Army Brat,
(I am sorry this is so long and also if it triggers anyone - the story is that of a very dear friend and I have never told it before...it sort of came out without my planning or thinking about it and I just could not bare to delete it once I was done)
I agree with much but not all of what you posted. Obviously a supporter should not allow their sufferer to abuse or otherwise mistreat them. They have to draw the line because often a sufferer can't or does not even realize that they are going over the edge.
However, there is a difference between someone abusing or mistreating their partner and someone who struggling to keep their sanity intact. Should you wait around for say...6 months without communication? No probably not. But a few days or a week without communication is nothing and does not mean that they are probably out drinking or doing drugs (and yes, I realize that many sufferers self medicate and that the military often seems to promote alcohol use as a way to cope, but that does not mean that a sufferer IS going to do so just because they are out of contact).
The simple fact is that there will be many times when a sufferer is not able to be there emotionally for their partner. It's part of having a mental illness. Most of the time it probably has nothing to do with whether or not they are committed but rather if they are able to cope or not. If you were dating a vet who lost a limb or the use of their legs would and was struggling would you feel the same way? Combat related PTSD is a war-time injury and should be recognized as such.
Don't get me wrong...I am not saying that a person should just put aside there own lives or feelings indefinitely or never say a damn thing and just allow their sufferer to walk all over them. And certainly if it is a casual relationship it is probably not worth it. But if you truly care about someone then sometimes you have to take the good with the bad. And if that someone is fresh from a combat experience then they are probably going to be a bit raw and need time to adjust...Of course you need to have boundaries and limitations...lines you will not allow someone to cross (PTSD or not). But you can't necessarily blame them for having symptoms, especially in the beginning when they really have no idea what is going on.
If you are going to date someone in the military then you have to be prepared for the fact that PTSD is a very real possibility. And you need to decide if that (or really any other combat related injury) is something you can deal with BEFORE they come home with it. If you can't then you should look for someone with a different kind of career and not bother with military personal (or Police, EMT's, Firemen, etc...).
I am not a combat vet or a spouse/girlfriend of one but I do have several friends and family members (and more then a few have PTSD) who are. Something I have noticed is that often, when they come home they do not realize that anything is wrong until something unexpected (and often trivial) triggers them and then the s**t hits the fan. And almost every vet I know has said that they consider it a weakness and are ashamed to even admit they are having problems coping.
A few months ago I read a post in the supporter section where the girlfriend was complaining about how her man was not there for her during a specific incident ( I am not going into detail because I don't want to put anyone on the spot and honestly can't remember who wrote it - but I will say that the incident took place on the 4th of July and she posted shortly there after). He had not been home for very long and she was very excited to spend time with him (obviously and completely understandable). Unfortunately things did not go as they planned and the outcome sucked. Basically it turned into a big ol' hassle and in the end she was pissed because he was not able to give her what she wanted or needed. So she called him up and yelled at him...said some very mean things. Then she posted this long rant about how he had not been there and she should not have had to call someone else for assistance. Everybody sympathized and agreed with her and not one single person bothered to point out that it was the 4th and he may have been seriously struggling as opposed to just sitting on his ass and not bothering to be there for her.
I had a therapist warn me once to expect that my PTSD would get worse when things were calm and uneventful. Her reasoning was that my mind was used to and functioned well under extreme stress. Chaos was what my mind knew as "normal" so peace and calm had a very unsettling effect. Therefore my mind tried to re-create the chaos it was comfortable with.
I believe that this applies to vets even more because 1) they are trained and expected to have PTSD type responses (everything from sleep deprivation, aggression, and hyper-vigilance to eating their food quickly is engrained from the very beginning of their service ) and 2) they are in environments where they have outlets for their stress/aggression and most of the people around them have similar reactions/behaviors which are considered normal/acceptable.
Then they come back to civilization thinking something like "oh yeah...I am going home to see my family....I get to snuggle with my wife, play ball with my boy and hug my folks and see my new baby girl be born" (insert happy dance here). Everybody is excited and the world is all sunny skies, apple pie and roses. Except that it's not....
