I was diagnosed with PTSD in 2010 after returning home from a 'combat' deployment to Iraq with the US Marines. Sort of.
Upon returning from Iraq I started drinking a lot. Granted, I turned 21 in Iraq so I think it was understandable that I was drinking more than I was before because, well, I didn't drink before hand. However, this probably just gave me an excuse to overlook my behavior. This, combined with a large number of other behaviors prompted one of my Marines to take me to the VA to seek help for my behavior.
The first doctor I spoke with said that he 'didn't think I had PTSD yet'. Didn't know what that meant, I figured you had it or you didn't, whether or not the symptoms manifested immediately or not. Went back anyway and the second doctor raised her eyebrows skeptically at the notion of me not having PTSD after our conversation. We decided on a prescription of Ambien and (I believe) Celexa.
I went home and took the Ambien that night, but was unable to fall asleep and experienced gooey jello walls and all sorts of entertaining and pseudo terrifying effects. I felt groggy the entire next day, and took my nightly Ambien the next night. I fell into a light sleep and remember being awoken by one of my housemates. I didn't remember taking the Ambien, so I took him up on his offer to go have some drinks. After drinking a heroic amount, I returned home and I am pretty sure I took another Ambien.
I took the 30 day prescription of Ambien over the next four days and do not remember much anything. I also consumed a large amount of muscle relaxers that the military healthcare system had given me. After this lost weekend I decided (in my professional opinion as a doctor...of course) that medication was not for me.
Spent the next year and some change acting like a lost child and eventually got arrested for impaired driving. Might be one of the better things that had happened to me because it relighted my frustration with my life and my last deployment as a problem, rather than, well, something else. About the same time I applied for disability with the VA for tinnitus, low back problems, insomnia, and a host of other conditions.
Because I claimed insomnia, I was required to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. He apparently determined that I in fact was a 'crazy person' as one of my incredibly insightful friends put it, because I was awarded 50% disability for PTSD with depressive features, and denied everything else except the tinnitus (ringing ears).
So that is the story of my diagnosis. The story of my, 'trauma', is somehow even less exciting.
I decided I was going to join the Marines when I was a pre-teen. It probably had something to do with being raised LDS (what with all the warrior-prophets in the Book of Mormon) and Will Smith's character in Independence Day. Basically, I was going to help people and look good doing it, so the Marines seemed like an obvious choice. For some reason, 9/11 and the subsequent conflicts made me want to do this more, so in 2005 at the age of 17 I signed the contract and went to boot camp a year later. As a Reservist.
Really enjoyed the travel and job (I still enjoy being an Infantryman) until 2008, when we were warned for deployment to Iraq. A series of hazing incidents resulted in a big investigation. I didn't feel so much like a victim as I was just annoyed that I had to work with idiots. Our training continued and I discovered through a series of unfortunate events that involved me volunteering for extra duty and getting ignored and harassed when I tried to do my job, that I could not take my chain of command or our mission in Iraq seriously.
We finally made it in country and spent our time being corrected on how we were wearing our uniforms and watching drunk Iraqi police drive by shooting in the air. I smoked a lot of cigarettes and slept a lot, and got a front row view to a country tearing itself apart. Operation Iraqi Freedom ended while I was there and became Operation New Dawn. I only tell you this to demonstrate that I did absolutely jack shit while I was there and did not experience any trauma other than the very mild (and familiar) experience of the people in charge of me not giving a f*ck about me or the people of Iraq. We spent our time on guard post watching inward, guarding against our superiors coming up to unnecessarily f*ck with us. "Marines, I know we aren't sitting down in here! It's only 8 hours in a steel box six inches from the god damn sun!"
On a surface level, I certainly exhibit many of the symptoms of PTSD. However, I have little trouble with uncontrollable re-experience of a specific event. Driving on freeways makes me a little nervous, I guess, but what happens more often is I see a US flag or someone thanks me for my service and I am filled with an incredible feeling of shame. I feel like I let down my family, my friends, my country, and the people of Iraq because I did nothing. Even worse, I had a bad attitude about doing nothing instead of just accepting it. Fireworks don't give me flashbacks, they make me a jump and remind me that I wasn't allowed to kill the bad guys that I knew were right there and it makes me feel like a useless f*ckup.
I'm sure that the things that are affecting my life are related to PTSD, but when I hear others talk about PTSD or read accounts on this forum, their description of their psychological relationship to their trauma seems so foreign and alien to me. I just feel like some punk kid who had ridiculous expectations from too many movies, who got what he deserved.
I feel anxious and guilty all the time, and can't keep my life together. It's bad enough that I feel guilty about doing nothing for Iraq, but now I am getting 50% disability and am healthy while I know men and women who lost their arms or legs who get less than that.
I'm sure you've noticed that my writing is a bit scattered, a big change from before. I have trouble keeping relationships intact (even moreso than before, I have always been a drifter, socially) and can't visualize my own future. Suicidal ideation is not really an issue, I just want to curl up in a ball and go away, basically amounting to the same thing. I am tired regardless of my amount of sleep, exercise, or quality of diet (all of which are significantly better than an average 23 year old American male)
I don't know if there is a point to this post other than to Introduce myself, but I am mostly here to determine (for myself) if I really have PTSD or if my artistic temperament just couldn't handle such an undramatic war experience. A futile goal I'm sure. Thanks for reading, I wish I could give you something that made a little more sense but I'm not really sure what is going on anymore.
