I Have No Good Excuses But He Has Plenty

You probably thought I disappeared, huh? It's been quite some time since my last blog. I won't waste your time reading up on my lame attempt to make some excuses for my hiatus, but will say that it's been more than hectic here. There just doesn't seem to be a whole lot of time for anything anymore. My mind is foggy, my body over extended and my sanity? Well, let's just say it's on the verge of giving me a permanent eye twitch!

I fell outside and encountered my first broken bones a couple of days after my last blog posted. It was a doozy of a fall and well, I figured that was a sign from the big man upstairs that I am just doing too much. I had no choice then but to walk away from many things and try to heal. All healed up pretty decently since surgery but two fingers which are sort of frozen and unable to move. My sanity and stress level improved but while I had that much down time, I did the most dangerous thing a Caregiver could do....THINK. 2012 wasn't very kind to me and if I had endured any more surgeries that year, well I could literally be my own sprinkler system with as many holes as this body has had! 

We managed to make it through the the month of October with the help of my mother in law and my oldest son and husband. The lack of sympathy or any remote interest from my husband was disheartening but I don't know why I expected anything more from him. I find by lifting any expectations, I always fall flat on my face and end up with skinned knees from disappointment. I always wondered what happens to Caregivers who need care giving too? That is probably one of those questions that stumps irony.  Kind of like "where do doctors go when they are sick?"

It's been quite a road since Thanksgiving with the Army, husband and school for two of the three children I have. Thanksgiving I couldn't cook with one arm so we ended up grilling out hot dogs and all the fixings. Turned out to be one of the lesser stressed holidays we have ever had. My husband tried so hard and offered to take us out to dinner but in our rural area, it seems that was everyone's idea as well. Just the thought of the crowds, his reactions and all that comes with it? Yeah, the hot dog were damn good! Four days before Christmas our PEBLO decides to finally contact us and wanted everything done right then, right now which was literally impossible. He moved on to another station and I can't say I will miss him at all. Right now, we are appealing much of the MEB reports because he failed to do his part of his job, failed to add in a few important details and for some reason; proof reading and correcting things that are important went by the wayside. We haven't even heard from our new PEBLO yet and of course, she is new so it should be interesting. New people seem to always be a challenge to break in, kind of like a wild horse. It's amazing we haven't scared off our Federal Recovery Coordinator or our Army Recovery Coordinator. They must be gluttons for punishment but I am so glad they have stuck around to see us through. That, and we are probably good dinner table talk and worth a few laughs here and there! I love that I can call one and she has a great sense of humor. She must wonder if I am on the thresh hold of running a circus here.

Christmas went well with few minor hiccups along the way. My husband had some bad days but at least we didn't have to deal with suicide attempts, drinking binges or anything serious. However, New Year's came and he went to see a friend up the road and never came back. I don't know why it bothered me so badly that he just ran and disappeared, but I feel not only a responsibility for him but it was New Year's Eve too. I wanted to bring it in right and I am hoping like hell that the whole old wives tale of "what you will be doing on New Year's Eve will be what you will be doing the whole year long" is just a crock. If it turns out true, I am not going to have a good year as I spent my New Year's up all night, crying. I was hoping we would be having sex or maybe share some laughs while we watched the ball drop in New York City. At this point, I would have been happy just going to bed together early and not doing anything; not crying though because my husband stood me up for a friend that he couldn't care less for. I think I was more hurt than anything. 

Excuses and Lies

My husband has a ton of them and lying has become a serious issue now. Excuses for his behavior, excuses for where he is, excuses for getting angry, excuses to the kids, excuses for everything. I am so sick of hearing them and they are constant with no rest. If it's not a long drawn out excuse, it's a lie. He is a horrible liar and most of the time, he won't even look me in the face. I especially hate when I ask him something because I know he is lying, he looks away and says "huh? what? huh? I didn't hear you?". Seriously? It's like watching a child make up an excuse to not listen to your question and then try to back peddle into a good lie to cover the real reason why he spit on his brother or why he lost his report card which had an F on it. I am not sure why this started all of a sudden but all I can think of is dammit, haven't we already been through this in the past? I used to think that PTSD/TBI had a pattern during certain periods of the year. Holidays, major event "memory day" and the rest just falls in the "other" category. Over the past five years of living with all this, it has bettered in some areas like the abuse of alcohol and suicidal tendencies but worsened in other areas. Major events I thought we were done with but after thinking about it....it just repeats itself. Every. Single. Year. There is no break from that and I realized it's just a vicious cycle that we will repeat over and over again just a little different each time. 

I just can not tolerate lying. I try to teach my children they can tell me everything, even if it's the worst. My husband and I built our relationship on that foundation of trust, honesty and friendship. I never have had that tolerance and the worse part is? I don't lie to him and he would always tell me everything. I feel guilty NOT telling him something even now. I think the part that has the highest "suck" factor is that the lying is nothing really that important to even lie over. I mean, if you are going to lie? Lie big or go home right? Don't lie over silly small things. Now, its not the "I just forgot and I need to lie to make up for the fact I don't want to admit it" just for clarification. It's just lying to be lying. I am at a complete lost at this point and I found dealing with him this latter part of the months I have been gone, has really reduced my toleration for a lot of things.I am pulling myself further away from him to protect myself. I am starting to look away at certain behaviors because it just isn't worth the damn fight or listening to the lies. I don't know if it's him or if it's me slipping further away.

Funny isn't it, how you fall in love and when you look at this person who has swept your heart away, you don't think of what you will deal with in the future. You never really stop to analyze at that point, of what would be the whole picture because one really doesn't know right? You just know you are supposed to be a part of that person and that's all that matters. Any obstacles you can overcome you think, any burdens you will carry together and all you really focus on is happiness with that person. You just know your life is never going to be the same. Boy, wasn't that the truth! Here lately though, I feel like it's more of a "phantom limb" situation. It feels like he is still there, still a part of me but you can see it's not there. The worst part is, my trust had been broken so many times that it took a lot for me to open back up and trust him once more. One year of therapy, lots of break downs and chastising myself for not forgiving and it led me here. I don't know if he even remembers the past of the wrong doings, or even acknowledges that broken trust is truly hard to gain back. I wonder if he knows how truly hurt and disappointed I am in him right now? Does he even really care anymore about anything? Now I feel like he has broken it again and again with just stupid and tiny lies, so how does one trust again? Sometimes I wonder if he knows that I still think he hung the moon just as I did the night I met him? Regardless of the bad times, I never once faltered on that thought.......

Sometimes I question the whole "is this it for the rest of my life?" probably just like my husband does. I am sure everyone does, I don't care who you are. I mean you fall in love, you get this person in your life that you love and learn to lean on. Then all of a sudden your on your own. Seems somewhat unfair and I have to question the whole "plan" for me because I just don't get it. So far God has given me the strength to carry my family and myself through, the courage to take on more but what are we really gaining? That part bothers me the most and heaven help me, I just want a small hint. Anything that says "this is where you are heading" because right now? The directions I am seeing are more like my stupid GPS with the lady and her perfect voice stating "recalculating" over and over again. Yeah...ain't that the truth!

There are days where he is truly appreciative of things I do for him or how much time I put into advocating or representing him. I do not hear "I love you" which to me I long for more than anything else. I wonder why three words are so hard? Often I wonder if that means he doesn't anymore? There are other days though, he could care less and I don't think he "sees" me anymore. As long as things go the way he wants them to, as long as it benefits him....it's all great. Of course it is, it's great for him. Anyone else though be damned. I hate thinking this way, and like I said before...thinking is dangerous for us caregivers and spouses. Thinking to me is like mopping. You start mopping but sometimes we don't always pull out the fridge or the oven right? (if you do every time you mop, that's just weird) All that stuff gets built up under there but eventually sometime, you clean under there. When you pull it ALL out, you are horrified at how much shit comes out. Yeah....that's what thinking is to me. Strange way of describing it but then who said I was normal right?

I wanted so badly this year to be a better year, but so far it really hasn't impressed me much. I will say I am trying to focus more on me. Maybe that's where we are all going wrong. Perhaps we should just think of ourselves and "put on our safety O2 mask before others". I think many of us caregivers focus on everyone else but themselves and I know how hard that is to change. I am the worst to take on everything for everyone at any time and its exhausting. So I am trying to get caught up, better organized, finally catching up to some movies I want to watch, and even bought myself an Xbox game. Now for many of you who don't know me, I haven't played a game system since Nintendo and Sega came out although I was the queen of Pacman and Donkey Kong once upon a time. I was pretty good at Super Mario Brothers too. Haha! I made myself a promise I would keep blogging and just putting it on my weekly "list of things to do". I am trying to keep up more on my facebook page, I taught myself to "tweet" (@Unclesamsmiss) in which I am quite proud of (yes, USM is not technically savvy; see above mentioned GPS comment) and planning on skipping town to see my sister who lives in AZ in which I haven't seen in years.

