BOOK PURCHASE: Discount (above) or PayPal (below)
Click "Buy Now" to continue to PayPal
Click to order eBook - Kindle
Click to order eBook - Nook
Oct
7
Coming Home
Filed Under American Patriotism, Life, PTSD, Today's War | Comments Off on Coming Home
by Stars and Stripes
He’s a businessman now. He has leisure time. He reads his law books, looks for a house to buy. He sleeps on clean sheets, and takes Hawaiian cruises with his family.
But a part of Dave Johnson is still in Iraq.
A couple of times a week, he wakes up there – “in the middle of a giant explosion,” he said, like the one on his second tour that took out his patrol base, killed one colleague, maimed another and injured a dozen more.
The former sergeant, who enlisted after getting a law degree to do his duty for his country – then was stop-lossed for 18 months – revisits the battleground in his waking life, too.
Every now and then, he says, he’ll have a flashback – “a very, very vivid memory” – of one among six or so events during his first Iraq tour.
A certain suicide bombing in a market, for instance.
“It was the last one I ever went to. We were the first responders,” Johnson, 30, said. “I felt the concussion. The blast wasn’t as big so there were much larger body parts, an arm here, a leg …
“It was me and Capt. [Matt] Lee and a member of the British Parliament. The entire market burned to the ground,” he said.
The memories creep in without warning, he said, and the acute flashback, including increased pulse and perspiration rate and a pounding heart, lasts about 30 seconds. Johnson’s twin brother, who spends a lot of time with him teaching him the family roofing business, can tell when it happens.
“He says, ‘You’re twitching again, dude.’
So Johnson wasn’t surprised to be diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder. The nightmares, the residual feelings of terror, the loss of sleep – all of it “affects you all day,” he said. And to have a flashback in the courtroom would not be good, he said.
Experts estimate that fully 20 percent of Iraq-deployed troops have developed PTSD and that nearly all show some post-combat anxiety. Yet despite a Defense Department effort to remove the stigma surrounding such psychological impacts of combat, many soldiers are still hesitant to admit they may be having problems and seek help.
Now Johnson spends his days learning the family roofing business from his brother. He’s looking for a starter house. Evenings he reads up on civil law so he can assist with the firm’s legal work.
Life is good, he said.
Yet as glad as he is to be out, he has few regrets about having been a grunt.
“Riding in a helo, staying up for 50-some hours straight, carrying a machine gun … I wouldn’t have traded it for the world.”
Sep
29
by Janet Seahorn
Have you ever heard a song a hundred times and never thought much about it?
Then one day, you are driving down the road with nothing to obscure your mind; you hear this very same song and it suddenly hits a new note, a new way of thinking about the words, and you wonder why did I never recognize the amazing connection?
Such an incident came to me a week ago while I was steering down the highway. I heard a song from Josh Groban’s album, Awake, called “Weeping”. What took me by surprise was how closely the words seemed to describe the silent torment of trauma.
How experiencing a truly shocking event, the mind, body, and spirit continues to relive the disturbing details as if they were happening in present time.
How, no matter what you try, how much you do to contain or remove the frightening thoughts, they still seem to remain.
The words from the song “Weeping” is another way to describe those living with Post Traumatic Stress. See if you agree – I only wrote down a verse and the poignant chorus.
I knew a man, who lived in fear,
It was huge, it was angry, it was drawing near.
Behind his house a secret place
Was the shadow of a demon he could never face.
He built a wall of steal and flame
And men with guns to keep it tamed…
It doesn’t matter now,
it’s over anyhow,
He tells the world that it’s sleeping.
But as the night came out
I heard a lonely sound
It wasn’t roaring, it was sleeping.
So where are those “secret” places where the demons hide? And, even more important, how many sufferers are strong and courageous enough to face them, deal with them, and move forward?
For there are no walls high enough, no amount of men with guns that will be able to tame one’s internal demons.
In the end, perhaps the residue of trauma isn’t fueled by fear and anger at all; perhaps what remains is fueled by a sense of deep sorrow. A sorrow provoked by dreams of what could have been. Sorrow from what was lost and the silent weeping formed from loneliness and regret.
And perhaps, with enough time, enough support, and enough courage even the weeping will cease and be replaced with hope and joy.
Sep
23
The Teeter Totter Journey
Filed Under Life, PTSD | 2 Comments
by Janet Seahorn
Ever think of life as a “teeter totter journey”? Sometimes you’re up, sometimes your down, and when everything is in perfect balance, you are somewhere in-between.
The biggest challenge on a teeter totter is keeping that perfect balance. The certainty of teeter tottering is that equilibrium doesn’t last very long. As soon as the tiniest shift occurs on either side, the mechanism moves.
When you were a child playing on the teeter totter, the fun wasn’t keeping the slab of wood in balance; it was the fast ups and downs as you tried to give your partner a very exciting ride.
Life is a bit like that teeter totter. Some days we are up, some days down, and, every so often, we are within the perfect balance. If we really examined it, however, we would notice that most of our time is spent in the process of moving between the ups and the downs.
This is not good or bad. It just is. Post-Traumatic Stress can be life’s ultimate teeter totter. The ride is faster, quicker, and more unpredictable than the average, and those times of stability may seem shorter. Those individuals on the PTSD cycle are there for good reason; they have experienced life at some of its highest highs, and it very lowest lows. The speed of change, therefore, tends to be faster, more unpredictable. At times it can make one queasy from experience.
Playing on a teeter totter requires at least two people; you can’t get up without someone on the other end helping you there. It’s a push, pull, and bumps boogie.
Those living with Post-Traumatic Stress and family members who become part of the journey often experience the same unpredictable, sudden change in highs and lows. Yet, perhaps, the most important message in this blog is simply this: if either rider decides to abandon the wooden slab, the remaining rider can be at peril, depending on where they sit.
And herein lies both the gift and the tragedy. Those of us who live with the after effects of combat trauma (or any trauma causation) make a choice every single day to continue the journey together.
Yep, life is a teeter totter journey.