Ignoring the nonsense

Sometimes it's really hard not to argue with your veteran.  When he belts out some stupid argument and acts like an ass, all you want to do is tell him to shut it.  Instead, you keep quiet, not wanting to start a yelling match.  You know that if you argue back or try and make valid points, he won't listen and will instead fire back with nasty remarks.    So instead, you sit and try and ignore the nonsense spewing from his mouth.

Sometimes this strategy works.  Other times, your silence is greeted with an increase in moronic comments from him.  He is trying to get you riled up.  For some reason, he wants to piss you off so much and the fact that you're calm makes him all the more agitated.

It takes all the resolve and willpower you can muster not to open your mouth and tell him EXACTLY how you think he is acting.  You want so badly to tell him that your 2 year old is behaving with more class and maturity than he is, but you don't.

Instead, you keep quiet.  In the end he storms out, cursing under his breath.  Cursing the fact that you didn't participate in the war of words.  Cursing the fact that deep down, he knows he is acting childish and immature.

You breathe a sigh of relief that he's out of the room.  And then you quietly mutter under your breathe the first word that comes to mind….

Asshole.

Permanent and Total

Permanent.     Total.

Permanent and Total.


These words, spoken today by the psychologist at Hubby's C&P exam were bittersweet words to hear. On the one hand, it's what we wanted.  It's what Hubs deserves to get.  However, at the same time, to hear that your loved one's condition is permanent is somewhat hard to hear.

Hubby has been receiving benefits from the VA and social security for quite awhile now.  However, he was not considered permanent and total.  Hubs has spent the last 5 years since his medical retirement afraid that if he got better, they would take all this benefits away.  He finally decided to put in for his Permanent and Total based on my urging and the urging of his psychologist and psychiatrist.  We submitted the paperwork and then, the VA decided to do a C&P, which is an exam to judge you, for lack of a better word, to see if you really deserve it.

Hubs has been stressed to the max about this exam.  I went with him today to the exam for support and to answer questions the doctor might have.  Turns out, the doc was awesome.  We sat down and we could tell right away that she had already read up on his files and she said that it was really a formality that we were there.  That right away eased my mind.  She was very approachable and somehow, I'm not sure how, she got Hubs to open up.

Hubs cried, I teared up, and at the end of the exam, the psychologist told us that Hubs would NEVER have to come in for another of these again.  She said she was going to write whatever she needs to to ensure that he gets his Permanent and Total.

Again…..Bittersweet.

I'm thrilled that Hubby can now feel secure knowing that it won't be taken away.  At the same time, it enforces what I already knew; Hubby is irreversibly broken.   There is no cure for PTSD.  I know that, Hubs knows that.  But to hear Permanent and Total…..still kind of hits you.

However, this is good news.  Hubby can and will continue to work on his traumas and coping skills.  He will learn even better how to get through the dark times when his anxiety and depression take over, without the threat of having benefits taken away if he shows improvement dangling over his head.
Yes, he will continue to fight the fight, and I will be right there beside him all the way.

Tomorrow's the Big Day!

Hubby has been 100% retired for years now.  However, he was not permanent and total.  After having talked to his doctors and therapists, he finally decided to try for it.  Fear was stopping him from applying for it before.  He was terrified that if he went to try and get permanent and total, that perhaps the reviewer would decide that he was better than he had been when first diagnosed and that his benefits would be reduced.  He can't work so the fear of losing what financial contribution he has terrified him.

How sad that he worries so much that by even showing a little improvement, he is worried that his benefits would be cut or reduced. 

It's like his therapist told him:   You will always have PTSD, there unfortunately is no cure.  That being said, you can make progress.  It doesn't mean you're cured.

Anyway, tomorrow is the big exam where he goes in and they review his information and ask him questions.  I'm going with him to help keep him calm and answer questions that he won't be able to articulate the answers to. 

Prayers appreciated for a good exam and good results and prayers that Hubs will get some sleep tonight because I know he'll be hyped up worrying about it!

Understanding

This has definitely been a very trying time of year for us--- for him.  It always is, every year.  However, he finally let down his walls this past week and let me in.  I know, as I have known all along, that his anger is his defense mechanism that flares up when he feels upset.  He very rarely shows sadness or fear to me.  Anger is almost always the predominant emotion and that can, and does, cause a lot of tension and frustration between us. 
This past week he let me in.  He cried on my shoulder, he talked to me about his traumas instead of shutting me out, and he let me help him.  I felt like we were partners again and not strangers or enemies living in a house together.  I wish it could be like that more often.  If he would let me in and allow me to be there for him, I think we'd have a much better relationship.  Instead, he tries to act tough and keep things from me because he doesn't want to hurt me or expose me to his pain.  What he doesn't realize is that yes, the things that he has gone through and what he has to deal with on a daily basis are horrific, but they don't have the same hold on me that they do on him.   He could lean more on me and let me share his stress or take it away.  Ironically, by trying to protect me and keep me from his pain by acting out in anger, he ends up hurting me more with his outbursts and anger.  