I am trying to do more things with  my sons albeit hard because I feel some of it should be done by/with daddy and he just can't do it. I realized my two younger sons, due to living in a rural area, have never ridden a bicycle which I hope to remedy soon (somehow). Leaves me wondering how the hell I will find the strength or the courage to teach my oldest son to drive who started Driver's Ed this semester. I honestly did try the whole "list positive things" on a piece of paper or journal bit that's been going around as a bit of therapy for Caregivers. I so far had a few positives like "we are all here", "we are all healthy somewhat", and the rest? Well, I had "I positively suck at the MEB stuff", "this list positively sucks", "I completely suck at Walking Dead on Xbox because I can't figure out the damn controller", "This list sucks" and "this list positively sucks ass". Perhaps that's why so many major organizations don't want to accept me as a writer....it's my award winning positive thinking isn't it? **cheesy grin**.  Hey, at least no one can accuse me of not being honest.

So here I am. 

Still alive.

Still trying to figure everything out and crossing off the things I don't understand.

Come On, 2013...

Mama needs a new lease on life. 

Recalculating, Recalculating, Recalculating,

  

Much About Nothing I Am Supposed to Write About

It's been an overwhelming last couple of days. We recently just got back from a trip to a Warrior Beach Retreat for Wounded soldiers in Panama City Beach, FL. As many know, taking a vacation usually requires you to have some down time when you come home. This particular retreat was overwhelming emotionally, patriotically, and well just being around so many people which we normally aren't. Most of it was just seeing that much patriotism in one spot just for my husband which was a part of our lives we didn't get. It was somewhat of a closure for us. My husband did very well up until Saturday night and then started to slip a little. Sunday's flight was completely horrific as we were treated like garbage by the clerks, steward and stewardesses aboard US Airways in regards to my husband's service dog, Gunny. It was humiliation, pointed out by the crew in front of all that were on the plane and then disregarded of our rights to Federal Law. By the time we got home, my husband was in full PTSD mode with the ranting, raving, foaming at the mouth and myself waiting for his head to start spinning all the way around. I had wished on that flight that I had something to knock him upside the head with!

We hadn't heard a single thing from Social Security since we applied in February and our advisers and coordinators were much under the impression of "hey, no news is good news". Now in my mind, and from reading other stories...I knew we would be denied Social Security on the first try. In my heart though, I guess I was just praying to the big guy upstairs to give us just one good push forward. Seems these days we take one step forward and get knocked thirty back. You get up, you dust your knees off and then you keep right at it. I am struggling to get back up again this year. If we had his social security, much of the financial stresses would be off both of us and we could breathe a little bit easier. I am overwhelmed, overworked, ill, tired and frustrated. We came home to find the much anticipated letter from Social Security letting us know that my husband was denied. Insert all hell breaking loose . We just wanted for once, to get our heads above water and be able to breathe. 

To make matters worse, our car which we left at the airport....had a hard time starting and the headlights are out on them. Don't know what's wrong with it, but only the parking lights work on it. After the all day trip of flying and the issues US Airways gave us, it was just too much. I realized I felt so good in Florida although he had some spells, that I really didn't want to be back home. I wanted to run away and not get in the car or go home. I know that sounds horrible, but as soon as we pulled on our road my stomach began tightening up, the butterflies turned into a swarm of angry hornets and my heart was racing. It's not that I didn't want to see my children or be home again...I just didn't want to come back to a home that's filled with stress, paperwork or phone calls.

I know taking care of my husband is hard.  It's even harder when you have to navigate, fight tooth and claw with the government getting earned benefits, but damn....is it hard when you don't know what you are doing. Maybe I am too controlling but I have learned from past experiences in my life to have back up plans and never count on that first plan to work out. It's not me being negative, or Miss Debbie Downer....it's just what life has taught me and working with such entities as Social Security, the VA, and the military....you just learn to guard any hopes you have because they can become so easily crashed. After so many downed planes of hope, you begin to not show any emotions, have any type of hope and always expect the worst when it comes to them. Many of us spouses always wonder why our Veterans are like this with PTSD and/or TBI. I think personally we are becoming more and more like them, we just don't realize it.

I am struggling to keep up with the jargon of all this paperwork and much of it not making sense. The military has placed many demands on me that my health right now and my sanity just can't keep up with. I work all day and the mountain of paperwork just seems to keep growing. There is so much paperwork on our end that it is indeed very overwhelming because you can't just pick a spot on a fast moving train and proceed to jump on. On advice from a dear friend, I made a list yesterday to start marking things off and only do so many things a day....but that list is two pages long! In the past, almost four years this October, all I have done is fight, fight and fight some more. Now that I am not having to fight as much, I am having to wait, watch and pay attention to every little move they make on this chessboard of our lives. Adding to that, I am having to depend on complete strangers to have our "best interests at heart" and from past helpers, that has proved to burn us quite badly. Some of it is now out of my hands, some of it is solely in my hands and other parts are just "wait and see". I have no back up plans, no safety nets and have used all my aces that I held up my sleeve to get to this point.

We have more advisers than most I know, which should be a good thing and am appreciative. I find though that sometimes I often leave off the conference calls with more questions than answers, being rushed, and under so many deadlines. If they only knew how much stress I was under and panicking......wonder if that would make a difference? I really don't like the terms "this is a risk we will have to take" because this isn't their lives we are screwing with....it's ours. Risks are just something we can't afford to take because if that risk coin lands on the wrong side....we will lose everything from home, to cars, to just our entire lives. Sometimes I wish that some of them would just have a little sympathy and just a little understanding that the demands they are placing on me and all the confusion is literally eating me from the inside out.

The past weekend at the retreat, which I will write about later when I come up for air, was wonderful. I had the honor of meeting 48 other women who had more strength, courage and determination it radiated off of them. I felt weird being there because we are a Reserve family and our challenges are different, but they didn't seem to mind that. I really felt with many of them, I had no right to complain because their husband's injuries far surpassed my husband's but it didn't feel like anyone played the wounded rank card and for that, it was a beautiful experience to have. It was a busy five days filled with excitement, joy, fun and surprises. Saturday night though proved to be a sign that my husband was overwhelmed, exhausted and "The Beast" came out once more. I have to admit to you all that this strong Mistress fell apart and no matter what I did to calm myself and him down....my knees were knocking so hard you could hear it. You would think after this long, I would be used to these outbursts, the temper, the "shadow warrior" coming out but I just am not. Do you ever really get used to it?

My husband didn't throw anything, didn't scream or yell....but had this eerie, calm, threatening, and totally scary tone of voice. His pupils were dilated so much that it was like looking at solid black eyes, he was smiling and crying at the same time and my God the words that came out of his mouth were so hurtful. We had such a good time that day that I don't know what set him off. Nothing happened during that day, nothing was said to make him upset, we were just having fun. Just something as soon as we walked in back at our beach house, changed within him. We let his service animal to run outside and play a little to get the energy off and to use the bathroom. Somewhere between locking up for the night and heading upstairs, he flipped. His emotions were all over the place, everything was my fault, everything that I did was wrong and the look on his face was of pure hate. I can handle his manic moods, his ups and his downs, but when his face changes like that, it doesn't look anything like him and quite frankly....that scares me more. 

Suddenly my smiling laughing and in good mood husband turned into this dark, malicious thing that I didn't recognize. The fear that settles over you is as heavy as a wet wool blanket you just can't shake off. Before I knew it, he was yelling at me about my having power of attorney papers and that I was going to commit him again. He demanded that I present them right there and then, even knowing we weren't home. The food that we had eaten over the weekend which I had nothing to do with, was poisoned by me and I was trying to kill him. I wanted him dead because I would get all this money supposedly. I was going to leave him and he would kill me before I ever got the chance to get out the door. I was shocked and not really sure what to do at that point. All I could do was let him rant and rave, hoping like hell he would get it all out and be done.

So many hurtful things and then the laughter at me when I started to sob. I was shaking so bad, I could barely stand up without my knees wanting to buckle beneath me. I tried to keep him calm and trying to get him to understand that he was having a bad spell and no one was hurting him. My husband's service animal who was downstairs eating his supper finally decided to come up and immediately jumped up on him barking which was surprising as he hasn't done that before. My husband stopped for a minute, looked at Gunny, then walked to the bed and was out like a light. My husband's dog and I kind of stood there like "What the hell just happened" and because I was still worked up...went out and sat outside for a long time with his head in my lap and me crying. All I could think to myself, is how much longer can I keep going? I was so scared I didn't sleep a wink that night. Even when I layed down, our dog tried to snuggle as close as he could get without getting right on top of me. I guess he knew how terrified I was and I was grateful for the attention he gave me.

My husband didn't really remember much the next morning but saw my fear and hurt. I explained what happened and he didn't say anything. However, in "share time" that morning on the last day of the retreat, he stood up in front of fifty other people and apologized although he doesn't remember most of it. He just remembers coming in, brushing his teeth and his head hitting the pillow. I knew his apology was sincere, and he has never ever done that before so I knew it took a lot of guts to stand up in front of his new friends to admit his PTSD got the best of him and that his shame was great...but damn those words. They just keep echoing in my head. How do you keep helping someone and stick with it when the PTSD Beast hates you so much? When do we as family members ever really stop becoming the enemy?

