tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40848763616083069372024-03-14T06:06:28.333-07:00Living with PTSD and TBIOur journey of living and dying with PTSD and TBIUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger164125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-1926050314282474692016-11-08T07:58:00.003-08:002016-11-08T08:22:54.650-08:00We'd Be Better Off Without You (Part one)<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I know what you were thinking......</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Everything will be <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK</span> without you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You said it a <i>million</i> times; sometimes <i>more</i> than twice a day. Some days you just told me with no expression on your face. Other times, you yelled it at me when something didn't go the way you expected it to. Other times it came out, striking me with each spit covered word as they left your mouth. You used to tell me all the time that I would be <i>fine</i>. The boys....well, they would be so much better off without a dad that didn't give a shit. We had friends who would help, family, I'd have the cars, the house, all your things whether it be old or new and we wouldn't have to worry."You'd be well taken care of and you wouldn't have to put up with my shit anymore. You could live a normal life. Sell all my shit and take off for a long trip. You don't understand. You will be so much better off without me here on this Earth. You all would be so much happier if I wasn't around".</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sometimes I wonder if y<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">o</span>u <i>really</i> and <i>truly</i> believed that....</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Or if it was just something y<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">o</span>u told yourself to <i>justify</i> the way y<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">o</span>u were thinking?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> How I wish I could tell you how much better off we are without you here...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">B</span>ut, I can't.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The night you walked away with a gun in your hand was one of the longest nights I can ever remember experiencing in my entire life. I remember being on the phone with the 911 emergency operator and speaking very softly to you from the top of the stairs. I remember trying to cover the bullet holes you shot into the wall with your coat and how my hands shook bad enough that I couldn't grasp the sleeves enough to even move them. I remember never once, leaving your eyes as I whispered "You are home. We will get through this" as I was at the same time trying so desperately to let emergency personnel know you were <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK</span> and that we didn't really need them there. I just remember the last time I saw your face which was distorted and at the same time, absolutely crushed at the moment you realized what you had done. I remember staring down at you, my heart breaking as I took in the tears that were flowing. I've seen you break down so many times before but, this....<i>this was so different</i>. You told me you were <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK</span>, that we were <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">OK</span> and the last words out of your mouth was "I am so so sorry, Mommy". I looked back up the stairwell to calm the dog and looked back and you were gone. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The police called on the phone. I remember them questioning me, wondering if you were holding us hostage with a gun or were we being held captive? Were you pointing a gun at us? Were you in the house? I replied yes, you had gone to put the gun up as promised and that you seemed like you were back from whatever dark place you were in. They made me go look for you down in the basement and how my heart shuddered at the thought not just from facing you again but, you had made it so clear that the garage was off limits to us all. I opened up the door and saw the basement door was unlocked and slightly open. You were no where to be found. I remember feeling panicked, wondering where the hell you had gone and the police on the phone didn't believe me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">They asked me outright if I was lying to them. That it was a crime to harbor or shelter you which I couldn't understand because you weren't some criminal. I remember their tone being so very nasty to me and no matter what I said, they just wouldn't believe me at all. I was then told to gather up our boys and walk outside with our hands above our heads. It was bitterly cold that night and I had no coat on and only slippers. Your boys, just in pajamas with bare feet. I did as I was told but, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the rage I had <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">building inside scared me more because<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></span>we were being treated this way. We stood forever being watched by the police while they searched our home. <i>They went through everything</i>. They tore up our house while we sat outside and watched. They brought in police dogs and made me get something that smelled like you. I remember I kept asking if I could please put my children in the car? We were out there for a while watching as many trampled in and out of our home, tracking in mud and cow manure all over our carpet and floors. I could remember the smell of fear; acrid, and burnt at the same time. <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It seemed i<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t painted the cold<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Winter wind that blew through that night.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It seemed like hours had passed and we were so bitterly cold. A police officer was yelling at me asking questions about you. You were deemed right then and there as a "deranged combat vet on the loose". I remember standing tall and telling that man everything I could quickly get in pertaining to your wounds and that something was<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> really wrong with you</span>. When I told him to please let me go look and that you had PTSD and TBI, he said "So?". They didn't care about you<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. They didn't care about us.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can't remember much more after that. I can remember that my world shattered, my heart had finally fallen to pieces as I couldn't understand how this man was once your friend. How I had sent many pots of chili, loaves of pumpkin bread and more to feed them when you were working. How if anyone, he could understand what it was like and I began trying to convince him as well as plead for your safety. I remember an older gentleman officer pulling me aside and telling me he would back our car down to the end of the road and he would let us get inside and turn the heat on. I remember crying to him and asking him "<i>please</i>, <i>please</i> that man <i>doesn't</i> care. T<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hey won't give him a chance<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. T<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hey will just shoot him</span></span></span>". It turned out he was a Vietnam Veteran and he said "we'll do everything we can for him and I know....trust me honey, I do know. I am going to try and get to him first". He was the <i>only</i> one nice to us that evening.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The cops that were there kep<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t looking at us like we were<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> the worst walks of life he ha<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d ever seen. It was almost like we could have had a crack house, with sex slaves <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">chained to the wall<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">; running a sweat shop in the basement and they still would not have looked at us with the same disdain. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I still to this day </i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>do not unde</i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>rstand</i>. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">As time ticked by, more and more cops showed up. I kept thinking Wow, this is the most policemen I have ever seen in one place in this small town. It was<i> you</i>, they didn't <i>need</i> all these <i>people</i>. <i>They knew you</i>. I desperately scanned the men and mentally checked off the names as I found their faces. I remember being called out of my car and police staying with the kids. I was asked questions about your stability, had you wishe<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d</span> to kill anyone, were you a threat to any person in particular. I <i>couldn't believe</i> they would ask me this <i>especially</i> from the ones who <i>knew</i> you. The ones you used to work with, the ones you helped move or the ones you showed up at their family's funerals for in support. I heard a man say at the front of your truck, "if you see him, shoot on site". I remember feeling very weak and that my body just stopped working and it seemed like <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">time just stopped. I remem<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ber thinking I suddenly couldn't bre<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">athe</span></span></span>. I could hear them talking softly to each other and how <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the words "crazy", "asshole", <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"</span>fucking war vets are goddamn dangerous" and <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">how those words<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <i>stung</i> and <i>stabbed</i> every time they made it to my <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ears. My <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">view on the world changed so drastically that night. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">For so many yea<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">rs, I always thought if <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I lost you....it would be in a fire<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, bravely rescuing some<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">one and ensuring their safety. I<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t would be in the line of duty when you were on the poli<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ce force gunned down <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">by a bad <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">guy</span>, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and when you went to war......well, I think I <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">felt</span> way before you did you wouldn't be coming back. <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">In 2013, someone hit you head on and <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">took away all the progress you had made. Al<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">l that hard work<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">...gone. </span></span>It seem<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">s like you just really never got a chance once you came home. </span>I remember desperately trying to stop the bleeding <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">from your head, seeing where your skull had been crus<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hed inward<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, </span></span>blood everywhere on my <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">hands and when they <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">flew you by <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Life Flight, I didn't know then if <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">you would be ok or if my last words to you<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> were enough to show you I loved you. <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yes, those scenarios often lurked in the back of a worried wife's mind but, this? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This.....I couldn't lose you like this. It didn't make sense. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Minutes turned to hours; they wouldn't tell me anything. We weren't allowed back in our home until early that next morning. They called the home phone every five minutes. They had the SWAT team in places around our neighbors homes, cars alongside the road, and police officers with K-9s. Some weren't even with our local department and I never could figure out why they would come from different cities. I was drawn to the backdoor and there I sat with your service dog. Just <i>positive</i> that you would be walking in at any minute and already<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> searching the </span>memory rolodex and contacts in preparation of your defense. They would call every few minutes on the phone asking me over and over again if you were in our home, if I was hiding you and how I could go to jail for harboring a criminal and how it would be awful for my boys to see both parents go to jail. They threatened, they <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">tried to <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">see if I wasn't telling the truth by <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">yelling at me to just tell them where you were.</span> </span></span></span>I didn't understand that and I kept<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">yelling at them you weren<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'t some common criminal<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, they knew you and they know you wouldn't hurt anyone.</span></span></span></span> How would I know where you were if I was <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">begging to keep searching<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">? </span></span>If I opened the door to look out or to let the dogs go outside to use the bathroom, they would instantly call and wonder if I had talked to you, did I know where you were and on it went. It seemed whenever they would call me, there was another call following shortly after asking me who I was talking to on the phone. I couldn't get it through their heads that there were two officers calling me back to back asking who I was talking to. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Our home looked like a bomb went off. Toy boxes emptied, closets torn up, beds flipped and more. The boys and I spent the time frantically trying to pick things up, put things back in place and clean up the messes. We were familiar with mass cleanups <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and of hiding<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. </span></span>We were <i>absolutely</i> terrified of what was going on. I knew at any minute they would find you and I was ready to go and be there at the jail when you arrived. I wasn't allowed to use either cell or home phone as I was told they were monitoring me and I would go to jail. All I could worry about is you were missing your medications, you didn't have a heavy coat to be out all night in and you never ate your supper. Seems so stupid to admit that I was thinking those things but, I guess it was a way for my mind not to completely shut down. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">A sheriff's deputy had come to the door and my body just went absolutely weak and still. I still remember how my heart was going to come through my chest and explode all over our front porch. He had a file in his hand that was pretty thick as he explained they had a file on you and you were "undependable and dangerous". I kept arguing and shaking my head profusely although he just remained silent and kept lifting that folder as if to say "Lady, I got this file to prove you wrong". He explained to me that they had been having issues with you for months prior to this. How you had been found many many times sitting in your truck, "zoned out" and unresponsive, in a church parking lot facing a cemetery which was less than 3/4 mile from our home. He explained that they were constantly making you leave, telling you that you needed help and I just couldn't believe what he was saying. All I could think to respond was "He is <i>severely afraid</i> of cemeteries. There is <i>no way in hell</i> he would <i>ever</i> do that. He was deathly afraid of being buried, afraid of boxes in the ground and he just <i>wouldn't</i> be there.". But, it was all true. He showed me the reports. How in the world did I <i>miss</i> this? Why would you be in the <i>one place</i> that <i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">terrified</span></i> you the <i>most</i>? Most of all? If this had been happening for months, why had <i>no one come</i> and talked to me about it? I don't know what I would have done but, dammit I would have done what it took to care for you.I remember <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">feeling crushed that you lie<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d to me about tinkering with a friend, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">and how <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">you must have felt to go to that place<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">. How <i>alone</i> you must have felt and scared....I couldn't <i>understand</i> how we had been <i>through so much</i> shit together and yet, you had <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">on<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ce again lied.<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Why you felt you couldn<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'t tell me you <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">were blacking out so much? Why <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">couldn't you have just talked to me<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">?</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I remember your service animal staring out through the back door and there he stayed the whole night and morning with me, waiting for you to come in. He whined incessantly<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, </span>howled as loud as I can remember hearing it from him and I don't know who was shaking more<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">; me or the dog</span>. I think looking back now, he <i>knew</i> where you were. I often wonder if his heart broke that night too. At two in the morning, for some strange reason....I felt an empty ache in my heart and my soul just shattered. We sat in fear and watched as armed men in black set up in the neighbors yard with guns pointed towards the back of our home looking out over our neighbors pastures. I<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> kept thinking "Do they really need to set up so many <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">officers for one man? Do they have to do that in my neighbors' yards?" </span></span>Someone had called again and asked me for the millionth time had I heard from you and I screamed "<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">N</span>o, goddammit! If I did, I would tell you.<i> Please just hurry</i>!!!" He replied that they could see you sitting in the pasture under a tree. My heart just stood still as I thought you were ok, everything was going to be ok. I began collecting my purse, looking for documents on a USB drive to take with me and my mind was going in a million circles. The hours ticked by it seemed and I remember how <i>silent</i> everything seemed; the kind of silence that drives you insane. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I don't remember what time it was when the knock came on the front door. I remember opening it up and finding your buddy, also a recently returned combat Veteran, standing there with his hat in his hands. I know that I looked at him and looked around to see so many more standing on that small front stoop with their heads slightly bowed and hats in their hands. I said "Oh thank God, you <i>found</i> him!" and when my eyes darted back and forth among the faces, your buddy looked at me and said "Honey, he's gone". It didn't register at that second, the tears that were steadily falling down his face, or the way his hands gripped his hat so hard it was shaking. I remember telling him to give me just one second and I only needed to grab my purse and your meds and I would be on the way to the station. He just kept standing there, <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">never </span>moving and I will never forget how he looked at me and said "<i>Honey, he's gone</i>" and how I argued with him that you would be home anytime now and that everything was going to be ok. That <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">you would be <i>so pissed</i> off at the damages done to our home. </span>He just stood there in front of all those people shaking his head softly and saying "Honey, I am so sorry. He's not coming back. He's gone home honey. He's not in pain anymore. God, I am so sorry." I don't know who hurt the most at that moment, Him or Me. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I remember falling on the stairs. I <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">heard</span></span> a guttural scream that I still don't remember coming from my mouth. They had found your body sitting up against an old tree, in the pasture behind our home; gun still in your hand, and that you had been there a while. I remember them telling me that the coroner was on his way but, the cause of death was your taking your life with a gun to the temple. I can remember thinking "But, he promised! He <i>promised</i> me he was putting his gun away in the safe and that we would be ok!" I wanted to <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">go to you. I begged to <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">just take me to you, I didn<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'t care what <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">the situation was and they<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">wouldn't</span> let me. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I wanted to run to you. </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I needed to see you. </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I needed.....you to come home. </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was the one and only thing I <u>ever</u> asked from you. </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Not money, not a roof over my head, not even the <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ice-cream</span> sundaes that you sometimes brought to me just because....</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>I just needed you to come home</b>. </span></span></i><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was so angry. I was in shock. I <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">still have this numbness and <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">often<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, my heart begins to pound like it did that night and I break down into tears remembering. I remember sitting in your chair, curled up with your blanket and looking out <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">at the window. Wondering if you were<i> finally</i> at peace.....were you ok<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">? Were you finally out of pain and misery<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">? <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">W</span></span></span>as this <i>really</i> what you wanted? <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It was New Year's Eve and all I could think was how you would laugh in the past when I would say "whatever you are doing at the stroke of midnight, is what you will be doing that year". I<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> always though<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t going to b<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ed before the ball dropped in <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">NYC<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> would mean that we would forever be lazy that year as that was our norm but, </span></span>all I could think was "we were being held at gunpoint and somewh<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ere between 12-3<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">, you <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">were alo<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ne and looking at that gun."</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I can tell you this......</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We weren'<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">t <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">sighing a breath of relief when they came to my door to tel<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">l me they found you. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were three of us there that night with you and all I could think <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">about was your best frien<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Was she ok? Would she be ok? <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Where was she? Would she forgive us?</span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There was<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">n't a</span> <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">parade</span> or dancing around because you weren<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">'t coming back through the door.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There were no high fives or joyous shouts in <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">celebration</span>. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">We didn't laugh, smile or thank the good Lord above that <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">you were dead. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">sai<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">d we would be happier. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You said we would be so much better off without you....</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">You lied. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Because what we thought was a nightmare that night? </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">That was a lie too because <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">what we didn't know<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> then</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">was the nightmare was just beginning. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> But, we w<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ere </span>so much better off without y<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">ou........ </span> </span></span></i></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-82499571906074586502016-10-27T09:58:00.000-07:002016-10-27T10:07:48.957-07:00I wonder.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Husband,<br />
I remember the OD green bags sitting in the corner you had packed long before deployment orders ever came in to the picture. I never told you that walking past those bags on a daily basis gave me the cold chills up and down my spine. How I hated to hear you calling and asking the higher ups to just let you go. Lying in our bed at night, I would stare at those bags and pray that you never got the call. After hearing the news on tv which you had on constantly, I prayed that Uncle Sam would never need you. Selfishly, I wanted <i>anyone</i> and<i> everyone</i> to go but, you. In my heart though, I knew you would be going. <br />
I remember that sinking feeling as if the floors opened up to swallow us both when you sat me down to tell me that you had the orders to go to Iraq. I couldn't breathe as you looked across from me and said "I got the orders to go, honey. <i>Please</i>. Please <i>be happy</i> for me. I need you to support me and understand <i>how important</i> this is to me". I remember how bright your eyes were, how excited and terrified you were at the same time and how my hands shook as you held them. I knew then.....you were destined to go there and fight. I recall that moment as if it is suspended in time, the quiet way you said "Honey, I have <i>got </i>to do this. They <i>need</i> me". I knew then you would never come back home. I don't think you knew but, I was angry; angry because your family needed you and I needed you the most. At the same time, I don't recall ever being so proud of one person in my entire life as I did the day you left. You told me then, that if you didn't make it back we would be better off without you. I remember telling you that would be the biggest lie ever to leave your lips because no, we were everything together. <br />
Days ran together; the hours dragging by as if some unseen hand was trying to pull back the second hand to keep the time slow. I remember watching the news all day and night trying to piece together where you might be and wondering if I would "know" if something bad happened to you. There were days where I never left the house; so scared I would miss a phone call from you. I remember the way unmarked black cars left me with buckling knees and making me unable to breathe, just sure that it was the military coming to tell me you were gone. I remember on the bad days where the news reported so many deaths, placing mirrors outside of our home to be sure I could see that ominous black car should they come down the road in front of our home. While you said I would never understand what you went through, I did understand that cold hand of dread, fear and the what if's; just on a different level.<br />
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<i>I was in the city this week and saw the black car with two military members in dress uniforms pull up along side of me. To this day, I still feel that fear and my knees still go weak. </i> </div>
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I remember how you rarely got to call home but, that you always tried to find a phone that was available. Most of the time, you lied to me and told me not to worry because you were safe. You couldn't tell me where you were or what you were doing and I tried so hard to believe you when the incoming sirens went off and loud explosive sounds happened. I remember how we would always make the guys who monitored our phone calls chuckle when we said something funny or how they would suddenly black out the phones if we said something that was too much. I learned quickly not to ask about something news related that happened because whoever was listening, would always hang up the phone. I still shake my head at the times I recall where you made stories up just to make me think it was just another day on the job. You would always lighten things up by telling me about the horrible MREs, "Mullet boy" who was your sign that your unit was safe and how you bought a $5.00, handheld camera filmed movie off a Hadji that never played or how my handmade candle made six of you argue over who was going to light it first just because it reminded all of you of home. I knew though...what you <i>weren't </i>telling me. </div>
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Then there was that day about six months in, when you called home in the middle of the night. Your voice was so far away as if you were talking through a child made tin can phone with string. Your voice shook as you told me "Baby, I'm not going to make it home. I'm going to die here". No hello, no emotion; there was just hollowness in your voice. Something was terribly wrong. It wasn't <i>you</i> at all and I swear I felt that you somehow died inside that day. </div>
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I remember that you had met another soldier with the British Army who had the luxury item of a cell phone. You called home desperate to hear my voice and to tell me that you had just picked up body parts and had to wash out a Humvee that had blood splatters everywhere. I remember how your voice trembled when you described seeing that blood being hosed out onto the ground; wondering if there could have been anything that you could have done differently. I still have nightmares to this day about that one picture you painted over a million mile away telephone call. I remember feeling so helpless. No matter what I said, there wasn't any words that I could say to take the pain away. I remember thinking it will all be ok. You will come home, you will get back to your life and we would never have to think about that Humvee ever again. Little did we know we would be seeing the constant scrubbing of your hands and the blood never seeming to disappear from your mind. </div>
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I recall when you said you were having problems sleeping, suffering from severe nightmares when you could grab a few hours. I remember you telling me that something had gone wrong and that you woke up to smoke, someone shouting and how your head hurt so terribly bad. I remember you telling me that you had been seen by Charlie Med but, they sent you on your way to a 72 hour mission with Ranger candy and told to rest. You hadn't had any down time in months and your head hurt 24/7 for just as long. Little did we know then, just how bad you hurt your head. </div>
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Coming home, you were flown by yourself. You felt like an outcast, suddenly unwanted and used up. No parades, no handshake, no "Welcome Home, Son", and no pomp and circumstance. I remember watching for you with so much excitement, scanning the people coming off the plane and not seeing you at all. Suddenly, you were standing in front of me. You had changed <i>so much</i> that you didn't resemble <i>anything</i> close to the person I knew and I had missed you walking up to me because you changed <i>that</i> much.</div>
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Unrecognizable, I looked in shock at your hair that had turned completely white, your facial hair had white throughout, the etched lines of horror in your face and.... <i>the shadow</i>. It's been almost eight years this October and I still can't find the right words to describe what I saw walking up to me. It was you but, it <i>wasn't</i>. There was almost this haunted distant look in your eyes, your embrace cold and empty, and a darkness that almost seemed alive under your facial expressions. I knew then, that the Army lied to all of us families when they told us you might come home with sleep issues but, not to worry.<br />
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<i>I knew you would never be the same again. We would never be the same. How in the hell did eighteen months cause so much change in each of us?</i></div>
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The first night home you were distant. In bed, you tossed and turned as you slept with your gun beside you. I woke to find you wandering around the house as if on guard against unseen forces that I would never meet. I remember tears falling uncontrollably, wondering just what the hell you went through and how helpless I felt when I led you back to bed, consoling the demons that had followed you home. I look back now, and think "And here I thought <i>those times </i>were bad" because that seemed so pale in comparison to what followed the next seven years we had with you.</div>
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<i>Seven years with you</i></div>
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<i>94 months and 2,820 days we have lived a nightmare.</i></div>
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In all that time, I must have heard "You're better off without me" on a daily basis. I woke every morning wondering if this would be the day you died. I went to bed thanking God that we made it through another twelve hours and to <i>please</i> just bring sleep and peace for just that one night. I remember finding you outside many nights, sleepwalking and how I had to sleep with arms around you and legs over yours just so I could be alerted to any movements you made. I remember waking up every morning not knowing who I would be facing that day. I remember the drunk moments where you would tell me all the horrible things you saw and did just <i>sure</i> that it would make me run away. Those words still hurt to this day and I always wondered what made you tell me so many horrible things but, none hurt that much as the tears that were streaming down your face as you spit them out at me. I remember the night you drank so much you had to be pumped because you had alcohol poisoning. </div>
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Still, throughout it all, I never once thought I would be better off without you. I never once gave up on you even though I think you gave up long before you ever got off that plane. Your first suicide attempt still lingers in my mind and I can still feel the rage and helplessness I felt when the VA emergency doctor told me that I was failing you and I wasn't doing a very good job. I recall finding the little things you hid in shoes like broken glass shards, razor blades, and guns hidden in the insulation in the basement. There are quiet moments that are shattered with the memories of the echoes of your screaming my name as they forced me out of the hospital room; escorted by security guards as if I was a criminal because I demanded they help you instead of leaving you to sit. I will never forget them fighting you on the bed, strapping you down with padded ties while I watched horrified at their treatment of you and in shock that you had fallen so badly. </div>
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Still, I don't think I ever once thought that I would be better off without you. </div>
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Man, did we fight. Somehow though, you would always come back around with a backhanded apology that was usually blaming everyone else and I would always give in and try just <i>one more</i> time; taking any little scrap of human emotion you could fake as a sign of hope. The drinking, the lies, the excessive spending, the fits of rage over the smallest of things, and so much more and still, you were the one man I would have done anything for. For years you told me angrily that I would never understand what you went through. For years, you never tried to see what was happening to our family and you never understood the pain and loneliness I felt or the tears I would cry late at night in the bathroom. I struggled daily with resentment, anger at the world, the government and, the feeling of <i>helplessness</i> because I just <i>couldn't</i> make it <i>go away</i> for you. But, you were right.....I would <i>never</i> understand what you went through or what you had to do although, God knows I tried. </div>
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There was <i>so much</i> we hid from everyone we knew. So much that many never knew what happened behind closed doors; some so bad that I will <i>never</i> let anyone know. Some things I will share if it means saving just one more as you had hoped and some, I just want people to remember what a good person you <i>were</i> and how <i>big</i> your heart <i>really</i> was. I want people to know your story because I think it's important. </div>
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I wish you were here......I wish I could say how sorry I am for failing you. How I wished you hadn't given up on me. How sorry I am that the damn spaghetti plate I saved for you hadn't made you so upset. I still to this day struggle with making "sketti" because you know your boys love it so. If there is a noodle that sits out in the pot too long, how it makes me tremble and shake with the memory. I wish I had answers on what had upset you so badly that night to just lose all control. What could have been so awful that it made you sit in a cemetery, the one place you feared so badly, for months prior to? I wish I could tell you that I know all your secrets and the truth came out on how much you <i>really</i> had hidden from all of us but, somehow I think you wouldn't really care about that. In some ways, I shouldn't care about all that either but, it bothers me on a daily basis.<br />
There wasn't a line you didn't cross in our time together. There wasn't a <i>thing</i> I wouldn't have done to help you. After your second attempt, I lived daily with the resentment you had that I hadn't just left you to die. I lived daily and still do this day, wondering if I made the right decisions to get you help. 2014 brought us false hope I realized. I am not even sure now if you really had been on the upswing and the plans you made had <i>any</i> truth to them. It was though, nice to see you smile more and be more positive. We made plans to take a trip, you had made fishing plans with your friends and you wanted to try and learn some new things. I sat down weeks after, uncovering more and more things that you had hid from your family. I was stunned, shocked and angry but mostly, I was just <i>sad</i>. Sad, that you felt you had to live so many lies and cover so many ugly truths to the point I don't know how you kept up with all of it. Sad, because that wasn't you at all. Sad, because lying to all of us was the only way you had communicated with any of us. I feel so betrayed but, also just tremendous hurt for you because it was apparent that your world was crumbling apart. I don't know how you did it and it amazes me still, how you were able to do the things you did without anyone knowing. <br />
What came home was a person filled with rage, dishonesty, revenge, hate, and immense guilt. These were the five things that I could never fight. Lord knows I tried but, it became clear that no matter what I did, it just <i>wasn't</i> good enough. Going home to close out our house, I discovered more secrets still hidden among your things. Going home, our community seemed to only remember that night and how you died. Not the person you were, not the person who gave his shirt off his back to help; it was disheartening to me to hear people bad mouth you. I didn't think I could bear anymore and while our love for each other had changed so <i>drastically</i>, I would always respond to your "I'm an asshole" with "Ahh but, you're<i> my</i> asshole!". That day, it ran through my head all day long that "he may have been an asshole but, he <i>was my</i> asshole!". I wanted to come up swinging, ripping them apart and call them every name in my book I could muster. But, all I could do was just stand there listening and being so disappointed in just being a human being. It hurt when they couldn't even get your name right and I wondered what you would say had you been there with me. It was so clear how much you tried to hide your wounds from the rest of the world. <br />
Sometimes people will remind me about having hope. I have learned to smile politely and nod because I wonder if they know that I had a lot of hope. I had more hope than anyone else. I had hope that things would get better, I had hope that doctors would be able to help you, hope that one day you would lay down the bottle and walk away from it forever. I hoped we would find common ground between us that wasn't Wounded Warrior related or had anything to do with the military. I hoped one day you would come home to us and see that no matter what you had done, we loved you and were there. All hope did was bleed us dry, left me feeling deflated and led to your death. It is so very hard not to scream back "Hope? What <i>exactly</i> is hope? I hoped for a lot of things and it just got worse. Pardon me, if I seem to be slacking in that department due to past life experiences!". I know though....they would never understand and would just tongue in cheek, cluck and tell me I am wrong. I wonder if they had lived through what we had, would they still have that same hope they preach to me? I always walk away thankful though, that they didn't have to live what we went through but, also angry because it seems so easy for many.<br />
I wonder if you watch over us, sorry for all the things you did and said, and I wonder if you're ok. I miss our friendship but, even today I wonder if that was all a lie too? Sometimes I sit and pick through the many lies and wonder what was true and what was just your way of trying to convince outsiders that you were normal and had no issues. I often wondered why I was the <i>only one</i> you showed the truth to when it came to your problems. I wanted to think years ago, it was because you trusted me enough to show all your cracks and faults. Now....I just wonder if you were still punishing me for things I didn't even do; angry at me because I was the one person who didn't judge you and wouldn't give up on you. I was the one person you didn't have to hide from but, yet you were always walking away. I wonder if you knew how much it devastated me you simply just gave up on me and walked away without ever looking back. I wonder if you knew how many hours I researched, looked, and how many people I talked to just trying to get some answers for you. Sometimes, I wonder if you ever loved me at all or if I was just someone there to fill the space. <br />
The not knowing is killing me and the question of "why" hurts me everyday. Since being back home, my heart just hurts. I am mad because I had so much faith in the world, perhaps a little naive because my view was always through rose colored glasses. I am disappointed in a way, in so many people. I remember that night you died, you told me I was so stupid to believe everyone had a good side to them. How everything was my fault because if I had been smart, I would have left you long ago. I said I tried so hard, doing anything and everything I could to help you. You responded with "I never asked you to do all that". You were completely right and unfortunately, I learned the hard way. But, in a way you were wrong too, because I still try to see the good in people and I always, tried to find the good in you even when you were at your worst. I stayed because no one else was there for you and I promised I wouldn't let you fall. I feel like I broke that promise but, I kept you up for seven years after coming home and I think whether it was wrong or right in your eyes, I fulfilled that promise and it still counts for something. Yes, you are right. You never once asked me to do any of that but, you didn't <i>have</i> to ask. <br />
I tried so hard to keep up. I sometimes sit and think about that night and the things you shouted at me. Angry at me because I was helping other Veterans; the ones you put into my lap and told me to "take care of it". Angry at me because I was so worn down, sick and tired when you left me there to take care of everything like I had always done. Infuriated because some of your lies were slipping out and that was somehow <i>my </i>fault. I remember standing there feeling devastated when you told me you wished I would hurry up and just die because it would have been so much easier on you. I wonder if you really meant that? I remember watching your face change back and forth between rage and just desperation as if every word that came out of mouth was a neon SOS for help. Some days, I just don't understand what happened that night or what made you say those awful things.<br />
<br />
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Perhaps I never will......and that's what kills and hurts me the most these days.<br />
I'm glad you are no longer in severe pain.<br />
I'm happy that you are where you needed to be.<br />
But, I am angry that you just simply handed your pain to me as if our lives would be so much better without you.<br />
I am angry because you thought all the pain and heartache would end for us once you were gone when it made it that much worse.<br />
You left your pain to your family to carry for the rest of their lives.<br />
I wonder if you know.....<br />
I wonder if you even give a damn.<br />
Why did you just leave us when we never once left you?<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-11466988379949904962016-10-24T07:51:00.001-07:002016-10-24T07:51:35.483-07:00Writing Out The Pain (The Beginning of a Series)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A lot has happened in the past few months leaving me feeling like I just rode out the worst tornado and I am still trying to assess the damage. There are days where I still feel like I am bleeding out although I can't find any wounds other than my broken heart. There are days where I am so numb that only the pain in my heart reminds me I am still breathing. There are times where I hide away from the world because it's simply just to miserable to bear and then there are days where I fully live. <br />
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<b><i>I made it home, honey. </i></b></div>
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<b><i>But, it wasn't our home anymore. </i></b></div>
There are times where I can hear you talking to me. Sometimes it's screaming out in my head, other times I play charades when your voice is simply in my heart; <i>desperately</i> trying to make out what you are telling me. Those moments when I hear you, I still become afraid and excited all at once. I <i>hate</i> those moments where I feel disappointment because I<i> know</i> you are gone. I feel ashamed that you still scare me. Then there is the heartbreak that you are somewhere I don't know and I know you are the person you used to be; not that of what war graciously sent back like an unwanted second hand item. I want so badly to see the you that you were before war changed everything. There are days where I am mentally cursing you using every vile word I can possibly think of and then there are times where my heart just simply keeps me quiet because there are no words to fill that hole you made. I think some days you were the only person in my entire life that for once, took the words out of my vocabulary. You were the only one who shattered my soul. <br />
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<i><b>We had plans. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>You had made so many plans.</b></i> </div>
Grief counseling and books tell me that you were supposed to show all the signs and for this past 22 months? I have done <i>nothing </i>but, replay it out in my head; <i>over</i> and <i>over</i> again. I wonder <i>how</i> did I miss the suicide letter they say that's in the norm? Or did I miss the subtle things like suddenly giving things away that were important to you? You didn't have any final preparations that you made. Did you visit people anticipating you were going to make your exit? Everything else in between like talking about death or feeling worthless....well, that pretty much sums up how you felt <i>long</i> before you even stepped off that plane from Iraq. I sit sometimes for hours wondering how come these grief sites and books <i>don't fit</i> into the category of our life after combat? <br />
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<i><b>But then, you and I were never one to follow the beat of other drums, were we? </b></i></div>
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<i><b> How was I supposed to separate "our norm" from the signs of suicide?</b></i></div>
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<i><b>How was I to know you were planning for months prior to that night? </b></i></div>
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<i><b>There are many who blame me solely for your death; asking me how I didn't see any of it coming? </b></i></div>
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<i><b>It was because there was nothing different than what we had been dealing with for eight years.</b></i></div>
My mind likes to play hide and seek with my memories. There are times where I see your smile in our sons and my heart just lights up because they are so very much like you. Sometimes, I don't remember your face although there were many nights alone where I sat and memorized every line in your face; afraid that one day I would forget. I remember feeling so alone and thinking you were a million miles away from us. I must have known then you weren't going to make it no matter what we did. Sometimes, I watch a video of you just so I can see your face again; replaying it for hours on end. Other times, I have to stay up all night watching stupid tv shows just to squeeze out the memory of you that lurks in my mind and haunts me. Some days I have to lie in bed with the covers over my head hiding from the echoes of the past that still make me tremble. Some days it just hurts to breathe but, I am trying. <br />
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I'm not as angry at you now as I was before. I still have my moments. Perhaps one day, I will forgive you and the pain will subside. Other moments, I don't want to forgive you at all. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I'm still so so very angry. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Angry because you left me here to unravel all the lies......</b></i></div>
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<i><b>Pissed because I am still apologizing for you and making excuses. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>You left me here alone to deal with the aftermath.</b></i></div>
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<i><b>You left me when I needed you the most....</b></i></div>
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<i><b>And you left me here to bear the cross on your behalf. </b></i> </div>
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No matter what you did, no matter what you said....I was <i>there</i>. All you had to do was let me in. For every hour you spent shoving us all away, you could have taken five minutes to talk to me. You could always tell me anything and I would have listened as always and we would have figured it out together. You could have always told me anything and everything. You could have told me that you were spiraling down and the world had become so dark that you couldn't find any light. <i>I would have done anything to hunt down that light source for you. </i> </div>
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<i><b>Sometimes I wonder what your purpose was, honey. </b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>Was<u> this </u>it? </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Was it to save some and not be saved at all? </b></i></div>
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<i><b>Is there a reason behind all this pain and suffering?</b></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><b>I would hope it wasn't in vain. </b></i> </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I found you among the rubble of what once was our home. I heard you call my name and point me in the right direction. I feel like I failed so many people in our lives. I feel like I failed you in so many ways. I feel you failed us. I sit sometimes reading on Facebook and articles on the life and people that made up our daily lives. I shake my head<i><b>,</b></i> I clench my fists and some days I shed a lot of tears; wondering if I made the right decision to back away? I wonder if <i>somehow</i>, <i>someway</i> our story helped anyone? I walked into our home, took a long look outside and I don't know if it was you guiding me or if it was someone else but, I have decided to tell our story. Just like we have always done; with the shock and awe factor as you called it. It was the one thing you and I had in common, the one single thing we completely agreed on after you came home.....just to save one more from falling in the cracks like you had. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
So for a while, I will be writing out <i>our</i> pain,<i> your</i> story, <i>our</i> story and share all the details I can remember. I dread the reliving it, I am afraid of what people will think or say but, I hear you tell me it's what we need to do. To show the world and our Veterans, that we <u><i>aren't</i> <i>better off without you</i></u>. I want to show all the things they should think about before they simply give up and walk away. I don't know if it's the right thing to do or if I am simply making another mistake but, when it hit me standing outside of our broken home.....it felt like you were saying "<i>Yes</i>, Mommy! You are supposed to do this!". All I can hope is that you are guiding me where I need to be as I once guided you.<i> </i>I need to write as I have always done to let all this built up inside me, out. </div>
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Then, I am going to let you go. I <i>have</i> to. </div>
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<b> </b><i><b>I once promised you that I would never let you become a statistic forgotten in a VA drawer somewhere. I failed at you becoming a statistic but, I promise you will never be forgotten. </b></i></div>
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<i><b>They couldn't even get your name right....... </b></i></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-7361734732886646972016-04-04T17:59:00.003-07:002016-04-05T07:44:14.530-07:00Caregiver Interrupted<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>“The only real battle in life is between hanging on and letting go.”