Eventually the "Welcome Home" banner comes down and life goes back to "normal". The wife still likes to snuggle but what she really wants is the washing machine fixed, the tires rotated and the lawn mowed, your son hates baseball and would rather spend his time writing poems or looking into a microscope and your folks expect that you will be at their house every Sunday because all they really want is to drink in the sight of your face and know that their baby is ok.
About that time the nightmares start happening, you find yourself so tired you can't get out of bed and the Muslim neighbor (who was your friend before you left) becomes the terrorist that blew your best buddy up. Your head is constantly screaming, a million thoughts and emotions pinging around like a ball in back-asswards pinball machine, yet you can't really make hide nor hair of any of them. But still it goes on and on and on... You find yourself getting angry and frustrated all the time...over small things that really don't matter. Your son spilled milk on the carpet, left legos on the floor for you to step on or wife burned the toast.
So you begin to understand that SOMETHING is very wrong....you are terrified but you don't know what to do or who to turn to. You can no longer concentrate or hold a decent conversation. You haven't slept in days or even weeks, you avoid friends and family and never leave the house. You are so exhausted that your soul aches yet the adrenaline is constantly flowing and you pace your home like a caged lion. And the anger continues to grow until it feels like it is going to burn you alive.
All the while you tell yourself that you are a Marine (soldier, Seal or whatever...) and you are not SUPPOSED to feel like this. Hell, you are not ALLOWED to feel like this. You are the strong one, the protector, the warrior, the hero...your job is to suck it up, put it away and move on. No, it's more then just a job...this is your identity...it is WHO YOU ARE.
Then it happens...life has been so stressful and you want to get away for a while. The new baby is due shortly so you and your wife decide to take your boy up to the coast for a couple days. One last trip to your favorite camping spot before your family of three becomes four.
The weather is lovely...warm and sunny. But you don't know what is about to happen or how bad things are going to get... You don't realize that the sun and the sand will transport you back there or that there will be teenagers lighting off leftover 4th of July fireworks and it never occurred to you that some fool would spit on you and call you a murderer.
It takes four grown men to pull you off of him. Your son is standing there crying and staring at you like you are a monster. You are arrested and taken to the local jail and although the arresting officers are empathetic you still have to spend the weekend in jail while you wait to see a judge on Monday. When your wife picks you up she is angry...not at the person who disrespected or humiliated you tho...no, she is angry with you. Until that ride home you never knew just how loud silence could be.
When you get back to your house you go hide in your man cave. You play video games and turn the music up loud...anything to drown out the noise in your head. But then she comes in...screaming about how you embarrassed her and how could you act like an animal in front of your son. Who are you? I don't know you anymore...What kind of father are you...what kind of man? You jump up and scream at her...vent all your pent up fear and rage...it takes every bit of strength you possess not to strike her and instead put your fist thru the wall and slam out the door.
You drive and drive...completely lost, your mind in a fog. When you arrive at your destination you go inside and find your old bed. You curl yourself into a ball under the quilt your Grandma made you when you were just a boy and cry like a baby, consumed by pain and shame for what you have done.
Days and then weeks go by but you don't notice. Family members call and text but you never respond. Eventually someone remembers Grandpa's old cabin and how much you loved it there. That is where they find you...still curled into a ball, pale, eyes as big as saucers...
You spend a couple of weeks in the hospital where you learn the realities of PTSD. They give you meds and have you talk to someone who has never seen war...
A couple of weeks later and your baby is almost due. You are feeling better and promise to continue meds and therapy so they let you go home. When your wife goes into labor you take her to the hospital and hold her hand thru the pain. You cut the umbilical cord and welcome your new daughter into the world. You kiss her and smile, saying a small prayer that the world treats her kindly and softly...that her eyes never see the horrors reflected in yours.
You spend the night there with your wife and baby...you count fingers and toes...you laugh with your wife and dream of her future...will she be a doctor or a teacher...maybe she will drive a truck or fly a plane... You rock her and pour every ounce of love that you possess into those hours...The pictures show a man clearly in love with his new baby girl...
When they find you her picture is tucked in your pocket, close to your heart and the note you leave behind tells of your love for your children and your hopes, dreams and wishes for their lives and futures....You beg them to understand that you don't want to leave them but don't know any other way to save them from the pain. You apologize to your wife and tell her that you love her and want her to go on...find a new man...a new daddy for your babies...