Name calling I can deal with. Other things hurt to the quick and still stings long after they are said and done. I didn't realize until January happened this year how many scars I had and how they open and bleed so badly each times these spells hit. I am trying to be strong, keep my chin above water and as someone once told me....keep swimming. It's just times like this where I feel like the lifelines I am grasping a hold of, is slipping. If I go down....he goes with me. It's a heavy heavy burden we are all carrying.

Seeing the letter from Social Security absolutely ripped my heart out and stomped it into pieces. I expected the disappointment, I really did. It was the frustration of what the letter said that upset me so. The letter read that "according to VA medical records, your PTSD has gotten better with medications, therapy and inpatient treatment", "TBI was not treated by the VA so therefore it must not be as bad as you claim it to be", "You walked into the doctor's appointment so therefore your legs must not be hurting that bad nor your back." "Total decision of denial was based on all medical records and we find that you can find a job that is less demanding and work with your disabilities." I don't know whose medical records they were reading, but it wasn't my husband's.  I wondered if they missed the letters from his doctors stating they will NOT release him to work or drill and that in their professional opinion he is permanently and totally disabled as well as unemployable.

I really wanted Social Security to have stayed the night with me on Saturday and feel that same fear, that absolute hate that my husband's beast spewed from his mouth, to see the huge waves of emotions he showed in less than a minute. I want them to see the crying and the laughter because it truly is like watching a horror film unfold in front of you. I want them to hear those words and then be in my position as being the only person that is keeping him from drowning in these churning waters. I wonder if their decision would have changed? I really would love to call them and say "Guess what Dumbass....our VA doesn't have a TBI clinic which is why he hasn't been treated!" All that work, all that time, all that stress and trying to do it on my own.....failed. So then my heart started panicking, racing ninety miles an hour and pounding out my chest. I was so afraid this would set him off, or that January would happen all over again. I gave my son the look of " be prepared to run with the little ones" but my husband instead, just sat down with his head in his hands and said "what more do they want?".I myself have struggled trying to figure out what I did wrong, although I know in this old head of mine that its just standard procedure.

Yesterday was a better day for my husband. It wasn't for me. I am still struggling with sleep, nightmares and the past spells replaying in my mind over and over again. I try to shake them but they just keep coming back. Add all this other stuff rolled up in one big giant ball and I feel myself cracking a little too. I am writing all this out because several emails spoke about being alone when these "episodes" happen. You aren't alone, I promise. I have been there and done that many times. This post may not make sense to anyone, but wanted to write it out....let it go and try to be rid of it. This is part of the war that Uncle Sam doesn't want you talking about but it happens to all of us every single day of our lives. I am going to fight the Social Security with an appeal although unsure how to do it. I will knock the dirt off my pants and try once more to stand my ground....but my heart is breaking into pieces because I am hurting this much and Uncle Sam just doesn't care. Somehow....someway, he is going to have to.

Trying to Find My Way,

What I Learned On The Cracked Streets of New York

This past June, I was invited to attend a trip to the Big Apple (That's New York for you non-city slickers) for a Writer's Guild sponsored by the Wounded Warrior Project. I haven't had a chance to blog about that just yet because I am still trying to figure out how I want to write that up. Yesterday was a bad day for me. Not sure why.....wasn't anything horrible, nothing particularly devastating, anything possibly catastrophic, life changing or alien invasion...but just a rotten day followed with tears which I hate. Some days just get to be so much that I get frustrated and angry, which in turn leads this Mistress to turn on the water works to get it all out.

So last night after another evening of silent conversation on my husband's part, and only TV for company...I decided to go soak in a hot tub and turn some music on. I am pretty eclectic in my music choices so last night just seemed like an evening for sappy, slide guitar, down and out, classic country music. While sitting in the tub thinking about my day and how things just weren't getting easier, the song Hello Vietnam by Johnny Wright came on. For those that have never heard this song, I put it here for you.



While soaking in my scented, and only private get away... the sound of the music and lyrics made my thoughts linger back to New York City. Now this small, moo-cow town, semi-misplaced, semi-country girl indeed experienced one hell of a culture shock heading into the city that never sleeps. Between the airport, driving into downtown Manhattan in a cab (which by the way could give you PTSD just from the traffic and the way folks drive out there) and just the jittery nerves of meeting other women like me, had me wound tighter than Dick's hat band! It was go go go from the start, and with the constant traffic and sounds of the city....I found myself missing those early hours with quiet, my moo cows and roosters crowing in the distance. My hotel was very nice, sitting right across from Madison Square Gardens which is something I had only seen on TV and movies.

Since I take my coffee intravenously in the mornings, the one tiny, tea bag coffee filter in a one cup maker just wasn't going to do it for me. I rose way too early on Saturday morning and went in search for the elusive large suicide cup of coffee. As if God was on my side, it led me around the corner where angels started singing and bright lights illuminated in the form of a Dunkin Doughnuts sign. So in the early hours of the morning, I sat outside and watched the food vendors set up for the day, businesses washing off the sidewalks in front, the trash being set out and just listened to the bit of silence that New York City could offer me.

I must have one of those faces that always attract people to come and talk with me. My husband says it is clearly stamped on my forehead and as of late, I am starting to believe that. I met several interesting characters from dancers that hurried by for early practice on Broadway, several prostitutes who discussed their evenings with me and how much they made, and the transvestite who spent much of the morning with me talking about style, the night life and how I was missing out on many things by being in the center of moo-cow town. Man, did he love New York. No one interested me more though than an older man in a wheelchair sitting in front of the NY Fire Department, which was across from a soup kitchen where many, early in the mornings, lined up.

It started out as him staring at me, me staring back and me thinking to myself  "Great, he is going to ask me for a dollar and I don't have a bit of cash on me". I don't know why I do it...I guess its in my nature, but some people just give off a different vibe to me and if a homeless person asks for money, I give them a dollar or two if that vibe is good, sometimes more. Some people have a wrong vibe and I don't. It's very hard these days not to turn a blind eye for those that don't help themselves and in today's society, we have become hard, selfish and cynical. This homeless man sitting in a wheelchair was indeed dirty, scruffy, and probably someone my friends, family and most definitely husband would have jumped on me for even thinking of giving money to, all while yelling at me about how my heart is too good or how I am naive....so I tried to keep my line of vision on "Monique", my new found transvestite, coffee drinking, buddy. At one point in our conversation, "Monique" looked at me, noticing that I was looking in this guy's direction and said "That's Mike. Nice fellow he is. Lost his legs in service. He isn't scary or going to rob you, sometimes we have coffee in the mornings or I will get off work and bring him by a bagel with lox and cheese which is his favorite." So then he whistles to get Mike's attention and slowly but surely, Mike rolls down those bumpy sidewalks to where we were standing.

"Monique" introduced us and Mike wasn't scary at all. After hearing many horror stories about holding on to my purse, keeping my eyes straight ahead walking through the city, I was a bit nervous hanging out with such characters on a street corner. Rough around the edges, needing a shave, I guessed his age to be about 60 or a little older. His face was etched with lines that I think only the horrors of war could cause, life on the streets could only add to, and the greenest eyes that held many untold stories. I excused myself to get another cup of coffee and decided we all needed a round at 5:15 in the morning. So with our Dunkin Doughnuts coffee, we all talked about the weather, the city's trash, the fact that not ALL people with Southern accents are from Texas, we somehow got into the discussion of war. You see, that scruffy man was a Vietnam Veteran who served between 1968 around the time of the Tet Offensive and extended his tour of duty to take advantage of the 30 day leave time the Army offered in between tours. Mike told me during that 30 days, he married his high school sweetheart, buried his mother and watched his father drink himself into an oblivion before he went back to Vietnam. During the war, Mike said he lost a brother, two cousins, and somewhere between South Vietnam and the green green jungles...he lost himself.

So in between sips of our fresh hot coffee, we talked about war and the after effects. The hour I spent with him, he seemed very open and wanting to talk as I was willing to listen. The time flew by and I explained I had to hurry up and shower before I had to report in for our bus picking us up. He said "You better run doll and I will be here same time same place if you would like to have coffee with me again". I said "It's a date!". The whole day went by in a blur but my mind kept lingering back to what Mike said. Perhaps it wasn't the words so much as the emotions behind them, the loss and the far away look I so recognized in my husband's eyes. I often comment that we as spouses truly lose our husbands overseas but have we ever stopped to think about how much they lost in themselves? I guess it was a good wake up call for me, reminding me that I wasn't the only person who lost in my marriage.

So the next morning with three much needed alarms and a wake up call to meet my coffee date, I threw on my clothes, grabbed my room key and went to have coffee at 4:30 in the morning with Mike and "Monique" on the corner of 7th Avenue. When I came out the side door, there they both stood, which I have to tell you is a very very odd site to see that early! Here was this man in a hot pink, tube topped, sequined dress and stiletto heels along with a Vietnam Vet in an old Army jacket and pins, armed with smiles to see me. So after our "good mornings", and the same chit chat on weather; the discussion led back to the Iraq war and problems once more. So after my story, Mike told me his.