</b><br />
―
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a class="authorOrTitle" href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1391130.Shannon_L_Alder">Shannon L. Alder</a></span> </div>
I hate the terms that come with death. For instance, the word "Widow" makes my heart shrivel up every time I say it. However from past counseling, it was a way for me to accept it a little at a time, every time I said it. The counselor who is also a Widow, told me she also had a hard time accepting it and it was a coping mechanism that I could try. I guess I understand it and, it has eased the pain some each time I admit it out loud. Well....I don't stutter and sputter trying to get past the w but, I still find I whisper it out sometimes. <br />
Nothing is <i>worse</i> though than the term "Caregiver Survivor". I can't even remember <i>where</i> it was coined, <i>why</i> it is there to begin with, and <i>how</i> I was referred to it. I'd rather deal with the phrase "Surviving Spouse". I am not angry over it but, those two words just make one die a little each time inside when you do hear it. In my mind and heart, the term "Caregiver Survivor" sounds like I survived my care giving but, he didn't? I know, I know....it's guilt talking back at me. Still, it does make one think, no? When you are already feeling at your lowest, a complete failure as a spouse and supposed to be the responsible one for him....it doesn't help the guilt that you feel when someone says this. <br />
<br />
If there needs to be any name given for reference....it should be <u>Caregiver Interrupted</u>. That's how it feels some days. One day I was there, he was there and the next....just gone. No easing into it, no notice, no being dropped by anyone...just <i>gone</i>. How does one get back to living after this? I am struggling with just life. I have been for a while now. I have my good days and then there are the days where while the kids are gone, I spend my time hunkered under the blankets and trying to ignore the tightening around my heart. There are the nights where I stay awake in my bed running things over and over in my head until I finally just have to get up to escape my own mind. <br />
<br />
I still have my Christmas tree up for crying out loud! I am so humiliated by admitting that to anyone, especially with so many readers. Go ahead....judge me. Or you could be jealous and congratulate me. I can't tell you <i>why</i> it's still sitting there. It's not my regular tree, it's not my regular ornaments but, it was all we could handle as a family for our first Christmas without him. It was a tree that I picked up inexpensively for the kids to put their dad's ornaments on so we had a special way to have his traditions with us. However, everything was so hectic with trying to move, the holidays and just being freaking exhausted from the year itself that it was all we could do to get this one up in time for Santa to make his appearance. I can't pinpoint why I have it still up.<br />
<br />
Nope....I <i>didn't</i> decorate it with some hearts and chintzy cupids for Valentine's. I didn't slap some Shamrocks on there to justify March at all. I did though....<i>almost</i> think about hanging some plastic eggs just so we would all feel okay about it but, after a family pow wow.....we all said "screw it. It stays up just as it is." The good thing about where I moved to, it's close to the "North Pole". So after traveling through, it was a breath of fresh air to see everyone still had lights up, trees up at the end of February, and no one bats an eye. Now, we aren't in some redneck state where the joke remains to be unheard upon ears of those who just leave them up all year long. Still....I <i>always</i> took my tree down; prompt and without any major ordeal. To have this now, is almost defeating but at the same time, exhilarating for not following the standard. There are days where I make my bed then turn back around, go back in and unmake it. <i>Just because</i>. <br />
<br />
Some days are rough on me. In my best Drill SGT impression, our days start at 5:58 a.m. Some days my middle son, is just like his father and although a major pain....it tickles me at the same time. It's "I'm <i>uuuuupppp, Gahhhh</i>!!" with the same snarl, the same dirty eye roll and the frantic hand motions that alert someone that the light is apparently going to fry them up like no Vampire movie <i>ever </i>portrayed as well as they do. Times like these, especially those that the light goes back off and bodies disappear back under a pile of blankets, calls for dirty deeds like letting our dogs go in and wake them up. Nothing moves them faster than an old Chihuahua with smelly breath licking you to death!<br />
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Mornings are hard for me. It took me a while to pinpoint what <i>exactly</i> bothered me about them. I used to spend four hours a day trying to wake my husband up. Yes, <i>four</i> hours. Most of that was medication related and I suspect the rest was depression. I would get the kids off to school and with a cup of coffee armed in my system, I would begin the constant battle of fighting the Sandman who was doped up enough for a third world country. It was every day from Monday through Sunday. Sundays usually meant I was off and he would sleep in later than normal but, it still required a stern "Honey. <i>Honey</i>, you <i>have</i> to get up!". The battle would always be to rub his back, help him take off his CPAP mask and try to navigate it back to the night stand correctly. Pull the covers back, push slightly to bend him upright and then he would say "I'm up, honey. I'm awake". <i>Mmm hmmm</i>. As soon as you walked away? That turkey was fast asleep again! Some days were so bad, there were idle threats of going back to retrieve ice water and dumping it on him especially on days where he absolutely had to get somewhere on time. I never had to do that but, it used to make him wake up just a little more. Some mornings I was met with the "beast", there were days where my "Pod person" would throw the pillow at me and proceed to growl fiercely (pfft as if that would scare me!) and there were mornings that all that came from his mouth were a litany of cuss words that would shame even the dirtiest sailor. But...there were mornings.....mornings where he would throw the covers back, pull me down into bed, cover us back up, cock one leg over mine so I couldn't move and all with the plea of "Can't we just go back to sleep, mommy? Please honey...I am <i>so</i> <i>tired</i>."<br />
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<i>I know he was.</i></div>
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<i> I just didn't know exactly how much. </i></div>
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Food was a challenge. One thing I always made sure was that he ate. Even when he would forget, or said "I'll get something here in a bit". I would always just ignore that because I knew better and he would not eat if there were no reminders or his sugar would drop too low. Cooking for me, was one way that I could show my love and dedication to my family. Whether it was a secret family recipe that was a huge success, laughter over the first (and last) bad meal I <i>ever</i> concocted, or a newly cracked restaurant super secret recipe....he always would pat his belly, take his plate over and kiss me with a "That was gooood mommy, thank you!". There were dishes that took a lot of work and time but, in the end? It was worth it all. We struggle now with dinners. Silly huh? The boys and I just don't eat as much, and I end up throwing some things out if the leftovers don't make a second pass. We avoid his favorite foods because we miss him <i>that</i> much. We try to eat new things like fish, asparagus, and Bison meat just so we can look for new favorites as a family. Some days I am pleased I still <i>remember</i> recipes because my memory is suffering horribly. Other days, it's a complete disaster due to cooking at such a high elevation. By the time I sit down, and we go around the table to talk about our favorite part of the day...I am <i>heart sick</i> because I know at the end of the meal....there will be no words from him. No kiss. No wondering what might be for dessert if I decided that week to make him something special.<br />
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<i><b>How I miss that lazy smile and kisses....the surprise look when he found that I had made his favorite yellow cake with chocolate icing.</b></i></div>
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It's not just living without him that we notice so strongly. We feel like we have been abruptly picked up by some unknown force, kicked out on our asses and attempting to try and find our own way. It's huge and subtle reminders. It's knowing we <i>can't</i> go home, it's knowing family who we trusted <i>hurt</i> us so horribly bad, and it's a <i>complete loss </i>of an <u>identity</u>. I feel like I can't really talk to my caregiver friends in the same way because to me, I will always be a reminder to them of what <i>could</i> happen. They're problems I understand fully but, I also have a new perception about some of the stupid things that we take so seriously. My problems and hurt, are different so I don't have anyone who just <i>silently</i> looks at me and <i>gets</i> it. No one who just has this unspoken understanding to share with me.<br />
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<i><b>How does one convey to another person that your soul hurts?</b> </i></div>
It is a roller coaster from Hell when you have spent all that time being isolated, set in motion by moving parts that we established just to get by. You realize you have all this time and nothing to fill that empty space yet the day goes by<i> so fast</i>, you have no time at all. You balance on a tight wire made of self doubt, stumble with the loss of someone who knew you <i>inside</i> and <i>out</i>, and falter blindly at new starts because the old way is just engraved so <i>deeply</i> into you. Schedules, patterns, routines, set times...all gone. It's also like my oldest son stated "You not only lose your identity but, you also question others" and it's true. Friends we thought were gone, family went by the way side and you look at things in such a different perspective that you try <i>so damn hard </i>not to yell "<i>OMFG</i>! Why are you <i>doing</i> this? Why did you <i>say</i> that? If you <i>only</i> knew....".<br />
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<b><i>Yes....If you only knew.</i></b></div>
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There are days where it hurts so bad that I can't think straight. It can be a simple smirk from my 9 year old that he looks just like his dad. It could be songs playing on the Ipod that were his favorite or the sudden thought of "I have to remember to tell him because he will love this!" only to face the crashing knowledge that you can't. Some mornings, I am so lost while drinking my coffee that hours seemed to pass and I don't even realize it. I try to do things that I have never done like going on a paranormal investigation, go to places that we had talked about, and try things that are close to home like gold panning. It is when I feel the closest to him. I am concentrating on doing more for the kids like chaperoning school field trips, get outside and play more and trying to remind them that daddy loved them very much. It's on those days, I feel like there is an empty void that is half of my soul.<br />
Losing your job as a caregiver in the way that I did is earth shattering. It's not an easy job with endless hours, the dread of dealing with all the bad, the high of when things are going great and let's not even tackle the subject of stress. I know many complain about loss of pay, loss of insurance if you have it and others complain that others are even on the VA's Caregiver program. I have heard it's going all to hell and many are losing that benefit. As I pointed out to several officials while in Washington, D.C. it's not <i>just</i> the pay, insurance, having the ability to finally be heard and have an active role in your loved ones health and progress. It's a sense of being <i>acknowledged</i> for what you are doing, it's an <i>identity</i> that <i>none</i> of us <i>wanted </i>but, that we gave our <i>all </i>into doing. It's something <i>tangible</i> that we can identify ourselves by when it used to be a career, or a part-time job or even just a stay at home parent. The check was a way to relieve the stress in our Wounded Warriors life and trust me, civilians will never understand how much that means to all of us. It is also the only way we had some input and control on a situation that is otherwise chaotic at best. It is the only option we had to define us when other descriptions no longer fit. <br />
We lose so much of ourselves in the process of care giving that it's somewhat a <i>reinforcement</i> when we are acknowledged for what we do. I don't know really how to explain it any better than what I have. Overall, I think it is a shaky but there nonetheless, bridge of sorts that bonds us to our family members. I worry about my friends all the time. I wonder if they get cut from the program, how the effects will impact their entire family as well as their mental health. The ripples from that wave crashing down reaches <i>far beyond</i> than <i>just</i> financially. I wished I had been dropped, and that I didn't have to go through this now. At least I could say that I did my job to the best of my ability and understand that it's policies, red tape, indifferent suits with no idea of what I am doing day to day and at the end of the day....I would still be going to bed with my husband. I wonder though, if the powers that be that run the Caregiver program....<i>really</i> think about<i> how</i> this program <i>impacts</i> us?<br />
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<i>C<b>aregiving often calls us to lean into love that we didn't know possible. </b></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>-Tia Walker, Author</i></b></span></div>
There wasn't a forewarning, no letters or decisions that you could just put on your best defenses and file an appeal. <i>This</i>.... it was just....<i>interrupted</i>; like a boulder falling from the sky dropping down in the middle of the only path you can take. You look to sidestep, and you can't. You think you can just climb over it but, it's too damn big. You are just suddenly stopped with "What do I do now? Do I attempt to go forward or do I just give up and go back the way I came?". Then....it dawns on you that you can no longer go back.<br />
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<b><i>I can no longer go back</i>...... </b></div>
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I met a man who is everything my husband wasn't the last eight years since Iraq. He was a gentleman, not overbearing or obnoxious, adored kids, down to earth, had no medical conditions (Hell yes, I asked!) made excellent money and financially stable for retirement, traveled a lot for fun, no military service and not even a member in his family served. The kind of guy who just wakes up on Friday mornings and says "let's go to Mexico" and by God, he does. We talked off and on for two weeks before he proposed that we have dinner together. I balked, I made excuses, and I fought internally as if I was embarking on my first affair while still married; something I had <i>never</i> done. It was just dinner not exploring space! <i>What</i> the <i>hell </i>was my <i>problem</i>? He planned the perfect first date with much thought put into it, with laughter and excellent dinner choice. He opened car doors, ordered my meal for me and chose the perfect drink because he knew I liked margaritas and it was one I had never tried. We walked and talked in a town with antique shops while we window shopped. He even put me closer to the inside of the sidewalk because of safety concerns (cars crashing into the sidewalk) and that tells you how <i>old fashioned</i> he was. He washed his own clothes, loved to clean house for stress relief, loved to cook and painted as a hobby. Perfect huh?<br />
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I <i>struggled</i>. I found myself listening to him talk about civilian life. How he loves to travel and just make weekends at a Bed and Breakfast anywhere. Concerts, live music fests, trying exotic foods and new restaurants, and something called "meet ups" for those who like to brew their own beer and barbecue. As he talked, I just felt myself slip further and further away from the conversation. I felt like I had a mouthful of cotton while trying to spit out "Oh yeah?", "Mm-hmm" and "Oh I can agree on that". I just felt like I had <i>nothing</i> to talk about or at least <i>anything</i> that he would ever understand. He didn't know who I really was, what I had been through other than being a widow, or that my <i>favorite</i> thing in the world was playing Gin Rummy with my husband, drinking beer while listening to it rain outside and talking smack to each other. He didn't know what an MRE was, or what FUBAR meant. I realized then how<i> altered</i> my life really was. Here was this someone... someone who thought I was "cute as a button" and liked my sense of humor, sarcasm and asking nothing in return that took a lot of logistical effort. <br />
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Someone who, twenty five years earlier, you would look at as good prospect for marriage. Someone who took their time and really put some thought into a <i>perfect</i> first date with a woman that is scared to death and hadn't been on a date in 15 years. How <i>alien</i> I felt sitting there scanning for exits so we could <i>escape</i> easily. How<i> awkward</i> I felt because I was scanning the room looking for <i>anyone</i> that might change the mood. I constantly thought how the noise level was <i>too much</i> and how that I held a baited breathe waiting for the explosion that would surely come from this man across from me. How fast I hurried to order, and hoped it would get there fast so I could wolf it down and get my husband back to his comfort zone. Walking through town and window peeking while we discussed antiques, I instead paid attention to the reflection of passing cars, looking for anything that might look out of place and pose a possible threat in my husband's state of mind. The moments when I could relate I would say "Oh yeah! My husband <i>loves</i> that show." as if he was <i>still here</i> and I was <i>still</i> with him. How I felt the <i>guilt</i> that here was this man who didn't want anything but, my attention and trying to win my favor as he phrased it....one who didn't ask to file an appeal or call that damn so and so and tell him off.....one that we didn't have to talk about the latest stunt pulled by a politician or what is the latest issues among our military community.<br />
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<b><i>Yes....he was one that I had nothing in common with.</i></b></div>
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<b><i>One that I could not find a single thing that wasn't Military or Wounded Warrior to talk about because that's all I know now. </i></b></div>
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I felt guilty about even going out with him. I hated I spent so much time on hair, makeup and clothes not to impress him but, just to give me some kind of outer shell that would hide my fears and give me a little confidence. A failed attempt at best. I felt even more horrible when after the next day, he texts "I really enjoyed our time together and I would be honored to have your company next Saturday evening". Guiltier when the 15th text message read "It's OK to live and go on with your life. He would want you happy". Yeah, I never responded back. I didn't want him to know that he didn't take my breathe away like my husband did. That sometimes imperfections are sort of like a tie that bonds two people together. That we could never have the same kind of experiences that I am familiar with. That he simply <i>wasn't</i>...the<i> perfec</i>t man I wanted <i>after</i> all.</div>
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<b><i>How could I admit to him that I felt the loneliest while looking at him smiling back at me, all while thinking of someone else and, wishing with everything you had that it would be your husband sitting across from you? </i></b></div>
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I am at my most comfort level within the wraps of an enduring cocoon that the military family and Veteran community gives us. I can talk to a multitude of Privates, Tops, Officers, Commanders and multiple star generals. Politicians? No worries. They put their pants on the same way I do. I can shoot the shit with the hardest of combat Veterans, navigate the VA and it's mishaps, and problem solve all while tackling family. I could stand up for what is right, challenge you to put your money where your mouth is when it comes to supporting our Veterans, and stand in with a clerk at the VA when they try to turn away one of our guys that desperately needs to be seen. I was used to the Anniversaries of so many of our guys, knew when news would set him off, and knew when to wake just before he slipped into a nightmare.<br />
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<b>There is no one to chase away my nightmares.</b> </div>
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I can't even hold a conversation that feels <i>normal</i> anymore. You know how we <i>all</i> talk about finding our normal, or a new normal? It's worse now. I struggle with finding myself and establishing a new identity that makes sense of this life we are living now. How it <i>feels</i> to be so suddenly lost and wondering how in the hell did you miss so much of the outside world because you spent it closed up. How do we as family members going through this, even begin to explain to someone that no, you haven't been to a concert because there are too many factors that would do more harm than the benefits. Or how you haven't been to a movie in a theater in years. Or explain that your husband never took you out to eat or did things like normal fathers would do for their kids because he couldn't handle it? How do you explain<i> what the hell</i> you have done as a job? How does one even <i>begin</i> to explain PTSD or TBI and while you are highly educated on the subject, it comes across as it was the <i>only</i> thing in the world that you focused on and didn't live? </div>
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<b><i>The truth is....it was the only thing we focused on. We no longer have a grasp on ourselves period. </i></b><br />
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I miss and I don't, the adrenaline rush and coffee that fuels most of our lives. I miss playing the hand from Hell, knowing the VA House always ends up winning but, you <i>bluff</i> your <i>ass</i> off the <i>whole</i> time. I miss the fight sometimes because that kept me from focusing on the fact he was slowly slipping away from me. We all grieve every day and perhaps just don't know it. You grieve for what used to be, what is and what will be. <i> </i>I sometimes think we grieve for what we have lost <i>ourselves</i> as we truly begin to not recognize who we were. You also mourn the future losses when faced with children and other family members who also have lived this life. You mourn when something new happens and is exciting yet, your children don't know <i>how</i> to react because that is<i> strange</i> and <i>foreign</i> to them. You mourn the losses that you see every month, the daily slips and cover ups that our Veterans successfully hide even though you know the truth as it begins to add up in staggering figures. It is a process that killed me slowly every day; watching helplessly as you see their health just deteriorate and not being able to do a <i>single</i> <i>damn</i> <i>thing</i> to help. </div>
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Don't get me wrong, there were days where I half daydreamed of what it would be like to get back to the real world, have a normal 9-5 job, a marriage that didn't have major obstacles in it, and the freedom. Who <i>honestly</i> hasn't? It's OK....you can admit it right now to yourself and please know, there is no judgement reserved here. If you say no, I would call the bullshit flag to be thrown down. Looking back now, I am <i>ashamed</i> that, <i>that </i>was my daydream. Looking back....it<i> </i>turned out to be <i>nothing</i> that I <i>ever</i> wanted and now I don't know what to do with myself. </div>
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So here I sit, in my husband's Army basic training sweat pants.....contemplating what to fix for supper that won't upset me and wondering what I will do when my older than dirt sweat jacket he bought me, finally bites the dust. Wondering if I should start to decorate my home, or try to learn how to knit, or just run away. Or when the "letting go" will begin as you are tired of still hanging by the tips of your fingers. Regardless of what I do, the end result will be the same. At the end of the day, I will be going to bed tonight with a pair of dog tags that reminds me of a life that is gone and a life that I have <i>no idea</i> how to live without him. I figure that as long as I don't get weird, mean and cranky (like a neighbor of mine) and have a zillion cats walking around, then I am doing better each day...even if I can't see it. Well <i>at least</i> for <i>me</i> that is, is a step <i>up</i> from where I was a year ago. </div>
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The Christmas Tree? Well, that <i>may</i> be another story.......</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-71531291864185702462016-03-21T09:35:00.002-07:002016-03-21T09:35:26.565-07:00Suicide Is A Reaction To No Action At All <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This past week, my best friend-fellow advocate-co-conspirator and, the Louise to my Thelma, made our way back to Washington, DC to be panel speakers along with another fellow advocate (Hi Gayle!) at a Summit sponsored by <a href="http://www.codeofsupport.org/" target="_blank">Code of Support Foundation.</a> I really wrestled with going and my track record with DC was a bit challenging the last few times due to illness. When I was first asked, my body screamed "Nooooo-oooo" but, inside my mind I heard a whisper that said "You <i>need </i>to go. Say <i>yes</i>." So I did, with all the reservations and excuses I could muster within myself. We had a chance for our voice to raise up for so many Caregivers, Veterans and their families among non-profits, military, VA and private groups that were there despite "Metrogeddan" as it was called; how could I <i>ever</i> say <i>no</i>? These were individuals who wanted to do <i>something</i>...<i>anything</i>, especially in the light of suicide prevention and the families caring for our wounded veterans. I will admit, it was scary as hell and emotionally taxing. </div>
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I have to admit something. I got really pissed right off the gate, to the point where I was shaking that hit down to the core and had to leave the room a couple of times. There were a couple of speakers that I couldn't decide if they <i>really</i> and <i>truly</i> believed in what they were saying, or just couldn't see past the desk, papers and were blinded by the smoke being blown up their butts. I have never been one to show a problem without proposing solutions with it and <i>most</i> seasoned caregiver-advocates work the same way . I always try to look from their perspectives as well as the other side views. So after these speakers, I realized my speech about 22 a day had already been covered. I spent a week working on this planning to wow the ears that would listen but, ditched it at the last minute before I spoke. I felt that speaking from the heart was going to be the only way to go and just stick with what we do best....saying it like it is. </div>
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The issue I had is, here we had this Summit where we were <i>all </i>coming together for one purpose and that is about the war that comes home to families, finding viable solutions for our Caregivers and ways to help our families and children. It was <i>absolutely refreshing </i>to be around <i>so many</i> individuals who were thinking along the same lines as we were and that's, care for the Caregiver and the families...you care for the Veteran. I was so happy that many wanted to talk to us, get some feedback even if it wasn't what they wanted to hear but more importantly, take that information and do something with it. Never before have I been around that many people who were all on the same page. I almost had to pinch myself a couple of times to ensure I was still awake and not living some kind of fairy tale! </div>
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Maybe I am just naive sometimes but, I felt that we were all together with a shared obligation in not just caring for the families of our Combat Veterans but, an equal responsibility for failures in the past, a shared responsibility of the suicide rate among not just our Veterans but, also Caregivers and the complete disregard for our children, the true collateral damage of war. </div>
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One of the speakers which I won't name, spoke of what the VA was doing and the current status of suicide rates. It was the same thing we have all been hearing for years. The speaker had referred to the 22 a day but, stated that of those suicides only five of those were in VA care. If my neck hadn't been so stiff in stress, I might have produced a small version of the Exorcist with my head spinning all the way around. This person <i>had</i> to see my face that fell with not only disbelief but, just pure<i> disappointment</i>.</div>
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I will admit readers, this really ticked me off. I am hoping that, that statement wasn't<i> meant </i>the way this person stated it; even the professional speakers stick their foots in their mouths a time or two! Here I was though, sitting there looking directly at them and wanting to stand up and just scream damn bloody murder. From my seat, I kept running back and forth in my mind, <i>whhhhhyyyyy</i> would this VA representative say such a thing as we were all there collectively, for the same reason? I thought, maybe I am just too sensitive and raw right now on this particular subject, perhaps I wasn't being fair and I always try to see both sides of the fence so I really picked it apart carefully before making the final realization in my mind. My first thought was "So the VA is <i>only responsible</i> for just <i>five</i>?". "The other 17 a day doesn't count in your eyes because you weren't <i>actively</i> treating them?". </div>
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What about the <i>reasons</i> that are keeping them from getting help and <i>what</i> help is left anymore?</div>
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Respectively, the wait times are so long at the VA it's not surprising at all those "Non-VA treated" seventeen <i>didn't</i> get treatment. I've been there....helped Veterans go into a system that is backlogged and failing. I've seen the wait times, the lack of care and sometimes I think those poor souls are probably better off <i>not</i> getting the care that is already killing five as it is, or at least according to the statement I am referring to. I have seen the Vet Centers be 3 months to 18 months in just getting to be seen. We all were shocked but, not <i>surprised</i> that the VA Suicide Hot Line in 18 months, dropped 1.4 million calls. Who is to say these 17 or more, didn't fall in one or more of the above categories? How do we know that every single one of the 17 who take their life didn't try one or all of the above? </div>
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Also, one thing I noticed was that <i>no where</i> did anyone mention that the suicide rates are <i>not</i> collected in some states so we may be over 40 a day for all we know. In this <a href="http://www.cbs5az.com/clip/12290308/shocking-allegations-in-new-va-report" target="_blank">news article</a>, the five averaged a day that were considered "in the system" at the AZ VA didn't fair too well either and this is a good example of what's going on in our nation and why we are seeing a crisis. I am quite confused as to how this speaker felt this was something to state so boldly. There is always a clear view behind the reasons why a Veteran not treated under the VA dies by suicide, and I could probably give you a list of a dozen right off the top of my head. If I see it, others see it....why is it so freaking hard for the "suits" to see it? More importantly....because only five out of 22 a day were considered VA cases, does that mean the other 17 don't matter? In my book they do and I am sure that the families of these 17, that they matter greatly. I was glad to find out throughout the day, that I wasn't the only one who thought this as others came forward and shared the same sentiment as I. </div>
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I have to admit I was slightly annoyed, sort of disgruntled but, more so ashamed. This is the greatest barrier that we as military families face today. It's not just stigmas which plays a heavy hand in it but, the attitude of indifference. We were asked that in a group think tank if all barriers could be lifted, what would they be? I wished at the time I had the brain power to bring this up but, I had to really chew on it. My best friend had the brilliance to create a slide and meme for this trip and as always, she nailed it on the head. <i>Indifference</i> by those who are putting together these programs, funding them, running them are going to be our biggest challenges to date. </div>
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How in the hell do we even begin to take control of this crisis if the ones that are 50% behind it, don't man up and take responsibility for their part? I sat outside and vented to my friend. I was so frustrated and angry that I began to cry. We had traveled all this way to hear the same hogwash that we've been hearing for <i>years</i>. Here, we both had taken the time to not only prepare with voices from other caregivers, stressed about leaving our families, and travel so fast to get there only to find out that some still aren't doing their part? I had taken voices from Veterans, caregivers of all definition and era, and their children with me to share as this wasn't about me and, I started to feel like I had let them down. Sometimes I wonder if the stigma isn't easier to deal with than the indifference that we get from the people who promised to take care of us?</div>
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So I boldly stated that <i>we</i>, meaning the Military, the VA, the non-profits, the private sector, the general civilian world, and myself (meaning the families behind these Veterans) could all <i>effectively</i> <u>work together and succeed</u>. We have the proof right in front of us. We <u>succeed</u> <i>daily</i> at helping to kill 22 or more a day. So if we can do this with <i>this</i> <i>high rate of success</i>, then we can by God work together find ways to <i>prevent</i> it. I know I saw some jaws drop and it was an unconventional thing to state to so many people but, I wanted them to see what we are seeing. I wanted them to <i>feel</i> the call to action not just listen to a bunch of words and nod their heads in agreement. I had nothing to lose and a promise to my husband that he would not become a forgotten statistic. I announced I failed. I failed in part of my getting so sick, I failed in not seeing some things but, I also failed because the system failed me to begin with. If I can stand up and say "Hey, I screwed up" so can all these entities.</div>
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I think we all would agree that if the VA and the military simply stated "Yes, we screwed up too" we would have a new respect for them. I didn't get the time to say everything I wanted but, somehow they will get the message. From my point of view here....<u><b>Suicide is a reaction to no action at all</b></u>. It's right there in front of us so, why are we the <i>only</i> ones <i>seeing</i> it and not the ones who are running the show? It has to be <i>more</i> than just banners hung on a wall, printed pamphlets, someone <i>has</i> to answer the crisis number, and I think too? We are starting to become numb as a country as this war goes on. </div>
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One other thing that just absolutely floored me and was part of my abandoned ship speech, was <i>how </i>many programs were presented at this summit. I couldn't whisper to my friend one seat over but, I sat in confusion much of the morning (which comes easy for me these days). We have those looks between us of "I can't believe that just was said" or "get me out of here because I am getting ready to scream" and "<i>Where were they</i>?". I knew I had taken some time off and was a tad rusty, I knew that living off grid means communication is wacky but, this was <i>different</i>. Some of these programs had been around for a while and I had <i>absolutely</i> no idea! The thing is, many of us know what programs are out there. We know which ones are working, ones that are available for a one time only pass, ones that are failing, ones that are simply just a joke and, if we don't know them? <i>We know people who do</i>.<br />
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I had never heard of some of these programs that were supposedly working, showing some success and available. I wasn't the only one either. Some I knew of were there but, not easily accessible to the Veteran, Caregiver and their families. Some I had never heard of and wondered how we don't know about these and the rest, well I was just as shocked to see they existed as they were shocked in finding out they're not getting the word out. <br />
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I explained in my time speaking, that I had absolutely <i>no idea </i>what they were talking about of all that was discussed thus far. It was quite clear that there is a <i>major</i> <i>disconnect</i> between where the programs are starting and where they are ending up. It may look good way up high, and I am not saying they aren't successful with them....just not down here in the trenches. While word of mouth is a fantastic and cost free option...somehow it's just not making it down to those who <i>need</i> it. One has to wonder like I did, who the hell is using these services and how are they able to show a success rate when none of us know much about them or know at all they exist? I was stunned to see how much wasn't known. I was frustrated....frustrated because there were so many who slipped away from us that could have used this to get an upper hand on our chaotic lives. The only thing I could get in was that we just simply aren't getting the information. Period. BUT, many were receptive and willing to work on that.<br />
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Now just to clarify, I'm not saying it's entirely all their faults and I admitted publicly there is no way we can save everyone. But....can't we <i>try</i>? Is this generation just a complete loss? I often sit and scroll through and watch what our military community/families go through each day. When discussing suicide prevention, we have to go back to the beginning and start over. You can't just walk in mid way and expect to undo all that's been done. I know that we are <i>equally</i> as responsible just as those entities are. We often hide much of everything when we need to say "Here it is" even if it means still not getting the help. I also know that some caregivers find out about a possible connection or program and hold it close to them. It isn't their job to play gatekeeper of information and it's a selfish thing to do but, I see it happen all the time. I have also noticed a good portion of the community hiding much of the truth when it comes to things like "Caregiver Burden" score and in fairness, I understand the whys. Yet, how can we <i>really</i> ask anyone to help us when we aren't ready to admit the truth? It is also becoming apparent that we are starting to split in some areas where some spouses feel they need their own category for their wounded. It started to shift slightly between invisible vs visible a few years ago but, it's becoming more noticeable now. Non-profits are not the only ones guilty of the "seeing is believing" aspect when it comes to showing their cards.<br />
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Overall, this Summit was pretty freaking amazing. It wasn't about the food, freebies, the latest dictionary of <i>Who's Who</i> in the Non-profit world, nor was it about any one person in particular except the targeted group of discussion. It was a call to action for all of us to get off our collective butts and do something. The Director is a no frills, no thrills, put your money where your mouth is, kind of lady that I <i>admire</i> and <i>respect</i> deeply. She didn't waste any time and believe it or not? I felt like we accomplished more in those eight hours than we ever did in the last four years working with other non-profits. I enjoyed meeting Rick Weidman, Executive Director for Policy and Government Affairs from the Vietnam Veterans of America. He tickled me to death. With a baritone voice that commands a room without any microphone and one worthy of playing the voice of God, his mere presence just makes you feel comfortable but, you tend to stand just a little bit taller around him. It was nice to see that VVA was there in support of not letting this generation fail but, more importantly we proved<i> again</i> that we can all work together towards one goal. Plus? His hugs are amazing even though he is one tough bird to mess with!<br />
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I also met Jason Roncoroni from <a href="http://stopsoldiersuicide.org/" target="_blank">Stop Soldier Suicide , </a>another program that I didn't know of and he was great. You can tell as a military man himself, that he sees where we need to go as well. He was assertive and just a "put it out there" kind of guy which I respect. His ideas and commitment to looking at beginning a "Transitional Boot Camp" was breathtaking and I will do what ever I can to help get the word out. It was something we all have voiced in one way or another since this War began and I plan to keep in touch and push for this. I am also hoping to see that follow ups are done after this transitional period because we all know, that most of the times our Soldiers come home and just want to <i>get</i> home. At that time period, many do not reveal any issues at all because they just simply want to get back to their lives. It's when life begins again that we start to see a massive spiral downward.<br />
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We proposed a lot of things, had group think tanks that I think with some drive, could produce some <i>really astounding</i> results. I want to thank all those who came despite travel challenges and well, just realizing we aren't getting anywhere thus far. I think there could <i>not </i>have been a better non-profit to hold this Summit and challenge us. Keep your eyes on this Foundation as I see it's going to produce some really big changes! I think I needed this challenge to get me back into the saddle again. I have felt for a while since he's been gone, that I haven't done enough for his memory although there have been many, many things where his memory lives on. That my voice didn't matter anymore. It was nice to get back into the swing of things and at the very least, show my children that I am not a quitter. If you are a non-profit and interested in joining in the challenge and help with the <u>When the War Comes Home: Supporting the Behavioral Health Needs of Veteran Family Members, </u>please contact <a href="mailto:kelsey@codeofsupport.org" id="yui_3_17_2_1_1458574974875_263">kelsey@codeofsupport.org</a>.<br />
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It is my sincere belief that if we ALL put our differences aside, and work together to solve this....we can make some big changes. Thanks to COSF for allowing me to participate in pushing the envelope just a little farther. </div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vfQRb8VH4UFo4dGZxLkraqsSJUowZqjUdbzn-b90W52gIcDIc9N4g8vU8lI9lELZiUBZiDlUiKmiIN1mIE8YhIQMG77rPXiMfi6XyjQ9vjt9TTGIaFC2F_2OGaAy_Gio2trK10GMb7r4/s1600/concrete+rose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8vfQRb8VH4UFo4dGZxLkraqsSJUowZqjUdbzn-b90W52gIcDIc9N4g8vU8lI9lELZiUBZiDlUiKmiIN1mIE8YhIQMG77rPXiMfi6XyjQ9vjt9TTGIaFC2F_2OGaAy_Gio2trK10GMb7r4/s200/concrete+rose.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Our tale spun wildly and filled the bleak pages of time,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Days went swiftly by and nights lingered long past the hand
of which was longer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It all changed so fast as if there were no today…..no
yesterdays, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
No memories to make us stronger. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Demons that stole their way home, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
They dwelled in the darkest of hours and in the furthest
crevices of your mind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
While they ate freely of what was left of my heart,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
They devoured the soul of a man that once was kind. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I gave more than what was needed and placed you high,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Upon that silver lined pedestal that matched your beasts of
burden and needs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You reached out for help by lashing and finding blame,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But, I knew you were only searching for answers among the
brambles and weeds. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You sought answers to the riddle that plagued you in the
midst of anger and turmoil,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Questions that only left you blind to all and unforgiving. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The one thing that I could not fight against was hidden
inside you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Black, cold and unrelenting shadows that brought forth another
being. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You spoke of seeing and walking among the hills of Hell, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How the higher being left you cold and afraid.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How the hourly torment continued in front of you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How you exclaimed you would eventually sleep in the bed you
made. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The conflict of moral obligations met those who had other
plans,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Directions and means that you never saw an acceptable reason
for. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You placed such high hopes in your final gallant return, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Only to find on that paved road home that you faced a much
harsher war. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Casualties lay around like the discards of the Autumn winds,
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
As the wounded stood searching for the direction in which to
point the blame. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Many you could not face without fear you made the wrong
choice,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