Upon returning from Iraq I started drinking a lot. Granted, I turned 21 in Iraq so I think it was understandable that I was drinking more than I was before because, well, I didn't drink before hand. However, this probably just gave me an excuse to overlook my behavior. This, combined with a large number of other behaviors prompted one of my Marines to take me to the VA to seek help for my behavior.
The first doctor I spoke with said that he 'didn't think I had PTSD yet'. Didn't know what that meant, I figured you had it or you didn't, whether or not the symptoms manifested immediately or not. Went back anyway and the second doctor raised her eyebrows skeptically at the notion of me not having PTSD after our conversation. We decided on a prescription of Ambien and (I believe) Celexa.
I went home and took the Ambien that night, but was unable to fall asleep and experienced gooey jello walls and all sorts of entertaining and pseudo terrifying effects. I felt groggy the entire next day, and took my nightly Ambien the next night. I fell into a light sleep and remember being awoken by one of my housemates. I didn't remember taking the Ambien, so I took him up on his offer to go have some drinks. After drinking a heroic amount, I returned home and I am pretty sure I took another Ambien.
I took the 30 day prescription of Ambien over the next four days and do not remember much anything. I also consumed a large amount of muscle relaxers that the military healthcare system had given me. After this lost weekend I decided (in my professional opinion as a doctor...of course) that medication was not for me.
Spent the next year and some change acting like a lost child and eventually got arrested for impaired driving. Might be one of the better things that had happened to me because it relighted my frustration with my life and my last deployment as a problem, rather than, well, something else. About the same time I applied for disability with the VA for tinnitus, low back problems, insomnia, and a host of other conditions.
Because I claimed insomnia, I was required to be evaluated by a psychiatrist. He apparently determined that I in fact was a 'crazy person' as one of my incredibly insightful friends put it, because I was awarded 50% disability for PTSD with depressive features, and denied everything else except the tinnitus (ringing ears).
So that is the story of my diagnosis. The story of my, 'trauma', is somehow even less exciting.
I decided I was going to join the Marines when I was a pre-teen. It probably had something to do with being raised LDS (what with all the warrior-prophets in the Book of Mormon) and Will Smith's character in Independence Day. Basically, I was going to help people and look good doing it, so the Marines seemed like an obvious choice. For some reason, 9/11 and the subsequent conflicts made me want to do this more, so in 2005 at the age of 17 I signed the contract and went to boot camp a year later. As a Reservist.
Really enjoyed the travel and job (I still enjoy being an Infantryman) until 2008, when we were warned for deployment to Iraq. A series of hazing incidents resulted in a big investigation. I didn't feel so much like a victim as I was just annoyed that I had to work with idiots. Our training continued and I discovered through a series of unfortunate events that involved me volunteering for extra duty and getting ignored and harassed when I tried to do my job, that I could not take my chain of command or our mission in Iraq seriously.
We finally made it in country and spent our time being corrected on how we were wearing our uniforms and watching drunk Iraqi police drive by shooting in the air. I smoked a lot of cigarettes and slept a lot, and got a front row view to a country tearing itself apart. Operation Iraqi Freedom ended while I was there and became Operation New Dawn. I only tell you this to demonstrate that I did absolutely jack shit while I was there and did not experience any trauma other than the very mild (and familiar) experience of the people in charge of me not giving a f*ck about me or the people of Iraq. We spent our time on guard post watching inward, guarding against our superiors coming up to unnecessarily f*ck with us. "Marines, I know we aren't sitting down in here! It's only 8 hours in a steel box six inches from the god damn sun!"
On a surface level, I certainly exhibit many of the symptoms of PTSD. However, I have little trouble with uncontrollable re-experience of a specific event. Driving on freeways makes me a little nervous, I guess, but what happens more often is I see a US flag or someone thanks me for my service and I am filled with an incredible feeling of shame. I feel like I let down my family, my friends, my country, and the people of Iraq because I did nothing. Even worse, I had a bad attitude about doing nothing instead of just accepting it. Fireworks don't give me flashbacks, they make me a jump and remind me that I wasn't allowed to kill the bad guys that I knew were right there and it makes me feel like a useless f*ckup.
I'm sure that the things that are affecting my life are related to PTSD, but when I hear others talk about PTSD or read accounts on this forum, their description of their psychological relationship to their trauma seems so foreign and alien to me. I just feel like some punk kid who had ridiculous expectations from too many movies, who got what he deserved.
I feel anxious and guilty all the time, and can't keep my life together. It's bad enough that I feel guilty about doing nothing for Iraq, but now I am getting 50% disability and am healthy while I know men and women who lost their arms or legs who get less than that.
I'm sure you've noticed that my writing is a bit scattered, a big change from before. I have trouble keeping relationships intact (even moreso than before, I have always been a drifter, socially) and can't visualize my own future. Suicidal ideation is not really an issue, I just want to curl up in a ball and go away, basically amounting to the same thing. I am tired regardless of my amount of sleep, exercise, or quality of diet (all of which are significantly better than an average 23 year old American male)
I don't know if there is a point to this post other than to Introduce myself, but I am mostly here to determine (for myself) if I really have PTSD or if my artistic temperament just couldn't handle such an undramatic war experience. A futile goal I'm sure. Thanks for reading, I wish I could give you something that made a little more sense but I'm not really sure what is going on anymore.