I need to hang on to these moments and remember that underneath the mean words and sarcastic, biting comments, is someone who is hurting and in pain.  Let me be clear, it's not okay to be nasty and Lord knows, he needs to work on communicating better and thinking about what he's going to say before he blurts out horrible things.  That being said, I can work on things too and try to be more understanding.  I do vent frustrations and lately I've gotten pretty despondent and bitter about how things have been going.  I need to take time for myself in a healthy way.   

Bottom line, I need to make sure to take time for my own mental health. I can't help him if I'm not in a good spot.  Hubby needs to take time and think before he acts and let me in instead of keeping me away.  I'd love to say that this is going to happen right away but let's be real.  He has had PTSD for 10 years and we're still trying to figure it all out.  I don't have all the answers and neither does he.  

What works for you?  What doesn't?


  

Tis the season...

I'm so stressed out.  This time of year should be fun, but instead it leaves me tired, depressed and stressed.

In fact, this entire Fall has been awful.  Our daughter has had some really difficult issues to work through these last few months. I think we *finally* are at a place with her in her treatment that is a good place to be.  She's gained weight, seems happier, and overall is doing much better. It definitely took its toll on Hubs and I thought.  When she was at her worst, Hubs couldn't stand t be around her so I did a lot of it solo.

This time of year is also hard because there are lots of anniversaries for my husband.  While he admits he has never been a huge Christmas nut, ever since he got out of the service, he has shown little excitement for the season. He tries, for the kids, to be happy and cheerful. If it were up to him, however, he would stay in our basement from about Halloween until February.  Christmas is my favorite time of year, or it used to be…..I try hard not to let his depression be contagious and zap my holiday spirit.  It's hard though.

To top it all of, Hubs recently put in for his Permanent and Total since he's 100% and it's been over five years since he was discharged. This, however, has added even more stress to him. For instance, today he freaked out because he realized that his paperwork was wrong. He had used a service officer to submit it. When he found out the guy screwed up, he went ballistic.  He had me call but he refused to talk to them so with me being the go-between he wasn't satisfied with the answers. He then went over the guy's head to the top.  His service officer called Hubs back and oh…guess what…..not that big a deal. He'd fix it.

I guess that's the part I'm so frustrated about personally.  Hubby has no patience at all. He takes any bit of information and flies off the handle with it.  It's not just the paperwork, it's everything.  Kids act up, he can't handle it.  Someone says one little thing to make him mad, he yells at them.  His temper is awful lately.

I'm hoping and praying this most recent bout of PTSD anger gets over quickly.  I feel awful for him.  He has panic attacks daily now and he's so miserable.  I pray for peace for him and for us as this Christmas season arrives.

We'll always have Paris

Things are tough around here.  The household has been under a lot of stress this fall with our daughter's         issues going on and with stress building up from PTSD.  I honestly don't know what the future holds these days.  The other night hubs and I had a fight.  It started out small, but don't most start out that way?  I was in the laundry room which is in a part of the basement that isn't finished.  Hubs opened the door and threw a huge handful of clothes at me.  I was already having a bad day, and that just irritated me.  I knew he had no intention of doing any of that laundry.  I told him so, and he smarted off and started throwing toys in the room too.

To make a long story short, I open handed slapped him across his chest when he picked up a tray of toys to chuck in there.  I lost it.  He has been going into rages lately and been throwing things.  For example,   he recently got mad and threw a wooden spoon across the kitchen breaking it in half.  When he picked up that tray I thought, "oh no you don't!".  I told him to stop but my words mean nothing and instead of walking away I slapped him.

I hate that I did that.  I don't want to be that person.  He hurts me with words so I hurt him with my hand.  I don't think so.  That's NOT RIGHT and it CANNOT happen again.

Who have I become?  What has become of our marriage?  I am so sad all the time, and I have no patience anymore.  I cannot remember the last time we kissed or hugged or the last time he said "I love you" without me saying it first.  When we first got together, we laughed a lot and had so much fun together.  I honestly cannot remember when we last laughed together.

It's coming up on Thanksgiving.  Almost a decade ago I became engaged in Paris on Thanksgiving Day.  That was the best time I can remember having with my husband.  I felt like the center of his universe.  We laughed together, seeing the sights of Paris and exploring together.....Without any inkling of the struggles that lay ahead of us.  I still remember riding the bus and seeing Napoleon's tomb with him and viewing Notre Dame.  We only had a weekend and the highlight was him proposing under the Eiffel Tower after dinner.  When we left Paris we said someday we'd be back.  Maybe for our 20 year anniversary.

Now, I am not even sure we will make it to our 20 year. Heck, I'm not sure I'll make it to my 10 year anniversary.  That makes me heartbroken.  When you get married you get married for life.   You promise for better or worse, sickness and health.  But what happens when that person you married seems to have become a completely different person.  I feel like I'm in mourning for what could have....what SHOULD have been.