The unmerciful self guilt stemmed from those who desperately
called to the saviors by name.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Shattered dreams callously met you at every wink of dawn,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Whispered gratitude went unheard and fell scattered on the
ground.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Once was, faced the brutal reflection that tears had left in
the wake of night,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Blood was without
warning blinded by the hurt you projected, was the only sound.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Judged by all man and not that of what you believed, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It sat stubbornly waiting out Father Time like that of
rusted coffin nails. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Time ticking loudly as your faith and love slowly bled out,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Gently beckoning you with the promise of peace and safety from
where the light hails. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Your fall to the bottom came so swift, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And I watched helplessly as your hands reached out but,
didn’t want to hold on. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I reached out to grab you and pull you back from that dark
corner, in which you preferred,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Only to find you slipped and the beast had triumphed and won.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
All that is left is a cold steel heart,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Which remains upon my breast where your head used to lay.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A reminder of what was, what is and, what will forever be, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Now just a taunting memory that haunts me every day.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Now I find I must face my own mirrored fear,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Thrown among the unanswered and broken pieces of what used
to be. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I lie awake in the silence that loneliness and heartache
provides,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Trying to understand all that you just couldn’t see. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I smile sometimes when you still come around, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Whether it be in dreams or a forgotten memory. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I cry when the pain twists my heart into pieces,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Reminding me of the pain you must have felt and we just couldn’t
see. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Now as I lay thinking of a suitable place of honor,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I wonder if you found the peace of which you sought for so
long. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I wonder if you feel me like I feel you,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And if you have finally forgiven all that was wronged. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Sometimes I wake with tears wondering how I could let you
fall,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Even when the spoken promise whispers to me that I held on
as long as I could. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I often think of you when the unrelenting hand passes the
witching hour,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And of how forgiveness suddenly went from never to should. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I miss the way you laughed with your entire being, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A sound which had become a faded thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I miss the way you called me mommy,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I miss the smile your presence would always bring. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A fallen angel you thought you had become, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A used soldier of misfortune you once stated bold, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A man of conviction and great promises is always what I saw,
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Among the heart of gold you kept so closely guarded from the
cold. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Now I wander the mountain where you planned to retire your
days,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And linger fondly over the good times and tremble still of
those which were bad. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I still seek the answers you wanted and are now mine to
bear,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
All while trying to understand that you didn’t really mean
to be so mad. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Broken I try to rebuild a life I of which I do not know, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And salvage what was left among the debris that we called
our refuge. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A place now where you no longer belong,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A shelter of which my heart can heal from War’s fiery
deluge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hopeful peace found you at the moment you broke, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A smile I heard, painted the etched lines of your face.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How I wished I had helped what you chose for redemption,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How I wished I could have seen the return of self grace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
There are days where I sit in wonder of the many facets of
change,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How life is a fickle thing with plans of her own and one
must pick up the slack.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Some days are filled with loneliness and some twinkle with
hope,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Mostly these days, I yearn with the thought of how I just
want you back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A promise made a promise broke,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Seems to be the moral of our story with no boundaries that
end.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But the promises that were made by both of us, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Still be the empty garden that I will tend. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A rose for the love that grew without fail, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A lily to remind me of the strength you gave when I had
none.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Water to calm that burning flame you called a soldier’s
burden,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Will be the chosen way to say goodbye by your sons. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
As the stones that roll sing about unwanted truth,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I whisper a lullaby of which you would always lean in to
hear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I say a prayer every night in hopes that peace wrapped you
in its arms,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Hoping that loved ones past were now near. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Saying goodbye was always a phrase of which we never said,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You said it meant that you weren’t coming back and that
would never be true. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I find it hard now to spill forth the false words that mean
forever,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It was the one thing I never learned how to do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
We will carry on as I promised,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Although it will never be the same again without you here.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
A promise I will somehow keep in the same earnest fervor as
they were spoken,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I will fulfill the wishes for the children you held so dear.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I’m so sorry for everything that went wrong,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
How I wish we just could have simply had a chance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But Life isn’t without it’s takings we learned, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And sometimes you’re left with no choice but, to take the
lead in the dance. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I hope that someday I will see you again,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Laughing and telling me how that water gave the prize you
fought for. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
It gives me comfort knowing you will be there,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
When my time begins to knock at the door. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I promise I will keep trying, </div>
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No matter how hard it may seem to do just that. </div>
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I will place the words into the world as promised,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
In hopes that someone can be saved from their world you said
was black. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
You planted seeds that I am forever grateful for, </div>
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Ones that grow every day and on their way to becoming ones
you would be proud of. </div>
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Ones that miss you terribly,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
As we watch your stars twinkle above. </div>
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<br /></div>
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I don’t know if I can say a parting out loud, </div>
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It seems to be my biggest challenge to date. </div>
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How does one say I love you with all the pain surrounding
it,</div>
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And get the point across that I have become to hate. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I know that I must learn to let go and say farewell,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Finally closing a chapter that was still unwritten and due.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
I know I must learn to set you free now,</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
But you must learn to let go of me too. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Fly away now, my once fallen angel</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
And find your own way that you so desperately seek.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Lay down your guns, mighty warrior, and open your eyes</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Life’s heavy shackles have broken and now you are finally free……………<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-3949786440455140732016-01-21T08:31:00.002-08:002016-01-21T08:31:46.542-08:00In the Aftermath........<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Yk9n1umoUfJo_Y4imR161-87ncOKSzfsFt5vg-cb0CPDn-OmQvF7NEXFVL1apW54v6B8BQDKdKnVEzEoVFalGjkLkXAc5B9q5Ca-RDXPmgu94De4S0v_2XZbQ8stpQPERFgtdY70GMqP/s1600/angel_protecting_door_mexico.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Yk9n1umoUfJo_Y4imR161-87ncOKSzfsFt5vg-cb0CPDn-OmQvF7NEXFVL1apW54v6B8BQDKdKnVEzEoVFalGjkLkXAc5B9q5Ca-RDXPmgu94De4S0v_2XZbQ8stpQPERFgtdY70GMqP/s320/angel_protecting_door_mexico.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Angel Protecting Entrance</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><em class="title" id="yui_3_5_1_2_1453300786046_1044"><span id="yui_3_5_1_2_1453300786046_1042">Panteon Delores, Mexico City</span></em></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I <i>know</i>.........</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I just walked away, didn't I? </div>
I lost everything after he died. I sort of shut down and while I was at it, just shut down the world around me....it seemed too <i>loud</i>, too <i>cold</i>, <i>abrasive</i> and, way <i>too overwhelming</i>. It's been a <i>hell</i> of a year. I could give you a dozen analogies but, it truly is like walking on a tight wire with a set of heavy weights. You spend so much time fighting to keep upright and follow a straight line when in reality....you are wobbling, going side to side due to the weight of the problems and, scrambling to keep from sinking down or falling off. I had been shut out, shut in, doors slammed in my face and the cards shuffled once more on what our identity as a family was. The coldest reality was trying to figure out who we were <i>without</i> him since our existence was based on his service, his injuries and his story. I didn't know how much our lives revolved around him and that everything else was just a forethought. Once they are gone, you are left with "what do I do now?". It seems weird that I no longer have to fight the system, remind about medications although I still think I do when I see the clock or spend three hours a day trying to wake him up and another four, trying to get him to go to bed. We were with him on a daily basis. It had the same echoes of familiarity as them coming out of service, retiring, med-boarded etc and not knowing who <i>they</i> were anymore. It was hard to look in the mirror and face ourselves as regular people; not that family of a wounded warrior. It was just... <i>gone</i>. In a minute. <br />
Grief has been my best friend of sorts as far as my mind and heart goes. He stays all night, doesn't complain, opens his visit with a mournful sigh and pitiful laugh when you remember a funny memory. He kind of slips in without making a fuss or big show of "<i>Here's Johnnnnnnny</i>!" and climbs into bed with you while you watch the shadows creep around your bedroom. He lies there quietly in that cold, dark bed of heartaches and regrets with you while the icy hands of loneliness caress you while you try to find the elusive sleep you so desperately seek. He keeps the lights low, whispers softly and keeps the covers easily accessible so you can pull them over your head. He holds my hand when the tears start, quietly allows me the time I need to get it out and, stays with me when my heart hurts. Patient he is, with me, especially on those moments where you can't breathe. He just sits and waits. He doesn't fuss about the puffy eyes you hide from crying so others won't see, he doesn't make any comments that you look like utter crap when your nose is all snotty and red from the crying jag you had from an all night-er. Yes, Grief keeps a steady vigil while you read a letter over and over again until it threatens to fall apart from the creases you keep folding and unfolding. He doesn't mind what you're wearing, doesn't fuss if you don't eat or that your absolutely just broken inside. He is with you all the same. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Guilt can also be a bitch.......</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
A <i>cruel</i>....<i>malicious</i>....<i>unrelenting</i>....<i> nasty....son of a bitch.</i></div>
<i> </i><br />
The kind who creeps up when your smile is a thousand watts and shuts it down while laughing at you as you stumble and fall in the dark. He is there as a reminder when things *seem* to be going OK and when those moments of "I <i>am</i> doing<i> this</i>, Honey!! I am doing it <i>for</i> you and <i>with</i> you!" hit you like a freight train. There with you, as you watch your child run on the playground with his friends at school. Squealing and whooping with <i>so</i> <i>much joy</i> and a laugh that could make the hardest crack up; all while <i>knowing</i> his father will <i>never</i> see that. The tears...when your other son tells you how much he misses Daddy and how he wants to be a doctor in the military....Yeah, Guilt is a hard ass when he wants to be especially in those moments where you wish nothing more than him there <i>with</i> you, <i>seeing</i> what you are witnessing and <i>feeling</i> that moment in it's <i>entirety</i>. He is a reminder that I am without him. He is that daily dose of the bitch slap into reality when you wake from a good dream where I see and talk to him, that he<i> isn't</i> truly there. Grief's a <i>bastard</i>. Then when it's really bad, he creeps up quickly when you least expect it and sometimes brings along his side kick, <i>Guilt</i>. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Fucking Guilt.......</i></div>
Yeah, I said it. When we say as Caregivers, family and wives etc, that we don't "get" our Veterans sometimes? We know they have it but, we don't <i>quite understand</i> the who's, the when's, and the why's? You will if they die. Not <i>all </i>of it but, to a major degree you understand more in the aftermath. I don't honestly know <i>any other way</i> to say it that will make it pretty or sugar coat it.....it simply is what it is. It is harsh, bittersweet and <i>cruel</i> to finally understand a majority of it when they're gone. All the buried secrets uncovered, the lies harbored finally released, the full extent of <i>what</i> War <i>can do</i> to a man, finally reveals itself in a way that drops you to your knees. It will <i>swallow</i> you up like a big, gaping, black hole and, not release you no matter how much you're kicking and screaming. You fluctuate between being stunned at the revelation or shocked as hell you didn't get it before. You wonder <i>how</i> you could be so <i>dumb</i>, how you were so <i>blind</i> that you <i>missed</i> it before and, that you knew them like the back of your hand so how did you miss <i>this</i>? How could I <i>not</i> understand to the full extent while he was alive? It was the <i>one</i> thing that keeps them from smiling, having joy in its fullest or what kept them from sleeping peacefully. It kept them from saving themselves. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Guilt....the <i>nastiest</i> and <i>biggest</i> demon our Veterans face post-war home and carry on their backs. It is the one Demon we can't soothe, or banish from their hearts...no matter <i>how much</i> we <i>hold on</i> and <i>love them</i>. Mix that with regrets, loss, moral challenges/conflicts, and the adrenaline they seek to replace the daily pucker factor and rush they were so used to....it's one of the hardest things to battle in my opinion. In my mind....I know now there wasn't anything I could do to relieve that. I get told this all the time but, <i>damn.</i>....<i>reminding</i> myself over and over again and <i>accepting</i> it is a challenge in itself. My heart has been overloaded on acceptance of some things these days but, that one? It might take a while and maybe never......</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Then you get <i>pissed</i>......<i> </i></div>
<i>Pissed</i>, that you didn't see it coming, <i>pissed</i> that they didn't want to lay their burdens on you when you were offering and pleading to share the weight of their demons. P<i>issed</i> because they didn't give you a <i>chance</i> to help them. <i>Irate</i>, because you are so <i>confused</i> <i></i> because it <i>wasn't</i> their time to go. <i>Infuriating moments</i> on a daily schedule, when you think about "what if it <i>was</i> his time?". <i>Why now? Why let us love at all? Pissed</i>, because you were able to save him before but, <i>enraged</i> that you still hear his pleas of "<i>why</i> didn't you <i>just let me go</i> when I tried before?" in the middle of a meltdown. Hurt and angry because you <i>constantly</i> replay that in your head and wonder if you did something <i>wrong</i> by doing the <i>right</i> thing? Incensed, that we were <i>not </i>enough to <i>want</i> to <i>live</i> for. Was I selfish by holding on to him or was he for not wanting to stay?<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Anger</i>.....it's a<i> bitch</i> too. </div>
<i>Guilt with anger</i>, because you promised everything would be alright and you would see them through. I know that I kept <i>every single promise</i> I made him except for my wanting him<i> not </i>to become a <u>statistic</u> in a VA drawer. The anger in myself for <i>failing</i> is inevitable I know....but, <i>damn</i>....he <i>knew</i> for a <i>fact</i> he could always count on me and that I kept my promises. <i>How could he leave so fast? Infuriated</i>....they didn't <i>see you</i> when you were <i>right there</i>. Pissed, because instead of taking you up on it, they back away into the shadows alone and choose between the two of you. <i>Incensed</i>, when the reality<i> hits</i> that he <i>chose</i> <u>death</u>. Anger surges daily because you feel you didn't do enough or try to understand the why's. You know it's not their fault but friends....<i>friends </i>who had <i>information</i>, <i>concerns</i> and <i>witnessed </i>things....<u>never said a word</u>. It's not their place, it wasn't their job but, I feel like they just stood by and let him go. You get so pissed because the hurt sometimes is just too much to deal with. <i>Enraged</i> that you couldn't do a <i>single. God. damn. thing</i>. to save them.......<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Yes, <i>Guilt</i> and <i>Grief.</i>.....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the Good and Evil twins....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
the great bastards of our human emotions as we know it. </div>
I overheard a conversation the other day of a young twenty something talking to a buddy of his about him being turned down and bummed out by it to the point he didn't want to go to his college classes. He seemed relatively down and out but, I could tell his ego was hurting more. So his friend replied that he didn't know <i>anything</i> until a man is turned down by a woman he <i>really</i> didn't even <i>like</i>. "I didn't like this chick but, she was available. Guess what? I ask her out and she had the nerve to tell me no." He considered <i>this</i> turn down as the "ultimate slap" in the face and to his manhood. It was especially hard for him to accept this turn down since he honestly didn't care for her. I had my hands <i>clenched</i> out in front of me, hoping for that <i>split </i>second my body would overstep it's normal boundaries, <i>disregard</i> my shaking legs and let courage step in to <i>beat the hell</i> out of them. Not that I would <i>ever</i> do that but, just so you get the gist of it.<br />
I <i>so badly</i> wanted to say "You <i>really</i> don't <i>know</i> an injured or broken heart until you lay one to rest. You don't know <i>what losing is like</i> or what being turned down "<i>ultimatel</i>y" until your best friend and partner <u>chooses death over you</u>." <i>That</i>....That, is the ultimate turn down. There isn't a man or woman alive who could dare say that so and so turned them down and it hurt or, that the person they love chose another person to replace them....and be <i>any</i> where <i>near</i> the pain that the knowledge of death <i>winning</i>, brings into your life. Oh, to be that young..................<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
But, each loss is painful isn't it? A different kind of loss...different for each person. So who am I to judge right?</div>
<br />
<br />
Between these feelings, I seem to be divided in finding comfort in them as they have been around for a while or... spend the rest of my time fighting them off. When I feel my smile fading, I try to quickly regain the control of it again. Sometimes I smile and it feels like my face is going to<i> shatter</i> from just the pure energy I had to <i>force</i> to do it. When those breathless moments hit you when something reminds you of them, you fight to just <i>grasp</i> a tiny bit of air. Yes......fighting seems to be a never ending action when it comes to PTSD, TBI, Suicide and the Aftermath of it all. I don't<i> want </i>to fight anymore....I <i>can't</i> <i>fight </i>anymore. I <i>just</i>....can <i>not</i> fight. <br />
<br />
I headed West back in the Summer as I was accepted into the Hyper-Baric treatment program in Boulder, CO. It was a great experience and one that I am eternally grateful for not just for that treatment but, in the future. I met so many nice people, especially the wounded veterans coming in. I felt terrible trying to get myself better but, I couldn't just <i>lay down</i> and <i>quit</i>. My doctor's weren't paying attention with their chemo drugs and kept piling more on and on. I couldn't keep going like that. Between that and all the issues death brings, I more than likely would have died from a combination of all plus a broken heart. Sounds exaggerated but, it <i>wasn't</i>. I know that now, and was told that. It was good to get off all medications, wean myself off of the multiple steroids and, to start trying healthier approaches that I had not considered. I <i>love</i> that there are more options for me than what limited resources we had back home. I was now a single mother and provider, I had <i>no choice</i> but, to take care of my kids and myself. While there are many slackers, I couldn't just choose option B of "I don't want to do this anymore!".<br />
Home wasn't <i>home</i> any more. It was a <i>prison </i>that had <i>terrifying</i> echoes that resounded off every little thing in there. It was <i>heavy</i>...<i>so</i> heavy that people didn't like coming in there. I couldn't breathe, relax or sleep. Eating a meal was a challenge for me. Relatives were <i>pretty damn bad</i>. Some friends....even <i>worse</i>. It was an earth shattering time and I am still reeling. Some days are better than others; some really bad when some of his demons come looking for a fight. I could deal with the lies, I could deal with his mistakes but, what I could <i>not</i> handle was to look back to see how his world was spiraling out of control and knowing there was nothing I could have done. How was I to know when he hid it so damn well? What I<i> had</i> been able to do just <i>wasn't enough</i> it seems and I am <i>still</i> not <i>satisfied</i> with that knowledge.<br />
I just could not deal with the aftermath of how our family was. To see my children who did nothing wrong, punished or to see them <i>scared</i> killed me. There isn't a <i>thing</i> I wouldn't do if it meant taking that punishment for them and ensuring that we were going to be ok. The unfolding of the truths about his death, friends who seemed to always need us but, weren't there when it came our time to ask for help was a hard blow. The pain that comes with the realization that certain family members turned their grief into pure malice and hate, further broke me. For a while, I thought back on every detail wondering what I had done to cause these people to act this way or did I not give them a chance? No, it started immediately and ran it's course. <i>Churches</i>....I <i>know</i> not all of them are bad but, <i>some</i> were <i>worse</i> than any Westboro member I could compare to them. Bibles were left with horrible, hateful notes, passages highlighted to ensure that you "got" their message whether you wanted to or not, and who could forget <i>how many</i> told me he went to Hell because of the stigma of suicide? Nothing says "we care" like complete strangers at your door wanting to pray for your husband's soul that now "rests in the hands of Satan".<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The Ever Lasting Fight With Religion......</i> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I read the <i>Seven Stages of Grief </i>or <i>whatever </i>that book was. I'll admit it...I half-assed skipped through it and didn't even <i>want </i>to read it. I was never one for self-help type books and I didn't <i>need </i>a book to <i>tell me how</i> to <i>grieve</i>. I spent a lot of years with people telling me how I should do this or that. I wasn't going to define my feelings based on what a book said I should feel. The <i>one</i> thing that struck me was it <i>didn't mention</i> the <i>struggles</i> of one's self and suddenly being faced with a religious conflict. I worried....I panicked, and there were days where it was all I could think of. I began to read all these notes and started thinking....<i>what if</i>? You never <i>really</i> stop to think about disregarding what you believe in and were taught, until it's <i>right there</i> smacking you around. I remembered my husband telling me how he struggled with his moral convictions while in Iraq. We have all had our moments in our lives where we <i>question</i> our beliefs or possibly are angered <i>with</i> God or whoever you believe in; could put you in such hard times? Never though, have I witnessed a simple man break down because he felt like God just <i>left</i> him. He told me one night when he needed to "unload", how War <i>showed</i> him that mankind was cruel, relentlessness in their efforts to pursue what they <i>may</i> or <i>may</i> <i>not </i>think <i>what is right</i> anymore.....He told me how it <i>changed</i> and <i>shook him</i> to his very core of every thing he read, learned in the bible and what his grandparent's taught him. I told him he had to forgive. He wasn't left and if anything? He was there <i>with</i> him, helping and guiding him with the ones who <i>were </i>treated. They may not have come back if not for that partnership. But.....it was never <i>truly</i> about <i>how many</i> came home....it was <i>always</i> about the ones that <i>didn't</i>. I understand now....<i>how it must have felt </i>to have that conviction <i>ripped </i>from you. My best friend uses the analogy of "baptism by fire" and I could only imagine that's what he faced. How, <i>what</i> people<i> think</i> that is right or wrong and not really knowing the true meaning of anything, shatters what you believe in or know. How, <i>it hurt </i>to be faced with people who <i>blamed</i> you for something you didn't even do.....Yeah, I <i>understand so much</i> now. I lived with "<i>What if.</i>.....???" every single hour on the hour. It's Hell; pure <i>Hell</i> and torture. <i>Then I said no</i>.<i>.....</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>No</i>, it can't <i>be</i>....... </div>
<br />
I <i>don't </i>and <i>will not believe</i> that. There are <i>too many</i> things that have happened to me since his Death that points in the other direction. Inner conflicts of the doctrines of religion should be one of the stages of grief. No one seems to mention that but, who <i>hasn't</i> wondered about a loved one passing and just as you worried about them alive, you worry if they made it to the pearly whites? I still worry he is alone, or scared....<i>fearful</i> that I wasn't there to meet him and help him. I even worried about what if he got lost? I wasn't <i>there</i> to help. I worry all the time about him....but, I know in my heart he is at peace. He struggled for a long time and while I never understand what happened.....I now know he was in a <i>lot</i> of <i>pain</i>; physical and mental. <i>So much pain</i>.... the kind that a human should <i>never</i> have to endure. How the hell he hid it from everyone was just....dumbfounding. I found out more after he passed and try to incorporate that to help me deal with the fact he's gone. There are days where I swear I hear him but, running towards that voice leads me to an empty room and deflated hopes. <br />
I <i>rarely</i> talk about religion or politics, you know that! It is though, my
personal belief, that religion <i>doesn't</i> get to have the last <i>say</i> when War is
involved. <i>It's War</i>. What happens as a result of it as far the soldiers that battled in it, isn't religion's <i>decision</i> to <i>determine</i> whether they are <i>worthy</i> of saving or....<i>falling</i>.
No, most religions say the Lord is a forgiving and merciful one. I still hold on to that. He was a<i>
good</i> man, one who has given his shirt and coat off his back to someone
in need, rescue and help someone, give money when they had none. One who
followed his beliefs even when he and God had their issues to
work out between them. I can be<i> blamed</i> for a lot of things but, I can't
be blamed for not <i>making</i> him <i>understand </i>that God didn't leave him
out there. I understand, accept that and, the fact it was something
he and so many others like him have to work out. How can anyone be expected to change that way of thinking once it's in the mind of a lost, discarded shell of a man that he once was?<br />
I have struggled with
the grieving process. I won't lie. I think it's a combination of a lot
of things. Death growing up, death of friends and loved ones, being
shied away from that pain by my parents, or having a husband who thought
you were so strong that crying was beneath you. Tragedy has struck me
quite a few times and I realized that I never <i>learned</i> how to <i>cope</i> with
death. I used to be quite fearful of it but, somehow I am not anymore.
I am learning as much as I can and looking into so many other options for learning new coping skills. I learned all my life to hold my feelings inward like a
closely guarded treasure that you were afraid would get stolen. It
doesn't mean I don't have any or am cold....I am exactly the opposite.
Sometimes, I <i>love</i> and <i>feel</i> too much that those emotions
from others are then mine. It makes it living hell when this happens
because I never know how I am feeling. I am probably grieving the wrong way to some people
but, is there really a set formula one has to follow to be considered "appropriate"?<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I avoid Facebook most days, weeks, well.... <i>months</i>.
I haven't been there unless it's to check on something or speak to a
friend. Some days I want to yell and say "Learn to appreciate even the
roughtimes because Dammit! It can be <i>gone</i> just like <i>that</i>!" but, that isn't fair for me to lash out nor do I want to be that <i>reminder</i> again that it <i>could</i>
happen to you. I was that for almost 8 months and still to this day, I
get emails stating this blog helped them but, that it scares you because
our story is similar to that of what you go through now. "You don't want to be me".....I get it. Trust me, I don't want this either. I don't mind
the emails but, there are so many like myself and husband out
there.....we saw it <i>every</i> day. We <i>weren't</i> the <i>only</i> ones. Those of us who are advocates
pushed....pushed for recognition of the <i>22</i> a day, more programs to help
us to win the War that was brought home, tried to put out there what we
were trying, accomplishing and failing at. All in hopes, that it might help someone following us. There are many of us who
helped others with statistics, brought forth failing programs (or lack
of) and boldly pushed the news when it came to misconduct of the
military, VA hospitals and employees and, yes, even the Civilian side of
it. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>We were there...</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The whole time</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our story is <i>no different</i> than the <i>rest </i>of <i>you</i>.....</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The one similarity between us <i>all</i> is </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we just hope for <i>a different </i>ending....... </div>
I feel
like I don't belong anymore there. I feel like I let a ton of people
down and well, things have changed so drastically just in over a year or
more that I feel what we have been through isn't what the current
situation is. I know I am loved, and blessed to have such a wonderful
and tight knit community but, I am ashamed still. Not of my husband and not
of his post war injuries that were sustained. I am <i>ashamed</i> because I<u> couldn't save him</u>. Yes, before people email me and comment...I <i>am</i> doing counseling. I take things one at a time and hour by hour. I focus every day on my kids and have gotten back to basics with my family. Hell, I am trying to get back to basics <i>with</i> me. It's a challenge but, I am working on it every minute of the day. Another obstacle is to learn to forgive everyone involved or who weren't involved <i>enough</i>, especially those who will <i>never</i> say they're sorry for what they have done. Learning to forgive myself is a major battle that I will fight. Forgiveness....such a simple word but, one of the hardest to put into motion.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I
don't know the answers because who <i>really</i> learns to even <i>consider</i> these items
in a marriage to someone you thought would always be there? This wasn't
something that they teach you, warn you about or prepare you for. In
our story, we were supposed to end on a mountain top, in our cozy front
porch rocking chairs trying to shoot warnings shots at the kids because they want to
drop off the grand-babies. At least, that was his story for <i>us</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
How I <i>wish</i> things could have been <i>different</i>. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
For some reason this blog hit 277,000 plus views just this year and in a way....I<i> hate</i> that. Why? Because if you are <i>here</i>, it means that you are looking for answers that I can't give you. I <i>hate</i> that <i>anyone</i> should have to look for help when the help <i>should</i> be there <i>all the time</i>. I know the sheer desperation though, and the feeling of being all alone trying to hold up the world. Many of you have reached out and told me how his story saved them or helped them in some other way. For that, I am grateful. Many of you know his motto was "If we could just save one, Mommy". Well, I think he accomplished that. I just wish he knew. We were a good team on this endeavor. I was the pen that put it to life and he was the one living it. I am ever grateful for that support but, I am more grateful that this blog helps in some way and so very proud of the Veterans who have found their way and saved themselves. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I haven't been able to write since the last post. I don't know if it was just writer's block or perhaps, my heart isn't in this fight anymore. I don't know. It feels good to have written this much and just put it all out there. Thank you so much for all the love, support and kindness that you have shown me. It means the world to me and my boys. We will get back on our feet....somehow we always do. Just this time, was a much harder fall and one that will take us a while to climb back up. If I had to end this post with <i>any</i> advice....it would be, <i>keep fighting</i>. Let them know every. single. day. <i>how much</i> you love them and even when the days are dark....find <i>at least</i> one positive thing to say to each other. <i>Talk</i>.....communication is <i>that</i> important. While I know the struggles all too well, there are moments when I realize it just wasn't <i>that important </i>that he was messy, or that I held so much resentment inside towards him for things he just simply could not help. I am brave enough to admit that was my fault. Honestly...I don't think I even <i>knew</i> I had resentment until it was gone. Count each accomplishment no matter the size, as a <i>big</i> win and dammit...<i>celebrate</i> it. Try to remember that no matter how much you do for them? They don't sometimes understand nor can they reciprocate. It's just not cognitively there anymore to do so among their injuries.. Sometimes, we as spouses, loved ones and family harbor ill feelings when in reality? It's what we do to show our love, so how can we fault our Veterans if they simply just don't "get" it? Stand your ground no matter how hard it gets, if you truly love them. When I started to falter and lose strength, it's when he gave up on me. I don't want this to happen to someone else. Let go of those resentments and change the regrets into <i>doing</i> them. Share your story....you never know who will read it and change their world. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Love is a Bitch Too,</i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-67265659608819054902015-02-15T07:19:00.000-08:002015-02-15T07:41:40.634-08:00Even Through Death He Still Succeeded<div style="text-align: center;">
We have this general and mutual feeling in the military online communities and bloggers, that if someone doesn't blog or check in; it is a sort of unwritten rule that we worry naturally for that person and check in. Max Harris over at his blog, <a href="http://www.combatveteranswithptsd.org/" target="_blank">Combat Veterans With PTSD</a> wrote a beautiful blog in honor of. He had already left a comment before on my last blog but, he wrote more. His first comforting words were beautiful but, none compares to this.....<br />
In both our worlds, the family member and that of a Veteran; it is very easy to overlook and get "used" to things that it becomes the norm for us. Max, I wanted you to know there should be <u><i>no regrets </i></u>on your end. He would never want that from you. I always sent your blogs forwarded to his email and he would read. In those last three months prior to, I feel I should have checked on <i>you</i> and <i>several</i> others. As I told you before, I don't feel courageous and it killed me to write that post but, I felt something tug at me to do so. I am glad though because the out pour across the world reminded me that our story helped, save, and lifted up many. Other Veterans wrote in something similar that it made them double check on how their condition <i>truly</i> was. We have been friends now a long time through a tapestry of carefully woven words. You are my brother, my friend and you will always have a battle in me. Thank you for these words as you will never know how much they mean to me. For yours, showed that his story and his untimely death still saved another from the cracks. You fulfilled his promise with me and I take comfort in that. Love you dear friend. I promise I will check in on you when some time has passed.To my Darling, You succeeded baby in every single way touching so many people while you were here and even after you're gone. I hope you are in peace because your mission was and is being fulfilled. I love you.......</div>
<div class="blog-post" id="blog-post-497779051264093890">
<div class="blog-header">
<h2 class="blog-title" style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.combatveteranswithptsd.org/blog/a-letter-to-uncle-sams-mistress-unbridled-courage-in-the-face-of-unspeakable-loss" target="_blank">A Letter to Uncle Sam's Mistress: Unbridled Courage in the Face of Unspeakable Loss</a>
</h2>
<div class="blog-date">
<span class="date-text">2/9/2015</span></div>
<div class="blog-comments">
<a class="blog-link" href="http://www.combatveteranswithptsd.org/blog/a-letter-to-uncle-sams-mistress-unbridled-courage-in-the-face-of-unspeakable-loss#comments">
</a>
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<a class="w-fancybox" href="http://www.combatveteranswithptsd.org/uploads/6/2/2/5/6225893/9323398_orig.jpg">
<img alt="Taps" src="http://www.combatveteranswithptsd.org/uploads/6/2/2/5/6225893/9323398_orig.jpg" style="max-width: 570px; width: 100%;" />
</a>
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<div class="paragraph" style="text-align: justify;">
I've
been blogging for a while now - since January, 2011. It's hard to
believe it's been that long, but it has. I've shared my struggles and
my victories and I have been gladdened to see that by sharing my
struggles, I've made a positive impact in the lives of my fellow
service-members and in the lives of the ones who love them.<br />
<br />
Over
the course of those years, I've gotten to know quite a few bloggers
sharing similar stories. One, in particular, has always had a deep
impact on me: <a href="http://armyreservistwife.blogspot.com/" target="_blank" title="">Living with PTSD & TBI</a>.
The author, Uncle Sam's Mistress has a talent for clearly and
emotionally depicting how difficult life is for someone deeply in love
with a veteran with PTSD.<br />
<br />
Over the past few years, we've gotten
to know each other tangentially through our respective blogs and through
Facebook - sharing posts, insight and a kind word.<br />
<br />
I began to
grow concerned that I hadn't seen a blog post from her in a while, as I
know my readers have been for me these past few months. One of my
greatest regrets is that I couldn't see past my own challenges to check
to make sure everything was OK.<br />
<br />
When she posted her latest blog post, <a href="http://armyreservistwife.blogspot.com/2015/02/from-stigma-to-statistic.html" target="_blank" title="">From A Stigma to A Statistic</a>,
I sobbed. I sobbed for the loss of her husband, I sobbed because of
the profound and heartfelt pain she expressed through her words, and I
sobbed because PTSD had taken another veteran too early. I did my best
to let her know through comments how deeply distressed I was for her
loss, but don't think I ever found the right words.<br />
<br />
So that's why I'm writing this tonight.<br />
<br />
Here Goes...</div>
<blockquote style="text-align: justify;">
Dear Uncle Sam's Mistress,<br />
I've
been reading your blog for a long time and I've always admired the
heart and humanity you pour into your posts. When I read your latest
blog post, the depth of the devastation that PTSD has brought into your
life hit me like I had been punched in the gut.<br />
<br />
Words cannot
convey how deeply sorry I am for the loss of your husband. You captured
the stress, fear, despair, and heartbreak so poignantly. I shared your
post on Facebook and found out later that my mom had read your words
and she started crying immediately. We could barely talk about it
because it strikes so close to home. She knows how close I've gotten on
a few occasions in the years since I came home and the thought of what
you are going through breaks her heart.<br />
<br />
What your family has gone
through has been constantly on my mind since I read your post. It's
caused me to take stock of my life and how I am doing. It made me
realize that I wasn't doing as well as I would hope.<br />
<br />
And I don't
think I would have seen it as clearly if it wasn't for your latest blog
post. I have struggled mightily the past few months, despite
recognizing how poorly I was handling my separation and divorce from my
wife. In the past, whenever I have gotten to the point where I was able
to acknowledge that I am struggling, I have been able to somehow find
the strength to reclaim what I had given up to my PTSD.<br />
<br />
This time
was different. Until I read your blog post, I didn't realize that I
hadn't improved. Things hadn't gotten worse, but they hadn't improved
either.<br />
<br />
That realization scared me to death.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #2a2a2a;"><b>Because
of you, because of your unbridled courage in sharing your story, I've
turned a corner. I've started to push back against the darkness. It
made me realize that one of my strengths has always been in telling my
story the way you tell yours: unflinchingly, with courage and
fortitude.</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #508d24;"><b>From the
bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. Thank you for reminding me how
important it is to tell my story. Thank you for reminding me that I
have the courage to live for myself. Thank you for having always had a
kind word when you could tell I was struggling. Thank you for letting
all of us into your life.</b></span><br />
<br />
<b><span style="color: #2a18e0;">It
may be small comfort, but I wanted you to know that I am here for you.