After he returned home wounded from an ambush and surviving an explosion causing him to lose both legs, he lost his father shortly after. He went on to tell me "but in the loss of life there was another brought into the world with the birth of my daughter Alison; with only one L mind you". He spoke about his wife who was the love of his life and how having a daughter changed it all. However, he was still young, just came back from war and was wounded on top of everything else. He felt he wasn't good enough anymore having lost both legs. His wife was working two jobs trying to pay the bills and keep them above water, and the VA just kept pushing him out on pain meds to the point he was addicted. Months went by he said, and he felt he had disappointed her, let her down and failed her and their child. He pushed her away by staying out and drinking himself to sleep. After a year rocked by with many nightmares and problems being home, his wife left one day with their daughter and he never saw or heard from them again. After several years fighting with the VA, he just gave up trying to get his full disability and trying to fight the system.

He eyed me closely and asked me "So you are probably thinking, this poor man. You probably want to know why I am homeless waiting on the soup kitchen aren't you? Thinking I ain't got nobody to blame but myself don't ya." I said "No sir...I understand, I really do". He looked at me up and down and said "I gave up because I didn't have the courage to fight anymore. The fight was over and I spent every day fighting over there. I didn't try hard enough when I came home and I didn't try with my wife. Don't blame her, she had every right to go. God, did I love that woman. After that though, there wasn't anything left for me to fight for at all. I lost my home and I chose to stay out here on the streets. Aft'all, a home isn't a home without love, a family and a woman who will stand beside you through the hard times. I don't want no one to feel sorry for me, because I made my choices. I got myself cleaned up from the meds, I got some treatment and then I found God somewhere between Broadway and Lincoln Square." He chuckled over that as did I. "I am happy out here and I am a reminder for those who forgot us. I don't want anyone to thank me, but I want everyone to remember that there are many who lost, for them to have it all. Some losses are our own damn fault, but some Uncle Sam just handed to us and said here you go. You younger folks have much more than we ever did, don't squander it away. Learn a lesson or two from this old man and make it worth while. Fight like you ain't ever fought before and when you get done, put the boxing gloves down and love like hell."

I chewed on that for a minute or two, and in silence we sipped our coffees and watched the city start to gear up. I asked him "Do you have any advice for me about my husband?" He sat a minute and said "yeah 'a do. Have patience. It's hard, but he's in there somewhere. It's murky, its dark and there are demons riding his back all day...but he is still there. Love him no matter how much he pushes you away because he is only trying to punish himself. He depends on you cause you are all he has left. You got the only light on to show him the way and a part of him knows that. Fight for him, because he doesn't have the strength to keep going some days. When he gets stubborn or won't help himself? Stick a boot up his ass and let him know you aren't going to give up on him but you're not gonna tolerate his giving up either. If he is going to the VA and taking his meds? It means he is trying and probably just for you and your kids. Remember that. Lot you don't know, doll, about what goes on in war.... but a lot he doesn't know what you go through either. Both of you are just two lost people trying to hang on tight and not lose your way. One day, he will find his way as you will too. Have faith in God, cause he may take you for a ride but there's a reason. It's not your plan, it's his and he will let you know as you go along. Sometimes you just miss the message".

So after some tears from me, and a little "something in his eye" he said...he shooed me off for my day with the girls in the big city. I told him I wasn't leaving til the next morning but he said he had elsewhere to be. He would be around today but it was time for him to move on as he was tired of the same city blocks and the sites to see. Late Sunday evening I stepped out to get some shirts and saw him across the street. I had purchased a couple of the typical cliche t-shirts at a nearby store with I <3 NY on them for my kids, and rather than spend the rest of my money on stupid souvenirs, bought him a 25.00 gift card to use at Dunkin Doughnuts and a bagel with lox and cheese.

I ran across the street to give it to him and to say thank you for the advice. I wanted to let him know that I haven't forgotten.  He looked inside the bag and said "My favorite!" and got all teary eyed. I told him to have coffee on me wherever he was in the city and don't give up. I appreciated everything he lost and did for us, so it wasn't for nothing. He said "You don't owe me a thing. I should be thanking you for putting up with my grouchy old ass. It was nice meeting someone from Texas (said with a wink). Now get on out of here and go do something fun woman! Remember to keep your chin up, spine straight and fight...you can do it." He smiled with a crooked grin and said "Go on now and leave this old man alone!"

I walked away then and joined the rest of the girl's in the adjoining restaurant next to the hotel that night. I learned a lot from my experience in NYC from the writer's guild, especially since I discovered I can write more than just about PTSD and TBI which is something I wanted to do way before this adventure and life ever started. However, I learned a lot more from a homeless man living on the streets than I ever did from a book, or an online forum, or from the VA. It reminded me of what I was fighting for and for what purpose. It reaffirmed my small hope I hang on to that my husband is still in there somewhere and finally, gave me a newer strength.

When I got back home, I told my family of my coffee drinking buddies on the corner of 7th avenue, but didn't go into details. The buildings, traffic and sites through my adventure along with my teaching a Nigerian Cab driver how to properly say "Ya'll " was enough to be told. The next morning bright and early, I had my coffee with my moo-cows and it seemed strange. I missed my New York buddies. As I sat last night in the tub thinking about the day, the water works finally starting to ease off, and fighting off that nagging feeling of "maybe I should just leave and never come back" that song came on and it just reminded me of Mike somewhere in NY. I had to smile because it played right at the moment I was thinking that one little nagging option. Probably just by chance it came on, but I like to think that maybe it was for a reason it came on just at the right time and at the right place.

I am going back in November to NYC to rejoin the girls at the Writer's Guild one more time, and I sincerely hope that I can find my coffee drinking buddy. I wanted to share, as what Mike said, weighed heavily on my mind since last night and carried through this morning's coffee ritual with my cows. I am not sure if you will see the point in my story or not, but maybe someone will. I guess I am trying to say that sometimes it's easy for all of us to lose sight on what we really have, good or bad, and get caught up in the world of our wounded military, the VA and the government. Sometimes, we all just need to stop....and simply smell the coffee. I didn't find God on the corner of 7th Avenue, but I did find a message.............

Chin's Up, Spine is Straight, and Boxing Gloves are on Mike, 

State Assistance and A Wounded Warrior Family

On Facebook and other social feed sites, you will always see from time to time, a question posted about different things like "What have you learned through all this?" when it comes to living with Wounded Warriors. Being the long winded person I am, I always struggle with just one answer, trying to find the right one that sums it all up. I think out of all of this? My answer is simple. You can't depend on outside help and you have to do it all yourself. The hardest thing of all is not just having to deal with a husband who now has become a second child, but also dealing with all who are involved such as the Army and the VA. Let's face it, living on disability alone is hard. When you go from two incomes down to disability, its to say the least, difficult. This year has brought on some serious financial difficulties starting with my husband's "bottom falling out". With that, he lost his job, is not allowed to return to drill which in turn has turned into a falling domino effect with our checkbooks and our lives. We wiped out our savings last year to keep our home and make up for lost time that my husband wasn't able to work or get paid for.

Being the biggest penny pincher ever, I find creative ways to waste not, want not. My children joke about mom's "surprise soup" which usually consists of misc vegetables left for the week and misc pieces of meat in the freezer. Turns out, that is one of my family's favorite meals to look forward to. We don't eat out and if we do, its at a very cheap place because well hell, its just expensive to eat out! So this year, with a financial planner assigned to us, we have tried to change many things like car insurance, home mortgage, car payment interest rates etc just trying to stay afloat. My biggest fear and our concern is that my husband's disability is only temporary. From learning by others, we can't count on that because it could very well be lowered in January of 2012. One of those changes made, was the decision to bite the bullet and apply for state assistance by means of food stamps.

Being the family we are, we have always taken care of our own and then given to others. I don't think I would ever just stop and say "we need help" from someone unless it was an absolute dire need. Swallowing the biggest pill of pride, we filled out the application. Now, DHS said they would send us a letter that would tell us whether we were over the income level and can't apply so it saves people time and gas money. Makes sense to me as our county covers many areas and for us, it was a 45 minute drive to go there. We applied, filling out every nook and cranny on the application honestly, and mailed it off. It was a week later, we got a letter back stating that we would need to come in "due to the nature of our request" and meet with a caseworker as they take these very issues "case by case". I saw this as good news because hey, it wasn't the denial letter.

Over preparing was probably an understatement but only because we have been turned away so many times from others, that I have learned. They wanted everything but first born and blood type. So the day comes to go down there and my husband of course, has to be in one of his moods. It's been a rough couple of weeks from social security appointments, conference calls, the schools of our children sending us letters, and I knew from pride and self-disappointment that he didn't want to go. We recently received a letter from our kid's schools stating that our children were flagged for being under our state's income as "below poverty level", therefore, they would be adding an additional fruit or vegetable on their lunch trays. For some reason, this set my husband off. He looked at me and said "Is this what I *****ng  served for? Is this what happens to families like ours. We get dropped to poverty level?". I couldn't respond to him because I knew no matter what I said, what could be the right answer to that? I was appreciative of the extra items on my child's trays. It had been stewing for a while to begin with, and he had been holding much in while working with his service dog for three weeks in TX. This particular letter smacking us quickly into reality, seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back so to speak and he has let things rip the last couple of weeks.

