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,

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,