All you have to do is ask. Message me on Facebook. Reach out through
my website. You've given thousands of readers the strength to carry on -
now it's our turn lend you ours.</span></b><br />
<br />
God Bless You and Your Family.<br />
<br />
In Grief and Solidarity,<br />
<br />
Max Harris, Combat Veterans with PTSD</blockquote>
<div class="paragraph" style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>To One in Sorrow by Grace Noll Crowell</u></b></span><br />
Let me come in where you are weeping, friend,<br />
And let me take your hand.<br />
I, who have known a sorrow such as yours,<br />
Can understand.<br />
<br />
Let me come in -- I would be very still<br />
Beside you in your grief;<br />
I would not bid you cease your weeping, friend,<br />
Tears can bring relief.<br />
<br />
Let me come in -- I would only breathe a prayer,<br />
And hold your hand,<br />
For I have known a sorrow such as yours,<br />
And understand.</div>
<div class="paragraph" style="text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="paragraph" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #8d2424; font-size: small;"><b><i>To
my family, friends, fellow bloggers, and faithful readers, I ask the
following: Show your solidarity. Write your name (or pseudonym) in the
comments along with a kind word. Just a moment of your time would mean
so much.</i></b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-50911807948505162612015-02-02T06:27:00.003-08:002015-02-02T06:27:56.865-08:00From A Stigma To A Statistic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
I've been wanting to sit down and write for a while now. There has just been <i>so</i> much<i> interference </i>in my mind that I no longer know what is up or down. My mind is constantly free falling into blackness and nothingness. I had no way to express myself in an environment that would give me some sort of release. I feel the need to scream yet, nothing escapes me. So here I am.........<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was my husband's and my intention to share <i>our</i> story, <i>our life</i> so that others like us, possibly could learn or find <i>some</i> useful information. Perhaps learn a lesson, discover something new and, to educate all while providing myself a place of solitude that would let me express my feelings. Maybe just maybe someone out there would say "<i>I don't feel so alone now</i>" or "Holy Shit! So <i>that's</i> <u>what</u> <i>this is</i>!". Sometimes.....sometimes it was the <i>only</i> way I could reach <i>him</i> as he would read the draft and add something I had forgotten. Often he would see things in a different way and understood what I was trying to tell him but, in a written format. It's hard <i>not</i> to hear today "Youuuu writing Mommy? One day you will be on a book cover and I'll get your autograph!" which always made me laugh as he wondered if writers had "groupies" and could a husband be one of them? He was my biggest supporter in my writing and while some of it was hard to read and he would see that he behaved so badly, he would say.....he <i>wanted</i> the world to know that <i>this</i> is <i>how</i> it is. Sometimes beautiful and peaceful, often harsh and ugly, sometimes raw and cold but <i>all</i> this? All this was our life. My husband and I felt that even our <i>own</i> mistakes could possibly help someone out there and that just <i>possibly</i>....just one Veteran or family of, would be <i>saved</i> from the cracks of the hell we were stuck in for seven years. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>Seven Years</i></b>.......... </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><i>2, 555 days</i></b>...........</div>
<b><i>61,320 hours</i></b>.........<br />
<b><i>3,679,200 minutes</i></b> we shared trying to figure all this out on our own.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I couldn't write because all that <i>we as a family</i> shared with the world, suddenly seems all wrong. Imperfections, mistakes and, <i>soooooo many</i> corrections to be made that I didn't have it in me to write. Maybe another reason why I could not sit down and write was because I just didn't <i>know </i>what to <i>say</i>, <i>how</i> to <i>explain</i>, and even....the possibility that <i>we</i> would let <i>so many</i> of you <i>down</i>; because the truth is.........I feel I <i>did</i> let him down. Not <i>intentionally</i> but, I should have looked deeper and asked him to stop hiding and running. <br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
After the midnight hour of New Year's Eve, my husband took his own life by self inflicted gunshot.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I am now drowning......<br />
in the deepest end of the pool of confusion and sadness.<br />
I am so very, <i>very cold</i>.<br />
<i>Empty</i>........<br />
like that of a vast canyon that once held a mighty river that had gone dry.<br />
Shattered.......with fragments that will never be put back together.<br />
I can't breathe or feel anything but, <i>pain</i>. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
He had been doing <i>really</i> good although there were just <i>little</i> things that we as a family and his friends couldn't quite put our fingers on. We had bounced around this year after retirement which was bittersweet. In my last blog, we both weren't <i>really</i> sure <i>what</i> to <i>do</i> now. We <i>used</i> to be a military family, a Wounded Warrior's family, a Disabled Veteran, a Veteran and an Advocate; "<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4084876361608306937#editor/target=post;postID=7006724900208996456;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=5;src=postname" target="_blank">The Expendable and the Collateral Damages of War</a>" then suddenly mid Spring he no longer wanted to be known as a Veteran<i> period</i>. We shuffled that damn deck so many times that we became weary of playing the game and we agreed we were "<a href="http://armyreservistwife.blogspot.com/2014/10/mr-and-mrs-used-to-be.html" target="_blank">Just Mr. and Mrs. Used To Be</a>". It wasn't names or titles, just the <i>identities</i> that we were <i>used to</i> and wore with absolutely no shame and then it hit us both......what do we <i>do</i> and where do <i>we </i>go <i>now</i>? We decided to start putting our focus on something we weren't sure we could find; <i>purpose</i>. The fight was done except a few minor things that the Army <i>didn't</i> and <i>failed</i> to complete but, we made it through and, without pomp and circumstance, without a handshake or even a person in real life giving it to him.....we quietly exited the service.The car wreck and frontal damage done changed everything we had learned about Traumatic Brain injuries on multiple scales. I was warned that no one knew exactly <i>how</i> this new hit would impact him; gently suggested that it would be best to make a long term plan. However, I would look at him and he always joked about his indented forehead but, little things were new and different. So much so, we as a family had to learn <i>all over again</i> a new way of thinking, behavior issues, impulses and manic times vs down times. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
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We had a rough year in which I had hoped would smooth out on it's own all while he kept pushing us further away. Yet at the same time, put me in the middle of so much like family drama, making excuses for his behavior and taking care of everything that I just became <i>weary</i>. I kept his bubble intact, I was the sounding board for all the anger and resentment and there was nothing that I wouldn't do.........except hurt someone because of <u>what he wanted</u> nor could I repeat the things he said for me to say. It is <i>not </i>in <i>my nature</i> to be an unkind, cruel individual and he resented me for not saying these things. I never understood this part of him. One who had no filter, could be so unkind and hurtful to friends and family but, made me the fall guy and put me in some precarious positions that left me stressed; a scapegoat for both sides and always to blame. I have been stuck in the middle since he came home from Iraq and it became a heavy burden that was sometimes just too damn much to deal with. I have and would have done anything to see that man smile but, I just couldn't hurt family "for" him. He had his reasons but, we had no other family and I felt like I was taking punches on both sides.<br />
So while protecting him from the outside world, wrapping my family in peace from all of it; I was also protecting the other person and they<i> never</i> had <i>any</i> inclination nor could they understand<i> this</i> was <i>how</i> it<i> was</i>. His feelings, his hurt and pain needed to be something he had to deal with. No matter how I tried, no matter what I would say; it just wasn't enough....for either sides. One would be educated enough to know what is online through researching but, just never got over hurt feelings. I was the board for that hurt, and their pain. The other too angry to even express what he felt so another thing to blame me for to match so many others. I was literally the ball in between a massive tennis court, being passed back and forth and it <i>never</i> stopped. I don't think anyone thought for a minute how hard it was to try to hold everyone together when I was falling apart.That was my job though. That's what we do as Caregivers. <br />
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He became dark; his face distorting like nothing we had seen before. The shadow would change his face faster this time around. Pain from both mentally and physically, exhausted him and aged him so much that he didn't even look the same way. His OCD behavior switched around to new attention and increased agitation like piling newspapers from 2012, hoarding pop tabs, magazines. He wouldn't talk to the family much and no matter <i>how hard</i> we tried to overlook the vicious temper of the beast that stayed......we still were here waiting for him to return. I look back and wonder where the hell I was able to pull the strength it took just to carry him through. Be that torch to light his way home when he got confused. The words of callousness changed and I told him mid December that after a while, the words began to cut deeply and some things you just can't take back. He would say something <i>so very</i> hurtful but like always, he would come back and say he was sorry and that he didn't mean to say it. That tragic night, he simply looked at me and said "I am so very very sorry mommy. I tried to hide it all so you wouldn't hurt anymore". I can't remember it all but, I do remember those words. <br />
I told him it <i>would</i> be OK, I would protect him. He had become so wrapped up in his lies that I couldn't help him sort out his messes and he was in a tail spin. Lies that were so intertwined in his mind that he would simply just <i>not</i> know the truth anymore, confuse what was real and what was not and he would get even angrier. He was weary from masking it all from the public, his friends and all in the effort to try to be "normal". He told me out of the stillness of the night in bed "do you know <i>how hard</i> it is to<i> hide it all</i> just to have <i>something, anything</i> that was<i> taken</i> from me?" Yes. <i>Yes, I do</i> I had told him. If I'd only known that was the most honest thing he would last say, I would have spent <i>every</i> night encouraging him not to hide anything anymore. We always joked about the word "normal". What the <i>hell</i> is normal anyway in our worlds? Friends who knew, understood he just wasn't right after coming back from Iraq and then definitely not right after that car wreck. Others just thought he was an asshole and he was okay with that because he felt like that was <i>something</i> <u><i>normal</i></u>. I didn't know <i>exactly</i> what he was fighting against but, I did understand the very thing he spoke of because I felt the same just on the opposing side of the team. I did understand losses, the urge to feel something normal, to feel adrenaline as he needed that to function. There is a song by Frank Sinatra that had a line in the song "<a href="http://youtu.be/egY8rUpxqcE" target="_blank"><i>My Way</i></a>" that said "For <i>what</i> is a man, what <i>has</i> he <i>got</i>? If not <i>himself</i>, then <i>he is not</i>. To say the things, he <i>truly</i> <i>feels</i> and <i>not</i> the words of one who <i>kneels</i>. the <i>record shows</i>, <i>I took the blows</i> and <i>did</i> it, <i>my way</i>." His way was different than most but, as long as he felt safe and secure....he did the best he could do.</div>
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We were used to the coming of September as each year flew by. We planned each mode of possible attack with the skills of warriors themselves. We had the summer months to build up the strength, gather our armor and our strengths to fight back the coming of the beast. September came but, not with the same battles. He had been actually "good" at the VA which we all were surprised and I am sure the VA was relieved! He was usually up to his tenth or more incidents there but, he had only one minor issue for a year. I thought we were blessed but, in all that? The Beast was smarter than I and just attacked quickly; ferociously from behind. I became the enemy, the kids were doing things against him, neighbors were stealing, paranoia set in harder, drinking I suspected but, never could prove. <i>Compulsive spending</i> began to appear again but, not in the way that we had seen before. There was an onset of more confusion on where he put things and so <i>much </i>more that I am too ashamed to speak of but <u>this</u>? <i>This</i>.<u> <i>This</i> was </u><i><u>our normal</u>.</i> It wasn't something out of the normal eighth month hell that we haven't already trekked through each year. The spiral downward wasn't the first in our lengthy war at home and he would be honest and tell me that it wasn't anything more than just to keep from hurting me. It was easier to hurt others or himself. It was a way he could play the normal guy, easy to play along as everything was so bad at home and in reality? There was nothing here but, love. I couldn't get him to understand that he<i> was</i> hurting us while hurting himself. Hurting others intentionally or faking it, was not the right thing to do. I <i>still</i> do not know if he understood that there was nothing he had done that would make me turn his back on him. I don't know everything that he did as we have uncovered many lies after lies and still finding more. Financially, he left us in a massive devastation after the storm hit.<br />
I can only know that he came home and none of this mattered because often in the nights he would lay his head in my lap and just cry. There were moments when the demons released him and the most <i>beautiful </i>smile appeared. There were many nights where he would come home and just start picking and tearing me down because in the apology something happened that day and he was afraid to show his demons. While it wasn't right to lay it all on me, it was my job to keep him going and encourage him that even the strongest have their own weaknesses. I was the caregiver, protector and the one who <i>always</i> had an ace up my sleeve. I started noticing he would disappear for hours on end and not returning phone calls from his friends. He would make excuses that his friends either stopped calling him, or they pissed him off when in all reality? There was never <i>such</i> a thing because so many stopped by or called and the most repetitive sentence was "I kept calling him and he wouldn't answer or call back". Two weeks after his death, I sat and heard this and so much more. In my heart? I now see how bad he had slipped but, kept it covered and hidden so well on his own. <br />
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He would often apologize for nothing at all and I never could understand what he was doing that he needed to apologize for. For many of us, the signs of a suicide are all written out. "If they seem depressed. If they withdraw. Call the suicide hotline number". However, what happens when you have <i>no</i> signs that are the norm for our families? He had made <i>so many</i> plans for the Spring, for the future, made fishing trips with others, helping feed the cattle of our neighbors, working on redoing our main bathroom but, those <i>little</i> things? They were not signs that said "Hey, I am planning". I have sat here for hours looking out through the back of our home and <i>thinking</i> of <i>every little thing</i> that could have <i>possibly </i>been changed or <i>something</i> that he eluded to. There was absolutely nothing that wasn't in our repertoire of <i>been there and done that</i>. We had a small Christmas this year but, he went overboard on me. So <i>many</i> gifts and I broke down and cried wondering how much had he charged or what did he do? He said "Mommy, don't cry. I wanted to give you the most beautiful Christmas ever. I hope those are tears of happiness." They <i>were</i> and yet, fear weaved itself throughout. The thoughtfulness in each item was so deep and full of love, of things that I had said and forgotten. That's how much thought was put into them all. It was the <i>first </i>Christmas with <i>my husband </i>since he came home eight years ago; not the angry pod person Uncle Sam sent home to us. It wasn't haphazardly put together, it wasn't just picked or had no thought put in to it. He would call and say "I got you something <i>spiiiiiiiiffffffyyyyyy</i> mommy!"; giddy as a school child he was! He went all over the place looking for a <i>particular</i> item for each child and <i>so excited</i> that he even wrapped everything himself which was <i>most definitely</i> the first! Most of us are used to the ups and downs of finances with our PTSD and/or TBI spouses. I figured we would figure it out as the New Year approached and I would once again fix the damage that had been done. I didn't know the aftermath that he had spent on so many items. <br />
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The evening before New Year's Eve, he came home and smelled of alcohol. He was late for dinner and then angry that one noodle of his spaghetti plate had gotten dried out. Not wanting to fight, I said let me get that out but, you were also very late past dinner time; I held it as long as I could. As I was cleaning up the kitchen and getting the boys ready for bed, he found <i>every</i> little thing he could think of to hurt me. It began and kept going for two hours. He followed me and no matter where I went, he found a way to yell through the door, or outside or in my face. Whether it be my being sick, house not perfect, the fact we had family coming for a late gathering for the holiday, down to missing his favorite shows because he was gone or would come in late, absolutely sure that his laundry didn't smell right. (sense of smell had been messed up since the wreck) One thing led to another and I broke. I had been taking care of myself since April, pretty much been alone save a few good days where he would help, and I was raising three boys as a single parent. He had pushed me to the point of exhaustion. I couldn't <i>hear one more word</i> about how ugly I was, how stupid I was, and all while in my mind I knew it <i>wasn't him</i>.....those words cut <i>so very deeply</i>. Then he said "I wish you would just hurry up and die so I can be normal. I want to be normal again. I've had everything taken from me". Knowing him, the nature of the beast, I knew an apology would follow soon and the same line of "I didn't mean what I said" would be casted. I was broken and stunned. I told him let's walk away until you can calm down and we will talk but, I can't do that or help you if you are going to beat me down with words and not tell me what's going on. Stressers would always be the cause of most of his meltdowns. There was always an underlying cause for his Kaboom! phase. Then something happened that we had never seen before. He began looking at all of us and began to count repetitively "One, two, three and four" and it was over and over again. We knew then something was seriously wrong.<br />
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My oldest son had in this process been cued to implement the safety plan that I had taught all three of my kids. I turned around and said "I love you but, you were not the only one that has had everything taken from them. Our children can hear every single word you are yelling and they lost too. Every time you start, we <i>all, including you</i> have something taken away from us. If you feel that we are holding you back and taking things from you.......then I will let you go. I am too tired to keep going this way". He completely lost it and honestly? After that it was a blur that our close family friend and I are <i>still</i> trying to piece together. He had gone from weaving in and out of that soldier facing the false enemies to crying because he was so angry and then laughing. It was not him at all....he was just <i>no longer here period</i>. All I can remember thinking was <i>why could I have not kept that one damn noodle</i> from being dried out? <br />
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Our children safely tucked away, our friend called the sheriff's department for help as there were several deputies that served as Veterans and we thought we could talk him down. He became outraged and began to attack us both of which my memory is very cloudy. From then on.....I <i>can't</i> remember <i>everything</i>. Our close friend and I have sat for hours trying to talk to each other and completing what the hell had gone wrong <i>so</i> fast. Tiny things that have gone black. He had hit us both with the butt of his gun and speaking in what we thought was Arabic. I didn't know that he knew any other language besides some German I had taught him. She feels she is to blame. I feel I let him down. She feels I saved her life that night twice. I would have gone with him if it meant saving her. It has placed our friendship in an awkward spot. All we remember is the<i> face</i>.....the <i>distortion</i>, the <i>blackness</i> that fully took whatever was left in my husband. He was no longer home, he was in the middle of a battle in Iraq. I remember saying "please please....you are <i>home</i> baby. Listen to me! <i>You are home</i>. Our children will see you do this. <i>Please don't hurt us</i>.<i> It's going to be ok</i>."<br />
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We both know and <i>saw</i> that he flickered for <i>just a moment</i> and after three rounds had already been placed into the wall that had missed our best friend.....he was <i>home</i> again for just that split second. He put the safety on. He calmly walked away talking to himself which allowed one of us to get out. I let our friend go still trying to talk him down. When the military and VA says "Try to <i>redirect</i> them" I often wonder have they <i>ever</i> faced this situation??? <u>Redirect</u>? <u>There was no redirection at all</u>. 911 operator called and I had told them I was able to get him calmed down and he wanted to talk to my husband via speaker phone. My husband was calm but, he was crying and hurting so badly. I picked up casings and hid the bullet holes in my wall by placing a jacket over it. I was <i>so scared</i> of the police and so was he but, he was calm. I do not blame our friend as she was able to get away and had she not? I am not sure we all would have made it through. He was so lost in a war that nothing made sense.<br />
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The rest was just gone. I don't know where in my mind that everything was locked up but, I do remember them making myself and the kids come out of the house with our hands up. I remember the ones who were Veterans themselves, friends of his, and others who were a Veteran's family member being <i>so nice</i> to us and <i>promising me</i> they would bring him back safely as he apparently slipped out the garage door and was gone. There were other deputies and officers who berated me, acting as if our family were <i>criminals</i> and then it hit me.......<b>Stigma</b>. The very same stigma we are all fighting against. Suddenly he was a criminal and his family was harboring him. We, as a family who never shied away from the truth whether it be good or bad; suddenly were dangerous criminals. There was no help for him and I felt sick and to be blamed because we should have sent him to a friends house when he began to act out. He just wouldn't listen. When one deputy who was so hateful asked me" So <i>what the fuck</i> is wrong with him!!" I went into protective mode and stood high and said "He is a multiple head trauma brain injury patient,a Veteran of the Iraq war and he suffers with PTSD. He can go into flashbacks and <i>please, please</i> don't hurt him!". I'll <i>never</i> forget him looking at me deadpan and saying "<i>So</i>?". Everything in me that had fought for eight years, embracing the way things were, all the let downs, all the wins and losses, his sacrifices, his service, his wounds seen and unseen.....<i>didn't matter to those who didn't know what it was like</i>. I became enraged because suddenly we had gone straight out of a news story that we all have read and feared. They really didn't care about him at all save but a few.<br />
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A simple word yet, such a strong and hurtful statement in the way of "So!". The ones who were Veterans and family members of, looked at him with looks to kill. They went as fast as they could to every spot they could think of, <i>any</i> hiding spot in the house upturned, and those that were his friends, fellow battles......raced <i>faster</i> to get him before the others; <i>hoping</i>. It was hours, and as each hour passed on New Year's Eve a little piece of me died. God, those hours took forever as time stood still. They moved us inside, outside and then back in. I stood in the backdoor facing the pastures where he loved to work with the cows; hoping that he would come over that ridge <i>any</i> minute that day. I just felt like that back door was tugging me to the core of my heart and, I was helpless as we weren't allowed to leave. <br />
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Around almost fivish that News Year's evening that was supposed to be full of hope and brought a promise of a new start on a clean slate; his battle buddy and close friend in the Sheriff's department came to the door. Tears streaming down his face, hat held in hand and behind him so many others with hats in hands. The ones who were Vets or family of, deep pain and tears etched their faces and is an image that I can't clear from my mind. He cleared his throat, sobbing he sputtered out "He's gone honey, he's gone". I just remember standing at the door, kicking in the advocate mode and mentally checking off a list of VA paperwork, lawyers, court and I must have said something to them as I went to grab my purse. He just kept hold of me and said "He is gone honey and he's no longer in pain. Honey, he is gone home".<br />
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For my entire life, death has been a friend who has visited me quite frequently. I have been knocked down quite a bit, especially over these last eight years but never had I fallen to my knees so hard than I did that evening. I remember through deployment putting mirrors up along the side of our front door on days that I saw news that was so horrifying that I knew he was near or in. There was a hidden alcove that you couldn't see the "death" car clearly coming around. I was scared that car with military members would pull up. I never planned for this. There was suddenly no mirrors, promises broken, confusion and my world just shattered. I was an EMT's wife, a volunteer firefighter spouse and much more.....I know the dangers on <u>both sides</u> of the fence because I have sat many nights waiting on him to call. Right now, I just can't get that "So?!" out of my head.Forgiveness? Maybe when I fully realize he isn't coming back over that ridge. I have sat up many nights by the back door searching the ridge line (where he also took his life) waiting.....and I will still wait until he comes back. <br />
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I will <i>never</i> be the same again. </div>
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We had become the <i>very</i> thing <i>we all</i> feared. </div>
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I broke the promise that he would <i>never</i> become a statistic in any VA drawer; forgotten. </div>
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We had gone from a Stigma to a Statistic in less than a couple of hours. </div>
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My best friend and husband left this world in the only way that he knew how.</div>
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All our hidden secrets and things swept under the carpet suddenly buried us.</div>
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Our world literally has fallen apart and I still sit here looking out over the ridge,</div>
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Waiting..........</div>
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Waiting for him to come over that ridge with "Hey Mommy!" and with that sheepish grin. </div>
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I wanted to give up this blog a long time ago. Kill the "Mistress" off and begin a new life with both of us having a purpose that fit our changes and of our moving forward. Starting New Year's, it seemed the blog pushed forward and soooo many emails from new families; asking questions as they embarked on the world I have lived in the last eight years. Please <i>forgive me</i> when I say I just. could. not. reply as we were going through our own version of hell too that night. How could I give you life experiences and what we did when here our ending was a suicide. I always was honest to say that there were things he did and I did wrong, things done right, lessons learned and, that I<i> never </i>truly had the answers for anyone; just our experiences. Looking back now, I see that he <i>never</i> could move forward with that many demons on his back. In my heart and mind, I had made up my mind that I would never blog again. I didn't want to write this but, there suddenly was a need that has haunted me in the wee hours of around 1:30 a.m. that I could not explain. Every morning I wake on exactly 1:30 a.m. and the strong tug to reach for my laptop and write it out. My Ipod has punished me severely playing his favorite songs sometimes back to back no matter how we shuffle, switch etc. I can't feel him or hear him answer me when I talk to him but, one of my best friends and soul sister said maybe just maybe, the reason the songs were playing was his way of reaching me and the tug? Was to let me know to keep writing as he was so very proud of me. I don't know what it is but, am trying. </div>
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So I dug out the laptop, dusted it off and it has sat here while I am crying or asking him "What do I do without you? What do you want me to do?". When I allowed myself to let my soul sisters and brothers know, his story suddenly became known not just here or there but, <i>everywhere</i>. He was a man of his convictions, a big old bear with a growl so deep but, arms that could make everything just seem better. Yes, the demons within him became so great that one can almost overlook the good things about him. All he wanted was something so little but, so great. Those days brought an outpouring of readers who reached out to me and said "His story changed my life " or "His story and your family's saved mine". That was all he <i>ever</i> wanted.....<i>just to save one</i>. He pushed me to write, pushed me some days to my limit but, said when you write again you tell them. Oh, how I <i>wished</i> he could have seen the outpour and the messages, statements of how his story helped so many of you. He thought no one cared.....he was expendable just like so many others yet, he <i>wasn't</i>. Neither of us realized the impact of my writing it all out but God, I <i>hope he knows</i> somehow.<br />
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I don't know if I am crazy with grief, blame and regrets? Just somehow, perhaps....it's him telling me to tell this story. I still will keep my promise that he won't be a <i>forgotten statistic</i> but, right now? I am just too weary to fight anymore. I still haven't "gotten it" that he is gone. I just can't seem to break down as I need to and as the days tick by? I am becoming <i>fearful</i> of that breakdown. The only comfort that is given to me is to know he is with his beloved grandparents, our beloved "Sam" (first dog together) and, with those fallen brothers he just couldn't save and bring them back to their families. I hope they met him at the gate and the pain, guilt, the demons of war and punishment that he carried....is forever gone. That is the <i>only</i> thing that brings <i>any</i> comfort to me now. We learned a great deal from this; much more than just going through a death. Once I gain my wits about me, I will pass these lessons on in hopes that it may save just one. Maybe just <i>maybe</i>.....</div>
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our tragedy can help someone and that be passed on to save one more. 22 a day is real and somehow we have got to fix this. I will hold his service in Spring because he loved the coolness, the flowers starting to bloom and the fishing. </div>
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<i>The Widow of PTSD/TBI, </i></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBR-GWMkjCCx12fkp8zqFrO-KCcLUGSU-nCR_9oDFSk20FFl3RtrvbHPlT12calYE3_d2-OiygUgeq7gjrP0tm3pskhdLDTj6vOuYdyX5A3jqgP4Xo32kaaAD5SxcwSkKpi7tcQDlSFpx/s1600/these+hands+miss+yours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBR-GWMkjCCx12fkp8zqFrO-KCcLUGSU-nCR_9oDFSk20FFl3RtrvbHPlT12calYE3_d2-OiygUgeq7gjrP0tm3pskhdLDTj6vOuYdyX5A3jqgP4Xo32kaaAD5SxcwSkKpi7tcQDlSFpx/s1600/these+hands+miss+yours.jpg" height="197" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
I know I am jumping out and all over the place with my
writing. I promise to sit down and write Part Two on my last post. However, the
purpose of my writing was to provide a silence I need and give me my secret
shelter at which I could run for cover when needed. I am struggling this year.
Maybe a lot more than I ever have before and I know my husband is thinking
similar thoughts. When all the fights are done, and some battles won and lost;
there seems to be a void that you face and the question of “What do I do now?”
This question is not just hard on him solely; I am plagued with the fact I am supposed to have the answers for my
Veteran and my children as they all look to me as that cornerstone that pulled
us together and held the world at bay. Sometimes I wish I could shuck that
responsibility as easily as I do my old sweat jacket and run care free. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My health I mentioned earlier isn’t that great and, that has
played havoc on both of us. The worries, the stress, the tests, treatments, the
meds, and so much more that the summer blew past us like a freight train. There
was no time for fun in the sun in which I was riddled with guilt for my kids,
no time for rest and no relief on the stress. I tried to lie, tried to cover and
hide but at the end? My poker face merely crumpled. I thought this time; this
time I have no choice but, to take care of me. That is the one area where I am terrible at. I backed
away from the world and hid for a while. I don’t mind saying that I probably
pushed a lot of people away and most of all? I lied to myself thinking that I
could handle all of it. I think a lot of it had to do with my husband’s incapability
to show any emotions and, his inability to show he cares for me. He can smile
for the VA and maybe laugh but, in his eyes there is a distance that no one
connects. I see and hear the falseness that lies in an empty laugh or a hollowed out
joke. He is the master of “what is supposed to be” for everyone….for everyone
but me. </div>
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In all honesty, my mind knows the areas where he is doing worse and where there are major changes. I am
educated on every aspect of PTSD and Traumatic Brain Injuries because I chose to be. Even with the
head trauma of the wreck, I knew more than the damn doctors did. Part of me
knows that he just simply can’t take care of anyone and you would think that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me</i>…..<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I
</i>would know that it just isn’t going to be the same as the battles I have
faced before. Even as much as I read and study on PTSD and TBI, doesn't mask the hurt I feel sometimes or the loneliness. So I dealt with the blows, the ups and downs and smiling through
the pain even though the other parts of me were let down and heartbroken
because he was so cold, distant and just not there. I feel sometimes robbed
that I can’t be weak or show that I need someone and how do you tell someone
you need them when they need you <i>more</i>? Then I fuss at myself when I see him
stomping up and down, yelling, screaming, and rambling on and on about nothing
in particular but, just to be mad at the world…and I wonder <i>why</i> I could <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ever</i> want that fake side of him to show
me a little compassion or maybe not need me so much because I just was too weak to give more? I guess I wanted any comfort that I could get. These
are the times where I <i>miss</i> my husband who <i>never</i> came home. </div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We had the car wreck last year in which I think covered and
masked a lot of the demons that come around September to April. Much of those
demons were exorcised by anger fueled determination to get home, to get back to
me and sheltered, to get out of the wheelchair to walk again and for a while, I
was grateful that the demons were busy and their focus <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">was</i> on the wreck. On anything really as
long as it wasn’t me. This year snuck up on us and, Hell opened its doors with
new demons we don’t recognize. It used to be “Ahhh <i>there</i> you are, you Nasty Son
of a Bitch! Come on! Bring it! I’ve batten down the hatches and know how you
play your games!” It wasn’t like that at all <i>this</i> year. I had forgotten just
how bad this time of year can be. I was reading one of the social media outlets
and another wife’s comments of “it seems to me that a certain time of year he
becomes this way or that way. Will it be this way every year?” She was new to
this life and I realized how <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">simple</i>
of a question it was but yet, so <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">damned
complicated</i>. I started to answer and on automatic mode say “YES! Yes, it
<i>does</i>. <i>Every</i>. <i>Single</i>. <i>Year</i>. It does get better in some areas but, worse in
others. <u>It changes</u>. Most of all, it’s not so much as they get better, you just <i><u>get
used</u></i> to most of it and then sometimes the “pod person” throws you a curve
ball that knocks you out of the game at the first inning. She also said it
wasn’t that bad just out of the ordinary. </div>
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I have to be really honest here. I felt ashamed for the post I had
written as I sat here with my finger on the mouse ready to hit “post” and, I
have to say that it was the tears I noticed dripping onto my shirt that stopped
me. I didn’t have it in me to give her something positive
because my years with my Veteran doesn’t seem to get any better but, I see so many that
<i>do</i>. I am sincerely happy for them but, at the same time wonder why we’re so
different and mine can't be one of those that eventually sees that light at the end of the dark ass tunnel? I didn’t have the words to give her; my answer was
choppy, riddled with hurt and, so I deleted what I said. Just because I was having a bad day didn't give me an excuse to be so blunt and show no compassion. Hell, I <i>know</i> what it's like to start asking questions and everyone looking at you like "Sigh...here we go. A new girl". I didn’t hit post; I
didn’t do anything at all. I don’t know <i>what</i> I was ashamed of for offering our
story just in case. A part of me was just ashamed I didn’t have the answers to
that <i>great elusive question</i> we all seek. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know some who are like us and every year
brings new struggles but, it’s hard when you don’t see them post or talk much.
Then I wondered what if I had told her of our story and, hers was not as bad?
What if he got better and that when they got to their eight year mark as we
did, <i>nothing</i> came at <i>all </i>anymore?</div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All I
could do was walk away and say “I should have told her <u>things change"</u>. <i>Two
words</i> in our lives that is about the only thing you <i>can</i> count on “but, even then? It still
felt wrong to say it. This is where things get tricky with sharing one person’s
story. What may be good for <i>one</i> person may not be for <i>many</i> others. What’s good
for <i>many</i> isn’t good for <i>one</i>. I’ve never been one of jealousy but, I have to say
I had that feeling that day. I wished that I could merely just say “Hey, he has
moods that are sort of bad and I was just wondering”. Instead, we as a family
are seeing different things every year. The challenges become harder, obstacles
are bigger and we all keep it a secret. It’s as if we aren’t allowed to speak
of such things. </div>
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I spent the last eight years trying to find a way to keep
pieces back in their respective places which is the <i>most daunting</i> thing one can
undertake. While wielding my sword of what was important and right, I laid patterns,
routines, structured environments.... just <i>anything</i> that would help him. I didn’t
want to impend him from getting better because God, I needed the break and I <i>wanted</i> him to overcome. I don’t
know <i>which </i>one of us was counting on that the most. I think it was him of course.
Honestly, it does help setting up routine, structure and, it was the last chance I had to keep our family together.
<u>Stable</u> was <i>really </i>one of the hardest things to take on and to keep adjusting it
until you got to the right setting where “stable” was just that. It’s hard to
try and put forth independence and success for your veteran time after time,
day after day, when sometimes all you see is that all your efforts led to
failure. It hurts me to see that again, I failed him once more and I see the
anger flare up in him. Its hard to see the disappointment or see that anger directed at you because these "success set ups" let him down. </div>
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I often wonder as I watch him toss in his sleep or dreaming, does he <i>resent</i> me for trying to show him he <i>can</i> do things or he is
successful if we could <i>only</i> find the <i>right</i> thing? That he has so <i>damn much</i> to be proud of? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some nights I lie awake and just study his
profile in the shadows of night. His face and jaw line relaxed, and I wonder if
he knows how much I truly, truly love him because even though it’s not my whole
husband, I still see parts of what he <i>used</i> to be. It was <i>enough</i> for me to keep
at it, to keep trying to break the cycle, to give him a new life even if meant to
forsake all things. I wonder if he knows that I somehow would
always give when I <i>knew</i> I would receive <i>nothing</i> back in return?</div>
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For us, we use that structure and routine as our mode of
operation to meet day to day needs and, there were some dark ones. Some of the hours seemed to <i>stretch</i> as far as I could see; second hands on clocks would seem to drag. I wonder if I
am doing the right thing at times with providing this structure or am I setting
him up for failure one day? This world seems to keep knocking us down and the
<i>last</i> thing I want to do is see him flail around….<i>lost</i> with no way back. It is
the <i>only</i> way that we can function with my husband. Things run on time, same
place, same date, same day…repetition was and will be our closest friend. The
downside to all that is that <i>if</i> that balance gets off, it really screws with
the whole universe. I have a dear friend and fellow Blogger who feels a million
miles away but who truly “gets” me which is rare. I am actually very much a
loner but, maybe that’s what brought us together. She is seeking new things like
I am semi-doing and she said once “I firmly believe you get what you put out in
the universe”. I <i>really</i> pondered and chewed on that for a while. I wish I had
her gumption to keep finding things to give back to that universe. There are
days where my entire body fills empty and I’ve not <i>anything</i> to give back to
that universe except my words.I admire her determination which never falters like mine does at times. </div>
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Our relationship/marriage has changed drastically. There are some
days where I feel I don’t know who he is, days where I don’t recognize myself
anymore. The relationship is built on the same grounds but, the dynamics feel weird and unbalanced. We go through bad spurts, and all I can do is start shutting myself
down, building walls high to brace for the storm and begin to build that safety
net around him. After a while, you begin to start feeling numb and everything becomes predictable with him. This Fall, I tried to step back and give him a gentle nudge off
the tree limb to see if he could spread his wings and fly like mothers do to
their baby birds only to see him fall further. I sit and wait in the shadows to
catch him if he falls. He was angry with me for <i>everything</i> even when everything
<i>meant nothing</i> that had to do with <i>me</i>. I get it though. I am the one who is here and his sounding board. Sometimes though, that starts to wear you down a little. One morning last week after a month of
really, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> bad times….he woke up
on his own early, came out to the kitchen and just threw his arms around me and
started crying.</div>
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I was at a <i>loss</i> of what to do, what to say....what to make it stop because it broke my heart further to see him sobbing. He told me he was <i>really</i> struggling this year and, he didn’t know what to do. He didn't understand the "whys". I said “I know you are but, you can’t push the
kids and I away when no matter what, we love you and we’re here. You had the wreck to focus on last year so this is going to feel all new again”. I<i> <u>hated</u></i>
to see him this way but, at <i>least</i> he was communicating with me in the only way
he knew how. It’s like watching one of your children being mistreated by
someone and unable to say or do anything. I sometimes get angry that I can’t
make things easier or hell, even just <i>acceptable</i> to meet his needs and wants. There
are times when what I do, seems like the <i>biggest</i> mistakes ever in his eyes. </div>
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Our biggest challenges right now are filling that “void” I
mentioned earlier. The last eight years, we had mutual enemies, the same
causes, the same battles, and God, the <i>same pain</i> some days. Now we don’t have
that. It’s like everything has been on fast forward for the past eight years
and now has suddenly stopped in slow motion. We are looking at each other and
noticing the changes in both of us and to be honest, that scares the hell out
of us. He doesn’t want to be known as a Veteran, a Wounded Warrior, not even a
military member. I can understand that but, he <i>shouldn’t</i> be ashamed of his
service, or his disabilities. I meant what I said about <i>truly</i> understanding him. I wake
up every day thankful I can still move my tired body and have enough strength
to get through the day. I am ashamed I became very ill and the futures not
looking like what I wanted it to be. In his eyes, it’s a different thing
though; in mine it is somewhat comparable in frustration, dreams crushed and
some hope lost. I try to understand him some days and, I just can’t. He tries
one thing, stumbles and then gives up. Then, because he can’t get one thing he
just gives up <i>completely</i> and starts to look for another…..purpose. He says I
don’t understand but God, I <i>do</i>. I understand him <i>now</i> more than I <i>ever</i> did
before. It’s because I am facing the same dilemma. </div>
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<i>Purpose</i>…..The <i>very</i> definition of what we are supposed to be
doing and that is one thing that there aren’t any answers for. I wasn’t a very
good advocate but, I tried. Some days I am the worst dual parent in the world. I did a lot on my own but, he always was cheering me
on and, to see him sigh with relief gave me enough courage to keep going. I did
a lot on my own but, together? We made a pretty good team and, we both had
<i>purposes</i>. While he is looking for his "<i>now</i>" after so much has fallen through, the
angrier he is and, he starts to notice more things wrong with him. I see
desperation in his eyes as he looks at me to solve these riddles all while I am
struggling to find my <i>own</i> way too. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
wants more out of his life, I want more too. I got up on the worst days filled
with sickness and smiled through it just to show him he can get up too. I tried
new things like cooking and cracking some restaurant recipes that we always
wondered about. The purpose of that was to lead him, to encourage and while he
reveled in my successes and laughed with me over my epic failures…..it still didn’t
work. Caring for someone can come natural to many women as we are born nurturers but, in these tough times? Trying to help someone find a purpose in their life is torture. </div>
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I did take some time for me though which is something I am not nor is my
family used to. I began to read books I said “one day I will read” and never
did, tried new things, started on projects in our home, caught up on old films
and sitcoms that I never got around to do, that was just for me. With that, it pulled him closer and he was able to come out of the shadows and enjoy it with me. Then just as we laugh and talk about something that we just saw.....the light switch gets thrown and the dark mood appears. It's so fast some days that it's very difficult to navigate in that. </div>
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I wish we were millionaires to meet his ideas that suddenly
come from nowhere. His emotions are really screwed up but, I see the glimmer of
excitement which is rare. I also see that at times he gets those ideas that are
just <i>not available</i> to us and while I never say it, I see in him the sudden
switch that remembers that we can’t do those things. At the same time though, I
wonder if we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">did</i> have it, would we
burn through it just to seek one single purpose. It reminds of how many
“purposes” we have gone through like model cars, puzzles, and much <i>more</i> sitting
in boxes collecting dust; cast offs of anger and the inability to complete. So
we keep searching for one <i>more</i> and <i>more</i> would pile. He said “I wish we were
rich and I could do what I want to do!” I shake my head in understanding but,
at the same time I feel like I can’t give him the answers to what he is
seeking and at this point he couldn't tell you what he is wanting to do or why he wants millions of dollars. </div>
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Would we find that <i>one</i> single success <i>finally</i> or would we just buy
ourselves <i>more</i> mistakes, failures or <i>more</i> let downs and anger? He has always
worked his entire life, even during high school. To suddenly be medically
retired, disabled and not be able to handle but, very little on his own, has to
be <i>so hard </i>to try to grasp. I always worked myself and both of us had life
goals, dreams and all that was taken from us leaving all that in pieces on the
ground. So we started new things and with my mind telling me that he wasn’t the
<i>only one</i> that lost everything. Now, these new purposes are starting to fizzle
out, can’t do them due to his disabilities or the frustration that makes him so
angry he walks away. I just can’t keep up the pace anymore and I get <i>mad</i> at myself because I <i>can't</i> find the strength to keep that pace. </div>
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I sat out on my back porch with a cup of coffee one morning
after a really bad night and thought, <i>this is it. </i>This is <i>what</i> we are <i>now</i>. “<i>Mr
and Mrs. Used to Be</i>”. There isn’t romance, there isn’t a marriage, there is no
sign of life of getting that back or anything that remotely looks like what was
before war, post war and well, just post everything. Somehow the Caregiver and
the Wounded Warrior suddenly found ourselves away from the same team and
looking at a huge void in between us. There is trust on his part I will always
care for him, faith that I’ll always figure out a way to clean up messes, help him when he falters, make
the standard apologies and knowledge that I will find more outlets or purposes
for him to dabbled at. Most of all, he counts on me not to give up. In my eyes
though, I don’t know who we are but, we are two different people trying to work
together in a mutual relationship of awkwardness and silence facing ourselves
in the same mirror and not knowing who we are anymore. </div>
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I have never sky dived
before but, I have seen it on television. You know how they jump from the plane
and multiple people have to time it <i>just right</i> to grab on to the other person’s
hands to create this formation? I feel like that. Falling at a fast pace and
the both of us trying to reach out and grab each others hand but, we just
can’t seem to get a good tight hold. I can go to bed at night knowing I did my very best that I could. I cared for him and sheltered him from the outside world even when I
needed the shelter the most. I sleep some nights because the weariness goes so
deep inside and other nights I lie awake and know that we will wake up and
start all over again in the same structure, same time, and same channel seeking
<i>new</i> purpose for the day for him, setting up successes and dealing with the fall
outs. There are moments of sheer laughter, delight or pride in our children,
days where a hug means <i>everything</i>, <i>desperate</i> tears and a l<i>ong hug with silence</i>
gives us a suspended moment of just mutual <i>unspoken understanding</i>, and some
days where words can slice open the old wounds again. </div>
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We have so much in common, he just doesn’t see or understand
it. Yet, it still feels we're sitting on opposite sides of the river with no way to cross. We both don’t fit into <i>any</i> certain category with others which make it
