had a number of people reach out to me.  It’s hard to feel alone and we all need a little understanding.  But so far, the most common question I get asked is, “how do I know when to leave?”

I don’t know that I have an answer for that question.

This blog is really just a collection of my pent up frustrations, my overwhelming emotional outbursts, all sprinkled with anything I can offer to others who might not have anyone to turn to.  

But here’s how I feel about leaving:  I think about doing it all the time.  I really do.  I think we probably all do.  We fell taken for granted.  We feel ignored, isolated, lonely and sad.  Our whole existence has become taking care of someone who hates us for doing it.  How to you wake up each day and keep loving someone who pushes you away?  I guess you just do.  I mean, we do, don’t we?

I think the decision to leave your spouse is so beyond personal.  But if you are waking up still wanting to stay and help most of the time, then it’s probably not time for you to give up.  If you are unsafe, or you have hit the maximum of what you can emotionally endure, then it’s a good time to reevaluate your situation. 

You will never hear me judge someone for staying or leaving.  It’s such a personal choice that is dependent on so many factors.  I encourage everyone to seek counseling if you can, both personal and marriage.  I encourage you to continually evaluate the situation and know that there is no shame in feeling defeated.  There is no shame in staying or leaving. 

I know that I had to make a choice and my choice was to stick this out to the bitter end, but we all reach our crossroad at different points.  And when you do, the choice of which way to turn can only be decided by you.