The DHS here isn't a pretty site and has the look and feel of a detention center or jail. The people that were there, were rude and looked at us like we were gum underneath their shoe. It was as if we were bothering them by being there. Much to my dismay, I found that almost all (and by that meaning our car and one other) the vehicles belonging to applicants in the parking lot were newer, more expensive, and really much nicer than our own used 2003 Tahoe. So with my youngest man, Gunny, and my husband....we all went in. The place was pretty full and naturally being in small tight places, most of the women were talking. One of the conversations while we waited and tried our hardest NOT to listen to, was that of a young woman who joked to another young lady with children and was applying for the first time; about NOT having to work as long as she stayed pregnant. She was probably 22 or maybe pushing 25, but young with six kids in tow. That conversation really caused my anger to stew because she was so nonchalant about it all and to me it felt like a huge slap in the face. She could have probably walked up to me and spit in my face and I wouldn't have been nearly as mad as I was then. She talked about having free health insurance, free housing, food stamps and a cash allowance through Families First. Her nails had been professionally done, her hair had been professionally highlighted (we girls know and tend to notice these things) and she was relatively dressed nice although my husband said she looked like a tramp. In my eyes, a Hollister t-shirt and expensive brand jeans means she has got money coming in from somewhere no matter how she wore it. Tattoos and gold rings means that she is spending more on herself than she is on groceries or items for her children.

Another conversation included a young man with three children in tow driving a brand spanking new Cadillac Escalade who pulled up along side of us and wearing enough "bling" that I was surprised he could walk with that much weight. He was complaining because after two years in the system, he was going to have to take a class on how to apply for a job in order to keep "his stamps". His whole conversation with his wife or girlfriend was how to get around that by telling them he has been looking for a while now and they needed to get their story straight. I kept thinking to myself, "ya know buddy, Welfare wasn't meant to be a career opportunity". My husband who now has a scowl on his face which in turn caused many to stare at him more than they already due to the service dog, was holding my hand as if we were sitting in the bowels of Hell itself.

Out of those younger people in the room, there was an elderly lady who had health issues and only received ten dollars a month for food stamps. Worked all her life until she couldn't anymore, drew social security at very little and a widow. I thought wow, out of all the people in this room...she probably sincerely and desperately depends on that precious 10.00 a month. The remaining people in the room were immigrant farmers and not meaning that in any prejudiced way, we knew because the clerks behind their little window were discussing loudly who to call in to translate because they were illegal migrant farmers and couldn't speak English.

So our name gets called, and we get up. The first thing the caseworker does is say to my husband is "Why do you have that dog with you? Why did you bring THAT in here? What do you need the dog for?" My husband who has already gone past his thresh hold of anger, bristled and replied curtly that it was a service dog for medical purposes. So she said "Oh..well...I don't understand why you have IT here". So I replied nicely that this was a service dog and where my husband goes, the dog goes. Well we knew then, that this day was not going to go well at all. So after sitting down, we go through our story which is a nightmare in itself and present all the required documentation. Shame filled me because the whole time she just looked at us funny. It wasn't like oh wow, what a sad story or perhaps a little sympathy. It was a bored, "would rather be anywhere but in here" look on her face. She wasn't even paying attention half the time because she kept cutting us off asking questions about the dog.

I showed her loss of income, our mortgage, our car payments, utilities and most importantly....our health insurance which we pay for monthly and medical bills which has been a reoccurring expense even before my youngest son was born. ALL of which was required documentation according to the check list I "had to present to caseworker". I showed medications for all family members, breakdown from the insurance company about our $300.00 family deductible which must be met before it even kicks in, and the $1000.00 a year out of pocket and the 15% we must pay on each bill. I brought all the medical bills we owe for this year which is now up to 1700.00 that we haven't been able to pay, so make monthly payments on. We showed her the cost breakdown of food for our youngest son, documentation from the military etc and a breakdown done by the Veteran's Affairs office showing that we only allowed $200.00 a month in gas and $400.00 a month for groceries leaving us with a whopping $42.00 a month out of my husband's disability check a month. Just this month alone, we spent $150.00 round trip/same day to Lexington, KY VAMC so my husband could see a TBI Optimetrist because our area doesn't have one. Due to "clerical errors", which is just a nice way to state that a small box of "Is this a referral?" didn't get checked, we didn't get travel pay the last few times we have made the round trip of five hours. With the cost of groceries and gas these days, this doesn't go very far.


So naturally and probably due to human nature, she inquires about my husband's disability which I felt was rather rude but maybe necessary. As soon as she found out that my husband had PTSD and TBI (which was like explaining how mankind started to her) her whole demeanor changed. She kept looking at my husband as if he was suddenly going to jump up and start shooting up the place! She had huge eyes, and her smile that was fake and plastered on her face turned to a scowl.  She replied "I'm sorry but maybe it will get better". Uhhh ok? After much typing and no responses, she looks at us and says she can't take our mortgage, our health insurance, our car payment, and that we were over the income guideline because the calculations showed that they can't deduct anything as outgoing on VA disability. I didn't understand that because we have one car that is considered for medical usage in which we travel to all of his appointments, we showed every dime, every payment and insurance. She explained that we were short $200.00 from being accepted and that she was sure that "the Army takes good care of their wounded warrior families and you could go back to work". What part of "Caregiver" for my husband" did she not understand? I can't even get my littlest son into childcare because he is classified as special needs and a hazard/liability. I just sat there and explained that last week, we got news that my child will NOT be able to attend public schools for pre-K and the possibility of homeschooling for a few years might be necessary. We didn't qualify for Families First because "Illness or injury does not keep you from supporting or caring for your child for at least 30 days". What part of TBI and PTSD did she not get? Maybe she just didn't understand that I don't leave my children in my husband's care because he just isn't able to care for them.

So wonder what Miss Tatooey's injury is for her to qualify for Families First? The only thing I could figure out was "Injury by tight jeans and glittery thong" allows her to suck the life line out of our state's programs.

Then the Caseworker explains that we can't get help because she can't deduct our insurance, medical payments, prescriptions etc because it's not Medicare. If we were paying into Social Security, then we would be eligible and therefore be able to claim subtractions from our income. Because it was military insurance, which she is sure that they are providing for us, (head banging inserted here) it doesn't count and because VA disability is unearned. WHAT? So then I got upset, my husband is red faced and here I was sitting in that chair bracing for a blow up from him. I told her that if we HAD social security, we wouldn't be applying for Food stamps or any state assistance. I became so upset and just started gathering up our papers so we could leave. By this time, I am choking back the tears. I knew it had been a mistake and how stupid of me to make my husband come down there with me. How dumb was I to think that they would help us? I knew too, that as soon as we got out of the building my husband would go on this tirade and after January? It scarred me for life, and you never know what will make him explode so I was worried. It was a kick to an already downed dog.

My husband started immediately asking her "Ma'am, I may not be understanding but I don't know the answer to this; perhaps you can help me to understand. What did I go overseas and serve my country for? What did I risk my life every single day for? The man out there driving the brand new Cadillac? The young lady who is bragging on how she is taking advantage of the system? Or maybe I should have been an illegal immigrant so I can get all sorts of help. Maybe you think the military takes care of their wounded warriors, but they don't. There are many many of us families losing our homes, not able to make it from month to month yet my wife can go to the store and stand behind someone who is buying steaks with food stamps and junk food. Things that I would love to give my family. I didn't want to be here because both of us come from a long line of family that takes care of our own and to help others. I came because I am not able to help my wife and if this relieves just a little stress on her? I will do whatever she needs and for our children. So explain to me what is it that I worked for, paid taxes into, went to war for and was injured for because I am confused."

I waited for her response, in which she promptly inserted foot into mouth before speaking. "Sir, I am going to stop you there and correct you. I know that there are many many organizations who help wounded warrior families pay their monthly bills and help with groceries. Second Harvest Food bank will give you a bag a week. Wounded Warrior Project I donate every time I visit Cracker Barrel and they help families just like yours by paying mortgages for months and provide resources. I would like to correct you on the illegal immigrants because if they do not have a social security card, they can't collect benefits. However, because they come into the country and have their children born here, yes they can receive a substantial housing allowance or free one, they can collect a higher amount of food stamps and receive dental and medical insurance because their parents are migrant farmers. If have a complaint about Department of Human Services, maybe you should write to your Governor."

By that time, I was infuriated and felt the need to "correct" her as well. "Ma'am now its my time to clear up some confusion. If there was ALL this help, why do we have so many military families falling through the cracks? I just showed you ALL the help we are getting and because we are Reserves, there isn't ALL these programs that will help. Even the ones that do for Active Duty only help ONCE and that's it. There isn't ANY programs that will help monthly at all. Second Harvest Food Bank can help us monthly with one sack of groceries containing what is available at the time. Much of that is whole grain wheat cereals/bread which my children can't have. There are usually eggs, whole or powdered milk if possible, peanut butter or other cookie/bread type items that have byproducts of peanuts in them which we can't have at all in our home. Any one of these could potentially kill my youngest child. Wounded Warrior Project I am a huge fan of and I am sure they have helped many families, but so far, the ONLY thing I have gotten through that program is a trip for caregivers and  resources anywhere near us. They don't pay for monthly bills like you are misunderstanding and they don't pay for monthly housing etc. Now is a time for you to look up some of these programs and see just what the qualifications are, what they do and how they serve. While I appreciate your time, and correction about illegal immigrants...the best thing you could have done was NOT explain to us in length why "Anchor" babies to illegal immigrants get all the benefits when you are turning a Wounded Warrior away. Seems like the ones who really need the help, can't get it and yet the losers out there in society are living high on the hog. And by the way, I will be writing a letter to the Governor." I will copy this blog and send to every state representative, congressman and anyone else who wants to read it.