lonely sometimes. We just get by with our sense of humor which has stayed
intact and do the best with what is left. I still cling to the hope that “<i>used
to be</i>” will turn into <i>something</i> we can look back and say “look <i>how far</i> we’ve
come! And here we worried this was permanent”. I am starting to wonder if this is a premature mid-life crisis. I think stopping, with it all, just made us realize how empty our lives were and for him, he is "ok" with things but, not satisfied as a disabled person. Funny how words or terms can affect you so much. Labels and phrases can be so detrimental to someone. </div>
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We want to move forward together somewhere, somehow and to a mutual plateau that we can finely get a firm grasp on each other. One where there <i>isn't</i> a leader, one that doesn't have <i>any</i> mountains to climb, and one that accommodates <i>our</i> needs. I wonder if there is such a place or if there is.....will we <i>find</i> it? I hope that I am not alone in thinking all this. I do know that we have been through worse and much harder times so I feel complaining isn't fair but, somehow I just thought if we could <i>just get past</i> A,B, and C.....then <i>everything</i> would be alright. You don't see much of the other families talk about "What do we do now?". For what's it worth, I know we are <i>extremely</i> hard on ourselves, myself especially. I have always said my own worst enemy, was myself. Well, we are past all that and now things just feel out of place and we're just trying to do the best with all that we have left. I can deal with shedding our old selves but, I am desperately seeking the life that we can live that was part of my goal of move forward and letting things go. I know the wreck, lawyers and litigation has weighed heavily on us mentally and financially. I worry every day about things. I can deal with blows and some I would probably laugh at screaming "is <i>THAT</i> all you <i>got</i>?" So here we are at point whatever, and no guide post to guide us from here. How does one guide another when you don't know where to go yourself? It's a hard thing to carry a family and still maintain your self confidence. <br />
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I <i>still</i> laugh and shake my head when I think back to post deployment when the Army told us that our soldiers <i>might</i> exhibit <i>some</i> "sleep issues" when coming home. Hell, I thought it just meant jet lag or time differences. We've come <i>so</i> far, surely this <i>can't</i> be all there is..............<br />
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Wishing There Was A Light For Me On Somewhere, </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mKyHcqVfKCQ_qrGHf3r6xec6eeD2BCdrDwyYrFfiPYEr-qcye853yAla6Ez59pE8pRyhCkK3VdN_TvNavJsTGLYyfUnUMzNTo668ftu0Y2ff6NtNYqQ6nZPcd6-HPiwGbrr5B7hk280q/s1600/unclesams_white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mKyHcqVfKCQ_qrGHf3r6xec6eeD2BCdrDwyYrFfiPYEr-qcye853yAla6Ez59pE8pRyhCkK3VdN_TvNavJsTGLYyfUnUMzNTo668ftu0Y2ff6NtNYqQ6nZPcd6-HPiwGbrr5B7hk280q/s1600/unclesams_white.jpg" /></a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-90321947457099749772014-07-19T19:45:00.000-07:002014-10-10T16:25:50.212-07:00Advocacy: Part One (How to Find Your Voice)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-V_jPXcMlrHkM8Hi6UyfFglpXaHFPAys6m-6xHktCmWOTPuktkFghgLjPisnDjg-m8XaP2wnkBU4t7dl31LTQITx6o1bkdyzW-7ymNcV0eb_44PjKxXOHwZ7YE-Qpgpg3tLPVsCCS6Rn/s1600/NormaRae.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ-V_jPXcMlrHkM8Hi6UyfFglpXaHFPAys6m-6xHktCmWOTPuktkFghgLjPisnDjg-m8XaP2wnkBU4t7dl31LTQITx6o1bkdyzW-7ymNcV0eb_44PjKxXOHwZ7YE-Qpgpg3tLPVsCCS6Rn/s1600/NormaRae.jpg" height="320" width="237" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">"Norma Rae" Movie based off of the life and advocacy/organizational work of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Crystal_Lee_Sutton" target="_blank">Crystal Lee Sutton</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I get asked a lot of questions solely on advocacy, how to get started, how to land "important" roles, how to become a "power house", how to change the world, how to speak up, how to get on all these trips, how to voice your opinions or story when you are scared and well, the list goes on.....</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">In truth and honesty....I don't know <i>how</i> the hell I got here. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I have had to take a brief hiatus from many things due to severe health issues. I will do this in several posts because I know, I <i>am</i> long winded and I tire <i>myself</i> out these days. Honestly, there is no answer of the right way but damn, there is a sure fired way list of doing it wrong! I don't know if it's just <i>me</i> or if it's <i>alway</i>s been there but, a few things I have seen on social media networks while down, have left me sort of <i>not</i> wanting to write this particular post because I am surprised, embarrassed, and shocked at the behavior of some. However, I <i>did</i> promise my readers I would respond. How can one give you suggestions with so many doing some things <i>wrong</i>? Kind of hard in my opinion but, there is just too much misinformation being handed out like pills, stupidity, ignorance, petty jealousy, <u>fierce</u> competition, power struggle and much more. I guess I always thought we were teams in my "all for one" method of advocating but, the hard truth? It's simply <i>not</i> that way in many areas or people and, there aren't any letter I's in that word but <i>yet</i> "I" keeps popping up <i>everywhere</i>. It's probably been the last six months that I have honestly admitted that I don't play well with others. </span></span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">But I digress......</span></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">So after thinking <i>long </i>and <i>hard</i>, I am going to try my <i>best </i>to give <u>my</u> honest view, thoughts and <i>hopefully</i> in that and my own sense of humor and ways; an answer for all those who asked. One that will help mold the right person, to fight as an advocate and a <i>damn</i> good one. This may include examples of what not to do, some weird examples, thought provoking and help you find the answer.Truthfully, we all have it in us; we just need someone to point it out. I will possibly piss a lot of people off in the process which is fine too. I figure if they take this personally, then they have done the <i>very</i> thing I am speaking of and in my words they are merely finding their own reflection. First, I <i>never</i> really looked at myself as an advocate until others began looking at me and telling me face to face that I was one. I'll be honest, if I <i>am</i> one? I am probably <i>not</i> a <i>very</i> good one but, I never left <i>anyone</i> behind and I never <i>not</i> tried; that counts. I have the balls to admit that I am not that great. Since we were National Guard and Army Reserves Combat Wounded, I stuck to what <i>I knew</i> and in the areas I researched for <i>my</i> fight only. By that, it meant my coming forward with <i>our</i> story, fighting for <i>our</i> family, advocating for <i>my husband <u>solely</u></i> and <i>willing</i> to take <i>chances</i> and <i>risks</i>. You have to stand tall, be willing to voice your story and in a way that is going to catch someone's attention but, <u>not</u> in a way that is so outlandish like a "shock and awe" method that you don't stick with. Sometimes that means drawing outside the lines, finding ways <i>around</i> the system in crevices that no one chose to look because it was <i>harder</i> and willing to break the rules every once in a while all while still following the standard procedure. Sharing your story is <i>where it begins</i> and it's a <i>large</i> step. I will caution you that it is vital one that <u>needs to be discussed as a family</u> and <u>agreed upon by both the Veteran and family members </u>because once it's out there? <u>It's there</u>. You will be scrutinized, comments will be made good or bad, you will be judged, you will be praised but, at the same time? It can be like releasing a pressure cooker lid off if you can find a way to share it and, your rewarded with the ones your story <i>does</i> help because like you....they are sitting there wondering how they start too. <b><u>You aren't <i>just</i> speaking up, you are <i>creating</i> movement. <i>Think about that.</i></u></b> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>The "Yodas" Of This and Past Wars</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I chose to blog under an anonymous name in which the anonymity is about gone but, I <i>never</i> thought <i>anyone</i> would read it in a million years but, ya'll proved me wrong. That anonymity gave me a shelter I felt when I was scared, a mask where I could find the courage to face the open world and one, that I could take refuge in if the fight became too much. It took a few years matter a fact before I even touched the uncertain waters of helping other soldiers and that was just by accident. <i>Seriously</i>.... and, <i>only</i> because I talk to <i>everyone</i>. However, I didn't just jump in with head first without looking to see if the pool was filled. I have seen <i>a lot</i> of that lately and unfortunately, that is giving some <i>really good </i>advocates a bad light and scaring off some potentially good ones. The new ones are floundering around, flipping out business cards and telling everyone they know it all but, when it comes to push and shove; they run to someone else for answers. Or they start asking the "Yodas" of a particular area/war all while badmouthing them as they try to look good in the spotlight and, I see a lot of mistakes being made mostly due to pure ego. <i>Yep</i>, I said it. <u><i>EGO</i></u>. I have to give my<i> UPMOST</i> respect to the "long timers" as we call some of the long term ones with experience and years under their belt. Some I look to as <i>my</i> mentors, <i>my</i> heroes and hope that I can one day be as stoic and amazing as <i>they</i> are. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">They have been through <i>a lot</i> of hell but yet, even though they probably want to say <i>snarkily</i> "<i>PATIENCE</i> you must have, my young Padowan. Now piss off you must" they instead <i>gracefully and elegantly</i>, share what they know; even to <i>those who ask a lot of questions</i> <i>yet do the freaking opposite of what you told them</i>. This can lead to detrimental backfires, frustration on both parties, wasted amounts of time and people who look at all advocates as "just another one". Secondly to this, the "Yodas" are running around and trying to contain the fire because some are playing with matches. This can lead to <i>major</i> burnout and many of them have backed away trying to find their sanity again. Lesson in this, <u>research</u> your stuff, fight your own battle <i>first</i>, <i>ask questions and take notes</i>, <i>listen</i> to what they are saying because we are all in this together many of us believe and it's why we want to help. You never know what might pop up in a conversation that may help you down the road; even years later. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Did you know that <i>most</i> of us advocates, bloggers, writers are just <i>like you</i> here reading and, many of us <i>still</i> fighting our own battles all while juggling home life and advocating for others? It truly and honestly all boils down to this, the "Yodas" as I <i>lovingly</i> refer to them, are probably the <i>wisest</i> having to go through so much crap because <u>there was no help</u>. Even myself, going into our eight year, am <i>amazed</i> at <i>how much</i> there is out there. The thing is though, no one wants to hear the sacrifices, the hardships, the tales of warfare they went through alone, or even acknowledge that because of these men and women, you all have what you do now. THOSE are the stories that one can learn from and unfortunately, some want to jump from A to Z and that leads to uncaring, uneducated, no lessons learned from the "school of hard knocks", advocates who **think** they know it all. You can stay on the computer 24 hours a day reading manuals, transcripts, medication sites, VA website and <i>still</i> don't have the "grit". Truth is, you don't know anything unless you pay attention, walked those miles and can learn from those who stood up so many years ago when there <i>wasn't</i> a voice at <i>all</i>. Those men and women are ones you can learn how to begin finding your place. Lesson here? Start by researching your own stuff, take the stories from those ahead of you and <i>follow in their footsteps</i>. I am <i>always</i> learning new stuff all the time from people and am like wow, it's <i>amazing</i> how much they <i>knoooow</i>! A to Z at 160 mph is only going to leave you looking like a screaming, wailing, unstable family member who gives up because B-Y showed you how to do everything else. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>A Room With A View</b></u> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">In example from an email I answered not too long ago (Thank you C for allowing me to share), "I am too scared to speak up. I don't want to get in trouble by sharing but, we <i>have</i> to get our benefits and his retirement. What if we get in trouble? What happens then? It's much easier to give up my husband says and just worry about it later but, I know that would be wrong right? I would love to be more involved as an advocate but I don't know how to speak up. So how did some of these ladies do it all?". As I told this young lady, she made the <u>first</u> move by <i>thinking/feeling</i> she <i>wants</i> to <i>fight</i> it. She is weighing the <i>pros </i>and <i>cons, she is faced with two dilemmas; do I fight or give up?</i> But, at the same time....she didn't know the "later" part and once it's done, <i>it's done</i> with Uncle Sam. There is <u>your start</u> and a good one. She has already begun the the thought process. She just wasn't sure what the repercussions of it would be and could she handle the pressure? She is also looking at handling <u>too much</u> at once. I explained first you have to play your own game and learn your style. Not <i>every</i> advocate is the same. I know of one from the Carolina's who has the most beautiful smile, Southern accent, one I always referred to as "Yoda", but when it comes to her stuff? Man, that smile can turn into shark's teeth and she will <i>tear someone up</i> to advocate. You can almost by phone hear the <i>Jaw's</i> theme song playing while she is calculating and running it through her mind. Duh dum...duh dum....duh dum duh dum and then <i>BOOM</i> she has the answers and <i>fierce</i> about it. Another one in Alabama that I found many years ago who has the softest voice you ever heard. It's almost angelic with that twang and kindness. However, these two women were responsible for many many of the things now we have available or pushed and shoved til they got what they set out to do. But, they did it by learning their own way. There are some men and women responsible for <i>major</i> changes in this war. BUT they had to fight their own battles. They walked their own path. So I give your questions this hypothetical scenario because it's a good example of what you are to embark on. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are <i>only </i><u>two</u> ways out of the room; a window and a door. No, the house is not on fire, no major weather dangers, you are merely just trying to leave the house. But you <i>have</i> to leave <i>fast</i>, get out <i>your way</i> because there is no one to ask, AND there are a few surprises waiting for you. Who knows what the surprises are? You are <i>only</i> armed with your body and intelligence. Door would be <i>easier</i> wouldn't it? You can just turn the knob, open and walk until you are facing a dark stairwell only to find no light or light switch. <i>Or</i>.... you <i>could </i>go to the window and think "if I can shimmy my ass down the side of the pipe, I <i>could</i> probably get away <i>faster</i> than taking the door and using the creepy stairs. Or I <i>could</i> just drop, tuck and roll. I <i>could</i> possibly make the jump without any major bones breaking." You can <u>see</u> you have <u>clearance</u>, you <u>see </u>no major issues unless the height scares you. Notice how one <i>automatically</i> thinks of <u>many <i>more </i>options</u> when you can <i>physically</i> see <i>something</i>? </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> <b>Sooo....<i>Which one is <u>REALLY</u> the easiest?</i></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Survey says many will answer "Window"</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> as many would choose a room with a view to the dark stairwell <i>any</i> day. (Unless you are a bad ass Ranger or Spec Ops that can kill with one pinkie finger) Why? Because you<i> think</i> you <i>see</i> <i><u>everything</u></i>. Who knows what lies at the bottom of the darkened stairway? There may be another remake of <i>Friday the 13th</i>, part 28 co-starring Kim Kardashian with Jason waiting for you! Her ass might be blocking the light from the window (Hey Eminem said it first) and you <i>may not</i> see Jason as he lies in the shadows waiting. Don't know do you? You <i>may</i> get out the window and jump down, run away and all is done. However, even with a <u><i>clear</i> view</u>, you <i>may</i> not land <i>where</i> you wanted <i>right away</i> but, <i>how far are you willing to jump</i> is the question? What if you land on your face, will you <i>give up</i>? Will you <i>cry</i> and <i>want to quit</i>? What happens if you <i>misjudged</i> the distance? What if you tuck and roll straight into a tree and a wasp nest falls on your head? Same goes for Jason and Kim down the stairs. You probably could push Kim into Jason and he hacks her all up while you make your clean get away BUT here is another thing one of my students pointed out... if they were down there together to begin with, they may be partners in crime. I would be suspicious because something isn't right if Kim is still standing and he's waiting on you. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>THE ANSWER IS NEITHER</u>.</b> </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's harder to leap into the unknown isn't it? </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ladies and Gentlemen, <i>this</i> is what life throws at you; problems and, it's <i>up to you</i> to find the viable solutions to any problem at any time on any given day. </span></span>There may <i>never</i> be an <i>easy</i> way out. It's a corny cliche scenario I just gave you but, one I used to pose to my History Seniors when they said "Is there an <i>easy </i>way to <i>learn</i> all this <i>crap</i>?" (except thanks to my son who pointed out that most don't know who Jason or Cyndi Lauper is so we had to change that due to generational gaps). You think finding your voice is <i>scary</i>, try teaching World/U.S. History to a bunch of High School seniors who popped gum, didn't listen and gave you more headaches than your own children and <i>definitely</i> more reasons to use birth control. The lesson here is when faced with dilemmas, <i>how will</i> you face those objects, hurdles and can you <i>provide yourself </i><u>options</u>? When faced with a problem, can you provide <i>several</i> ways out of that house we talked about? Start there. <u>Always have a game plan</u>. Even when it comes to yourself and your family, <i>always</i> have a plan B up your sleeve. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Fear is something that holds all of us back. Mostly because of the Unknown factor that shows its ugly face in the game. You have to take the reigns on that one, weigh the pros and cons, the results you <u>wish </u>to set as goals and the consequences of doing so. For some, just the latter scares the hell out of them. Here is that wholesome honesty ya'll like; <b>you <i>can't advocate for anyone else unless you can stand up and</i> <i>fight for yourself and your Veteran</i></b>. If you can't speak up, or voice your story but, expect to get into advocacy of the same nature it's not going to be easy; sort of like looking at one high dive into that empty pool I mentioned earlier or say, having the aspiration to become a stripper but, afraid to take your clothes off. Once you are comfortable in speaking up, test the waters on the reactions you receive from sharing just yours, <i>then</i> you move on to other areas. Now how does one <i>learn</i> to find their voice? That is hard. I guess in a way it's the anger, the frustration that you feel all through your body and its when you've<i> simply had enough</i>. I don't know how to express it (and forgive my comparison as it's gross) but, it's the best I can use in layman's terms. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It's more like the sickness when you contract food poisoning or a stomach bug. Probably <i>not</i> the best examples I have used but, when you are <i>that</i> sick, you get pissed, miserable, questioning <i>why</i> today? God, I'm going to <i>die</i>! Why <i>me</i> and not my <i>boss</i>? Or my <i>nosy</i> neighbor? Then you want to rest and tell yourself you will get better later. You just want to be <i>done</i> right? You want to get <i>through</i> it, you <i>want</i> to <i>get</i> better, you <i>want </i>to <i>move</i> on. You want to fight<i> against</i> it. You may even start by sipping that Coke and one saltine cracker the old school nurse used to dole out and <i>swore</i> by. Your mind says <i>"FIGHT</i> <i>it, you can do it"</i> but, your stomach is saying "<i>Oh my God</i>, <i>HELL noooo</i>!" and you <i>still</i> get sick. BUT... you STILL <i><u>took the chance</u></i> didn't you? You were able to stick your foot and feel around to see if you can do it. I guess the answer lies in your own intuition. If you are asking how do I find my voice, then you are already two steps in the dance. What are you sick of? What is it that you want the most? How far are you willing to take it to grasp that swinging rope? How far will you look for that rope or other options when push comes to shove. When you get there, can you handle the pressure and hold your head high? Most of all.....<u>how much do you want it</u>?</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>Breaking Dishes</b></u></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I think personally you get pissed to the point where you can't contain it, you explode inward and from that self combustion....comes a <i>small</i> sound. It may happen during hidden tears behind the door, in the shower, in the car or hell, <i>anywhere</i>. It's that small feeling of <i>relief</i> that you get from the "ugly cry" and freedom of <i>release</i>...well, <b>that's</b> the breath you want to inhale to begin to find your voice. Then you simply build on, brick by brick. You may have to go back and change a few layers, you may falter and fail, but you just keep building. Ever just gone <i>literally</i> psycho for one single minute and thrown a plate or glass into the sink and watch it shatter? I may or may not have done that and, can neither confirm or deny it. However, for all parties involved....let's just say that I <i>appreciate</i> the Euro tradition of throwing plates and glasses at weddings probably <i>a lot</i> more than I <i>should</i>. I *would* call it creative destructiveness, a moment of one's self acknowledgement in an innovative manner, a clever and prolific epiphany, or a visionary, stimulating way to express your feelings in a beautiful mosaic formation. Sounds <i>much better</i> than psychotic break down or moment of insanity. Kind of like when they call over the loud speaker at the VA "CODE BLUE" which probably means "<i>We got a RUUUUNNNER</i>"! (I have nooo idea what Code Blue means but I do know many family members do a head count and check to see if their Veteran is with them) Matter a fact, I would like to see breaking dishes recommended as a source of unconventional therapy along with some <i>serious</i> <a href="http://youtu.be/rYEDA3JcQqw" target="_blank">angry music</a> at <i>least</i> once a year.<span style="color: red;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: red;">(Warning because there is <i>always</i> that <i>one</i> person: USM is <u>not</u> responsible for any actions and by no means encourages you to break shit and hurt someone or yourself. Please use <u>thinking process, sanity</u>, <u>logic</u>, <u>safety glasses</u> and use a <u>large range of personal safe space to do this</u> and I, will deny <u><i>everything. I mean everything!</i></u>) </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJL28gOcJkbd56Ze0g7T2bGXYatS4ykh7708hS8gyxknSVU0jDJoScBoiX9TnMnpZ6mK8rl8ubwfsZYSxrZi53foRksNe3ZyzNu5_E3KrKYH2kTv-sZqYjXQx8CaSiYBbzpfgz2KmwAetD/s1600/breaking+dishes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJL28gOcJkbd56Ze0g7T2bGXYatS4ykh7708hS8gyxknSVU0jDJoScBoiX9TnMnpZ6mK8rl8ubwfsZYSxrZi53foRksNe3ZyzNu5_E3KrKYH2kTv-sZqYjXQx8CaSiYBbzpfgz2KmwAetD/s1600/breaking+dishes.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Getting that Voice Out There By Using the Police</u></b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I had a great professor in a speech class that I was <i>forced</i> to take in college. He was pretty innovative and I always appreciated his unconventional teaching because it <i>stuck</i> with you. He once told us to get over the fear of speaking up was to <i>write</i>. Just anything on a piece of paper, notebook, back of a book or online as a journal or blog. He said once, the greatest writers were the ones who <i>never</i> thought <i>first</i> about what they wrote, they just <i>did</i> it. Even if it didn't start the beginning or finish the ending, just anything that came to mind. If it was "F*CK A DUCK" and that's <i>all</i> that came? It <i>matters</i> because it came from <i>you</i> and that was <i>just you only</i>. I have <i>always</i> written that way ever since. I don't have to think about it. I might sit down with a topic and it just goes wherever like this one even though I hope you are learning something in a fun and creative encouraging manner! Blogging, a journal, writing anything is a <i>GREAT way</i> to start because you still have that privacy of the screen, you still have that feeling of security but, at the same time you feel freedom, relief, and you got it out of you. Now talking in front of people freaks anyone out. Lord, I've seen some excellent speakers who you would have NEVER known got nervous but, they were sweating, anxiety rashes, blood pressures up, shaking like bad people in churches. Hey, we aren't perfect! Same professor gave us an assignment every night. He told us to go home and pretend we were cops in front of the mirror. <u>Practice it over and over again</u>. "Police! Put your hands up!", "FBI! FREEEZE SUCKER!" or "Get down on the ground and keep your hands where I can see them!". Might explain why my neighbors always thought I was going to the police academy. In that first few weeks, we were expanding our vocabulary to the Miranda rights, learn the poker face, telling ourselves "You ARE a BADASS! You can knock this out!", learned some new tactics and by then? Even the <i>mousiest, quietest</i> man in the room was <i>able to perfect the absolute firmest voice</i> that we were still stunned. I think now looking back, that was the first time I heard him period because I am legally deaf in one ear. He used Dirty Harry/Clint Eastwood as his police mantra. If you <i>squinted </i>hard enough....he <i>sort of did</i> take on the Eastwood look. I <i>still</i> to this day get nervous about speaking up and have that little shake in my voice especially in a room full of my peers. Strangers not so bad but your peers? Holy shit, they scare me! People just don't realize it because of that poker face most of us have developed and plastered on. Seriously though? <u><i>It helps</i></u>. When I had to make several speeches locally, I would always hold up my hair brush and take the stance. The Professor like I said was, unconventional but his point was this. If you had a room full of people, and you HAD to get everyone to hear you in an emergency? How can you do it by being mute or whisper? However, you say "FBI! GET DOWN! GET DOWN " well, <u><i>everyone</i></u> is going to stop and listen. It also boosts your confidence and makes you stand up straight. Trust me, watch a few shows on Cops or Dog the Bounty Hunter....you won't see <i>anyone </i>slouching unless they're the bad guys. HUGE difference from beginning to end of the semester. We were able to discuss recipes in a <i>debate</i> method, or look at something we <i>absolutely</i> were against and talk about the pros of it. Use a Water gun if you want to have some extra fun. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">So that, is a very lengthy long talk about speaking up. Unconventional but, who said I was normal anyway? I am not discouraging anyone, I am merely using the "Wax On,Wax Off Method" for young grasshoppers, lessons I learned from my youth, the "Yodas" and, from my <i>very own</i> mistakes. Some <i>great</i> tools too are music. Music can gear you up and <i>make you want</i> to fight. One in particular right now I am loving is "<a href="http://youtu.be/2u40rzIbn6g" target="_blank">Burning Gold</a>" by Christina Perri. Listen to the lyrics. It's a good song about being tired, wanting a change, believing in yourself and a catchy tune. So I will sign off for now and work on my next really unconventional thoughts on how to be a damn good advocate. BUT first, I <i>challenge</i> you to some movies. Some are hard to find but, they can be found online, netflix, Xbox etc. Movies; Some great ones to revisit or watch for the first time for that "get up and go gumption" that you need. All these are based on true stories except for a few. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Wild Horse's Can't Be Broken</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Norma Rae</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Feds</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Working Girl</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Erin Brocovich</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>The Heat</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>A League of their Own</u></b> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><u>Cool Runnings</u></b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>Schindler's List</b></u></span></span><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Dangerous Minds</span></span></b></u><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>Lead the Way</b></u></span></span><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Elizabeth</span></span></b></u><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>Elizabeth: The Golden Age </b></u></span></span><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pay it Forward</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Freedom Writers</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Taking Chance</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Lean on Me</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Monuments Men</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now You See Me</span></span></b></u><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">We Bought a Zoo</span></span></b></u><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b>The Blind Side</b></u></span></span><br />
<u><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Shawshank Redemption</span></span></b></u></div>
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Mostly these are for the women but, if there are any men out there who are looking into stepping out, still a <i>great</i> way to see options, game changes and plans, overcoming disabilities, adapting to changes, opening your eyes to new things, new challenges, working together as a team. There will be times where you can't work with someone or just absolutely can't stand them. (trust me, I have <i>my</i> share of those who <i>don't</i> like me). BUT, when push comes to shove, some of these movies show how to work together, the effort and time put into it, going against all odds, against adversity, working when there is no credit given (Monuments Men) and <i>having</i> that escape plan. You will find failure, mistakes, faltering but, still getting up, dusting off your ass and keep going. <br />
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So this will end Lesson One. I will follow up with the professionalism, manners, courtesy, compassion and more in my next plan. If you got this far, then you have made the first steps and already bought your ticket.<br />
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Remember, It just takes <i>one</i> voice to create <i>one large</i> movement. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-70067249002089964562014-05-21T08:56:00.000-07:002014-05-21T08:56:11.903-07:00Setting Things Straight About "Burden"- Pay Attention Veterans and Family<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; line-height: 115%;"><i>"The will is a beast of burden. If God mounts it, it
wishes and goes as God wills; if Satan mounts it, it wishes and goes as Satan
wills; Nor can it choose its rider... the riders contend for its possession.” ~Martin Luther King</i></span></b></span> </div>
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After the last couple of posts, it amazed me to see a few of you comment more this time around and to see my posts got shared which led to new readers. Hell, if I had known that....I would have posted more about Tyler Perry's <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mabel_Simmons" target="_blank">Madea</a> and Dragons since that seemed to spark some interest. Normally, I don't honestly have much time to answer comments especially those that are emailed rather than posted online. After a few minor frustrations this week, kids being sick and the fact I may or may not have called our attorney representing us a few choice names; it got me to reading the comments and publishing them in between. Two things stuck out and, it's always the same two statements that I am asked or stated to. So now it's time for me to set those two things straight and hopefully it will help ease some of the unanswered questions. Here is what is often asked: "How do I speak up? How do I find my voice? How do I get into advocating?
How do I get my spouse to start speaking up and fighting? How did you
start to speak up? How do I not be a burden to my family? How do I stop
being a burden? I am a burden but, don't know how to stop. My wife says I am a burden. My family thinks I am a burden." Since I am short on time today, I am going to set some things straight <u>first</u> in <u>one</u> post about <u>burden</u>. Nothing grates on my damn nerves like that word. Stick me in a room full of chalk and I will give you thirty different words to use....<i>anything</i> but, the word Burden. As my teen son says, "Mom can go from 0 to Exorcist in less than 20. When she starts to turn her head slowly? You need to <i>RUN</i>". The <i>usage</i> of burden and my hearing it is as equivalent of me doing this in this <a href="http://youtu.be/4bCFuVcA7cg" target="_blank">clip that you MUST watch</a>. (plus it tickles the hell out of me every time) This is me, especially when things just <i>piss </i>me off; I even have the head turn down pat. Hey, "behaved women rarely make history" right? <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><i> <b>“The burden of the self is lightened with I laugh
at myself.”</b></i></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><i>~ Rabindranath Tagore </i></b></span></div>
<br />
<br /><br />
Veterans seem to want to view or label themselves with this word as well as spouses. Media uses the word <i>flamboyantly</i>, <i>casually and easily. </i>I figure and it's probably only because a) they don't "get" it and b) they apparently do <i>not </i><u>own</u> a thesaurus. The VA uses the word "burden" to the caregivers under their general maintenance terminology, stress scores, and to judge whether they can or can not address their needs. Let's just be honest here....they don't know <i>what</i> our burdens are BUT at the same time, we don't understand <i>their</i> burdens as an overloaded system. We all know there are some shitty systems out there; we are up to what? Twenty-six VA systems now under fire? Yet, no one stops to think about the <i>good</i> people that <i>do</i> work there, <i>do</i> their job and <i>care</i> or how some are Veterans themselves. So back to the word Burden. As defined, it is "<span class="ssens">something that is carried<strong>:</strong> load, duty, responsibility, something oppressive or worrisome". "The bearing of a load-usually used in the phrase beast of burden". Also defined as "the capacity for carrying cargo-a ship of a hundred tons of burden". I can see <i>why</i> Veterans use this word to express their concerns about their health and home warfare taking its toll on their family members. However, that word needs to be taken out because its a negative, <i>condemning, deflating</i> word that brings even <i>more</i> of a load that you think you are placing on another person and it's also placing yet<i> another </i>label on yourself. Lord have mercy! We have enough labels as it is. So let's say <i>no go</i>, <i>Ghostrider</i> on the usage of the word Burden and let's leave it up to the Rolling Stones to sing about. <span style="font-size: x-small;">(Lord help the young ones who ask "Who are the Rolling Stones?) </span></span><br />
<span class="ssens"><br /></span>
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<span class="ssens"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"><b>“Remember, the burden of sorrow is doubled when it is
borne alone.”</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b> ~Goran Persson </b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span class="ssens"> </span></span><span class="ssens">I don't know about anyone else but, life burdens <i>me</i> at times. Sometimes the kids are too damn much; hovering around and asking "what are we having for dinner?" when it's <i>breakfast</i> time when they <i>know</i> that at the first cup of coffee, there is a line of "<i>Do you have a death wish</i>" written in imaginary ink clearly written on the very top of the mug and clearly across my face. Then there is "Mom, mom, mom, mom" and then "Dad, dad, dad". Bills when the eagle flies? Holy crap, burdening it <i>is</i> because you realize <i>how much</i> of a broke ass we are and it <i>is</i> worrisome. I have a female dog and, she got pregnant because the wreck happened. I had to put things aside like spaying because well, we didn't think our infantile Chihuahua would be such a <i>stud</i> muffin. Yeah, its an issue. <i>Life happens</i>. So does shit and Murphy's Law. Shit happens <i>all the time</i> to me and, that can be a burden. Dealing with the VA, Military, family, weird people in Walmart, the thought of having to You Tube tutorial on how to deal with newborn pups, and the scary, creepy guy at the produce market can often be a burden but, you know what? <i>We deal with it</i>. We <i>are</i> Military. There is a reason why the term <i>FUBAR</i> and <i>BOHICA</i> came to be. <u>EMBRACE THE SUCK</u>. What made you think being out, disabled, retired or anything else would be different? For the record? I have been frustrated enough to graciously admit that there are times where I want to stick a fork in the back of my husband's head and scramble his brains but God help me, I love him. There are times where my husband in anger has said "I wish you would just go to sleep and never wake up". Well, we have to watch what words we use in war because some can never be taken back and can wound deeply. However, in ANY relationship you can love someone and not like them. There are days where I get on my <i>own</i> nerves and <i>piss myself</i> off. Taking care of my Veteran would be the same as taking care of my children or elderly parent, or like my guys that I often take to the doctors just so they <i>aren't</i> alone. I have <i>never</i> used that word burden referring to my husband and, never <i>will</i> to <i>describe</i> ANY Veteran. It is a <i>blasphemous</i> word in our home, in our car and anywhere else that you can use it. </span><br />
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<span class="ssens">After being around Veterans and listening, <i>watching</i> and paying attention; want to know what I think why they want to <i>lean</i> towards the term of Burden? Because once you take away hope from a person? There is nothing left. Imagine having to lose all they did, coming home with beasts upon their back and demons chasing them through the night. Feeling lost, struggling living with a world that time didn't stop for them while gone? What is facing them is one door <i>after another</i> closing in front of them, hardships, financial struggles, guilt and so much more. Once you take that hope away, they are simply left for the birds of prey to pick apart. Does it mean it's the end though? Absolutely not! I am a huge quote and history buff (can you tell?) but, one of my favorite military members is General Douglas MacArthur. He once stated brilliantly "<i>We are not retreating-we are advancing in another direction</i>." I try to use the mind of a warrior and their way of thinking to navigate this life we lead and in all? I have learned a <i>lot</i>; a lot more than I ever got from anyone's book, words of wisdom or training. So how did our family navigate this life? We didn't retreat, we didn't throw the white flag of surrender; we simply went another route. We did it together. If your spouse, whether it be male or female, <i>ever refers</i> to you as a burden? <u>Say something</u>. "Hey, that word bothers me". If you say nothing, then they go on and keep doing it. If <i>you</i> feel you are a burden....<i>it's a good day for an exorcism</i>. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="ssens">Once you realize as a family, or as a single individual that you can't focus on the "can'ts" but the "cans"? You are going to be able to lift <i>any</i> burden or weight that you have. I think it's a cop out excuse because in war? <i>Hell yeah</i>, that <i>was</i> burden. Every day, walking in moon dust, and wondering whether this was your day to die? Burdening. Trying to get through the day of warfare, death and troubles all while trying to block out thoughts of home, family and safety? Most <i>definitely</i> a burden. Here you are though....home and, it's time to unload some of that weight. You <i>aren't</i> dealing with this by yourself and by calling out your <i>best</i> energies with a little help? That's the only way you will ever be able to step away from that word. If you <i>feel</i> you are a burden as some Veterans wrote in, in regards to how they feel they are on their families....what CAN you do to help out? Let's take a moment to chew on that shall we? Let's look at what you can do. Can you roll and match the ungodly amount of socks? Pick up your glass or newspaper and put it away? Unload the dishwasher? Listen to your spouse if she is venting? How about taking the trash out or reading the kids a good night story while your spouse takes a bath? How about stepping in and saying "hey, let's talk a while or play some cards". Little things can make <i>huge</i> differences. The only way to battle the feeling of burdening is to <i>see</i> the reason, compromising and working as a team. I know you Veterans see that reason too. If you didn't, you wouldn't think you were a burden. For the spouses? You need to learn how to use the <u>right</u> words. Be smart, educate yourself, research, trial and error, realize that when a man's ego is deflated and all is taken away? The problems become so much larger than they really are. As for the VA, well I know many read this blog. Let's hope they take the hint. </span><br />
<span class="ssens"><br /></span>
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<span class="ssens"></span><br />
<span class="ssens">So how did <i>we</i> get around these stigmas, labels, terms, "media sensational duct tape words" to stick and trap America's readers for ratings? I <b><i>embraced</i> the <i>hell</i></b> out of them. Veterans use the words "expendable", "trash", "cast away", "used up", "broke dicks", "no good for Uncle Sam", and <i>so many</i> more. I hear so much of this not just online through social media or emails etc but, in person too. It's sad to hear those words of someone who just needs the way to change their thinking and coming from someone who had the courage and the guts to sign that dotted line. Not everyone chose to take that job. The Media recently referred to our children of families like ours as "Collateral Damage". Yeah, at first my head began to spin just slightly. However, I started thinking about that. Collateral Damage....it's the damn sad truth. More labels, more titles, more stigmas. We have <i>wasted so much precious time</i> fighting them. Why not use reverse psychology? "Hey, don't blame me for forgetting; I have brain damage!" Bet <i>many</i> of us have used that joke or heard it a time or two. Better yet "Hey haven't you heard? I'm crazy. Got VA papers stating so". Am I feeling the nodding going around the room?</span><br />
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<span class="ssens"> We used our sense of humor which <i>ALL</i> of us have still in us, we just <i>forgot </i>how to laugh. If you have been through the sewage system of life and all that floats, pass us by; the should haves, the could haves, and the crap that we waded through......you <i>have</i> a sense of humor. So we created that family motto I previously blogged about and, we use it <i>daily</i>. I put a sign in my bathroom that states "Changing the Toilet Paper Roll does <i>NOT</i> cause brain damage", we created <i>teamwork</i> by splitting chores among the kids and my husband and I. It may be small tasks for my husband but the word I haven't heard from him in a long time? Is the dreaded word, burden. I use the heck out of a fridge magnetic/dry erase board for my husband because he <i>needs</i> to do things for himself. If we do it <i>all</i> for them? You are impending them just as much as the rest of the world views us as useless. Make yourself a plan of warfare, sink that battleship, learn to <i>focus</i> on the goal and set your path <i>based</i> on those goals and <i>those</i> only with the knowledge you are NOT in this alone. Laughter is <i>truly</i> the best medicine, music is therapeutic, <i>changing</i> the way you think about things is just well, amazing and <i>most important</i> of all? Sticking with it to see it through together, as a team. Burden is merely a word that you can either use by <i>mouth</i>, or <i>use by example</i>. Which will you choose? </span><br />
<span class="ssens"><br /></span>
<span class="ssens"><br /></span>
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<span class="ssens"><u>We Chose This and Proudly So</u>, </span></div>
<span class="ssens"> </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkxZOf2YzR_0TQPSGMO_ZufzY6OKQThOeW_KdJea5KRBi925FYXLWzMskl6gabbwYQAGuafOf6VPDqYntZlQrytg7EmsFs33dZVKs7U7m1kEhfwW7d30gspUSiun8iNeHSholRcC0CuEA/s1600/unclesams_white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdkxZOf2YzR_0TQPSGMO_ZufzY6OKQThOeW_KdJea5KRBi925FYXLWzMskl6gabbwYQAGuafOf6VPDqYntZlQrytg7EmsFs33dZVKs7U7m1kEhfwW7d30gspUSiun8iNeHSholRcC0CuEA/s1600/unclesams_white.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://youtu.be/Gz2GVlQkn4Q" target="_blank">New Song to Check out and add to the playlist of "Let's Fire it Up"</a> </div>
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<div id="r1PostCPBlock" style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; left: -99999px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
Take hope from the heart of man and you make him a beast of prey<br /><span>Read more at <a href="http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99" style="color: #003399;">http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99</a></span></div>
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<div id="r1PostCPBlock" style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; left: -99999px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<span class="txt" id="text41138">At
the root of all these noble races, the beast of prey, the splendid
blond beast prowling greedily in search of spoils and victor</span>
<span class="gtxt" id="fulltext41138" style="display: inline;">y, cannot be mistaken.</span><br /><span>Read more at <a href="http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99" style="color: #003399;">http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99</a></span></div>
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<span class="txt" id="text41138">At
the root of all these noble races, the beast of prey, the splendid
blond beast prowling greedily in search of spoils and victor</span>
<span class="gtxt" id="fulltext41138" style="display: inline;">y, cannot be mistaken.</span><br /><span>Read more at <a href="http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99" style="color: #003399;">http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99</a></span></div>
<div id="r1PostCPBlock" style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; left: -99999px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<span class="txt" id="text41138">At
the root of all these noble races, the beast of prey, the splendid
blond beast prowling greedily in search of spoils and victor</span>
<span class="gtxt" id="fulltext41138" style="display: inline;">y, cannot be mistaken.</span><br /><span>Read more at <a href="http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99" style="color: #003399;">http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99</a></span><div id="r1PostCPBlock" style="background-color: white; border: medium none; color: black; left: -99999px; overflow: hidden; position: absolute; text-align: left; text-decoration: none;">
<span class="txt" id="text41138">At
the root of all these noble races, the beast of prey, the splendid
blond beast prowling greedily in search of spoils and victor</span>
<span class="gtxt" id="fulltext41138" style="display: inline;">y, cannot be mistaken.</span><br /><span>Read more at <a href="http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99" style="color: #003399;">http://quotes.dictionary.com/search/beast+of+burden?page=1#HR6Oz1KlG6UqJamf.99</a></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-5714577019961266652014-05-08T19:30:00.003-07:002014-05-08T19:30:55.950-07:00A Dragon for Mother's Day <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<i> "A dragon's heart burns fiercely, even in the face of evil."</i></div>
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<i>~S.G. Rogers</i></div>
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I've had a rough couple of days, well for a little while now. Not just in the advocate world but, just in general social media. I've been sitting on a few things that have not sat very well with me and between last week and yesterday, it became clear quite clear a few things that really pissed me off due to cowards who have nothing more to do than to cause problems. After several messages, deletes and arguments I was able to clear up at least a <i>few</i> things and removing myself from other problems. Facebook is a great way to communicate but, you always have a few (well a lot more than a few) to cause havoc, stir the proverbial shit pot and are just malicious to be so. It's a shame that we depend on it so much for communication with families such as ours but yet, sometimes you want to just secretly admit you are adopted and lay no claim to those people who say "we're family". Sometimes my husband and I will peruse and wonder, <i>how</i> does one just sit there and, do that <i>all day</i> long? I actually feel very sorry for those types of people. That causes toxic waste to be dumped in a few places and, I know that if my friends knew, it would hurt them. <i>Protective</i> I am; probably my <i>biggest</i> downfall and fatal flaw. <i>Outspoken</i>? Yeah but, I wasn't always. I'd like to thank and blame Uncle Sam for that one and War, because I never would've said half of what I have, had I not waded through years of crap, excuses and getting mad. Sometimes, the combination of the two makes me settle in easier with men than women. Perhaps it's because men are just simpler. Cut to the chase, land the damn plane and quit circling the airport. You might piss your buddy off a time or two but, guys just get over it. Maybe it's because sometimes I call it as I see it and, perhaps that peep into reality is scary. I will be the first to admit to not only you but to myself, I no longer play well with others. I am <i>completely</i> okay with that statement and it's one my husband jokes that the grasshopper has learned quite well. Yesterday, I tried to sit outside and think about home, family that has gone on and, getting back to what I know best. <br />
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The war between what is right and wrong is a<i> difficult</i> one to battle no matter what the situation is. I chose to speak up because it went <i>against</i> my principles and beliefs. In doing so, as always, it was the wrong thing to do apparently to many. No matter <i>how much</i> you defend a group or one person, if you have no back up; you are immediately viewed as<i> <u>the</u></i> problem rather than the <i>actual problem</i> that needs to be addressed. In my heart though, no matter the cost, <i>true</i> friendship is a gift. Trust is also a gift and combined, both are <i>precious</i> ones because in our lives that we lead now, it's very hard to hold on to friendships. I've had some friends for more than seven years and, some even longer. Confiding in me, stays just <i>that</i>....with me. I still like to believe in brotherhood, sisterhood but, some have <i>really</i> made me question whether that is still regarded as a belief anymore or if anyone still gives a shit about it period? Am I the <i>only</i> one left who still believes? The military brat in me was raised with more than one father. I had many and would watch in awe how they conducted themselves and, the bond of brotherhood. I cut my teeth on black polished boots, a sea of BDU's, respect, honor, integrity and faith. It's something that has always stuck with me. Trust was drilled into my head early on and, my Southern Belle mama would always say "trust and true friends don't come easy so when you do have one, don't let it slip. Don't fight without making up because in the end, that silly fight will seem so little compared to the greatness of the friendship. " "Never betray their confidence <i>especially </i>when it comes from the heart because you are simply taking their heart and tromping on it. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." All of us kids would roll our eyes and say yeah, yeah yeah. As I get older though I think back on all these things and know now what my mother meant. Days like these I wish my mom was still around to comfort me when I second guess myself. There are probably only a few in my life who truly "get" me. <br />
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<i>“There can be as many wrong reasons to do the right thing as there are
stars in the sky. There might even be more than one legitimate right
reason. But there is never a right reason to do the wrong thing. Not
ever.”
