Each case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is as unique and complex as the person involved. Squee is a multi-faceted person, his individual experiences in combat combined with his injuries changed his personality, but the Squee from 'before' is still within him, he just works around the layers of PTSD. Every veteran suffering from combat PTSD is similar, but they are not all the same. In the wake of recent tragedies involving veterans, I find myself often questioned by well-intentioned but misguided folks about different aspects of Squee's PTSD. Often I've been warned to leave, for the safety of my children and myself, by people who believe that all Post Traumatic Stress Disorder sufferers are violent, crazy, or out of control. This isn't the truth of things, though tabloids and headlines will only tout the extremes as the norm. I decided long ago that it wasn't worth the effort to befriend other veteran wives unless they too understood PTSD, because eventually the aforementioned conversation would take place, and I can say from a place of honesty and sincerity that if one more woman implores me to leave my husband and abandon my marriage, I'm going to lose my mind, my temper, and total control of my mouth.
Many of these concerned women speak from a place that sounds like experience but smells like fear. They voice concerns that stem from a place of personal unease and hardship, without regards to the fact that individuals with PTSD are still, in fact, individuals, and not simply a faceless disorder. From my own experiences, I know a few truths. The first of which is that, no matter how 'violent' a disorder PTSD has a history of being, my husband is not a violent man. Even during his worst anxiety attacks, his harshest blackouts, and his worst nightmares, he has never physically injured or attempted to hurt me or our daughters. So, given my past 8 years of experience as being his other half, I am easily offended when those who don't know myself or my Squee personally dispense unsolicited advice.
Don't get me wrong, we aren't without our struggles. We argue about the usual married couple issues. We argue about silly little things that don't matter. We gripe and complain, nit-pick and goad each other into fights, but we never, ever let it get physical and we always, always work it out. Though we have our problems, there has never been a time during this PTSD circus when I have doubted how much he loves me or how much I love him. That doesn't mean we haven't asked ourselves those difficult questions before.
Once, very early in our marriage, I had to ask myself an important question: could I stay? The question came to mind after two particularly harsh weeks of arguing, bickering without talking, and occasionally sleeping separately. I was awake at four in the morning, listening to the sounds of Squee's breathing beside me, and searched my soul for the answer. While in thought, Squee shifted beside me, inching closer to my side the way he always does in his sleep when he's having a nightmare. I felt the change in his breathing, getting faster as panic set in while he remained asleep. It had been this way for weeks on end, the result of yet another new medication his doctors had piled on top of his already extensive regemin. The problem witht his medication is that it didn't 'help him sleep' as intended, but instead threw him into an 8 hour flashback nightmare that he couldn't wake up from or control. Not for the first time, Squee reached out to me in his sleep, and without thinking, I reached for him too. My answer came in that moment, when his hand closed over mine. I married Squee because I love him deeply, I stay because that will never change.
I told that story to explain the depth just a bit of my agitation. Out of all the 'wrong' things to say to a PTSD wife and mom, anything that remotely sounds like you are questioning them on their marriage choice is definitely #1 on my list, and I'd like to share four others that irk me just the same.
#1) The aforementioned and yet often heard, "I don't see how you can stay married to him, PTSD is dangerous!" and all it's variations.
A) Usually, this is the person that cannot fathom that a relationship can work (and in many cases flourish) when faced with difficulties. My responses to this vary, based upon how it is addressed. Those who attempt to be polite get a placating smile accompanied by "Squee's stronger than PTSD," something that I believe whole heartedly. Those who say it the way I wrote it get a scathing diatribe that issues forth from my mouth like a river of lava, reminiscent of a Biblical judgement. It is not PTSD that is dangerous, but rather behaviors that are exacerbated by PTSD that can seem violent. If a person had almost zero propensity towards violence before PTSD, chances are slim that PTSD induced violence will become the norm for that individual. This sort of blanket approach when it comes to understanding PTSD that all caregivers despise, because it strips away everything we do daily to remind our veterans that they are much more than the disorder they struggle with.
#2) "You never have any time for your friends!"
A) Understandably so. Being a caregiver is the new title for an old job, but just because it is now classified as a job doesn't mean it is the same as traditional work. There is no down time, days off or calling in sick. When you add children into the equation, it makes the job much more complicated. So, when you make demands rather than requests on our time, it creates resentment. Do it too often, and we begin to reassess your role in our lives. At a certain point, friends who aren't conducive to our family's healing process are eliminated.
#3) "Do you ever wear real clothes anymore?"
A) Jeans, yoga pants, sweats and t-shirts are part of our unofficial uniform. So are flip flops and messy ponytails, and faces void of makeup because the demands on our time are greater than the time we have to get 'pretty'. In fact, according to Siren, my wearing shoes is her first sign that we must have a VA appointment. I think you should consider yourself lucky that I had the time to shower and brush my teeth, just don't ask me when I shaved my legs last.
#4) "Aren't you tired?" or, the snarky "Don't you get sick of doing everything?"
A) In a word, we're exhausted. Caregivers are always tired, a good night's sleep being a thing of the past for most of us. And to the snarkier commenters, yes, we do get sick of doing 'everything'. Even when 'everything' is just the laundry. So do most stay at home wives and moms, at one point or another. Caregivers who work outside the home also get tired of the workload, because stressors don't disappear during an 8 hour workday, they just pile up higher. Of course we're tired, so are our veterans. Isn't everyone?
#5) "His PTSD can't be THAT bad..."
A) Warning: this is probably one of the most dangerous things you can say to a PTSD veteran's caregiver, because it could result in bodily harm to the speaker. PTSD severity varies greatly from individual to individual. Squee's PTSD keeps him from doing many things, but doesn't inhibit his ability to do others. So, while many are unclear as to how Squee and I can go to a firing range for target practice where the buzzing of bullets is commonplace when firework bangs and booms can trigger anxiety attacks, those of us who understand a little more about PTSD know that it is about individual nature of the sufferer. Saying this around me is likely to get you a nice Southern 'blessing' that I'll be somewhat sorry for later if it occurs in the presence of my children. This phrase, or a variant thereof, has cost me three friendships and placed an irrevocable wedge in my relationship with my mother. Simply put, if you don't live with PTSD everyday, you probably don't understand PTSD.
In a PTSD marriage, there are things you can change and things you can't. I can't change the minds of people who sneer at us as though we're diseased when we explain PTSD. I can keep educating anyone who asks me sincerely about our struggles. I can't safeguard against every trigger, stop every flashback or end every anxiety attack. But I can be there when they happen, a shoulder to lean on, someone else to share the burden my Squee bears. And I would never change that.
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