By this time, my husband was gathering Gunny up and looking like he couldn't get out fast enough. Myself? I stuck my chin out, straightened my spine and with tears running down my face I walked out of there. The ride home was long. Very very very long filled with shouting, crying and disappointment mixed with wounded pride and humiliation on his part. As I listened to his ranting while driving home, I did wonder myself....what do our military serve for? Did they know when they joined that they would come home and just be pushed to the side because they can't do their jobs anymore and not by their fault? Other than the obvious freedom, protecting our country etc...what did they get in return? I had to inwardly laugh to myself because I thought...I was just as naive as that caseworker was before my husband came home broken. I really did think that things would be taken care of. Instead....seems like the leeches of society instead are the primary reason people and families like ours can't get any help and the military and VA systems just don't care. We have to fight constantly to get anywhere, then once there....we must fight once more to stay and not get knocked back down again. I wonder sometimes if my husband knew then what he knows now, if he would have been so eager to sign up for dear Uncle Sam? Pride for our country and the call of duty would probably make him say he has no regrets and I would probably state the same. I have to wonder sometimes though....was it really worth something to many or just some?

Still Dreaming About Welfare Paid Lobster and Jeweled Thongs In My Size,

Back to School with PTSD and TBI

So the end of the summer has come for my school aged children and thought I would touch on this subject as this is one I really have stayed away from. While my brain was whooping with joy and my feet skipping gallantly down to the bus stop....the fear, anxiety and dread filled my stomach once again as soon as my children got on the bus. For those that really don't know much about my children; we have a three, five and fourteen year old boys. My littlest dare devils were pre and post deployment babies, so never had to deal with outside care other than my mother in law and an occasional sitter via our close friend, "Aunt Gracey", as my boys call her. Since my husband left as my middle son was born, the only one out of the three is my oldest who really knows the difference between "old" and "new" dad. After deployment and because of my son's older age, I educated as much as I could about the subjects of PTSD and TBI. I initially had reservations regarding this because although he knew what was going on somewhat, I wanted to allow him to still be a boy and not create a man so to speak, before his time.


While he still struggles just as we all do, he seems to understand more now that he is armed with the knowledge and like all of us, learning through mistakes. We didn't experience some of the depression, acting out or bad behavior as some other families are dealing with living with our types of households other than a few minor incidents at home and of course, prepubescent attitudes. I did however go through hell last year which is what we are going to talk about now. With school gearing up for all of us, I have seen an influx of "back to school" fears enter my mailbox, especially those of you who are National Guard and Army Reserve families.

Now for the active duty side of the house, I can't really tell you much about what goes on because we were never on a post or had to deal with schools like that. I can only say that on the RS/NG side, it's pretty hard because we aren't around military oriented communities and therefore our teachers and employees, (unless military related) really don't know much about our families and such struggles. I WILL say that many of you who have expressed your concerns and fears, were a ton of active components which is just damn sad. Why on posts are you all having so many issues? It's completely unacceptable! I am wondering why since PTSD and TBI is such a prevalent topic in the news that these teachers are not educated! Hopefully everyone can find something in my post that they can relate to, give you ideas, comfort you in you aren't alone or hell, at least a chuckle! I also hope this will spawn some of you to come out in the open and leave comments so others can share your advice or concerns! I completely understand what everyone wrote especially the email with the subject liner of "HOLY HELL-I'm SCARED to send my children to school!!!!". I have to admit that this year, I was dreading it a little bit. We are transitioning into newer schools for both my school aged children. One into Kindergarten at a closer school and one into dum dum dummmmm...high school. I was a bit concerned and wondered if perhaps I should have reconsidered talking to my Cardiologist about upping my Xanex dosage!

Last school year, the one problem I had and my biggest fear was not my older son but my middle son. At the age of four, he tested high enough to attend our county's first guinea pig project of Pre-School in the school system. Other than just being around Nana and a friend, he has always been with the family. I thought having the opportunity to get out and learn, plus the socialization would be wonderful for him and allow him to blossom before Kindergarten. While he did exceptionally well, we faced a TON of challenges that we weren't really sure how to address or where to turn to for help. It wasn't that my son was a misbehaved child and for a while, we never got a note home from the teacher or phone calls. I thought he was doing pretty well.

I suddenly get a HUGE letter asking for a parent teacher conference "as soon as possible-like tomorrow after school possible". Now, I wanted our family to seem normal and although I am very proactive about PTSD and TBI. I guess I wanted my children to have a normal school year. I am sure many of you can relate to that statement because although we no longer fit in the "normal category" in much of the military world, we are especially abnormal in the civilian one. We try to act as normal as possible. When enrolled, I didn't talk to the teacher about my child facing such mental and physical challenges at home because I wanted him to be treated normally and give him the opportunity to find himself without being defined by PTSD and TBI which often happens with ALL of us.

 I attended the parent teacher conference bracing myself for bad behavior. What could he have possibly done to warrant such a nasty gram home? Not listening, biting other children, the kid who eats the paste, snorts glitter, runs with scissors? What could be possibly going on that she would send such a note home to me with such harsh words? The worst I could figure was that he was repeating strong sentiments expressed by my "PTSD Beast" or maybe was acting like a goof ball in class. So after much nail biting, a quick pep talk in the mirror, I stayed after school with my son to attend the dreaded conference. I had a bad feeling and it just sort of hung off me the whole day like twenty pound sandbags around the neck.

The start of it all was "Your child is an excellent student BUT...." and I braced myself. Here was this teacher all of a sudden ranting and raving over my child and what were her complaints? He was too loud. He liked to be the loudest of them all on the playground and yell. Sometimes his "inside voice" was too loud for her and with the many "centers" that offered educational toys...he wanted to stick with the ones that created sounds and of course...play the loudest. She had one center with trucks and cars like fire trucks and police cars with sirens. He would go in and immediately want to use that center and then not leave. She said he was testing her patience. I have to tell you Readers...I started laughing because I thought to myself and told the teacher "Is that it?". I was relieved in a way that my child wasn't going to suffer from a glue poisoning or be the kid that is the class clown and always in trouble. However, I was kind of stunned because it was like what do I do with that? So after many many many examples, and some serious evil eyes from her, I broke down and explained.

I let it ALL come out from start of being injured up til then and when I was done....she looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Big bug eyes, alarmed face, confusion and a frown said it all. I felt absolutely deflated because I knew she just wasn't and didn't "get it". I felt like a made a HUGE mistake but kept stumbling on like some rambling lunatic. I explained that my son's behavior is explainable and it was due to his wanting to play with such toys, because we can't have them home as they set my husband off. We can't be very loud or yell, because it startles my husband so severely and then sets him off. We have to talk a wee bit louder than most because my husband lost quite a bit of his hearing and with two other brothers, he has to talk a little bit louder. I am also deaf in my right ear and can't afford hearing aids for both ears, so he does have to talk a little louder. She said she understood but I could see it in her eyes. It was as if I suddenly sprouted three heads and told her the mothership had just landed on the playground. I told her we would work on these "behavior problems" and to understand that we are a little bit challenged when it comes to expectations than those of other children.

We were batting a thousand right out the gate as the year rocked on. We not only had these noise issues but we also had the immaturity because he was the only (just turned) 4 year old they had in the entire program as the others were five going on 6. It was a constant barrage of phone calls, nasty grams home, parent teacher conferences, and then to make it worse....volunteer time. I wish I could have, looking back on it, explained how badly I wanted to be on every freaking field trip that the class took. I wanted to not only be there for my son, but wanted so desperately to dive into the excitement, the laughter and the funny things small children do at that age. When my son was at school, its like watching our service animal. Gunny works and works hard, but when he gets the chance man does he run and well, just wants to be and act like a dog! My son was similar to that and what I could see running, squealing and laughing was completely different of the child that comes home in the afternoons. He was happy, having fun and enjoying the time away. I envied that somewhat but also wanted to soak it all up at the same time. My husband and I then became the "non-participating" parents. I could not volunteer my time during the day without extensive plans ahead because I had to have someone with my husband and/or younger son. I wanted to go on those field trips and have some fun, but I was not able to do so. The nasty grams always stated the same thing "Your child was being loud on the playground or hallway and not using his inside voice-please have this talk with your child and have it corrected by tomorrow". Ummm ok.