~D. K. Paul<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/603123"></a> </i></div>
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Last night I spoke to a dear, dear friend and vented because I wanted to say so much and defend myself but, even then...that would have violated others in the process. So I was stuck but, I had others in the crossfire and stuck some more. It's a tailspin you are trying to correct without any sense of direction and wondering how do I fix this without betraying one or the other? This places one in an awkward position because no matter <i>how</i> you handle it, you <i>are</i> the <i>bad</i> person when really? It had absolutely nothing to do with me what so ever and I don't even remember now how the hell I ever got dragged in the middle of it! I felt better talking and laughing but, got off to check my messages and, to my dismay found a harsh one that started me saying something to <i>begin</i> with. Yet, here I was looking like the fool all while trying to protect what is dearest to me. I deleted without responding. There isn't any point and lately, I have come to some decisions in my life that I do not belong with some, others are debatable and if they don't accept me, flaws and all....what <i>kind</i> of friends are they <i>really</i>? Did it hurt though...yes. While strong, I still have feelings and bleed just like anyone else. Some are advocates and nothing irks me more than not standing up for yourself but, expect changes. If you can't stand up for yourself, how does one stand up for others? If you say nothing, how do you plan to change anything?<br />
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Late last night my husband was dropped off and came in to find me crying over yet, another nasty message. This made 39 in less than 48 hours many of which had <u>nothing</u> to do with me but, friends spatting with each other. He opened, he responded, he deleted and, he turned off my computer. He said "come sit with me a spell and wipe your tears they ain't worth it". So I dried up my tears and he said "When I was at war, I took several stands for the men in my platoon and even though not a single one of them would stand up with me; it was worth taking the back lash because in war, there were lines crossed by some that should have never happened and what is right, is right. The best leaders take care of their men first and put them first always. Even if that means you standing out all by yourself. It's how they earned your respect. Those were true leaders. Same for medics, you may be wounded but, you treated everyone else and wait til last for yourself if you ever got the chance. Sometimes standing up is the most courageous thing you can ever do especially when it goes against your raisin' and what's right."<br />
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He handed me a tissue wrapped gift. Inside lay an ivory carved, five clawed dragon sitting on top of antique rosewood. Underneath it has Japanese symbols (going to assume the carvers name) and Nagasaki, Japan 1944 etched and worn. He said "I saved a little out of my spending money because she had layaway and I know I missed a <i>lot </i>of Mother's days. The lady at the antique store I purchased it from said the five clawed dragon symbolizes strength. You showed more strength than anyone I know. Benevolence, when we had no more to give but, you gave it all including your heart to many. Power because somehow you fought off my demons and kept right on fighting. Renewal of life is another one. You take care of me and I know that I am hard to handle. You saved me along with others though even when it meant it took everything from you so I guess that means you renewed life in some. Lastly, the five claws she says means imperial royalty and an, outstanding person of accomplishments and leadership. It was a well wish that most would be born under the sign of the dragon. Your leadership has turned many heads and you <i>do</i> outstanding work and I would have followed you into battle anytime anywhere. I bought this not just because it's an antique and know you would appreciate the history but, more importantly to help remind you that true leadership means doing the right thing and, to remember the accomplishments you have made. I know you have struggled trying to figure out your life and still juggle the family. You are all these things and more which is why I chose to give you a dragon for Mother's Day. I know you struggle but, you can either be who you are or be someone who you aren't." He said "I was <i>so</i> excited to finally pick it up but, then to come home to see your heart hurting made me think it's time for the grasshopper to see she's <i>really</i> a dragon. That, and I will more than likely hide it and forget like I did the other two I still can't find. I thought you could put it on your desk so when you write or you have self doubt, you can look up at that dragon sitting there and hopefully remember what the hell I said because I probably won't. Now go find a pile of gold and promptly put your ass on it and guard it fiercely like only you can" .<br />
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<i>These</i> are the <i>moments</i> that make fighting off those demons <i>worth</i> it and man, did I hang on to every word he said. There was no need for saying anything more, no need to agree to disagree...just simple intimacy and holding me was all I really needed. Someone who <i>understood</i> my inner battles and struggles, and to know who I really am as a person and appreciates every quality. Just knowing for one moment there....the demons were at ease and I had a moment with <i>my</i> husband. <br />
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I stayed awake all night long last night, tossing and turning on some decisions. Should I kill off Uncle Sam's Mistress and not blog anymore? Should I leave <i>some</i> things and <i>some</i> people behind because I just don't fit? Where <i>does</i> the square person fit in the round sphere of life or do you just stand on your own and alone? Mostly though, I thought of my husband and how he viewed the things that I needed the most to hear all while battling his own struggles. While to some, it might be the strangest Mother's Day gift ever been given but, he knows the inner part of me that sees both sides of the fence and that includes the man or woman who carved this and roughly polished, etched his/her name and knowing the atom bomb dropped just a year later. (Picture doesn't show all it's nicks and rough cuts nor does it do justice but it was 4 a.m.) Knowing perhaps a Veteran carried it all the way home or someone who came from a home that was war torn and ravaged and how <i>far</i> it traveled. Just breathing it in smelled of history and it's a smell of familiarity and one I adore. The fact he <i>remembered</i> Mother's Day and his sense of humor about his brain injuries meant the world to me. While all this was put into the thought, his gift of simple words and awkward show of emotions that he could pull out for me for that short time period, was a gift in <i>itself</i>. Sometimes I know he feels the same as I do and as such, we are the kindred spirits although we are the exact opposite. Two lost souls trying to find that one place of solitude and peace in a world that we once belonged in but, no longer are welcomed nor do we fit. In that one moment though...suspended in time, we found something in each other through a dragon that had no home; mutual respect for each other no matter how war and it's impact changed us as individuals. <br />
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I mulled over his words for a <i>long</i> time, and got up to take notes so I could remember. I sat and watched the sun come up over the mountains with my moo-cows and the more I thought of it, him and my friends; the more I realized that I'd be better off alone than be someone I'm not in a crowded room. What friends I do have, I will cherish and continue on with but with some, things have changed. What <i>really</i> is important is who is left standing and takes you however you are..... even if that means you are that roughly polished, hand etched by your beliefs, nicked, cut up person who has traveled a few thousand miles. The same goes for our Veterans who are also weary, scarred inside and out and left trying to find their way through their own struggles on top of everything else. I think we all need to find our own way to become that inner dragon and finally just accept that <i>we are who we are</i> and leave the rest up to our own chosen paths.............<br />
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<i>To attract good fortune, spend a new coin on an old friend,</i></div>
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<i>share an old pleasure with a new friend, and lift up the heart of a true friend </i></div>
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<i>by writing his name on the wings of a dragon. ~Ancient Chinese Proverb</i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-79803248866797668452014-04-26T12:22:00.002-07:002014-04-26T19:35:51.263-07:00How Tyler Perry's "Madea" Made Me A Better Caregiver<br />
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This is probably going to be one of the most unconventional, unexpected and insane blog posts I've ever written but, stay with me on this and, maybe you will learn a few things while I stumble on explaining the who, the what and the why. Early last year, after taking a detour by a pre-mid life crisis, finally falling to my knees from weariness, using respite care for the <i>first</i> time in six years, and placing a purple streak in my hair all in hopes to find and remember what/who my identity was; I came home to still find that there was just <i>something</i> missing within me. I couldn't say I was going crazy because I didn't have that far to go to be honest and, I couldn't pinpoint <i>exactly</i> what it was. My smiles were plastered on when needed and right on que, laughter was used as a defensive mechanism, and sometimes the tears would well up because I just couldn't let them fall. More than likely, most of us military caregivers of our wounded can relate just the same as any other caregiver to non-military family members. We didn't have time to enjoy the moments, there was always a <i>huge</i> monkey hanging on to our backs to prevent us from standing just a little taller, or hell, laughing. We are either not allowed to cry when needed or we, in a fight for our lives, suddenly use the well known term of "A good defense is a good offense". We all have one hell of a poker face and if I have taught you all <i>nothing more</i> from my writing, at least walk away with the advice to never <i>ever</i> show all your cards or let anyone know your bluff. We guard our emotions, we sometimes don't feel hope, we wall up brick by brick, our feelings so much that we, much like our Veterans that we care for, suddenly become numb to all.<br />
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One afternoon, while I listened to my husband snoring in his chair and the kids were playing, I flipped through thoughtlessly through my cable television. There wasn't anything on but, a movie called <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tyler_Perry" target="_blank">Tyler Perry's</a> <i>Diary of a Mad Black Woman</i>. So I left it on while just taking a moment to breathe. I was <i>immediately</i> hooked. The story was full of drama, hardships, pain and heartache, marriage and issues, the importance of family, laughter, anger, revenge, religion, healing, layman's words of wisdom that <i>anyone</i> can relate to and in this movie, I became acquainted with "Madea". Known in character, Tyler Perry plays Mabel "Madea" Simmons. This is a character who is the primary caregiver to her brother "<a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=tyler+perry+does+he+play+uncle+joe&vid=27f4797d622e362bd65c3bf7b7296954&l=2%3A02&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts4.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.607993148179743839%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DjIfWEuyN9OI&tit=Tyler+Perry%26%2339%3Bs+Madea%26%2339%3Bs+Family+Reunion+-+6.+%26quot%3BTake+It+Back%26quot%3B&c=1&sigr=11ad8thg5&sigt=12a2t5p7e&ct=p&age=106072894198&&tt=b" target="_blank">Uncle Joe</a>" (who is also played by Tyler Perry), and to many others who come knocking on the door but, <i>not encouraged</i> to stay too long. Madea is the crazy, incorrigible, laughable family member who everyone could probably relate to in some form or fashion. Speaking her mind and saying what it is, her character is prone to revenge, getting what is right, saying what needs to be said, probably a little violent but, one that every child, every adult that knows her, gets the respect she deserves and what she dishes out, is <i>respect for everyone</i>. Although well known with the police over her lifetime, her ability to put a glock into any purse, and her "angrer" issues, she is a character that will stand up, fight or beat the hell out of you but still get you to the hospital for treatment. In her own way, she is one that will remind you of not taking crap off of anyone and while she may be beating the hell out of you, she has this nuturing, motherly side to her that you have to fully appreciate. All in one sassy, 6'5 towering, heavy-set, gun toting, 68 year old, in a beloved 1978 Cadillac, package of <i>utter</i> surprise with her no non-sense approach to stupidity, disrespectful youth, rudeness and laziness. With her incorrect grammar, her usage of "t" in most words, mispronunciations, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qXbwI2pW5o" target="_blank">misrepresentations</a> and just the way she doesn't care what she says as long as she says it....well, hit that hardened spot in myself. <br />
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Watching that one particular movie, with Tyler Perry playing multiple roles, I found myself <i>laughing</i>.... uncontrollably...pure and joyous laughter. The kind that we had before war changed it, took some of it away, or where there were days where there were none. I was moved with tears at the simple reminders that family sticks together, family drama that we all can relate to and reminders of believing in your religion. I struggle with that one because I didn't grow up with one label of religion attached to my forehead. My parents backgrounds were of a Heinz 57 mix and while an Army Brat, we were raised where<i> all</i> came in under <i>one</i> non-denominational church with an Army Chaplain. Since coming home, my husband lost his way to church mostly with the belief and anger at God for just leaving him in war. It's a common sentiment you will hear from many Veterans. While God <i>was</i> there, his injuries and guilt of those he had no choice or no way to save, have eaten up his beliefs that were instilled in to him since birth. With his shut out, our entire family waited in the wings all waiting for the all clear signal only for it to never come. So with this particular movie, I could relate to so much and it was like having a friend who said all the things I never did or could but...you wanted to. A mother who smacked you and asked you <i>what the hell </i>were <i>you</i> thinking? Here is a classic example of when you are faced with someone or even your Veteran stating "<a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=tyler+perry+does+he+play+uncle+joe&vid=04e3ff5c9f1afc02fc0ac9b227ac4ce6&l=2%3A38&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts4.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.608019996025160255%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3Dnl_rSbcEW4I&tit=Tyler+Perry%26%2339%3Bs+Diary+of+a+Mad+Black+Woman+-+3.+%26quot%3BGet+That+Money%26quot%3B&c=21&sigr=11akgovve&sigt=12c6simhb&ct=p&age=0&&tt=b" target="_blank">you're just a caregiver</a>" . Ohhhhhhh, how <i>many</i> times I have heard the word "divorce" in our seven years post injury, or even "it's all <a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=tyler+perry+does+he+play+uncle+joe&vid=5eaff1d67114dc73b626160e63682734&l=3%3A07&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts4.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.608040156598110119%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DjNyw39a0qnc&tit=Tyler+Perry%26%2339%3Bs+Diary+of+a+Mad+Black+Woman+-+5.+%26quot%3BMadea%26%2339%3Bs+Chainsaw%26quot%3B&c=25&sigr=11anp6qpd&sigt=12ikddbvj&ct=p&age=0&&tt=b" target="_blank">mine</a>". Having that reminder you <i>aren't</i> a door mat and you deserve respect changed my way of thinking. Tyler Perry provided me with someone who taught me how to cry again and to be angry. Who <i>ever</i> told us these <i>weren't</i> allowed?<br />
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I was immediately drawn to every single movie out there and there are so many with the beloved Madea in them and we have watched them over and over again. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5N_6--RgdAQ" target="_blank"><i>Family Reunion</i> </a>, who showed me respect and relationship renewals, the play <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=qsjfgXsBeNk" target="_blank"><i>Madea Gets a Job</i></a> with Madea's words of "at some point you just gotta let it go and give it up", and a part of <i>Family Reunion</i> where no child should ever disrespect you and "that it didn't matter what <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YHE5gxmvEQ8%20Torrey%20Shannon" target="_blank">people said about you</a>, it's what you answer to." Wise words that all can learn from. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljhuDeuebak" target="_blank"><i>Madea goes to Jail</i></a> had me laughing because not only could I relate to having "non-angrer" issues, but my own husband laughed so hard at<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8OXfGR4dgiY" target="_blank"> this</a>! Her battle of of being court ordered to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHsBK722Yqw" target="_blank">Anger Management with Dr. Phil</a> had my husband sincerely holding his stomach especially since he is well known for "being too angry for anger management and a flunker". I've got three boys; rough, rowdy and sometimes needs to be reminded who is the boss in the household. With Madea and her ways of <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SSpn_Ayh5YI" target="_blank">being a disciplinarian</a>, had reminded me that yeah, I do have control and they will<i> not</i> <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lpRB__a1nIo" target="_blank">disrespect me or anyone else</a>. It's hard to be the mediator, the peacemaker and a single parent most times, especially when your husband is sometimes worse than the kids! <a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play;_ylt=A2KLqIK_7FtTrD0A1Bz7w8QF;_ylu=X3oDMTByYXI3cnIwBHNlYwNzcgRzbGsDdmlkBHZ0aWQDBGdwb3MDNA--?p=madea+witness+protection+spooning&vid=a398532517d09f17fe13f2b038db451c&l=00%3A40&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts1.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.608011530641934064%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DZv2c5oKLrmE&tit=Madea%26%2339%3Bs+Witness+Protection+CLIP+%232+-+Pat+Down+%282012%29+Tyler+Perry+Movie+HD&c=3&sigr=11aq630ln&sigt=12dgo5a3l&age=0&fr=yfp-t-292&tt=b" target="_blank">Witness Protection</a> we adored, because there were so many funnies but at the same time, about family and <i>getting</i> that family <i>through</i> tough times as well as recognizing there were issues that <i>needed</i> to be fixed. Every time we hear "<a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=madea+taste+the+rainbow&vid=938639a0f5efbfeb85a039eeacd84a1b&l=00%3A09&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts1.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.608028856546102992%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DQ9psLZyOuTU&tit=Your+about+to+taste+the+rain+bow&c=1&sigr=11afvu52q&sigt=110g4nlo0&ct=p&age=-1126088057&fr=yfp-t-292&tt=b" target="_blank">taste the rainbow</a>" mentioned from Tyler Perry, the first thing my husband and I do is throw our hands up and holler <i>YEAH</i>! There are other movies such as <i>One Big Happy Family</i> and plays like <i>Madea's Neighbors From Hell </i>and <i>A Madea Christma</i>s. All of them <i>wonderfully</i> written, with the beautiful talent of so many actors and actresses that we see and know but, just don't remember. All of Tyler Perry's work is done with so much power, faith, love and laughter that you just can't help but fall in love. All the highlighted words are clips of some of my favorite parts of Madea.<br />
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So how did finding "Madea" help me become a better caregiver you ask? Because with Tyler Perry, I found out that you know what? I <i>do</i> have some say in <i>my life</i> and it's <u>not all about everyone else</u>. I learned to <i>laugh</i> again. Not the fake, just go along and get it over with laughter but, the hold your sides and hope you can wipe the tears away, laughter. I found my ability to cry and that it's <i>ok</i> to cry because it was a way to cleanse your soul and mind. There was no point in my hiding my tears; I honestly couldn't tell you how I even started or why I hid them. I learned that I am <i>not the only one</i> who has no tolerance for stupidity which was refreshing. I was able to poke fun along with my husband about our lives as a Caregiver and the person being cared for. I learned how to control my children with some simple rules, you either behave and respect or you're going to taste the rainbow. Simple as that and amazingly, just by adopting Madea as my role model...my household improved by 40%! Just those simple words, even being used in a funny way, led me to create my motto of "<a href="http://armyreservistwife.blogspot.com/2013/06/move-forward-and-let-it-go.html" target="_blank">Move Forward and Let It Go</a>" which I used to pull my wagons back around in the circle they belonged and get my family back together. Simple, efficient and easily adaptable. When things get rough or I get down, I simply pop in a movie with my favorite "getting even, glock toting" grandma and have a smile. I found that by having silly or funny things in my life to look to gave me just a <i>spare</i> moment of my <i>true </i>self. Not the "Caregiver", Not "Mother", not <i>any</i> other title but just <i>all mine</i> because it meant something just to me and me alone. By releasing that anger, by reminding myself that I was still a person and had feelings, and by laughing as hard as I can...well, it just made me a better person and caregiver. In doing that, I was able to pass some of Tyler Perry's wisdom from his books or movies on to other caregivers and to other Veterans that I am around and they've adopted Mr. Perry and now seems to be a constant topic of discussion. I not only found that Madea was my invisible shoulder to lean on but, I placed others like Betty White when I needed a little humor or Sandra Bullock especially in the movie <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_PsvYZUYzM#t=11" target="_blank">The Proposal</a>. I like <a href="https://video.search.yahoo.com/video/play?p=identity+thief+throat+punch&vid=5c0c6f5394b5d6c8cb63f3a25537ccb1&l=00%3A18&turl=http%3A%2F%2Fts2.mm.bing.net%2Fth%3Fid%3DVN.608054639230847329%26pid%3D15.1&rurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DI18l-IxrcY0&tit=Identity+Thief+Singing&c=7&sigr=11a557ske&sigt=10mcqpmo7&ct=p&age=0&fr=yfp-t-292&tt=b" target="_blank">Melissa McCarthy</a> in several movies especially when I feel a little angry and need the vision of throat punching in my head. It is not uncommon for me to suddenly burst out singing or dancing for apparently no reason. My husband claims I've done lost my mind (short trip trust me), and my kids think that it's a form of Turrets syndrome that I am suffering from. I would like to state for the readers, I haven't lost anything but just <i>improved</i> my sense of humor, <i>embraced the suck</i> and did it with grace and sarcasm, and learned to move on. Can't go forward if you're always in reverse. So while I may not have great potentials in teaching you anything about being a Caregiver, I think finding and remembering who you <i>are</i> and <i>keeping it,</i> that is important. Too many titles, weigh us down and our own identities can vanish under all that. We lose sight of ourselves when others demand too much of us or expect us to be everything at every moment when asked. I think with mistakes being made, it allows to grow and improve ourselves but, maintaining a good healthy sense of humor has made me more tolerant, have the ability to turn some bad things around and have enough sass to say to my husband "when you can respect me and want to talk, then I'll listen. Other than that? <i>Hell to the no</i>!" </div>
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Having those Hollywood stars, even though they are just playing a character, we can all relate to because they have to have a <i>real</i> personality to pull some of these off. While Tyler Perry may be in a woman's dress, somewhere deep down is <i>just him</i> and the things he learned in life and passing it on in a humorous way. Betty White with her fun, spunky 90+ years is someone I hope that I can only hold on to my sense of humor to that age. While I do not plan on throat punching anyone, Melissa McCarthy's movies allows me to feel that anger and release in a way that's healthy; not stocking it up as in an arsenal to blow when the pile accidentally gets lit by something pretty stupid. Having a music list of songs that I love when I need to be happy or even angry, has helped. Any of these or a combination of all, gave me my strength back to keep going. And for all that, I am thankful that I just accidentally landed on Tyler Perry on cable one wet and cold Saturday afternoon. For my therapist, I respect you and you've been helpful but once upon a time, you told me that my sense of humor was a self defense mechanism and that only. I argue with that Sir, even though you have all those fancy degrees behind you....you still haven't got a clue because what you learned was in a <i>book</i>. I've <i>always</i> had a good sense of humor and growing up with nine brothers and sisters? My parents didn't have a lot but, what they did have was laughter, love and music. My laughter, my family's laughter and the sense of humor that we all have....was a way to cope and to ensure that we <i>could</i> get through it. If you can make it through ground zero of your wounded warrior coming home and still have a sense of humor? You beat it. </div>
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So Mr. Perry, <i>if </i>you ever read this, <i>please know</i> that I applaud your efforts in maintaining so many roles, your art in not just writing but, producing and the fact that you tie it all in to something <i>all of us</i> can relate to. I once saw an interview that you stated you wouldn't mind if Madea died. I can see your points on all of it because that character is not the basis of your movies but, simply a building block. However, to some of us, she is <i>more</i> of a block than you think and to me, she's my rock when I need someone the most and no where to turn. I used to do plays and can <i>only</i> imagine how hot, pain in the rear that outfit is to put on, but am thankful to God for you to keep doing what you do. For all the times my husband threw up his hands when you said your mantras....it's <i>priceless</i>. To hear him say, "that's gonna be you and me mommy and you are gonna say I'd love to just stick a fork in the back of your head some days!" is our joke. I am forever thankful in all that you do and while you do make sure that Single Moms are appreciated, please think of us Caregivers as well because some of us<i> do</i> relate and do just as many roles, including single parenting. I don't know if I will ever meet you one day but, that is my goal. I recently watched your new <i>Neighbors From Hell</i> and laughed when you remembered from several years back, a returning Caucasian female fan in the crowd wearing a shirt that said "Yes I'm White and Love Tyler Perry". Well Sir, I <i>am</i> white and not only love what you do but, <i>sincerely</i> respect your points and reflection on life itself. I have been to the White House and they actually let me in! (hey, you have to know me) I met the First Lady, Vice President's wife and former First Lady Carter and while it was an honor indeed, the whole time <i>all</i> I could think about is what would I do if I met you and what the heck would Madea do in this big ol' fancy house. I had to stop myself from saying "Hellur". In the end? Just know this....... when the days are long, the nights harder and sometimes I think my prayers go unanswered because the ghosts of war come calling in our bed once more through nightmares.........</div>
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I can smile and think "<i>taaaaste the rainbooow</i>" while pulling my imaginary glock out of my purse in my head,</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-40929753419499626122014-02-23T07:42:00.000-08:002014-02-23T07:42:22.835-08:00The Sand Curse, New Trauma and A Swift Kick To The Curb<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Well.....</div>
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Here we are once more...</div>
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Dusting off the old keyboard and trying to figure out where to start. Probably at the beginning huh? It's nice to be back behind the screen once more; I missed you dear friends. Last blog was <i>last</i> August and we were <i>rapidly</i> approaching the "memory months" of September-April and all the while capping our asses as a family while doing so. We remained positive, steadfast and strong to battle the upcoming war that would soon invade our lives once more. Seems since Iraq had indeed placed a curse on our family following it's September birth of 2006 and every year there after. Say what you want but, <i>some </i>Veterans have told me that when they cheated death while at war, they come home only to have some crazy stuff happen to them. Strings of bad luck, family ups and leaves, swindled, stuff stolen, fate kicking them in their ass, death or strange accidents like being struck by lightening. Their reasoning was just that; because they cheated death but, not destiny or fate. I had a Vietnam Veteran once tell me that "Fate must be a woman scorned 'cause she sure came back with a vengeance". A little hard to swallow for me, I'll admit...To be honest back then, sounds too much like a military version of a <a href="https://search.yahoo.com/search;_ylt=AhIOPpDJYngsATtodpY503WbvZx4?fr=yfp-t-192-s&toggle=1&cop=mss&ei=UTF-8&p=final%20destination%20movie" target="_blank">Final Destination movie</a>.<br />
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For a few years there, I could say that the smart and <i>rational</i> person I <i>am</i> could just disregard incidents or bad things due to just <i>bad </i>damn timing. One year, I thought "Wake me when it's May" because we just <i>never</i> could get over the hump of major incidences. Last year? We embraced September with a renewed sense of purpose and, with some time off? I felt like those old ghosts can come 'a calling but, they best be on their top game because I had some <i>extra</i> cards up my sleeve. Everything was going along and I took some time for myself doing projects around the house, read some books that I put off, learned to make new things culinary wise and all the while uneasily....watching the dark shadows that began to creep into my husband's expressions signaling the time was near. Then this happened.....<br />
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Yeah.<br />
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This was <i>our</i> September, October, November, December and January.<br />
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After all this? Maybe these war ravaged and weary Veterans who maintain the "Sand Curse" is real, perhaps weren't <i>too</i> far off. My husband was in my son's truck, less than a mile from the house and minding his own business. He was hit by a young adult who crossed the median in a much larger vehicle and hit head on. Hit with such force it picked the truck up and threw it approximately 100 feet into a drainage ditch. Seemed like forever to cut him from the truck and the physical damage done to him was and is still pretty bad. One inch over, a small tiny inch, and he would have died reported the airlift and accident report. He survived but, is now sporting a very large titanium rod which he likes to brag about, a crushed in forehead, a severe TBI, a new personality (which has been interesting), what they call "Punch Drunk" or <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pseudobulbar_affect" target="_blank">Pseudobulbar Affect</a>, and we are <i>still</i> picking out glass and gravel from his head and arms.<br />
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I still dream about the amount of my husband's blood all over me, as I was first on scene. I almost lost him <i>again</i> that day. Seems like that old cat is coming <i>close</i> to his nine lives I told him one day while he was awake. He said "punishment." From what? "Iraq" and out he went again. Makes one think does it not? I sat beside his bed, with my hands in my head. "Haven't we already been through enough?" I thought. "Sacrificed as <i>much as possible and more</i> than we <i>ever</i> knew we had?" Anger boiled over, rage made me slink away from my friends, confusion set in and everything simply became one big mass of confusion. It seemed like the world had literally stopped around us but, time kept marching on at a fast pace that I am still recouping from. I think I am <i>just</i> now catching my breath. Now, I have a new person, <i>mixed</i> with what Iraq sent back, and there is no sign of what was to be seen or heard. That part bothers me the most because those small things that we did see....well, gave us a sense of hope. <i>False</i> hope indeed but, I would <i>gladly</i> have it back some day. <br />
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Have you ever just been <i>soooo</i> tired that you can't sleep to save your life? You sleep but, you never <i>truly</i> rest? Yes, I am sure you do if you are here whether you are a spouse, family member or Veteran. That's the place I am stuck at. We spent a long time in and out of ICU, hospitals, specialty clinics, therapies, the VA and while it <i>pains</i> me to admit it....I <i>will</i> say that our Veterans Administration Hospital did NOT fail us. Matter a fact and to be honest with you all, (and trust this Mistress she will <u>not</u> bend the truth when it comes to them)....they were nicer to us than <i>any</i> civilian hospital. Remember when I stated my husband does not play well with others? Got kicked out of Anger Management for being too angry? Well, let's just say we gave our local hospitals and their staff a run for their money. It was tight quartered with three patients to a room but, they kept my husband separated while recouping at a skilled nursing home if that tells you how <i>bad</i> he was.<br />
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I spent the first weeks after the wreck handing therapists, nurses, physical therapy assistants, tissues to dry tears, apologize to some and cuss out others. All while watching my husband blazing down the long hallways in his wheelchair hoping to God he didn't run anyone over all while he is screaming "You get me out of here or you WILL see me in this wheelchair on the evening news rolling down the interstate!". Got to love those moments. It wasn't like that though with the VA <i>surprisingly</i> as they supplied us with medical equipment when no one else would, helped and were <u>quick</u>. They were kinder and called to check on us. They even visited him in the hospital. I <i>never</i> once had to say I am sorry or chew anyone out. While it pains me to admit all that (snort) after <i>all the years</i> of fighting with them.....perhaps just perhaps, its time to let the past go and relish in the new found albeit temporary respect. Now, don't count of me not to have something to fuss about in the future but, right now? We are even, VA. To top that off? We had support from our <i>awesome</i> Federal Recovery Officer with her beautiful radio/DJ voice (whom I've never met in person). Help came from CA from our adopted family, <a href="http://www.familyofavet.com/" target="_blank">Family of a Vet</a> who made sure my family would be ok. <a href="http://www.woundedwarriorsfamilysupport.org/index.php/wounded-warriors-family-support/our-families" target="_blank">Wounded Warrior Family Support</a> stepped in to make sure I got him home and created a bond that I don't think the Director will <i>ever</i> know, because <i>again </i>in our lives...we were let down by <i>so many</i> others. <br />
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While all this was bad, it did get us through some of these last months as he had something else to preoccupy him. He was pissed but, sincerely lucky which I don't know if he understands how much so. However, his anger has quadrupled and I can't blame him for that. Here was/is <i>another </i>battle with the at fault person. He once <i>more</i>, had a part of him taken away and all he keeps saying when he wakes up pissed off is "I was just minding my <i>own</i> business". Similar to that of "I just did what I was ordered to". The hardest part of all this was, this was the first time I couldn't fix anything. I couldn't just make some calls and break open hell's gates on someone, couldn't take away the pain, couldn't do anything but sponge up the anger and the nastiness that spewed forth from him. For a while there, I truly felt like I had somehow failed him this time around. Just when things were going well, and after seven years...Uncle Sam came to call. <br />
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Sure, let's kick a dog while it's down. Amazingly enough, PEB was done and the final details were sent. It was bittersweet. Still <i>somewhat</i> arguable, still <i>feel</i> like there is some fight left to be had but, we are taking it just so we can move on. After this long and so afraid of letting my husband down he said, "Just let it go, honey. You won. I am happy" so that is what I did. Just let it go. I've seen a <i>lot </i>of pain, hurt and pride bruised in these last seven years. Seen not only in my husband but, in other Veterans like for example when they walk into the VA and suddenly their light just shuts <i>off</i>. It's like looking around at <i>different people</i> although you <i>know</i> you just spoke to them an hour ago outside. This time? This time was different. There was 15 years, 11 months and four days in less than eight pages. Sign here, sign there, no phone call from the PEBLO, no hand shake, no thank you for your service; just a kick to the curb with an email that said "Congratulations! <i>We did it</i>!". This new caseworker must be sniffing the white out or staring at the screen too long because the immediate response for both of us was "What the <i>hell</i> is this "<i>WE</i>" shit!". After a few minor adjustments, a few tears later, and being notified that we lost our GI Bill (saving that for my <i>next</i> post)....well here we are awaiting official retirement. <br />
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So to end this rambling and this post, I shall sign off with many thanks to the organizations above for they will <i>never</i> know just how <i>much</i> I needed them and when to give it, even when I said "We're Fine" and completely ignored me. For all who sent emails and questioned if I was ok because I had not posted in so long....it meant the world to me. It just seemed during this time, I wanted to be away from everything and everyone. I didn't want to hear, see or say anything. I am sorry if I wasn't there for you but, sometimes we just have to walk away and know when to save our own selves because we have our own demons riding upon backs too. I just didn't know how and <i>still</i> don't....how to keep moving forward with the same confidence I had and a selfish part of me wanted some time alone. I appreciate all my readers and with that, hope all is well with each of you. Until the next time......<br />
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Ready for Round Five, Fate</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-59065276120979943802013-08-16T07:20:00.000-07:002013-08-16T07:49:42.895-07:00GI Bill Transfer For Those in MEB/PEB Process: <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">1944 Photo Military Family Living On GI Bill Benefits Alone</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>Remember You Are Just An Extra in Everyone Else's Play. ~Franklin D. Roosevelt</i> </span></div>
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There are some things I simply don't talk about like politics and religion. It's not because I think my opinions are solely the right ones; it's just that it only causes problems and well, with times like these? Who knows <i>who</i> is right anymore? I spoke to our unit on another matter about two weeks ago and that person reminded me of the GI Bill transfer changes to spouse/dependents. I wasn't too worried as we were told those of us in MEB/PEB were "excluded" and from the beginning, this was one of my "hot topics" with our "don't get your undies in a wad, Mama" PEBLO that we originally had. However, I guess you could say I did because after being promised so many things that never came about, I learned to keep in check that hot list I had. For the past three years, we were told all the this transfer business would be done when the retirement or discharge process began. I checked into it anyway. That began a slurry of information that was completely different from, I kid you not, <i>twenty-seven</i> <u>different</u> people. That's not even counting the information received by our Federal Recovery Coordinator, Peblo and our Army Reserve Recovery Coordinator. <br />
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Now we try to keep the news at most, as a "general use only" because some stuff simply pisses and sets my husband off; <i>especially</i> when it comes to politics using the military as pawns in an everlasting game of the "sky is falling syndrome" that they keep playing. For many of my readers, you know that we have been stuck in the MEB/PEB for a very <i>very</i> long time. After perusing the online veteran and caregiver groups that are out there, I realize we aren't the only ones stuck in a hold, left hanging and most definitely....behind.<br />
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So after scouring the internet, asking tons of questions, harassing people by phone, and not giving up; I found that the rule was stated as this.<br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: small;"><u><span class="uficommentbody">Eligibility</span></u>
<span class="uficommentbody"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[0].[3]">Any
member of the Armed Forces (active duty or Selected Reserve, officer or
enlisted), who is eligible for the Post-9/11 GI Bill, and:</span></span>
<span class="uficommentbody"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[0].[6]">Has
at least 6 years of service in the Armed Forces (active duty and/or Selected
Reserve) on the date o</span></span><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3]"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0]"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[0]">f
approval and agrees to serve 4 additional years in the Armed Forces from the
date of election.</span></span><br data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[1]" />
<span class="uficommentbody"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[2]">Has
at least 10 years of service in the Armed Forces (active duty and/or Selected
Reserve) on the date of approval, is precluded by either standard policy
(Service or DoD) or statute from committing to 4 additional years, and agrees
to serve for the maximum amount of time allowed by such policy or statute.</span></span><br data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[3]" />
<span class="uficommentbody"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[4]">Is
or becomes retirement eligible and agrees to serve an additional 4 years of
service on or after August 1, 2012. A service member is considered to be
retirement eligible if he or she has completed 20 years of active Federal
service or 20 qualifying years as computed pursuant to section 12732 of title
10 U.S.C.</span></span><br data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[5]" />
<span class="uficommentbody"><span data-reactid=".r[55ax7].[1][4][1]{comment626978457322005_626981787321672}.[0].[right].[0].[left].[0].[0].[0][2].[0].[3].[0].[6]">Such
transfer must be requested and approved while the member is in the Armed Forces.</span></span></span></span></div>
</blockquote>
So much confusion in all that stereo type eligibility instructions right? THEN suddenly, the date changed to September 1st, then to August 1st 2013. Confusion is what I think they like to spin. My question echoed much of what I saw others questioning. What happens to those of us who are stuck in this loop, haven't retired yet, can't sign for another four years, haven't heard back or even possibly started the MEB lengthy process, and for those of us who have wounded members in our military that are sitting ducks waiting with the same "don't worry 'bout it" response...what happens now? So I kept calling and finally called the GI Bill office at the US Army Human Resources Command in Fort Knox. After way more elevator music that should be allowed, I finally got a hold of a human that explained to me what all the above actually meant. "Pretty much, if you can serve and you want to keep your GI Bill benefits, you have to sign on for another four years of service. If you don't sign up before September 1st, then you lose your GI Bill". Hmmm. I asked then politely what happens in the situations where many of us are stuck awaiting MEB or going through it. "If you didn't transfer by August 1st, you all lost it".<br />
<br />
<i>Wow</i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
The first thing I did was to keep from blowing a gasket and think of President Roosevelt probably rolling over in his grave over her <i>very</i> nonchalant, could give a rat's ass about anyone, attitude that she delivered. The callous remark of "Most of the wounded probably won't use that benefit so its saves money which is what is what the government wants". Allllll righty then (really hating that person even more). Well, I don't know about you guys and gals out there but, how does one know <i>exactly</i> what we <i>will</i> and <i>will not</i> use? We <i>might</i> need that benefit for our children, or what if a spouse wants to go? What if our Wounded Warriors, get through the healing process, and decide to tackle getting their degree? I decided to keep challenging as this just doesn't seem right and after fifteen minutes of arguing back and forth, she told me how to catch the last back door on those who are sitting and waiting so we won't lose our GI Bill.<br />
<br />
I can't say too much on the subject of Active Duty except that you <i>need</i> to have it transferred and sign for another four years. According to the Army, you need to have that done asap and get it transferred. According to Fort Knox, you need to extend by September 1st but, I honestly didn't get that much info on Active personnel because we are no longer well, active. Your best bet to ask any questions is go to the direct source because for me? Even as much as I researched, there are just <i>too many</i> people with <i>too many</i> answers. Unless you know for sure the correct answer, you won't be able to tell which one is correct. A Retention NCO officer *should* know the answers. <br />
<br />
For those <u>many</u> of us stuck here in the "wait" here is how you do it. For those who were alerted by letter, email or anything that shows you are heading to the MEB, you <u>need to find that notification</u>. For new starters of the MEB, you should have gotten a packet that says you are being sent through the MEB and found to be medically unfit. Now, you will go <a href="https://www.dmdc.osd.mil/">HERE </a>to begin the transfer process. You will need to know your points that you earned through your service time and you can obtain that by going <a href="http://www.hrc.army.mil/">HERE</a> or you can go through the portal that is listed in the transfer explanation by using your CAC, your DOD self service number or DFAS MyPay number at this <a href="http://milconnect.dmdc.mil/">SITE</a>. You can also go through your unit and get that information as well. Now once submitted, you will more than likely be <i>rejected</i> because it's <u>AFTER</u> August 1st. <u>This is when you will use the information you have on MEB/PEB </u>or <i>anything</i> that shows you were in this process <b>BEFORE </b>August 1st 2013. You will submit these documentation papers to <i>this </i>address along with a letter stating that you were rejected for the transfer of your GI Bill but you are awaiting the MEB/PEB and were before the date and changes were made to the GI Bill:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4084876361608306937" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4084876361608306937" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4084876361608306937" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><b>Email: <a href="mailto:usarmy.knox.hrc.mbx.tagd-post911gibill@mail.mil" id="yui_3_7_2_1_1376658312819_2866"><span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1376658689_1">usarmy.knox.hrc.mbx.tagd-post911gibill@mail.mil</span></a><br />Fax: 502-613-4533<br />Mail: US Army Human Resources Command<br /> Attn: AHRC-PDE-I (RM# 2-1-025)<br /> <span class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1376658689_2">1600 Spearhead Division Avenue DEPT# 410<br /> Fort Knox, KY 40122-5401</span></b><br />
<br />
If you have a PEBLO assigned, or an AW2, and you don't have anything to show; ask them to type something up stating when the injury occurred, when you were notified of the MEB proceedings etc. Hopefully if you have a good one, they will do that for you. If you have a bad one, well stay on them! For us, I was told <i>anything</i> like a welcome email or the cover letter showing "hey Buddy, we are putting you out". If what you send in is not sufficient, they will let you know and you can keep sending items in. Once you do that, you will then move on to the process of obtaining the Certificate of Eligibility. While there are <u>no</u> exclusions, there are still a few that can make that door open back up so you don't lose your GI Bill. Now this process is for the US Army but as we know, each branch has different addresses/processes etc. I would suggest calling the GI Bill hotline <b>1-888-GIBILL1</b> and ask. Be aware though the elevator music is annoying as hell and there is a long wait. <a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=4084876361608306937#editor/target=page;pageID=2029408447182128234">Here </a>is what the Army sent me that explains about the transfer process and I am going to place this in a tab above as many of us (like me) just can't seem to get to the right place!<br />
<br />
I am hoping you all will pass this along to as many Wounded Warriors that are stuck like we are. For many, they have already lost their education benefits and most of that was due to underhanded, unexplained, sneakiness to save a lousy dollar on the backs of all of our Service members and Veterans. What gets me, is they said "we are trying to get the word out to our servicemen and women so that they know to submit paperwork or that they would lose their education benefits after August 1." Hmmmm....Apparently not, because trust me, this was something my advocates, PEBLO and myself dug in to look for and no one else knew about. The sad part is, once rejected, many will think there is <i>no other</i> option and that's the part that they don't tell you. So if you were in the process and can show it, submit your documentation as you <i>still</i> have a chance but PLEASE get on it asap! If you have <u>additional</u> information, found <i>any</i> other information that we can blast it out there to help our military Veterans and their families, please feel free to leave a comment or email. Hope this helps someone. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="bqquotelink">A HUGE shout out with much appreciation to our "Apple Martini" Hero,</span></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-37713058508148215392013-07-26T19:58:00.002-07:002013-07-26T20:02:57.436-07:00Objects May Appear Closer Than They Seem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUECxZXTAkk2IEz9Ozu-0tsBMh8x1zCvpTBVBvzHgZn_wFs42GDXpFVUTvU69nF53l1WEBq8nDBboUF7KzKVyi_3yAMygDUNfi_x8wyFmbbHM-_-rd6qnxmw_6wkmYHs39AxulGJQD5vza/s1600/moving+forward+looking+back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUECxZXTAkk2IEz9Ozu-0tsBMh8x1zCvpTBVBvzHgZn_wFs42GDXpFVUTvU69nF53l1WEBq8nDBboUF7KzKVyi_3yAMygDUNfi_x8wyFmbbHM-_-rd6qnxmw_6wkmYHs39AxulGJQD5vza/s320/moving+forward+looking+back.jpg" /></a></div>
Excuse me while I dust off the keyboard here!<br />
(shaking my head)<br />
Has it really been over a month?<br />
Apparently it has.<br />
<br />
Things have been somewhat a fast and furious pace with lots of ups and downs along the way but, we are sort of used to that by now. I have been steadfast on my whole new motto of "Move Forward and Let it Go" but, it has had it's challenges of course. Mostly, its been challenging to keep at it and not lose my patience at the same time. However, with this Summer test theory of mine, I have seen some <i>small</i> changes; enough to make it worth the while. I make a step forward, I see him show interest. I make a bigger step, he inches forward just a tad. There are days where the leaps I make are quite huge and self rewarding but, he takes three steps back. So I have drawn the lines; keeping my stance and pace to the forward position. I am pretty damned stubborn, got a house full of stubborn boys/men and armed with <i>plenty</i> of time.<br />
I found that by finding my own way, the rest is following and God knows its been far too long that everyone has been attached to my hip.
