Sunday, February 19, 2012

Not again

It's been a horrible past two days.  I have gone through so many emotions within the last 48 hours: anger, disbelief, frustration, sadness, bitterness.  I've had to be supermom and take care of the household on my own because Hubs has been out of commission over this.  Today I went down to the man cave and harped at him (again) until he finally got up.  I felt awful being so witchy, but life does go on even after something like this happens.  It's just so damn frustrating.  I guess I should explain...

Hubs goes to a VA about an hour away for a lot of his care.   He has done residential treatment at that VA and is getting ready to go back.   Every other Friday, I go with him to see his therapist there.  This is new, but I don't mind.  It gives me a chance to listen and put in my own two cents about how he copes with things, how things have been.  Anyway, we drove down there just to find out that the therapist (along with most of the doctors) had called in sick.  We had driven an hour for nothing.  Looking back, maybe it was an omen of some sort of things ahead.

Driving back home, he got the call.  I thank God that He was looking out for us because Hubs wasn't driving when he got that call.  We had pulled over and I had ran inside a Culver's to get some food.  Had Hubs been driving, I'm pretty sure he would have crashed so I firmly believe God was looking out for us. As it is, I came back out to the car and saw my Hubby hunched over in the passenger seat crying.  Shit. This cannot be good.  He told me to drive and then he told me:  One of his friends from residential treatment programs had died this week.  Suicide by Cop.  

My first thought was not of this man's family, but of my own.  I knew this was seriously going to fuck with my husband, and I was right.  

I'm so angry.  And I feel guilty for feeling angry.  A family out there is grieving their son, their brother.  But I am selfish and thinking of my family.  This isn't the first time someone he's been close to has died.  First in combat, then in suicide, now this.  How much more can this guy take?  Come on already!!  Those thoughts have gone through me.  Hubby is pretty closed off to the world, he doesn't like to get close to people and I'm usually trying to get him to open up and meet new non-military friends because I worry about him only having friends from the service or from the VA.  I want to keep him in an bubble where I only let in certain people, people who aren't going to call him late at night with meltdowns, people who aren't going to end up homeless, aren't going to kill themselves or someone else.  Is this so wrong??  I just want to protect him, and I can't.  I can't protect him from these people, because these are the people he connects to, and don't think that doesn't scare the crap out of me also!

So, once again, I must help him get through this.  Hubs does not grieve well.  He shuts himself off from society and his family.  He doesn't care about interacting with his children, his wife, his interests.  This will carry on for days, if not weeks.  I'm so mad, so Fucking mad.    These soldiers, sailors and marines are hurting, but their actions affect so many people and their families.  Their buddies, who they say know them best and would do anything for them, end up hurting them and leaving more scars.  My husband will lay around for days and I'll struggle to get him up and going, to help him remember he's still in the land of the living.  It sounds so harsh, but left to his own devices, I'm sure that would not end well either.  

The kicker is I know this will happen again.  Somewhere along the way, someone else he knows is going to lose their battle with PTSD.  I hate to be so pessimistic, but it's happened so many times.  All I can do is pray he keeps getting the help he needs, and that he finds some better, healthier ways of grieving, because this sucks ass.

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