We bought t-shirts when they were made, we bought other school fund raising items which we could not afford on disability income, clipped the hell out of some box tops, made sure our son participated in everything but selling candy which we got a lot of grief over. Our youngest child has a deathly allergy to peanuts and while the cases of candy bars are a hit with most schools....going door to door out here in cow country with a Veteran who has severe PTSD/TBI wasn't a popular idea with me. Not only that, but no matter how hard I tried to explain why I couldn't take two cases home due to Reese's Peanut Butter Cups being in there, we still got the "well alright" with a frown and arms crossed. We couldn't take the box because the oil on PB cups contaminates the entire box and could kill my child. No further explanation to me was needed, but it was like she just kept punishing me because I wasn't there all the time or was able to do the things like the other parents. Each time I picked him up, I pulled up with held breath, ass cheeks drawn up and the feeling like I was the one being punished and not him.

We made it through the school year and he graduated. She gave us a big hug but got the feeling that it was more like "Thank God they are leaving". After the school year ended and summer began, the more I thought about it the more pissed off I got. The entire time, she never offered me the usage of the guidance counselor at the school even during the time my husband broken down and had to be hospitalized. (yeah that was tough to explain my son might have bad days because we just had to put his dad in) We never really talked and came up with a mutual plan for working on the issues he had in class. He did wonderful at his work, wonderful at sharing, writing, listening etc...but would lose his tokens because of being a little loud or playing with a toy that dangled in front of him like gold in front of a thief! It ticked me off because no matter how hard the kid worked.....she set him up for failure because he would lose his tokens no matter what. So when other children would go to the prize box at the end of the week, my son would come home with nothing. I understood the reward system but with children such as ours, there has to be some room for understanding, patience, and expecting hurdles and challenges.

This year, I decided to bite the bullet with the new school and get a head start. I wasn't sure if I was making a mistake, but that's how we have learned much through this journey is from those mistakes. Fortunately for us, my oldest had just left my middle son's new school so they were familiar with my children. I was really panicking because I didn't want to have to worry about this type of stuff on top of everything else. I wanted my child to have a normal education, but at the same time, there has to be room for work on both parts of the parents and the school. I partially accepted blame for allowing last year to happen and for my not stepping up to the plate and letting the schools know. I sat down and after talking with Brannan at Familyofavet.com, I expressed my concerns about this upcoming school year and could she send me some laymen termed information on PTSD and TBI. I then took that, made several copies and then wrote a letter you can find HERE to my son's Kindergarten teacher in my son's point of view. Now from the Facebook page, some commented this may not help many of the older children but it can give you ideas on how to approach your child's teachers. You don't have to use it per say, but you get the idea of where I was trying to come from.

I didn't need one for an older child because I went and talked with the guidance counselor and principal before school started about my oldest son. I wanted to make sure that he could talk and utilize the guidance counselor during the school year. You can use it as a guideline or maybe you have other ideas. I took this packet and gave a copy to the teacher, the guidance counselor, the principal and the vice principal and made a copy to the school board. I was quite surprised at the reaction, the comments and the help they offered once it was out and I had something well written educational wise (Thank you Family of a Vet!). I found that by taking the horse by the reins this year, pushing my way in and advocating for my children was the best solution for us as far as our challenges. I am hoping this will help not only the teacher, but myself as a parent this year.

For my oldest son, transitioning to a new school PLUS High School to boot, can be pretty brutal as many remember our Freshman year. I was worried that he might have some difficulties especially after this summer when he told me he really no longer fit in "anywhere". Made me think a lot about what my son told me. I didn't realize he felt this way but he said "While most kids my age are worried about no allowance, or so and so just broke up with him/her, I am worried about my dad when I leave home for those 8 hours. Will he kill himself? Will my mom be alright?" It was pretty straight forward and well, honest. This year, my son decided to look into JROTC. I was a little hesitant, nervous and wanted to make sure he was doing it for the right reasons, not just to make my husband proud. He actually wanted to do it and I do believe it was one of the best moves we made. He has made a lot of friends his age and upper class men, sincerely is under scrutiny and expectations from SGT Major S who is a friendly version of Gunny Sarge from the movie Platoon, but he loves it. It gives him something to do extra-curricular and he has found several students in his class that have parents struggling with the same issues. I think the confidence building, the goals and standards are just what he needed. 

I can't honestly tell each and every one of you how to go about doing anything but can say from our experience, so far so good with pushing forward and advocating for my family. It's a little scary, but I felt more comfortable as the Principal called me with the Guidance Counselor and offered any services we may need. Familyofavet.com has a good radio interview which I participated in with many different panelists on board. It is an interesting way to hear different issues come up and what sort of solutions. One was to come up with a "code system" which I have found so far was one of the smartest ideas I learned. With my middle son, we have decided to use a red highlighter on bad days, and the teacher has ALL my contact information. I explained I can't fix any problems if I am not aware of them sooner.

Familyofavet.com also has diligently worked on a Ready to Use School Packet for Parents and Teachers which is ready for download. You can visit HERE to get all the information you need! The best advice I can give all of you is to just try. You are going to make mistakes as a parent, your child is definitely going to make mistakes....it's even harder when you factor PTSD and TBI into the equation. It's difficult but in all of this, you must do what you have to do. Many feel better about NOT bringing up the issues at home, and some do. Some feel that home schooling is an option that best suits their child and that is something that has been brought up a number of times due to the schools in their state/area. The point is....its up to you to advocate and search out resources. Often the school counselors are a lot more educated about PTSD than many of the teachers, if not...educate them!

Another idea to, and one we placed the resource card in our back pockets, was utilizing the Army's Child Youth Services. Relatively new, they have placed School Support Specialists in each state. They can help provide resources, and if need be, even speak to your child's teachers and school employees about the challenges faced at home. This can be done by phone or if feasible depending on location (as you know they have tightened up budgets), they will come to the school. Now they seemed to me to be more Active related, but did offer some great advice, ideas, and offered to be on call anytime that I needed our specialist to step in to set up a meeting, educating and diffusing "situations" that are family related.

I feel better this year myself, and will all this completely help in the whole year? Maybe. This is only the first week of school so I am sure we will stumble on some issues along the way. I am trying to stay focused but have to say that I, as a parent and spouse of a Veteran, feel more confident and sure of myself than I did last year. Embarking on a journey with our children through life is difficult and then the pressures of PTSD and TBI mixing in, can be challenging. You just have to find the right solution for your family and if you fail, keep trying. At least the school system can't fault YOU for not trying to letting them know and educating them. Check out the resources, most definitely check out FOV's Packet for Parents and teachers, and let your mind chew on some ideas on how to best help yourself. At least we can say....we got an A+ for effort!

Still Learning, 

For the Love of a Vet: Most Asked Question To The Mistress

With life being so insane right now with Coordinators, advisers ( I may have more now than Obama has and still don't know what the hell I am doing), MED/PEB board, service dog, paperwork and school starting up....it's been difficult to answer and get caught up to all the emails. Since I had a battery of medical testing yesterday and under orders to rest, I thought I would take the time today to answer the most asked question that many of you have sent in:

How Do You Deal/Cope With A Veteran With PTSD, TBI, Issues?

Honestly, this is a question that is one that plagues us spouses on a daily basis and one that there really isn't a specific answer for. I have read the books, I have researched, and everything I have come across has different answers because like your question to me, I have asked that question to others. You could cram a room full of experts, therapists, and psychiatrists and still not get a single, mutually agreed upon and understandable answer. Now does all that researching, reading, exploring and asking make me some type of educated "know it all" on these issues? Absolutely not! Never claimed to be, never will be and to be honest with you readers...I am still to this day asking, exploring, educating and wondering myself how I deal with all of it! 

So after reading 58 emails this morning with this very question that eludes us all, I thought I could pass on what I have learned, what has worked for me, and what hasn't. May not be the answer you want, but it's all I have because every Veteran is different. Each of us has different stories, and will have different outcomes. In that same sentence, every spouse is different. What is common among us all is that we all have problems and varying degrees of issues/wounds but, as individuals, our thresholds are different. So what works for me, may not work at all for any of you.

1. Education: I know I brow beat all of you on this but in many emails I have received, the spouse admits that they don't know much about any of their husband's issues or diagnosis.  Almost everyone has a computer these days, and access to the internet. If not, there are libraries. Research. So what do you do with this knowledge? You will be surprised, but it changes the situation and you will learn how to best handle the counter-attack with your veteran. Education on these subjects will be your best coping tool that you will find. Why? Because you can't do anything but shy away from the unknown and you find yourself swimming in unfamiliar territory. First thing we do as humans is panic, defend and retaliate. This is NOT going to help you in any manner with your veteran. Once I learned as much as I could, I understood my Veteran better. You have to understand that many times, the Veterans don't even understand what is happening to them, let alone try to get their family members to understand. Once armed with knowledge, you can find ways to adapt to this new person who you are living with and that comes all on your own. Each of us will interpret this information and react differently. It's up to you though to know what you are dealing with.