I did realize in my break, that there is never really a thing as starting over. I think after five years as a Wounded Warrior Wife and caregiver, that is one <i>major</i> thing I learned. There are days where the past can be burned up mentally with the ashes scattered to the wind. With that, comes peace, calmness and somewhat a remedy to broken hearts, dreams and losses. Other days, its like looking in the side mirror of the car and seeing crap coming at you, larger than life and, you think "No shit!" while looking at the "Objects may appear closer than they seem" written at the bottom.<br />
Now even with the Mistress drawing her battling grounds, mapping out her next moves, there were and always will be some days where I envision that joining the circus may become a possibility or simply running away. Starting over really shouldn't be in our word vocabulary with our PTSD and TBI Veterans. I think the only thing you <i>can</i> do is just keep going.
I have learned that while there is no real "do-over" there is forgiveness but, that can often be a double edged sword when it comes to wielding it in a battle against the irrational behavior of my Veteran. There comes a point where you want to word vomit yourself especially when he has no battles to be fought, so chooses to fight you. Even when you have the retreat flag flown, mortar fire comes from all sides and there is no refuge. I have learned though that fighting back is pointless because that just gives him more ammunition and so I have learned to just walk away. Blow ups have been few these days but, when they do boy are they doozies. Then the rest of the evening you battle the tears and keep them from flowing, plaster a smile on the face for the kids so at least they aren't totally screwed up when they get older and just remind yourself that tomorrow is another day with a new beginning. It's extremely hard sticking to that move forward motto on days like this because you want to turn around and look. You want to look for anything and everything to defend yourself but, if you keep re-reading the same chapters of a book over and over again, you never get to the end. There are days where forgiveness is one of the most challenging things to learn how to pick yourself up off the floor and dust off your ass for the next day to come. Fighting off the shadows of resentment and heartache, one of the biggest battles to fight. After all, he isn't the only one fighting demons on his own.<br />
Since I used my hair as hostage negotiations from isolating myself, I found that this method was <i>really</i> working for me. My stylist says its becoming quite the rage in my area and that's what they call it now, "hostage hair" after I gave my explanation. My kids call it super hero hair and you know, maybe they are right. I do feel like I have a boost of confidence and strength. (Now if I can just get the Wonder Woman Tiara I'd be set) After the mailman dropped off a package for me from Amazon, he asked my son whether I ever left the house. I was rather embarrassed and while I was leaving some, perhaps not enough if getting questioned by the postal service! I then decided since the purple highlights in my hair was once a month touch up, why not venture out and paint my toenails too. So I did. I have done it twice now, and I have to admit that it makes me feel better. I get the most outrageous color (currently sporting hot neon pink with black and silver polka dots) and it reminds me that not ALL of me is a complete loss. I still got some spunk in my cranky old ass! Too, I feel better when I get out and have a <i>reason</i> to look forward to going out that is just for me and me only. Going twice a month to the store to spend money on groceries with three kids in tow, isn't really much of a good time.<br />
I will admit that I have taken some time off on the blog and Facebook, gosh, I am <i>really</i> behind. However, I have done some super and MAJOR changes in my home. I really never was bothered by the Caregiver Home Visits other than the foul mood for the day it leaves my husband, but this time? I am rather excited to see what she says in the changes. I feel a sense of accomplishment, I felt purpose and a desire to see what more I could learn and do on my own. Thank God for You Tube how to videos! I realized too, that although I love my fellow caregivers and wounded Veterans; it was seriously bringing on a huge flood of compassion fatigue. I was talking with someone the other day and he said "you have to learn to not get personal". Well, that's not me. I cry when others cry. I am a visual person so when someone shares their story, I literally see it in my mind. Unfortunately, many stories these days are so similar to mine that its like one of those cameras in your field of vision, constantly flipping my own memories of bad times that I try not to think about. I knew nothing else but to run away and, just take a break and figure things out. My husband used to tell me he saw pictures in his mind that were so clear they seemed real. Sometimes even a smell reminded him of something else in Iraq and there he was, mentally there. I now can fully appreciate his description and accuracy in it because it was becoming the same. In some of the caregiver groups online, and stories, it was becoming so hard for me to deal with that I couldn't shake much of my past burdens without them creeping right back up. Everything that I had burned in my mind, seemed to replace itself. That anger and resentment came calling and with a <i>vengeance</i>. So I just stopped and took my time to read some long overdue books, watched some old and new movies, played some cards, rearranged and cleaned, redecorated and re-purposed; just a whole lot of things that you think "Man, I have got to do this" but you never do.<br />
I feel like a new person with a new home and that self accomplishment feels great.
I know it takes time to get to this point especially for you newer spouses just going through this and I don't know if there really is such a thing as "hope" in the sense that many look at that term. I do know though that the saying of "Misery loves company" can be detrimental to the caregiver. It can also be detrimental to your Veteran as well. What do I mean about all this? Well, let's say you are on Facebook and some other caregiver makes a smart assed remark or perhaps another Veteran. Before you know it, you are angry and upset. Your mood directly affects your Veterans mood. Then when all is said and done, you are both pissed off and not really knowing why or how it all started! I have had to learn to overlook, not get involved in drama, and find my own peace in my own way and on my own terms. I didn't need therapy to find that or attend a class, I think you just get to that point where you are done.
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<i>Done</i>.<br />
This brings me to another point. I was talking to a new and dear friend of mine. I realized that my husband wants to stay in his dark pit and he is ok with everyone being in that dark pit with him. Been that way since he came off that plane in 2007. I wasn't ok with it then and am not now. Matter a fact, I think that was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I was sick of drowning with him. No matter what I did to save him, he just kept pulling us all down with him. Hence, the move forward meltdown. In that though, I saw that if I was smiling, I would see just a bit of a smile on him. If I was working on something, he would pitch in or offer an idea. Little things. She made some valid points to me that really struck a chord. Since I decided to stop wallowing in the safety net of darkness,climbed out and moved on; it was really an option for him to stay behind on his own or peek out and see what it was that I was doing. I will take the peeking over the hiding any time. I see that as one tiny improvement and while not a vast <i>monumental</i> improvement, I see that as hope.<br />
I think each of us have to stop for our own sanity and look around at what is toxic in our lives and how that can impact. Try little changes, cut some things out and test that theory. I wonder sometimes while reading some caregiver's stories whether they know that sometimes they can be just as impending to their wounded Veteran just like any other thing. Maybe that will piss some off but, it's the truth and while it won't improve all of it; it's enough baggage off of you to allow you to breathe.
School will be starting in eleven days so gearing up for that. I am working on a few more projects I hope to complete by that time and then it will be back to my regular schedule. This August I plan to be more organized and not so last minute, blog regularly by setting a certain day devoted to nothing but pc work and hopefully, the PEB will finally come to a close by this year. I am ready now to close this chapter of our lives minus my husband's CAB and rightful retirement which seems to be not an issue so far on retirement. As always though, have to see it to believe it!
Right now though? Time for an early bedtime and back to work on the house tomorrow. It's been a long day and bad night for the man. Thinking must be the rain and storms, so calling it quits for today.<br />
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Wishing I could remove the side mirrors off my car,
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-58630940348679525162013-06-18T19:05:00.001-07:002013-06-18T19:05:38.735-07:00Move Forward and Let It Go<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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For the most of this year, it's been <i>quite </i>apparent I haven't been on Facebook or my blog regularly. For that, I am not going to apologize because it was important for me to take some time out. I posted about some accomplishments that I have made on my personal page and a dear friend made a comment that often she'd look to others to blame about not being there to help, so we are on our own and then things <i>just don't get done</i>. Her comment <i>really</i> made me think because we are both caregivers and busy but, she hit it right on the head. Have we become stuck in our own game of faulting others and then blaming others when we don't get things done? I think so. Sometimes, there were times where I didn't do shit because I spent most of my time angry because of others, then I would fuss about it on Facebook and, around the circle we went. Before I knew it, time ran wild. I spent the last five years putting things off, making excuses, finding faults in everyone else and realized I was running out of people to blame. It's a sudden realization that I think sort of smacks you upside the head and you look back and realize how immature, that you had no confidence or faith in yourself, and didn't even try. There is no such thing as failure unless you<u> stop trying </u>right? I realized there is no end if there is no beginning. <br />
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So I have stepped a bit back from the blogging, Facebooking and other social media outlets for one single purpose and that was <u>ME</u>. While things have been relatively quiet with my husband and I; we have still had some minor bumps we can get past or sometimes we get past and we just stop looking to the past. Not really sticking our heads in the sand but, realizing that we can't stay pissed off at each other all the time. There are going to be lots of bad days, days where the hours will drag by until bedtime but, there are days where they are good. Also, I realized some days, it would break my heart all day long reading other caregivers and thinking "that was my life", "yep, been there and done that" and on it went. <br />
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Taking respite care in Feb really was the turning point for me. I got fed up with a lot of things. As many of you know, I took my plain old jane hair and turned it into a dark beautiful brown with magenta and purple highlights that have become the latest rave here in my area and most definintely given me some spunk in my steps I think. Holding my hair hostage that is making me go once a month to get touched up, was a way for me to not make excuses about going out. I had no choice. Call it silly but it works. I highly recommend doing something ludicrous that will hold you hostage until further negotiations can be made outside of the house. Drastic yes, and maybe my method is not for you but let me tell you, it had to be done. I found I was making more and more excuses not to leave the house. Most of all, I learned that I earn money too from my caregiver stipend,
so I still have the purple and magenta highlights that I have deemed my
super hero hair.<br />
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I was happy because I decided on many things like stop stressing, stop blaming, stop looking for people to take it out on, and start making some things a reality. So I made myself a list. One that was a little more perplexed and had a lot of question marks next to it and then? I made simple check lists for every day that I decided to plan out my day. I was realistic with it and you should be too. There are some things I just could never do, like painting 17 foot walls in our home. I realized too, my family was somewhat taking over and even with them, mama had to bring the hammer down on some things I didn't like the fact that when I stopped, everyone stopped or just left it there for me to clean up later. We had several home repairs, and since moving here...I had never been happy with our home. It was not a warm, inviting spot I wanted like our living room, especially since it was an awkward space. I wasn't happy with the same flat grayish paint in the home, the dings and dents in the walls from the kids and well, I could go on. So I decided to make some changes and dug my heels in, gathered up what confidence I had, and I just did it. <br />
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Since the last couple of years, I have had two large mason jars in which we dropped broken dollar change. Didn't matter how much we needed it, those jars never got hit. Of course, you get somewhere where you needed a quarter but, it was sort of like a savings account. I saved, cut back and tried to reduce much of our income by just a tad and was able to get some things done.I was quite surprised to see by cutting a few things back, saving change in a jar, changing diet and so on really put some expendable income back into the home account. With careful planning, existing items we had picked up, already owned or bought and never used; I read up on refinishing, spray painting and distressing, and revamped items. I learned how to caulk, wallpaper, spray paint (becoming quickly addicted and it's cheap too!) and paint, clean antique hardware, and other household items by watching you tube videos as well as home depot and Lowe's videos. I am more of a hands on watch kind of gal, so it seemed better than reading a book. Just fixing something, even something small? Made me feel like I just walked on the moon. Seeing a finished project that I had in my head come into reality? Priceless!<br />
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Now, here comes the honesty........<br />
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Was it easy?<br />
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No.<br />
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Was it easy to navigate the cleaning, the scouring, the tossing of the old and bringing in the new; all while working with my husband who wants to stay two steps behind and three boys who are settled into the "well mom will get it?"<br />
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Hell no.<br />
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BUT, I dug my heels in. I chartered my course, I mapped out one thing at a time and no matter how much stress was going on, I put forth the stress and worked it off by doing projects. Through it all, even when I doubted myself, I found out that I could do a LOT more on my own without anyone's help. I realized then? I was just using the blame game on family members and outsiders as an excuse. As mentioned in the last blog, my new motto this year is "<b>Move forward and Let it Go</b>". That meant for me to stand up to my family, my husband, and everyone else and stick with it. When things got bad, I repeated it in my head. As I tossed out the old, I let go of some old lingering resentment. When I revamped something old we had and made it beautiful? It meant change in my life. My master bedroom is romantic, warm and sexy which appealed to my husband. I noticed the more I stuck to my guns, the more I saw my husband inch just a little closer. Some days, things being out of whack because of painters being here upset him. We thrive on precision, things in their rightful and normal place, and patterns. While this was the hardest part of it all working with him on bringing in changes, and perhaps caused some moods...I am extremely thrilled of my accomplishments, and of his.<br />
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So I am putting it on the record as of today...I am proud of him. I have backed off a little, giving him more chances to make his own decisions, cutting the old apron strings which is needed. I am and will always be there to jump in at a moment's notice but, I want him to feel that same sense of accomplishment. When he said "I really really love the living room", I sighed a breath of relief. He loves it! More importantly, he pitched in. Perhaps my thinking of lead, follow or get the hell out of the way finally may be reaching him. Maybe by my letting go of things are letting him see that I am trying more and that I haven't given up on him or my family. We have decided on some small long overdue projects to do together, realistic ones and time frames that can be adjusted. For the first time, in five years...he admitted there were things he just can no longer do and that's ok. Hell, there are things I can't do! So we have knocked out the bathroom minus the decorating, knocked out the master bedroom, revamped the little ones room, and redid and arranged our living room.<br />
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Out of all this?<br />
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It's for once, starting to feel like a home.<br />
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I think I am going to have my new motto made into a sticker that you put on walls and place it on the wall. I also stopped and spent ten dollars and bought this one to put into the house where everyone in my family can see it every single time they walk in. Here is my new family rules......<br />
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Keep calm and carry on, Say I love you, Trust in yourself and keep your promise. Those are my favorite.<br />
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As of this Summer it's been hectic. I have stepped away from some responsibilities of my volunteer work but, I <i>needed</i> to do this. To my favorite organizations and closest friends? I am sorry I haven't been there to do much but, I needed this time for me. Thank you for understanding and allowing me this time. The exhaustion, the soreness, and the push of adrenaline to get it done has been tough to deal with but, rewarding. Sure, I am going to have bad days and so will my husband. My kids are going to have bad ones as well. But you know what? That's ok. <br />
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So am now going to watch an oldie but goodie movie with my family, kick my feet up and enjoy the time while we have it. I think by August or September, the PEB will be alerting us of retirement and all of the rush will begin again. However, I have in this time, learned to choose and pick my battles in which is something I think we ALL need to learn. It's hard to get in a rut, living a certain way and then changing. If you stick to it though...there are rewards in the end. This Father's Day was really nice and for the first time in a long time, I saw my husband smiling and playing with the kids outside. While I was manning the grill, I smiled and thought "Yes! It's working! Keep moving forward!". I am going to keep this up and see how much more I can learn and how much more comes from it. I am sure we will have some set backs but, we have already been to hell and back.....so we can't go any further down than that. Bad days I will blog but, I thought this positive stuff was needed as well because I needed to show myself that I still believe in myself, in my family and in my husband. It might be a long walk to the top of the hill but, I am willing to take the challenge. </div>
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Carry On and Keep Calm,</div>
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If you haven't heard this song....Listen. It's my favorite and one I sing all the time. It is also my theme song for my husband and I currently. </div>
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<object width="420" height="315"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/GKTjUre_wZo?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/GKTjUre_wZo?version=3&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="420" height="315" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-13267100769387271552013-05-22T05:44:00.000-07:002013-05-22T06:24:58.388-07:00Outsiders, Insiders and The Harsh Reality Of It All<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A few days ago, I received a few emails and one comment I published in regards to my last post. The comment stated "And, PTSD or not, no one should ever be treated like a non-entity or
made to feel worthless! I think you definitely need to start thinking
about doing what's best for YOU now. I'm glad you've had these times in
Las Vegas and NYC in recent months-- but it feels as if your happiest
moments (your only truly happy moments!) are when you are WITHOUT your
husband. While I admire your conviction, sticking with him for so long,
I also hope you can be happy yourself. And it may not be possible, if
you are still playing caretaker to someone who, deep down, doesn't even
appreciate your worth. No matter what you decide, though, I wish you
the best". It was a <u><i>good</i> </u>comment and I appreciate this person's open and honest opinion. "Playing Caretaker" was sort of unfair when what I am <i>is</i> a caregiver providing a service that an otherwise disabled Veteran would be unable to do. Another email stated "I don't know why you put up with all his shit then whine about it in a blog for others to see. PTSD is just an excuse, trust me I know from my first ex who was a Gulf War Vet. You aren't being supportive to other families or wives when you don't show positivity. My husband (now) has cancer but, that's a medical condition and I wouldn't leave him because that's different. I write but I show God's plan and ways to reach others in a positive manner. PTSD is just a bullshit way of saying I served but, I am now lazy". <br />
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<i>Ouch</i>.<br />
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So in between the painters, the kids and my husband's up and down moods; I focused on these two particular comments to keep myself mentally busy and <i>really</i> think about what they said. When I started this blog, I wanted it to be a place where I could say <i>what I wanted</i>, say <i>what or how I felt</i> at the time of my writing, and share our family's story in the nitty gritty. Whether positive influence or not, sometimes that's just not the way life is in some of our cases. I won't make blanket statements because there are many who are showing improvements. Sure, I could say a lot of things positive and never really talk about the bad stuff. However, I feel this is where some are going wrong and in the process, losing soooo many others out there who are afraid to speak up, not understanding what's going on or maybe even just feeling alone. There are times where I focus on things that I am going through that day or an issue I am trying to work out in my head. Doesn't mean there <i>aren't</i> any positives that happen at all, they are just slim. That's the point of this blog. There are many blogs where I have pointed out encouraging things, sweet little things he has done, hope, gains and losses. I bared it all. It is the most difficult life to live especially when the outsiders don't "get it" and you no longer fit in. The "insiders" (meaning family and relatives/friends) are struggling to understand and cope. Sure I could spin some positivity on a whole lot of things but, would that really be the God's honest truth?<br />
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I don't get the chance to write everything out. I wish I could. After thinking about the first comment, perhaps I need to include more positive things that my husband does. Not out of defense because of the comment but, because the comment made me think that perhaps I was being unfair by just concentrating on my own feelings and point of view. The negative things I write it all out, and then cut it loose like a balloon. This is <i>my</i> therapy and a way for me to express what so many others are thinking or going through. It <i>is</i> a way to make me happy and have the ability to read and find answers within my own questions. Sometimes I think by not having that bouncing board in my husband may lead me to think I have no self worth. Or maybe his lack of attention and his distance, makes me feel less of a person. I am working on that. I do agree though that maybe I am wrong by not stating "Hey, he made it to the VA and back without getting into a pissing match with someone". Sometimes when I can't talk things out in my head or with anyone, I focus that on my writing. I try to be open but, I haven't really been fair to my husband and need to say some more of the little things. So for instance, this Mother's Day was my <u>first</u> holiday that he really tried. It was the best one EVER and the nicest since he has been home. He made a big to do on the invite to my favorite restaurant. Wouldn't let me order because he knew what I wanted, ordered for me and we talked for a long time. Since we are working together on our home and starting over fresh, all while agreeing that each thing we do; we cut some emotional baggage loose in the process. Our new motto with my entire family currently is "LET IT GO". We spent four hours in Home Depot getting ideas, choosing tile and just shooting the crap. I forgot to blog and with no internet until this morning, it's kind of hard to get on here all the time.<br />
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Yes, I have, like most military born children...the "wander lust" when it comes to travel. New smells, things, sights, the whole nine yards. Am I happy for that break? Hell yes! Do I feel happier when I am alone? Yes and no. Yes, I need the break and a change from the same old thing day after day. Does it mean that I don't wish my husband with me there? No. I called my husband every step of the way and sent pictures by phone. He said he wanted me to have this break and be happy but, I missed him every single step I took. I don't know sometimes honestly (to the person who left the first comment on the blog) whether it's just coming home to him, or if it's <i>coming home to stress, worries, Army paperwork, and the same routine over and over.</i> Conviction in staying with him is my decision because I do see some light at the end of the tunnel on some days, we have good times albeit rare but, there are things I couldn't walk away from with him. I didn't think that comment was fair but then perhaps, maybe I am not being fair in my writing so I am glad this was said. There is a difference between conviction and wanting to move forward and change the same old routine up just a bit. <br />
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On the other, I am really <i>very very </i>sorry to hear your husband has cancer. I will keep your family in my prayers along with many others. I am not going to get into a pissing contest over who has it worse than others, because to me that's like comparing taxi cabs to airplanes. <i>It just can't be done</i>. PTSD I do believe you need to educate yourself on and maybe understand some more. Then you have to add in the Traumatic Brain Injury before you start throwing the first stones. I have been around some patients with medical conditions that ended up killing them. My mother's untimely death was due to cancer. Towards the last six months? She called me every name in the book, cussed like a sailor, and was so mean that I swear that wasn't my mom. She was angry. Not ready to let go. Didn't want to accept this was it. I didn't get to hear "I love you, or I know you are going to be ok and it's my time to go". Nope. In some ways, I see my mother in my husband some days. I didn't leave her then, so how is this any different? My husband is not willing to accept, let go and understand that this is our life. Brain and Spinal Cord Injury specialists explain that he is not able to accept it because his brain is in just one set mode. <i>That</i> portion I must come to terms with. I don't understand why outsiders think that TBI and PTSD is <i>not</i> an illness/injury and the first thing they say is "leave him/her". So you are saying sticking with it should only be reserved for those in other circumstances? So I am not positive enough, not giving the people who live our lives enough positivity, I get it. But, if I left my husband with cancer, everyone would be horrified. If he had a heart attack...God forbid. With this....this is one of the <u>most common statements</u> we ALL hear when living with PTSD and TBI. <br />
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I feel damned if I do and damned if I don't here on this subject which is why I am writing this one out. If I share my experiences, positive or not, people think I am just trying to become a martyr and putting myself in a precarious situation. "I need to leave and get out before it sucks me in". I got sucked in a long time ago but, there are a lot of things I don't write about like setting boundaries with my husband. He doesn't acknowledge me but, he doesn't acknowledge anyone else either. His sensitivity or lack of, is not just towards me....it's pretty much towards everyone. It's not for lack of effort, it's just the way his brain now works and because no one did anything about it? The specialist said that he will continue to be this way and get worse. There is no implants, no chemo, no radiation, no magic pills to take it away. Why do <i>any</i> of us stay with this?<br />
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Because we still hold on to hope that the war will end at home and they will come home.</div>
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Because like you, you have hope they will get better. </div>
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Silly notion.<br />
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Maybe.<br />
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Still... <i>hope</i> is what keeps us alive and we see those sparks like suddenly out of nowhere wrapping his arms around you. Or on a good day, filling my head with stories and funny comments. There are days where I don't want to <i>move</i> because I am afraid it will take away that single moment, that I will loose that one bright flicker I have at that very moment; a single glimpse standing still in time. It's not conviction, it's love. It's hope. It's fighting for what we believe in and I have three boys who look to me for so much more than just being mom. That few minutes? Makes it worth it. Reality setting in these last couple of days, I think if he wanted to be gone. He would be gone. If he didn't somewhere love me, he would have left a long time ago. <u>Everyone </u>has issues when you live with someone, especially in marriages. I don't think anyone has a "perfect" picture postcard even without any problems hitting their relationship.<br />
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Maybe it won't work out. Maybe it's not meant to be. Maybe I am setting myself up to failure but, it doesn't mean I still can't keep trying though and hanging on to hope. Doesn't mean I still can't go for days to see that one smile or hear his laughter. I just need to write more about it and will do so. I won't give up on him but, I also haven't forgotten myself either. This year major changes have been made and I have dug my heels in. This has led to other issues but, it's for my happiness and it's my time. It is also one of the most difficult things to learn how to do in this life now and one I am trying to teach myself. I am moving forward with my children with or without him BUT, I see some sparks coming to the surface and I hope that by leading....he will find his way to follow. If he doesn't? Doesn't mean <i>I can't</i>. I appreciate the comments because it gave me a few good reasons to stop and think about a few things.<br />
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There are still parts of us that I don't let all out in the public to see, </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-52171933118831496252013-05-08T06:54:00.002-07:002013-05-08T06:54:33.055-07:00Tug of War<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Since my last blog, if anyone read it; It's been mayhem around here as far as life goes. The stomach flu hit the house with the kids and "the Beast" reared it's head a few times. Spring cleaning for me, was much needed in more than a few ways. Sometimes, we get <i>so caught up</i> in our Veteran's lives that we <i>really</i> don't get to see much accomplishments made by <i>ourselves</i> other than what we do for them. While that still counts, I wanted to do a few things for just me. I have been spending some time cutting some baggage loose from the past, letting go of some old regrets and cutting loose some harbored boats of resentment I had been holding on to. I cleaned out the cobwebs but, at the same time.....it seems I really don't feel any better. Cleaning and scouring, made me feel like I had time to think, get my game plan together and try to figure out how to make sense of our crazy lives.<br />
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Our home is starting to come together but as we all know, family and love makes a home. So right now, I feel like I am working on a home but, am homeless. Things between my husband and I are...civil. I show my poker face and cover up the hurt, the tears and the anger I feel. He shows indifference, no acknowledgement of anything going on and we have had a few arguments which is a massive improvement from where we were before but God, I hate fighting with him. I make sure he is taken damn good care of, and I deal with all in between. Last night, it was another word argument and it just felt like I couldn't talk to him without a smart ass remark, a blame back on me, or figuring out ways to avoid. I didn't confront, didn't blame, didn't accuse...just wanted him to know how I felt. Yes, yes, and <i>yes</i>....I know that I will get comments or emails letting me know that we need marriage counseling, we need to try this latest pill to cure all or that we need to find <i>another</i> therapy process. While I appreciate all comments, I want to clarify to all that <u>we have tried it all</u>. I know often, new people come along and read the blog that is the latest or perhaps pick one from the "most popular" list and then give advice on how they worked things out or tell me what we need to do. However, when you don't read from the start and keep going, in all fairness, it's hard to say try this, try that when that's all we have done.....<i>is try</i>.<br />
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I know much of this is his injuries and PTSD but, no matter how much I educate myself it doesn't help heal the wounds, only band aids them. I don't want to give up on him but, it seems he has given up on everything including me. I asked him last night, if he asked himself these questions (Can I call my wife and she be there? Does my wife love me no matter what I have done? Does she back me up when I am right or wrong? Does she care about me and worry? Do I know that she would be there when I am sick, and take care of him?) what would his answers be? It would be a yes on all. On my end of the rope of this endless tug of war game? I can only answer "no" and "I don't know". There are days where I look into the eyes of a stranger and things that I used to know about him, suddenly has changed so much that I really don't know who my husband is anymore.<br />
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We all change. That comes with age, experience (good or bad), wins and losses, and all the lessons learned along the way. When you tie in all this, our life, it just makes it that much harder and sometimes we become jaded, bitter, leery and very cynical. I just wanted this year to get back to me. To be that person in Vegas who was singing as loud as I could and jumping on the bed. I have held my ground on the changes made and wanting to move forward. It just seems that I am wrong with wanting these changes. My children complain because of things being moved or having to help, my oldest son is in that girl phase with the goo-goo eyes and his head up his ass so I get the eye rolling and the huffing. Even Gunny, my husband's service dog, is upset with me over the movement of things in the home especially the cookbook shelving unit that held his beloved snack jar. You know it's pretty bad when the dog is pissed off at you.<br />
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I am <i>trying so hard here</i> because we have spent the last five years frozen in hell and lost in the shuffle. When we finally move, its a little forwards, then backwards and before we know it? We are in a full out tailspin.I just wanted to finally move on. No more looking back in the rear view mirrors, no over the shoulder, no waiting to cap our hands over our asses. Retirement is coming up soon, (guessing this year in the Fall if all goes well) and well, it's just time to cut some of this stuff that is toxic from our lives. I want to be able to breathe and for some reason....it just feels like I am more suffocated now than I ever was. <br />
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Since being diagnosed with PTSD myself, I have learned to walk away from things that are overwhelming. I know some of this is just my issues that I must learn to overcome on my own. However, wanting to move forward and not settling for this life we are living now, shouldn't be anything bad or unwanted. I would think it would be welcomed and with open arms. I don't know if its just because for five years, the tug of war we have been stuck in, has just become a normal for us? When I painted? I felt accomplished although I sucked at it. When I taught myself to caulk? Yeah, I was grinning from ear to ear although I had it all over me and my hair. It was just something different and new. New beginnings, which is what I wanted. I had hoped that if I led forward, then the others will follow. So I am just confused, little hurt and feel like I am on my own.<br />
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I am trying so hard to not give up but I just wish I could see one sign in my husband.<br />
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There are times where he touches me that it still gives me the butterflies. Times where he says something or does something small that warms my heart and makes me love him that much more. I am a woman though and I am one of those whose feelings are worn on my sleeve and one that <i>yearns</i> for that communication, touch and love in my relationship. My husband has always known this about me, still does. So when you spend weeks and weeks on end with silence, it just bothers me. Doesn't seem to bother him at all and that part I just don't understand. You would think by now, with all these books, with all the education, with all the work with other families, I would have at least a freaking clue on how all this works. The truth of the matter is, I don't know shit. That's the truth. I do know that time is slipping by, my kids getting older, and ahem, I am getting older. I don't want life to slip by and die with so many regrets on my last breath. Nothing wrong with a little excitement, nothing wrong with breaking a few rules and definitely nothing wrong with wanting to know my husband loves me. So why do I feel like I am always in the wrong and always the one to blame?<br />
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I'm just tired of being on the end of the rope that is slipping but dammit, still holding on......</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-48193563089583275452013-04-25T07:41:00.003-07:002013-04-25T07:41:56.312-07:00Putting Some Spring Into My Spring<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Where the hell did the time go? </div>
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There isn't enough time to make any excuses, so I will just jump right into it. After my previous so called "pre-mid life crisis" (title given by my oldest son) which landed me tattooed, violet and magenta, highlighted hair and, a <i>desperate</i> need for change....that's exactly what I have been doing. Spring is in the air and the last five years? I have kept saying "This year we will do some <i>serious</i> cleaning out and do the ol' traditional Spring cleaning" which in all <i>reality</i> meant throw a few things here and there away, maybe straighten a closet out a little and just make the usual rounds of cleaning. A day later, that would be the extent of it. The house became depressing and mostly because I am in it much of the time. It was becoming so depressing that it just became deflating to even clean it. We had tester paint squares of color here and there, patches where the kids have hit the walls with toys that we fixed with joint compound, rawhide hoards by the dogs, and dust bunnies that were just downright scary way down deep underneath furniture you never move. You know how it is, once you start digging...you find all kinds of crap! With all the changes I wanted (and I stress the word "I") I decided paint job, a total makeover and some rearranging. We had clothing items that outdated the ages of my children and seriously? Who needs dress clothes which much of the time, we are in house clothes unless we venture out! Anything that didn't get worn in the last 15 years went out the door. That right there, sort of brought me down a little. Not only because half the crap I couldn't fit my butt in to but, it also reminded me of deployment, homecoming and the likes. Military shirts that showed things that had mottoes of "My husband hates camels and sand" etc, and work clothes which only reminded me of what has come and gone. I have decided though, it's time to let some things go physically and mentally.<br />
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So much of my time has been with a painter who in all reality, was super awesome at first. I rather enjoyed the adult conversation and company as much of the time, my husband gives me silence. Starved for different discussions and two days later, led me to believe this nice man is<i> really</i> someone who would be a <i>perfect candidate</i> for Jerry Springer. I thought we had bad luck but, he has far beaten us at the finishing line at life bitch slapping us in the face! At first, I thought he was Superman as he paints faster than a speeding bullet <i>when</i> he gets started but, I believe that would be all the Mountain Dew the man drinks. I don't understand how someone who can paint so fast be as slow as damn molasses getting the job done. I figured by now, we would have everything back up and running and here we sit. This has thus so far, led us to have a literal rat maze in which all of our stuff has been moved pile by pile for us to try and navigate and going on <u>four weeks</u> later? Has led us to not even finishing painting the first top half of a split foyer and let's not even go on the subject of trim. <br />
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Frustration right now doesn't even seem to be the right word to describe what I feel although I am <i>grateful</i> that he cut us a good price on the job and one that neither my husband nor I could complete. It's just clutter, chaos and things being out of whack has led my husband to be bitchy, aggravated and distrusting as he doesn't even like anyone in his house. He doesn't take to change and the worse the change is, like clutter in the way...it seems to set him off more. I try to run a tight ship here because schedules, routine and structure seems to make the "PTSD Beast" more manageable but, this time it has been just a little harder. Anticipating that, I braced myself for the worse but, it has been manageable although stressful. I am feeling like I haven't accomplished as much as I want to. Clothing has been donated, pantries cleaned out, dressers organized, cabinets straightened and more. All those places that you think <i>once</i> in a blue moon "damn, I <i>really</i> need to probably clean that out?" but never do? Yeah, that's clean too. It's a pretty good excuse that has kept me from blogging and doing my regular Facebook rounds although I do feel guilty about being behind.<br />
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I've gotten a lot of emails, facebook messages and truthfully? I would like to answer every single one. It was suggested I hire a virtual assistant but, I am a broke ass and well, I feel if you write to me then I must get back to you because you did take the time and it <i>should</i> be from me. Time is a precious commodity these days and with the three boys and husband, house, Army and everything in between? I don't know when I have had time to schedule in sleep let alone anything else. Lately, I have found that the news on television/online not only sets my husband off terribly but, leads to more paranoia, talks of guns, politics and it all leads back to war with many. I don't mind listening to anyone who wants to talk but, sometimes I just get tired of seeing the same thing <i>over</i> and <i>over </i>again. It becomes depressing, redundant and I leave feeling unfulfilled. With the most recent news lately of the Boston Bombings, North Korea, Ricin letters being sent; I have decided to walk away from the computer and that was fairly easy since half my stuff is misplaced with this never ending paint job. Can't say I<i> truly</i> absolutely miss any of it. <br />
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Some on Facebook have taken the bombing so seriously that it has led to listening to police scanners, updating every five minutes and well, to be honest, it just all reminds me so much of the September attacks. Combine that with talks of nuclear warfare with Korea, and all the other bad things....it makes me sort of panicky all over again and I don't like that feeling. I wish the news would equal out with negatives and positives but, I guess life doesn't work that way. My mind and heart is already unsettled at the moment dealing with our usual yearly bouts of "crap" that my husband pulls. Seems like we have arguments just like everyone else, we have issues just like everybody else but, just <i>one time a year</i>.....there is a time where the big guns come out and he wants to play hard. It's always something out of the blue, something I am never expecting or prepared for, something he never says he is sorry for and something he feels no remorse for. That part I don't understand and those are the times where I just can't cope that well, can't sleep any better and much of the time, I stay confused, worried and unsure of not just him but, myself. Sometimes I wonder if I am doing everything wrong and just not know it? Or is it him and I am just not understanding what's going on. With the recent changes, it meant some happiness for <i>me</i> and for the first time...I <i>really </i>did look forward to sprucing up the old homestead. I wanted our home to be pretty, clean, and nice to be in. I wanted to find comfort, peace and have that sense of accomplishment. One of those where you finally feel like you are at home <i>home</i>. Two weeks ago, my husband began to word vomit and although I have kept him in the loop and included him, the response was "It's MY house" which kind of took the gusto out of me. <br />
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Seems like since Iraq, everything is his and I really don't have that much that is just literally mine. I never really knew or understood why he feels the need to battle over things that should just be automatically considered "ours' since we are married and, I have never looked at <i>anything</i> I have or owned as solely mine. Along with the stupid mistakes again this year, hurtful word vomit, it made me just want to give up, throw in the towel and call it quits on trying period. I sometimes wish that you could Spring Clean relationships. Clean out the bad, get rid of some baggage, clean out some regrets, scrub some tarnished souls, bring in some good changes and just try and be happy. I always try to look at everything all at once and rationalize his behavior but, there are times where even I am at a loss with him. I know he is losing his therapist which only took us <i>five years</i> to find and one that he feels comfortable with and trusts. It will be hard to find someone else and, I know that starting all over again will be hard and uncomfortable too. He doesn't play well with others, so group therapy option is out of the question. The Vet Center has just a couple of guys here and the ones he like, now run a mobile van so they aren't in the office. Not sure what we are going to do now. I attributed much of his behavior due to the changes not just in the house but me as well, combined with the news of him losing his therapist. <br />
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Sometimes I wonder though....is it because I have found happiness and he begrudges that? Was it my dancing in the house to some music, smiling while I mopped or perhaps the weariness was because of pure unadulterated progression <i>forward </i>and for once, not backwards? Sometimes I just don't have any answers and I doubt anyone does. <br />
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Then to top it all off, the unit calls because since they had to extend his time to get through the PEB, they finally give him a call in regards to dental and medical work up through the Army which all of us know is standard issue anytime you sign up, extend or re-up. They only extended us for six months because the Army claims that will be how long it takes to get completed. After five years of waiting, that last part should not even be words that is stated to us.<br />
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As the unit did their call to find out where the paperwork was on the med/dental, not one question of "So how are things?", or "how are you doing buddy?" nothing came up of the sort. I know it bothered my husband sorely because this Captain, used to be his LT and a good friend. It was just a quick "where's the shit we need and we are working on getting your shit together to get you out". <i>That's it</i>. Fifteen years of service, and not even a "hey, how are you?". There's that "Family" we loved so much. It's hard being the spouse with someone who has these injuries because you always have to try and find that perfect balance and explain things. Kind of like children when they run into someone who said something mean. It's pretty much the same thing and often, I try but, there just isn't anything that can help make the anger go away or as my husband says "the plague" which is pretty much how they act. We were told three years ago, that Wounded Soldiers are supposed to have a monthly check in by their unit or at the very least, quarterly. We haven't heard from anyone unless they need something then all of a sudden we are supposed to rush to get it to them. I laughed from the irony because as much as the Army has rushed us with everything over the past year, we get an email stating that the PEB finally now has his paperwork and oh by the way, probably won't hear anything back for another five months.<br />
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Five months?<br />
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We just went through hell getting our ID cards done, and then there was a mess up with DOD and our insurance, and now we got to go through this again because they only extended him six months. My question was why didn't they just extend a year because pffft...hell we all know everything is back logged right now. Nah, they got this under control and work pretty quickly we were told. "You should be medically retired in three months"/ Uhhh huh. Somehow, the painter and the Army should be working together as much as I have heard of this "hurry up and got ya covered".<br />
<br />
Shame on me for being so sarcastic. I blame the Easy Off Oven fumes, and Lysol cleansers that have probably soaked into my skin and is now in the blood stream. So here we all sit waiting. Can't transfer GI Bill until we get the PEB paperwork. Can't move my furniture or my stuff put back up until the paint is done. I can't rearrange my bedroom because all the overflow is in there and well, it's just a mess.When things are out of whack, my husband gets out of whack. When that happens, it doubles my stress load and well, then I begin to feel antsy. I also would like to finish because I spent ALL that time freaking cleaning to get ready for the painter and do you know how hard it is with three boys and three dogs to keep things <i>that</i> clean? Virtually impossible.<br />
<br />
Today though. I am taking a day off. I have done nothing but worked in the house for the past month and the break from the internet has been nice. I needed to seriously get some of these things done and I realized that I sometimes just get so scattered that I end up here, there and then all of a sudden I realize I got nowhere. So I tackled one room at a time, and challenged myself to get that one room in particular done. Before I knew it, I didn't stray, didn't get on Facebook or the computer. I just cleaned. My next project is to rearrange the bedroom and I would like to start it soon too but, there again....everything that didn't fit in other rooms overflowed into the bedroom.<br />
<br />
I have plans that I want to finally do this Summer like start that support group, write more and take more time for myself. It was one of those things I came back with from my respite care; just time for me and me only. I finally am reading some long overdue books, I haven't even watched that much TV except on Wed nights for my ghost hunting fix and of course, Duck Dynasty. I guess I am channeling my inner redneck with the latter but, I enjoy the sarcasm, humor and family issues. Makes me miss my brothers and sisters though, and all the drama, the fighting and the love bickering we did as children. <br />
