Disgruntledgrunt1577
Learning
Well, here goes nothing.
I actually managed to decide on a title I like this time, and figured I'd drop this bit here.
I'm different now than I was. My first deployment, I don't think it caught up with me as much. Like, I realized I had changed and that there was something about me that made me different from those that weren't there, but it was only after my second go around that it really came to light for me.
I don't like going places with lots of people. Saying it fills me with anxiety is an understatement. I'm afraid. My organs shake inside my body. I can't watch everyone or everything for danger, footsteps, voices, sounds, everything just plows me under this tidal wave of sensory overload.
Sometimes I get mad, because I realize it's happening. And I try to fight it, which only makes it worse.
But most times it just turns into a predictable pattern.
Simple things like going to the store for groceries, I'll make up some stupid excuse in my head to push it off. I hate it.
I hate standing in line and knowing someone is behind me, that the cashier is watching my hands shake, and that I know there's people around me who I can't keep my eyes on.
I start sweating, and normally I do my best to hide it, and get out as fast as possible.
None of that is normal.
My combat reflexes are still present.
Last time I was home on leave, I was with some old friends, just walking through town. Bullshitting and talking.
I didn't even realize we had walked next to a construction site, and I don't know if it was a drill or whatever. But in my mind it was a machine gun.
Not a thought, just that primal fear.
I dove into the nearest ditch.
And looked up to my friends asking me if I was okay.
Or when my youngest cousin ran up to me and tried to hug me, and I had a miniature panic attack, because the last time I was that close to a kid his age had been looking down at the hole I had put in his head.
I don't talk about that. I've never told a soul.
In fact, it makes me nervous and uncomfortable just saying it, even though he had a hand grenade and wouldn't stop coming at our check point, no matter what we did.
I avoid people, I avoid situations, places I'm unfamiliar with, everything.
I do it subconsciously and then make up excuses for myself as to why I'm doing it.
It's become a constant interference on my every day life, and I think that's how I ended up here.
I don't know how bad it is for everyone else, but on my worst days, it's pretty terrible.
I actually managed to decide on a title I like this time, and figured I'd drop this bit here.
I'm different now than I was. My first deployment, I don't think it caught up with me as much. Like, I realized I had changed and that there was something about me that made me different from those that weren't there, but it was only after my second go around that it really came to light for me.
I don't like going places with lots of people. Saying it fills me with anxiety is an understatement. I'm afraid. My organs shake inside my body. I can't watch everyone or everything for danger, footsteps, voices, sounds, everything just plows me under this tidal wave of sensory overload.
Sometimes I get mad, because I realize it's happening. And I try to fight it, which only makes it worse.
But most times it just turns into a predictable pattern.
Simple things like going to the store for groceries, I'll make up some stupid excuse in my head to push it off. I hate it.
I hate standing in line and knowing someone is behind me, that the cashier is watching my hands shake, and that I know there's people around me who I can't keep my eyes on.
I start sweating, and normally I do my best to hide it, and get out as fast as possible.
None of that is normal.
My combat reflexes are still present.
Last time I was home on leave, I was with some old friends, just walking through town. Bullshitting and talking.
I didn't even realize we had walked next to a construction site, and I don't know if it was a drill or whatever. But in my mind it was a machine gun.
Not a thought, just that primal fear.
I dove into the nearest ditch.
And looked up to my friends asking me if I was okay.
Or when my youngest cousin ran up to me and tried to hug me, and I had a miniature panic attack, because the last time I was that close to a kid his age had been looking down at the hole I had put in his head.
I don't talk about that. I've never told a soul.
In fact, it makes me nervous and uncomfortable just saying it, even though he had a hand grenade and wouldn't stop coming at our check point, no matter what we did.
I avoid people, I avoid situations, places I'm unfamiliar with, everything.
I do it subconsciously and then make up excuses for myself as to why I'm doing it.
It's become a constant interference on my every day life, and I think that's how I ended up here.
I don't know how bad it is for everyone else, but on my worst days, it's pretty terrible.