2. Understanding the Veteran is NOT your old husband: At first, this whole mood swinging, yelling-screaming, foul-mouthed, foaming at the mouth stranger that came home to me, scared the hell out of me. After I educated myself, I understood the different processes they go through. How did I cope with this? I looked at my husband as many different individuals and named them. You will see me refer off and on in my blog posts about "Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde" in which is his sudden in-a-good-mood man and then BAM! Pissed off and cussing man. You will see me refer to the "PTSD Beast" which is the monster side of PTSD when it rears its really ugly head and the talons and fangs come out. There is "Mr. Downer" for when he is depressed and flat lined, "Asshole" for the times where he is well, being an asshole. "Mr. Danger" for when his adrenaline seeking methods turn into stupid, self-absorbed and crazy ass antics he pulls. "Eugene" which is in reference to a donkey we met on a Wounded Warrior Wive's retreat in which I use to envision my husband when he starts hee-hawing and going off. My "Pod Person" that came home, isn't my husband. However, sometimes...some days, I see small glimpses of him and that right there is worth all the other personalities I must live with. Each mood and each day can be challenging, but try to find humor in it. Learn each mood, each personality and find what best fits YOU as the spouse when dealing with it. When the "PTSD Beast" rears its head, try one thing and if that doesn't work....keep trying until you get it right. You will eventually learn something that does work and most of that will be through trial and error. When "Dr. Jeckyl and Mr. Hyde" shows up, I simply find other things to do or get out of the house. It's easier to walk away than be an unintended target for their anger.

3. Knowing that most of what is directed AT you doesn't mean it's FOR you: I had a hard time with this and often times, I still find that I get my feelings hurt when he yells and screams at me for something else. Over the last couple of years, I have learned to tune out most of it and try not to wear my heart on my sleeves. Easier said than done is probably what you are thinking. Understanding their wounds will help you accomplish this but will also allow you to see that they can't help but lash out. If you are there....you are/will be the target. I once had a therapist tell me that although they may seem like they are foaming at the mouth and ranting at you for nothing that you did or had control over, take that time to listen as they are often letting you inside without you realizing it. Everything is cooped up in that small organ called the brain and they don't know how to reach out or tell you that this made them angry, sad etc. Much of the time, they are scared. That made a lot of sense what she told me that because once I learned, I found that my husband in all his yelling was actually his way of opening up and letting me inside. Showing what they are feeling and how to express it in the appropriate manner is one of the biggest challenges because what we know as "normal" isn't in our worlds anymore. In this, you must learn to stand up straight, move the feelings aside, listen, and let them get it out. I usually find that once he is done, he is actually easier to deal with than letting it bottle up and explode. 

4. Being a part of their lives: Often we find when our veterans come home, we are suddenly living together but not really "together". I struggled with this as the relationship changes and it's very hard to find a place where each of us can mutually come together. As I learned, educated and asked questions...I found that my husband was actually more open to me because I was trying. Rather than fighting and yelling back, I tried to rely back on what I learned as my focal point to stand on even ground with him which helped tremendously. Again, learned through mistakes and trying again. By attending the appointments with my husband, showed him that I was still by his side and interested enough to learn to adapt to his disabilities. Learning to recognize their triggers is one of the biggest things. If you know that crowded places piss them off or if being in a particular situation stresses them out, then don't push it on them or force them to be in those situations. Finding resources that you CAN do together is a great way to help adapt into this new life. I found that by paying attention, learning what sets him off, learning what he can do actually helps him communicate with me a little more and we find a common ground we can stand on. If you aren't showing them that you care enough to go that extra mile to understand, they won't move an inch because in their minds....you aren't trying at all. It's very easy for you to be seen as the enemy and every little thing you do will be viewed in their mind's in huge blown out proportions. Often times, they are merely pushing your buttons, so you will be angry and that in turn punishes them. It's really a vicious circle and it's up to you to put a blocker in that circle.

5. Understanding they will never be the same person: This is one I find I still have trouble with and to this day, often my heart misses my old husband terribly. I recently was reviewing VA medical records in which he reported that he thought I was leaving and taking away his children, that I was poisoning his food, and that I was picking on him for no reason. It really hurt to read all of that because I couldn't understand WHY he would think such things of me! I know in the educated part of my brain that is part of the paranoia that comes with PTSD and that in his mind, he probably really does believe this. In the feelings part of the brain, it hurt like hell. Much of the time everything is about him or the world revolves around him, and often times we as the spouses lose that helping hand/companion that we had before war. He doesn't seem to care when the kids and I are sick, or if something happens in the family. He has just become numb and flat-lined. I just talked about this to a dear friend of mine the other night who quickly reminded me that in their minds, they just aren't capable of such things anymore. I guess what helps keep me going is seeing small glimpses of what he used to be. Occasionally, an acknowledgment or a simple I love you makes it worthwhile.

6. Knowing when to take care of yourself: Coping with our Veterans can literally suck the life out of you like a blood thirsty leech. Compassion and patience can go right out the window if you don't cling to it somehow someway. I have been really bad about NOT paying attention to myself and letting my husband control much of how my life is run. I decided that I didn't want to be just a "caregiver" anymore with PTSD and TBI ruling every little thing I do in my life, hence the blogging. This is my way to still have a part of me, but document our life and struggles in hopes that it helps others. I realized I was having some health issues and after a good hearty scare, realized I haven't been taking care of myself like I should have. I am still learning in this department because I am a giver and not a taker, but in living with such issues...you still have to have a life. Surround yourself with other spouses like yourself. You may think you are alone as many of you have written in to tell me and trust me, I hear you! I have small children and cows surrounding me and no one in the area who "gets it". However, with technology today, you can find other support groups online and although weird as it may sound....my friends live inside my computer. Hahaha! There are many support groups online such as the Wounded Warrior Wives through Operation Homefront who have chat forums. It's nice because not only are you seeing that you aren't alone, but can find answers, open up to other resources and the list goes on. There are retreats and resources out there, you just have to take the time to find them. I am trying to find myself more time for me, and just for me alone. If in all of this, I think this is one of my biggest challenges is to let go and give myself some attention. 

7. Setting and Knowing Your Own Limits: Out of all of this...this is the most important one and one that often leads to the question of how to deal. I have been through it all, and second chances have been given because I understood and was educated. Love will often blind you and also give in to second chances. However, I will NOT let my husband use me as a physical or verbal punching bag. I will NEVER allow him to hurt my children or someone else. I will NOT allow him to do everything he wants to do, disabled or not, and not face the consequences of his actions. I set guidelines and know my limits and most importantly his. Once those gets crossed, its best to walk away for each of us. I try to promote understanding of PTSD and TBI but at the same time, you can only take so much. So for those of you who write to me asking whether you should stay or not? I can't honestly give you that answer because I can't. I don't know what your situation is, I don't know how bad it is, or what you have been through. It would be crazy for me to even attempt to try to come up with some lame ass comment to your question. Best I can offer is this. You do what you need to do. If you aren't happy, and you have tried...sometimes you just have to walk away. It is ok to love someone and just not be able to be around them or hell, even like them. You know your own limits and what you can deal with and adapt to, and that's for all of us. You have to make the decision on your own and follow through with it. The Veteran must understand that there are limits to their behavior and often times, we all know that behavior can easily become volatile and dangerous. Don't stay because you might look like a bad wife, or "not supportive" as one person stated. If you have done everything you can, and things don't improve...do what makes you happy and most importantly, protects you and the children. 

So in closing this long winded "non-answer" to the most asked question that has been given to me, realize that I am just a spouse like you are. I am living with the same person, the same issues, and problems like you are. It's been a long path for us and one with many physical and emotional challenges, but you aren't ever alone. I think what keeps me going is just stupid, blind, adoring love for a man who went to war and never came home. There are parts of my "pod person" that I have grown to love and accustomed to, but I still grieve for things long gone. There will be many many bad days, and few good ones. I take one day at a time, prepare for the worst,expect a disaster and hang on to the smallest of hopes. I know that sounds depressing but I am sure many will agree that is all you can do. You learn from each day, and learn from the challenges. Take that wisdom and put it to good use. There isn't a manual, or a "break glass in case of emergency" box with all the solutions that many of you seek. It just simply isn't there. For the love I have for my husband, I would cross the ends of the world for but know in my mind....that he simply would not for me because he is no longer capable of doing so. However, I hang on to the tiniest glimmer when I see a part of his old self, and the hopes that I can find more of them that keeps me going. I hold on to hope period and as we go through each day, I discover more strength and wisdom about myself and other spouses than I ever had before. Learn to let go of the past, which is extremely hard....and move on from this point forward. There is no going back. I am a firm believer of the "if one door closes, another shall open" phrase we often hear as we have discovered that. 

I hope this helps someone. Again, maybe not, but its the best answer I have for these types of questions. It's one of the hardest ones to be asked because you have to stop and wonder "how the hell am I dealing with it?". It's not something you can explain, or teach...it comes through hard work, patience, and the belief that love and hope still exist. I stand my ground, I stand firm and I fight. I wake up, I let go of yesterday and deal with tomorrow when it comes. For each of you who wrote in, thank you for sharing with me and I wish I could have a "Here is what you do" words of wisdom for you. I wish there were such things. Just know you aren't alone, there are others exactly like you, and we are all facing problems just in different degrees. Just open up your mind, find your own strength and you will be amazed at what you can overcome.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. 

~Lao Tzu