<br />
That's where I am right now. Trying to find me, trying to do things for me and deciding that sometimes my husband is just going to have to not control every aspect of our lives as a family. I hate doing things without him although he does things without us all the time. We, the kids and I though, feel guilty though if we do think about doing something knowing dad can't go for this reason or that. I think though it's about time we change that. Maybe I am impending because I am keeping things too scheduled, too expected and too predictable. I feel like it has brought me down and I don't like the person I am becoming. Spring cleaning is just an excuse to teach myself that self discipline, give me that sense of accomplishment and hell, even learn a few new things like caulking. Never done it before but, I figured it out and I was quite proud of myself! Silly I know but, it's the small joys in life that we are looking for these days.<br />
<br />
If I missed messages or emails, it's not that I am intentionally disregarding everyone. It's just that for the last five years? I have been everything to everyone at every single time and that becomes tiresome. Things that need to be done or things I want to do, get put aside. I realized I am only one person and sometimes, I just need to be me. Even if that means caulking and shaking my ass to a beat of a really cheesy 80's song all while singing along as loud as I can. My husband will probably never let me go on respite care ever again BUT in all fairness? This need in me has been there for a long time. It's like a slow, burning flame that you just can't seem to tame no matter how much you stomp on it. I think once the house is done, I may just try to keep going on certain things for myself and stick to that routine so it sticks. I know that it's one of the hardest things we as caregivers learn in this life, is how to maintain ourselves so am still in the learning process. I have learned though, to put a list together to accomplish for the day and one that is not so high in expectations that I fall flat on my face. I figure if we do that for our Veterans we care for, it would only make sense that the same be applied to us. I learned to do one thing at a time and get that one particular thing done before moving on to the next item. This organization has helped me a lot mentally as I find I am not so frazzled out and not so confused!<br />
<br />
I will try to blog more but today? I am taking the day off, have an Extreme Coupon Marathon (my little one absolutely loves the show. Don't ask me why because I have no idea!) and a nap is in order for the both of us until the rest of the younguns walk in the door! I will hopefully get back to my normal routine but, going to be changing that around too.<br />
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Change is in the Air, </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-4622550705099576242013-03-13T19:46:00.002-07:002013-03-13T19:46:39.252-07:00Words, Words, Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Words: a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">unit</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">of</span> </span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/language">language</a><span id="hotword">, <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">consisting</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">one</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">more</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">spoken</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">sounds</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">their</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">written</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">representation,</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">that</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">functions</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">as</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">a</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">principal</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">carrier</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">of</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">meaning. </span></span><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;"><span class="dnindex"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword"></span> </span></span></span></span></i></div>
<div class="dndata" style="text-align: center;">
<i><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">speech</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">or</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">talk:</span> </span><span class="ital-inline"><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">to</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">express</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">one's</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">emotion</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword">in</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">words;</span> </span></span> </i><span class="ital-inline"><i><span id="hotword"><span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">Words</span> </span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mean">mean</a></i><span id="hotword"><i> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">little</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">when</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">action</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">is</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">called</span> <span id="hotword" name="hotword" style="color: #333333; cursor: default;">for.</span></i></span></span></div>
</blockquote>
<br />
Words are probably one of those things in life we take for granted, overlook, overuse, abuse and are both in the wrong and right category to someone, at any time and any place. What side are words on <i>really</i>? There never seems to be in this life, a right or wrong way to portray what we <i>really</i> feel or what we endure. Some words are chosen for one person but, another person can find a <i>million</i> other words to portray what that single person wracked their brains trying to figure out. <i>Powerful</i>, words can be but, like the dictionary says "mean little when action is called for". Rather <i>amazing</i> our language isn't it? They can heal, they can soothe, they can release a variety of emotions but, they can also cut deep and cause pain that it emotional and physical. They can be full of joy, love and then hate, jealousy and malice. They can be the first from a child's mouth but, then can be a last confession or goodbye from a dying breath. They can give someone a name, a title, stardom, recognition and at the same time, give someone a reputation, a brand, a mark on an otherwise unmarked person. Words can build hope and empires but, they can also break you down and crumble a civilization. So <i>many</i> to choose from, so <i>many</i> to flip through but, nothing sounds right.<br />
<br />
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<i>Or at least to me. Not right now. </i></div>
<br />
It's been a bad week. Full of ups, more downs and everything gets so jumbled up in my head at night, that I struggle to sort it all out. Things again blew up today with my husband that wasn't even necessary. Something so small and lack of communication turned into a shouting match. He did something behind my back and it wasn't so much <i>the act</i>, but the lack of trust I have in him. A broken promise, a single word of trust was a lie. That part angered and truly hurt me the most. He lured me in with some kind words, I took the bait and bam! It began. It seems these days all he wants to do is scream and yell. What I want is to actually talk and have a conversation that is important, or hell, not even talk at all. I <i>hate </i>he knows the right words to find what buttons to hurt me with but, all the wrong word to say to <i>encourage</i> or to show feelings. I hate that words can't be found to the point where I can no longer speak to him. All of these words I can spew forth and turn on the verbal faucet and yet, couldn't even find the right words to relay to my husband. Because his anger has increased, so has his foul language and the yelling. In return, I just basically shut down these days or yell back to stop yelling at me. I sometimes wish we could just shut up, run away, lock ourselves away in a small cabin with <i>nothing more</i> than necessity items, a fireplace, duct tape and a really big ass tub.<br />
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<i>Most of all? No words to be spoken at all. </i></div>
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I got to thinking about how <i>powerful</i> words were the other day on Facebook when a conversation happened over one single word between two friends. Both had <i>very</i> valid points, and I always like to look and analyze from both sides. One remarked about an article being released on "Caregiver Burden" in regards to the Phase One of he Dole Foundation Study done on Caregivers and, she said she never felt like it was a "burden". That word to them, was chosen to be taken out of their vocabulary. I thought that was interesting because in our home, certain words are not used either. I honestly, have <i>never</i> really paid much attention to what the media says because half the time its distorted, misused, misquoted and sensationalized. Her remark made me think about anything being a burden in my home. On the other hand, another dear friend remarked that with the media, using other choice words like "Military Caregivers are being <u>Inconvenienced</u>" wouldn't help pass legislation. So there we go back to the right words but portraying it in the wrong way or the wrong words being used to call into action which would have to be right because that's the only way. I guess I am not really making any sense but, their conversation sparked a fire in my mind that this is how it is with my husband and I. I say one thing, he says the other and before we know it; words are flying all over the place and they are neither wrong or right. <br />
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<i>Sometimes with all my words, I wish I could find the right words my husband needs to hear. </i></div>
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I often wonder if my husband is even there anymore to sincerely "hear" me as I speak. Or if it just comes out, goes in to his brain and somehow gets jumbled? Why must even nice things or effort on my part suddenly for him, turn into a personal attack? I try so very hard to accept his injuries, am pretty knowledgeable about it, but at the same time, I just don't really "get it". He doesn't really "get" me either. I learn every day, or at least try my best to. I used to think that by not saying anything at all, it meant acceptance. That silence meant that you accepted whatever it was going on, whether it be right or wrong. Now sometimes all I <i>wish for</i> is silence and no words on the computer, the phone, the television, the kids and the list goes on. From him though....all I want is just words that are filled with something more than emptiness, hate and hopelessness.<br />
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For the first time two weeks ago and again reminded today, I realized I no longer see my "husband" at all anymore or <i>anywhere</i>. I don't recognize his voice, is actions, his thinking. Nothing. It's like he just disappeared. I don't understand how in a matter of just a few months, that suddenly we are changing this <i>drastic</i> and here I am left to figure it all out. Some ask me "how can I help?". While appreciated, I <i>honestly</i> don't know. Is it <i>possible</i> he is right that he is too far gone to be saved? If he<i> truly</i> believes that, is he completely a lost soul forever? <br />
<br />
I promised him once upon a time that I would never let him down. I haven't. Not once. I also promised that I would never allow him to become just another statistic in a file cabinet somewhere only known as "last four of his social". Sometimes I wonder if I set my standards too high. Maybe I promised too much and now my biggest fear is that I am slowly losing him, watching him get further and further away from us and failing at my promises. If there was any backing to the word <i>Burden</i> in our world of PTSD and TBI as Caregivers, to me, this is <i>my</i> burden. The burden of promising and the fear of failure. I know sometimes he pushes me away, hurts me so I will walk away thinking in the long run he is saving me. Little does he know that while yes, it does hurt.....he is only hurting himself.<br />
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<i>Today, I had no words left to speak to him on the phone. None. I didn't now what to say so I just simply hung up. </i></div>
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Chicken shit way out, I know. Nothing pisses him off more than my hanging up on him and man, does he hold grudges and punishes you by not speaking to you because you hung up. However, his hang ups on me don't apparently count in his double standards. Now we can't even talk to each other. My best friend, who I shared <i>everything</i> with, <i>always </i>talked to, <i>never lied </i>to and <i>never hid </i>anything behind his back..is just simply gone. Therapy at the VA to him , he seems to think its working but, I see <i>no</i> improvements but, far more worse behavior. I don't believe he is being honest or talking about any of these issues with his therapist at all. That's ok but at the same time, I want him to succeed in life and to get to a point where he can just be at ease. I see so much in him that <i>still </i>can be saved and yet, he is so ready to give up. All I can wonder tonight is.......were we, as his wife and children, not enough to stand up and fight for like we did for him?<br />
<br />
Words can torture a soul, shatter a mind in a million ways but, tonight? I can't think of one single word that describes my hurt, distrust, losses, and pain. The long winded blogger, Uncle Sam's Mistress, has simply run out of words to say period. It scares me completely and no one here really cares or understands. I keep thinking if I keep trying, just <i>one more</i> time, just<i> one more</i> time...he will see. Yet, he never does. He never hears me and for the life of me.....I don't know what I did to deserve this. At least if you have an answer you can cope, but this? There is nothing more than unanswered questions, second guesses and picking yourself apart to see what you could have done wrong. To beat it all, even after geting this off my chest this evening...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I still can't find the right or wrong words to say to him, so I shall say nothing at all. </i></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-45582657076891159522013-03-11T06:33:00.000-07:002013-03-11T07:18:49.106-07:00Picking Your Battles<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So yeah, it's been a rough few weeks apparently, from my last blog posted. Things have though, <i>thankfully</i>, calmed down <i>a bit</i> although my husband thinks he needs to "think about some things and get his head figured out". I am not <i>really</i> sure what that means but, I get it. We have been civil to each other but, no more meetings on the battlefield. There have been some nice efforts made on his part but, he sees no wrong in anything he said or did. That part bothers me the <i>most</i>. He dodges anything that relates to "us" so our kids are really the only thing we have that keeps us on mutual ground. I still feel like I am being blamed for something, being pushed away for God knows what and still have no clue what's going on with him. I think out of all of it? The blame hurts the worse especially when there is no reason I can find. He thinks he is beyond saving and I see much more left to save.<br />
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<i>How's that for controversy? Try finding "compromise" in that statement. </i> </div>
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<br />
I wonder from time to time, if love can't save our Veterans then, what <i>really</i> does? Is there more out there we can do? Then from time to time, I put all my frustrations and heartaches into fighting for him and others. I really don't see myself as an advocate. I try to write to help others but, <i>advocacy</i> is such a strong word and often, I shy away from it. Hell, I am a volunteer with <a href="http://familyofavet.com/">Family of a Vet</a>, a friend that I've had for five years now and I can't seem to do enough! I try to help where I can but, at least she knows if she <i>needs</i> me, I've got her back or at the very least, bail money. I'm so proud of her and all her work she does along with all of our bloggers. I spend most of my pain, fighting back against what is wrong, putting all my strength into pushing for what was earned, and then battling the system as if I have nothing to lose. Right now, I wonder if I possibly just fought <i>too much</i>, and did it lead me into this situation and my husband? Maybe he figured I just left him behind. although supportive, he uses it against me when he is angry. It's why sometimes, I stay unsure of myself. I don't think he realizes that he was the reason I fought so hard. Leave no man behind right? Isn't that what we are all taught in the military? I really don't know what to think because well, I am somewhat lost on this whole part of it.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>I am still continuing with my personal vendetta with myself and placing some challenges for me to complete</i>. </div>
<br />
I went ahead and did the radio interview with Dick Gordon, with <a href="http://thestory.org/">The Story</a>, in which my husband was supportive of. I enjoyed this experience immensely and thought for the first time in a long time albeit nervous, that maybe my self doubt is just coming from not knowing what direction I am going in. I am usually the lady with the plan, the poker faced Mistress with a few aces up her sleeves and a crap load of Jokers. I can pretty much keep that bluff for a long time, making even myself believe that I got it figured out. Honestly though, sometimes I have<i> no </i>idea. I also blame being a Virgo in all this mess and possibly still revisiting the whole menopause/demon possession as well. During the radio interview, I felt comfortable like <i>maybe</i> I was supposed to be there. All I can hope for is no back lash like I have had in the past for what I say; which is usually the non-sugar coated version of our lives. It was a good day. I drove home listening to my Ipod, belting out a few tunes, smiling at the fact I spun in the office chair in the studio and drank water from a cup that said "Life is Young". I decided that day, you know what? I am not going to just hide behind my computer. I need to get out more and just do more things. I almost decided to get rid of the purple and magenta highlights but, somehow it just suits me and it's still my hostage negotiation. I am afraid if I go back, I go back three steps personally. Still have the purple toenails, and polka dotted nails. Might change that up a bit. So keeping to the 101 challenge and adding on to my list. This time, for no one but myself.<br />
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<i>It's been a long time coming but, maybe that's what scaring my husband? </i></div>
<br />
I came home that one fine afternoon to a virtual storm of emails, MEB appeals denied and an upset husband. I have to tell you, I think battling the VA was <i>much</i> <i>easier</i> than navigating the Army's system of the Medical Evaluation Board. It makes no sense, the requirements you must jump over while doing a hand stand and the paperwork; it's no wonder why people give up, don't understand how to do it, and how they get screwed over so badly. I spent my whole day yesterday trying to figure out this mess and why they denied our appeal which is the <u>residuals </u>of the TBI, his back and knees and why they only want to put him out for PTSD. It seems the Army wants to only look at one day, in 2007 when our guys landed back home. One day, in which all their injuries were documented, promised to be taken care of, then just like that....<i>disappeared</i>. According to what I read in the denial in response to the appeal, which by the way, a third grader could have made more sense in writing it, it seemed to me they disregarded the last five years of medical records. It's all there. We rolled the dice, took the gamble and went with an Independent Medical Review to look over everything and base their opinion.<br />
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<i>There you go, sometimes you just have to take chances even when the odds are against you. </i></div>
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Now why is it a gamble? Because it can go against you or for you is how it was explained to us by JAG. You could have one doctor having a <i>really</i> bad day, the kind where they think "screw it. I'll just flip through this and say whatever". You are basically asking a doctor, who is on the outside and has no knowledge before hand or nothing to do with your case, to look everything over and say yay or nay. Well, we rolled that dice and it turned out that the doctor not only verified, backed it all up with her opinions in our favor but, also added two more diagnosis's. I figured, this cats in the bad. Wrong.<br />
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The Army wants to go back to six years ago, on the day of landing and because his records have nothing there they just want to deny everything based on one day. Tell me that makes any sense at all. It took everything I had to keep the rage I felt under control because the records they are looking at are the only ones they have, because <i>WE</i> gave it to them. I swear, if I had a nickel for every time someone said "how strange is it that they have lost everything not just once, but several times?", "well, your husband's case is a backwards one" and "holy hell what a mess!", I would take that money and find me a <i>really</i> good ambulance chaser who would sue the Army for negligence, lying, covering it up, abuse, complete disregard for soldier's personnel records and then there is the safety concerns we have. If they lost <i>all </i>these records for these soldiers, <i>who</i> has them and <i>who</i> has <i>access</i> to the information?<br />
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<i>Then everyone wants to know why we trust no one and demand copies of everything. </i></div>
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We are now on our 3rd PEBLO which isn't really helping matters since the last one left this one a pile of mass confusion in an already overloaded caseload. If I ever locate our last one, I got a few things to say to him. We tried to express our concerns, our questions and even did a conference call with her, our military caseworker and Federal Reserve officer and <i>somehow</i> in all that....apparently she fell asleep. This week though, I had to suck up the pride all while listening to her lies, excuses and appeal to her woman to woman just fighting for their husbands. I am not sure that worked or not. We shall see. I really don't know exactly what a PEBLO does, or maybe the job descriptions that are listed and from what everyone tells me they are; doesn't seem to be any guidelines the ones we have had are following, After clearing up some questions she had, it finally hit her like Ah hah! I incurred a few bangs against the wall while on the phone, a nosebleed while further banging my head against the keyboard, a much needed Xanex and the consideration of just becoming an alcoholic (just a joke so please don't send me emails in regards to my alcoholism).....perhaps we <i>might</i> be one further step ahead with this one. The debate is still out though and I am not holding my breath.<br />
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<i>It's been a nightmare. One I want to finally just wake up from and be done.</i></div>
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From my earlier posts and with the power of the internet, my open invitation to General Talley got a response. He was pretty upset with me in a closed response and that's ok. I deserved it and so did he. So I think we are even on the playing field. I probably wasn't nice and after re-reading it, I realized blogging and a bottle of wine probably <i>wasn't</i> the wisest choice. However, he <i>did</i> say that he could be contacted and see he could help. It's a little too late now and I have contacted him before with no response from his office or the people who work in there telling me to go somewhere else. I normally don't attack people without a warranted and previous burned experience. Now that we have someone else from the unit coming forward with the exact same story and lost records, no awards etc, I feel better about telling him all. So that is my next project. It might be too late for us but maybe it might alert him to some issues that are there for the others. I figure if I run into the same run around from his office like before, I will mail the same letter every week until someone answers. <br />
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I would just like someone to say "I'm sorry. I wish I had known then to help you" but then, I think I would rather have them do something to make it easier. I am tired of fighting. The Mistress will of course, apologize because after reading that post I realized I came out the fences with my boxing gloves on, fueled by courage, wine, hurt and anger in a comment he made and I wasn't probably fair to him to be honest. I still stand by the rest of my open invitation. I just don't like people telling me the Army is our family because we have learned <i>very</i> quickly that family shuts their doors and all of you have agreed so I know that I am not being just a hard ass that no one can get along with. That's the truth and, perhaps once he knows our story and others, maybe he will understand <i>why</i> I extended the invitation to come and visit his "family". I am still getting emails out of the wazoo from different Army departments just sympathizing but, some that truly want to do something. I wish I had all the hours in the world so I could get caught up. <br />
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With much of the MEB, I am going to have to pick some of the battles. Me being the person I am, I want to fight in them all but, deep down I know I just can't. I know some of it will be denied, some won and some lost. It's just the way it is. I am just going to have to accept that and, so will my husband. I've been fueled by <i>sheer desperation</i>, what is right and wrong an most of all? The fear of letting him down when the rest of the world did. It's time to accept that I can't win them all and some battles, even if just small...will have to be accepted as major wins especially in this life.<br />
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<i>Doesn't mean I didn't try like hell though to win them all. </i></div>
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After talking to our JAG, I appealed to him as a person to me as a person; just two human beings, shooting the shit. I was nice, and I explained why I won't give up and he explained what my best options are. I know their jobs are tough. I asked him how does he do it? Haven't you ever wondered how these guys and girls do these jobs <i>every </i>day and then go home to sleep at night? I have. I don't think I could do it at all. I know all of them are overloaded, buried under red tape, dead lines and cases that are lengthy that don't get closed can be very detrimental to that caseworker. I read quite a bit and am not the average joe blow and I always try to be fair, for all sides......until they piss me off and talk down to me. One question I always ask them is "wouldn't <i>you</i> do this for <i>your</i> spouse or would you just lie down and give up?". I joked and told him with as much spit fire as I have, I should have been a lawyer. He told me it was never too late. Who knows?<br />
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In other news in my crazy antics, my participation in the Dole Foundation paid off with the release this week of Phase One of the Rand Study on Military Caregivers and Families of our Veterans. I can say, with deep pride, this is one small step but what a huge jump it will give all of us in the future. It's been splashed all over the internet, all over the news and we have some exciting stuff coming with all this. You can view it here <span class="userContent"> <a href="http://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/research_reports/RR200/RR244/RAND_RR244.pdf" rel="nofollow nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.rand.org/content/dam/rand/pubs/research_reports/RR200/RR244/RAND_RR244.pdf</a> in the PDF format, so you don't have to pay for it. I know many of the VA's read my blog (yes, I can see you on here ;) ) Please read as it might help you get some stats. I think besides this blog, doing a few news reports, I am most proud that my voice is in that Rand Study. It was long overdue and hopefully it will help later down the road. </span><br />
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<span class="userContent">I am currently trying to take a few things at a time, one day at a time and choosing my battles. I am very weary and sometimes in this world of ours? It can become very monotonous to breathe, eat, sleep, dream and live PTSD, TBI, War and all that comes with it. I will try to help my husband sort out what's going on in his head and help where I can with his thinking he is too far gone. Mostly though? I think I have carried him far enough and some of this, he will have to learn to stand on his own. I realized that much of the time, I can only stand back and watch him fight his own war. It is one of the hardest things to do but, at the same time, I have myself and my children to carry too. I am working on starting my support group in the area, tossing some ideas around (keeping myself grounded though Miss Torrey on the ideas) and even pitched in with a new group called <a href="http://www.warriorchef.org/index.html">Warrior Chef</a>. I have always liked to cook, been a been there, done that on trying to feed a family of five on a small budget and he is a dear friend of mine. It's different, it's fun and I like his spunk to get out there and just do it! Although I am many states away, I would like him to succeed in this program. I am also doing this for me. I secretly always wanted to write a cookbook so maybe this will pacify my need for that dream that slipped by. </span><br />
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<i><span class="userContent">Know it doesn't take much to burn both ends of the candle out quickly. </span></i></div>
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<span class="userContent">So warrior wife to those out there reading; my tip of the day is that sometimes you just have to step back. If feelings get hurt, or someone gets mad. Hell, let them get mad or hurt. Whatever is not done on that small list for the day? It will still be there tomorrow. Get out there and do something just for yourself. Spin in an office chair, do something crazy you normally wouldn't do, and learn to pick your battles. There will always be battles in this life and there will always be victories and losses. Sometimes though, you just have to the strength to stand up, wave the white flag and walk away in order to save your sanity. Know and understand that sometimes there is absolutely nothing we can do to help fight the battles in our Veteran's heads except be there to support, love and encourage. It doesn't make us failures I decided, it just makes us that much stronger.......</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>"To fight and conquer in all our battles is not supreme excellence;
supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without
fighting."</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Sun Tzu</span></div>
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<span class="userContent"><br /></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-23838346284234151042013-03-03T19:29:00.001-08:002013-03-03T19:29:32.797-08:00And We All Fall Down.....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I wanted to write this blog with everything I have to let go of the hurt and pain I am currently feeling. It's been a <i>verbal</i> WWW III here the last week. Assaults from left and right, from behind and from the front; never knowing where they were coming from nor could I run from it. There was no safety zone for either of us and when I began to come under attack, I finally broke loose myself. I let loose my frustrations, my concerns and all the things I <i>needed</i> to say but <i>never</i> did. If you ever owned a pressure cooker and have seen one explode? There you have my husband and I. Six years of built up pressure, exploding. He pulled an arsenal he has built apparently of many years, venom that he has stored and I never thought anyone could be so mean in my life. So many hurtful things were said, not just on his part but my part too when I couldn't handle anymore hits. I don't know what hurts worse.....saying what he did, or saying what I did. It was both our faults When there was silence, an Arctic wind blew from his direction and chilled me to the bone. I walked away with guilt hanging around my neck for finally letting all of it loose but, also because I am just not a mean person. He might as well stabbed me, because the sword of hate he swung so swiftly cut me to the bone. <br />
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I can't even remember when or how it started.<br />
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Stupid isn't it?<br />
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Until three days ago, there were no tears that would come. The past months I have gone to my bed alone, waiting for him to follow but, he never came. No response to my "Good Night", no "I love you" and waiting for <i>something</i> to come out of him. <i>Something</i>. <i>Anything</i>. My bed companion was confusion, anger, hurt and loneliness. I didn't understand what had I done? Did I forget to do something? Was it me? The questions just kept coming and I found I wasn't sleeping. Quite a crowd to sleep in one bed with, but in all honestly, its been that way a long time. The only comfort I had was the dogs, the shadows and noises from outside. Finally though, after the war started, ending with no winner declared; the dam broke and it seems I have done <i>nothing</i> but cry. Now that the tears have finally stopped, the smoke has cleared and all is said and done. I am finally understanding a few things and some I don't know <i>what the hell </i>it is or why it happened. I <i>must</i> write or I will self implode as the pain is just <i>this </i>much. I <i>never</i> thought anyone could <i>hurt</i> this <i>badly</i>. I didn't think my heart could never be broken into a million pieces because it was never whole for a long time anyway. I guess I had more there than I thought. <br />
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I had a <i>LOT</i> more than what I thought because the hurt just won't stop. The emptiness I feel is hollow and sickening. I guess I didn't do a good enough job of protecting myself, I didn't love him less; my walls just weren't built that high. <br />
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It's been a rough couple of years, there is no lying about that. Last year had some bumps but, more of it was me just picking my own battles with him; choosing wisely which ones to argue about and ones to ignore. Thinking back, perhaps I ignored because I honestly just couldn't fight anymore, maybe I just didn't want to know, perhaps I just couldn't add anything more to my plate. Some days I would bite my tongue til it bled inside my mouth, other days I would just think over and over again the day will end and maybe tomorrow will be better. Issues of avoidance became so unbearable that when my middle son came home one day and asked me if I was a single parent, I just crumbled inside. It was a question with a sharp edge to it. The kind that sliced you down to the quick. How does one answer that to a six year old? If it was just me, I could handle the avoidance much easier but it was to the point where the kids never would see him but maybe a couple of hours a week. <br />
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I thought my respite break would give us some time apart, some time for him to see all that I do and how stressful it can be. He was blinded and chose not to see anything, not even really missing me like I had hoped. Looking over the verbal assaults, the arsenal of hurtful things he set traps for, for me to fall in...it seems like my respite care has spawned some issues but, in all honesty to my readers....its been this way since New Year's Eve. There were days he could have been rightfully mad at me for telling him the truth. I said some things out of anger, I will admit it. Overall though? I think I have done more than my share to carry the burden without asking for help, without having someone to lean on for support and without anyone to catch me when I fell. I allowed him to use his injuries as excuses for things he could have helped. I fought so hard for him not to give up that I am tired. How does one keep a hold on someone who doesn't want to help himself? You just can't. As they fall, you see yourself falling further and further away. <br />
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Other days, he found things in his head to be mad at. There were days where I really resented his attitude, his verbal meanness towards me because I had given him everything and for what? To be drugged down with him? To not allow me to talk about my day or to smile? To feel guilt because we did something without him? With him, I will admit he had the right to be angry when some things were true when I pointed out the obvious. Others were colorfully pictured by I don't know what. PTSD? TBI? Some things he just made up or distorted just so he could be angry at me. How does one be so cold; so full of rage and hate, selfishness and anger that they <i>create</i> things to be mad at you about? I have run into some people that I dislike. I can also admit that. There are some people I just don't immediately like and stay away from. My grandmother called it the "knows" and said to rely on those senses because some people can just see the evil in others. It was a gift. <br />
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So how the <i>hell</i> did I miss this in my husband?<br />
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I pushed him forward to keep him from giving up. To not allow him to wallow in pity, worries about what the future will bring all while he pushed me further away.<br />
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So is this my fault? Did I just push him forward only to find an empty drop off a cliff? <br />
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I am <i>not</i> perfect. There is no one that is perfect. What I ask for in return is a marriage that is 50/50. While I know there are injuries that play havoc on his many moods and personalities, I ask that he cut me some slack because I carry so much. I ask for some communication, work together as a team but allow each to find their own niche. I don't breathe down his neck. I allow him room and encourage when he needs it the most. I do expect him to be with his family sometimes. Show his kids he cares, because right now? We are all under the same vote that he hates us.<br />
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Somehow, asking for some compassion that he can show others; he is incapable of showing me is too complicated. Attention he gives to others while he wears this fake mask of normalcy that he can wear with ease, is too hard to fake here at home. There are friends, people in town that would never know that he had anything wrong with him. He tries so hard to pretend, so hard to be the old person he was and it just can't be done. After a while, that mask is going to slip. What I don't understand is, is with my children and I? We don't ask for <i>anything</i> more than who he is now. We <i>accept </i>who he is, his injuries, we don't expect him to <i>fake anything at all</i>. The one small group of four, love him and care for him, even when he uses us to wipe his muddied boots all over. He doesn't have to overshoot and fake anything, doesn't have to hide, but at the same time....why is it we get all the run off?<br />
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Why is it just me? What did I do to deserve this? <br />
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Things were said by him. Much poisonous than any creature out there. The kind of venom that starts numbing, makes your heart pound, and your head spin. The kind that lingers for <i>days</i> in your system. It shuts down your system causing no sleep, your heart to hurt and shatter into a million pieces. Things were said by me, things I don't know where they came from. I am so ashamed of some of it. I am ashamed of him, of me and for both of us because we were supposed to "go big or go home". Some words were spoken from the heart and the truth. Was it right? Probably not, but with verbal warfare I think everyone speaks out of anger. His words stung much harder and has still left me with the bite marks and venom coursing through my veins. He can fake all he wants, trying to be normal. We aren't normal, we have a new normal. Doesn't mean life is over, doesn't mean everyone expects this normalcy from him, so I don't understand why he feels the need to overdo it but then not try <u>at all</u> for his wife and his children.<br />
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I have had to pick and choose battles with him. Much of the time, I never said anything at all. Perhaps a part of me just simply didn't want to know. There were times I got punished for absolutely nothing. If I was wrong, I apologized and either fixed it or made sure it never happened. Hey, again, I am not perfect or a saint. Never though, have I done or treated him wrong. There was never a time that I wasn't here for him, never a time I didn't clean up all his messes,and there was never a closed door that he faced I didn't open for him.<br />
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So many things he said, really just kicked me in the gut. I am going to be honest with you all, Readers. How can I help you by sharing our story, sharing what we learned and our mistakes, and our battles....if there is no happy ending? I have a radio interview on Tuesday this week and my heart just isn't in to it. I feel like a fake, because I can't even help my husband. I never claimed to know it all, never claimed to be a professional...just a person like all of you, going through the same steps day by day. The only difference is I write about it in hopes to save just one. I always had aces up my sleeve and maybe that's where I went wrong?<br />
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Maybe my full house has run out of cards. Perhaps I really have thrown the last Ace I had.<br />
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I know things are hard for him, and we have had a lot of blows this year. However, the people you push away aren't the ones who are always there to pick you up when you fall. I just need my husband occasionally. Sometimes I need a rock to lean on when days are bad and the stress is too much. If he can be there for others, what's <i>so wrong</i> with me?<br />
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The sad thing is, he made another mistake. Same one we have been dealing with since day one and while I am not nearly as upset over that as I am the nasty and hurtful things he said.....I just don't honestly know what to do. I usually have some type of answers, even if I pull out my Poker Face and bluff a few times. Sometimes talking with a friend helps, but how can I admit all this? Me? The one who is supposed to know better than to react to him, to let his shadow warrior reach into me and drag my soul to hell and shake it around? I would be too embarrassed. <br />
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I feel like blogging would be pointless from now on. Interviews, I kept thinking "if I do this, maybe just maybe, it will help another spouse or Veteran" but, what is there left to say? He took all my confidence away. My will. My drive. And for what? I have no idea. To push me away from what? Why all of a sudden did it all come out?<br />
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The worst part was that he said he never wanted to marry me to begin with. This past Christmas he bought me a gold band as my other was white and most of my other jewelry was gold. He took that band, wrapped it up in socks, stuffed it in a canister that was made to look like cleaning stuff. Even took the time to weigh it so it actually felt heavy like that of cleaning fluid. Hell, I was so tickled about the gift itself because it came from him, I didn't even care that it was cleaner. Turned out, it was a safe and hidden among the items he used for weight, and socks was that golden wedding ring.<br />
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I cried. Not just for happiness, not for the gift but because he took <i>that much</i> time and thought <i>for</i> me. It was my favorite gift ever. To hear those words, made the ring burn my finger. How can one say such things and expect them not to hurt? I know the answer to this but, to me I still hear it all ringing in my head. I want to cover my ears with my hands and just scream. I want to run away. I want the pain to end. What has left me now, is an empty shell of who I was, who I was becoming and what the hell has taken what was left of my husband. Now I am left with regrets, not knowing where to turn now, and <i>what or who I am</i> supposed to be. I was a fool to think I could stand in, ground in my heels and never let him knock me down. I was an idiot to think that my love would not fix him but just help him through the healing process. Damn me, for loving someone this much. <br />
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I feel like a failure.<br />
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I feel like I failed all of you.<br />
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I really don't even know how to end this blog but I guess I should have listened to the wise old words of "know when to hold 'em and know when to fold "em". I'd hate to see that there is no such thing as "love" that doesn't carry regrets, pain and foolishness.</div>
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Dammit, sometimes the house just completely falls down on top of you, and you have no way out......</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4084876361608306937.post-46343911561471428952013-02-26T18:34:00.000-08:002013-02-26T18:34:20.537-08:00That Time of the Year Once Again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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February always is the <i>hardest</i> on me. I can withstand "Hell Months" because for our sixth year now, I am used to the ups, the downs and <i>most</i> of the curve balls. Sometimes he throws me for a loop but I can recover pretty well. Valentine's Day I always thought was overrated and for the first time, my husband did something small for me which was monumental. On the 25th though, is our Wedding Anniversary. Every year since he has been home, he has ruined it to the point where I dread when the date rolls around. After my trip away, six days of just being me and coming home, I thought this year would be much different.<br />
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I thought perhaps he might have missed me just a little bit.<br />
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Hopeful, I longed to hear "I really missed you".<br />
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Instead, I got "I missed ya. There was no one here to bitch at me".<br />
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I always seem to be so <i>colorfully</i> described in my treatment towards him. Seems sort of unfair really when its really the opposite. Sometimes I wonder if I am truly this ugly image that he sees in his head?<br />
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I have tried to explain that really doesn't say a whole lot and while joking, it seems that's the only way he can show any type of emotion is through joking. To me, its like saying "I love you but I hate you". "I like your hair cut but you look like something that got dragged out of the swamp". No matter what the nice thing is, it gets followed by something negative. It doesn't mean you told that person you loved them or am I just totally missing the boat on this?<br />
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It's been a fight since the 15th of this month and for <i>ten</i> days, it just seems everything was either my fault or not good enough. A small part of me just wants to say **** it, who cares about a stinking Anniversary anyway? The other part, the small and pathetic romantic in me, just wanted to see some sparks. After enduring these ten days, it seems that he would just find things to be mad at me about and I am not sure why. It is this way every single year. Always a week before, and usually a week after. I think in the week before I left, he said maybe four full sentences to me in an entire week. Then people wonder why I am starved for adult conversation. <br />
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I never ask for anything more than just his attention. It is what I crave more than anything in the world.<br />
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For some reason, that attention is focused on his smart phone, his particular TV shows, his buddies, the weather, or anything else that has nothing to do with me. The part that hurts the worst out of all of it, is the fact he thinks I am in the <i>wrong</i> for wanting to have that attention. Wrong, for wanting to celebrate another year married. This leaves me confused, not understanding the reason why I am being punished for something I haven't done. Sensible me, trying to remember that perhaps its military related that is the root of all this...there is nothing in February that we can pinpoint it to. It hurt to have messages from friends or my sister wishing me Happy Anniversary, and the one person I needed to hear it from, went to his class and never bothered to say a word.<br />
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I spent my wedding anniversary alone. I worked to keep from crying. I attacked my poor carpet in my home, steam torture style, with my Bissell cleaner. I dusted behind those nooks and crannies. I thought maybe I could turn the music up, sweat away any tears that might rise up and sit behind my eyes but it didn't happen that way. All I did was end up a crying mess and taking it out on the carpet. It is <i>really</i> clean though so at least that's one positive. I didn't even get a "hey, the carpet looks really nice!" which further ticked me off. <br />
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Seems too, when you are most down, not needing to cry, your favorite song comes on or one of those really sappy, mushy love songs about how much you need that person. I really would like to hunt down the DJ who was working yesterday as I was forced to turn off the Ipod, turn the radio on and dammit all, if he wasn't in on the game!<br />
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I give it all, am always here and I just can't seem to grasp why the concept of being there for your spouse is so hard. I sometimes envy other spouses who tell these wonderful stories about the latest, even if small, nice thing their wounded Veteran did for them. I know....we can't compare, one size doesn't fit all...I get it. Doesn't mean I don't want the same treatment though. I know most of us deal with no acknowledgement of Mother's Day, Birthdays, Anniversaries, or the likes. You would think by now, we would be used to it wouldn't you? Someone on my Facebook page mentioned that the point was that we made it <i>another</i> year and we were still married. Yes, that's true but, it doesn't mean having your husband walk away from you with no care in the world or doesn't even care how broken your heart is.<br />
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I didn't want flowers, jewelry, or anything more than just perhaps spend a little time with me. I think out of all the curve balls and the down sides of PTSD and TBI, this part I will never get used to.<br />
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On a more positive note, as I was talking with my good friend <a href="http://www.warriorchef.org/index.html">Warrior Chef</a> today, I realized I bypassed my blog anniversary in January. Hard to believe it's been four years! Wow! It's so funny because I look back from time to time and see how much I have grown, things I have gotten past or made it through, what I survived and what failures/mistakes I made. More importantly, how many people, friends, organizations and much much more that came from this one little tiny blog of me just telling what it's like to live this way. Would have never thought four years ago, that I would end up here but I am proud of this accomplishment.<br />
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Yesterday has passed, tomorrow will come again and all will eventually smooth out as it normally does. I keep reminding myself "thicker skin. Thicker skin." but it never really helps. That's just the softhearted person I am I suppose. If anyone knows where I might find that armored thicker skin, let me know will you?<br />
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So here's to another year married and toasting to myself for another year of writing. </div>
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<a href="http://youtu.be/pPtlSF4TlJE">Still Trying,</a></div>
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http://youtu.be/pPtlSF4TlJE</div>
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