I don't know what the future holds, but at least we'll always have Paris.  That is a memory I will treasure forever.

my daughter has an anxiety disorder

 Have you ever seen those depression medication ads on TV?  The ones where they discuss how living with depression affects everyone around you?  Living with someone who has PTSD definitely affects everyone in the household and while I'm an adult and can deal with the roller coaster of emotions (most of the time!), my babies are not adults. They're just that......my babies.  A recurring nightmare/worry I have is that living with someone who is often mad, agitated, or withdrawn will have lasting negative affects on my children.

Parenting is hard enough without having to throw that in the mix. For the most part, I think my kids are dealing with it okay.  My youngest is just a toddler and I don't think it's really affected him much at all yet.  Hubs is around our son more than I am, since I work outside the home and go to school and he stays home with him.  Hubs does well with him.

He wasn't always so involved.  When our daughter was our son's age she was living with her dad when he was at one of his lowest points.  She was there when we went through the medical discharge of the Army and the subsequent "Hell Year" when Hubs wasn't receiving any assistance from the VA and was self medicating with alcohol and herbs.  She was in the home when he kicked in doors to yell at me, and she witnessed him punching walls in frustration.  My worry about her well being and psyche living with that turmoil is the largest reason I decided to split from my husband.  For over a year I lived in my parents basement and he lived with his parents and our little baby girl was shuffled back and forth on weekends. It worked out in the end.....the separation forced him to take a good look at himself and decide if he wanted a family or not. It was due to that separation that he decided to seek residential help at the VA. 

However, I worry that all that frustration and stress has had it's affect on my oldest child.  My baby girl suffers from anxiety and has developed really poor social skills.  It's been such a struggle with her lately.  At our whit's end, we enrolled her in a day treatment program to help her focus on her anxiety.  You see, my little baby girl has become a picker.  She picks her skin, leaving open wounds on her arms, legs, and thighs.  In addition to that, she also has some anger problems to address and it's been a real challenge living with her these last few months.

I think back.....when she was two, and Hubs was deployed, I had her evaluated for early speech.  She didn't qualify.  In addition to not qualifying (she was close), the evaluators also said she had great social skills and was advanced.  So here it is, half a decade later, and she's gone from having advanced social skills to having very poor social skills.  Is it my fault?  Is it because she saw her dad suffer in those early years after he returned from war?  Did she witness all the yelling, anger, and sadness and somehow internalize it into this?

I know I can't beat myself up over this.  There's no way to reverse time and do things differently.  I did what I did because I thought it was the best at the time for all involved.  But it still hurts.  And it still sucks...

betrayal

Like many veterans, my husband often speaks of how his fellow soldiers are his "brothers".  These men  went through hell together and have an inseparable bond.  No one gets it, like a fellow brother.

Imagine the hurt, the incredible sense of betrayal then that happens when one of those brothers turns on another.

It's no secret my husband has severe PTSD.  He is not always the nicest guy in the world, that's for sure.  However, he by no means deserved what he got about a month ago from a fellow soldier.....Not just any soldier, but one who my husband had always considered a close friend and confidant.  This fellow solider is still active duty and allegedly suffers from PTSD too.  In fact, he had talked to my husband about his struggles in the past.  This soldier is married to a foreigner and they have children together.  The wife of this soldier liked to put things on Facebook.  Comments that often spoke about how great her country was and often in a passive aggressive way, smacked on the U.S.

Now, this lady lives on US soil, her kids are half American and her husband is a United States Soldier. My husband and I chose to ignore her pictures she posted with shrewd comments and her rants on American healthcare and such.  I get it.....I get frustrated with my country too but excuse me....It's MY country and I can talk crap about it if I want to.  You, someone who won't give up their own citizenship to their country and is a foreign visitor simply CANNOT.

One day about a month ago, this wife posted some comment about the US and her country.  My husband finally had had enough and shot off a comment back.  His "brother" started giving my husband crap.  Her husband rightfully so defended his wife, which was fine.  However, he then started attacking my husband where it hurts.....with his PTSD.

This "brother" called my husband lazy and told him to get a job.  My husband was stunned.  I took the computer and wrote back that shame on him for saying that.....That he obviously does not understand PTSD if he thinks my husband is lazy.

"Maybe you have voices in your head too,then" was the reply.  I couldn't believe it.  I'm usually pretty calm, but I was about to go ape shit crazy on this guy.  How dare he be so rude and so clueless about PTSD when he himself has said he suffers from it.  My husband, in a rare moment of calmness, took the laptop and simply wrote, "we're done.  Thank you".

It tears me up.  My husband was simply defending his country against a person who was constantly smearing it.  The other soldier then hit way below the belt.  This other soldier is also studying to be a reverend.....or he was.....not sure if he still is.  I sure hope not.  The church does not need such a hypocritical ass leading congregations.

Perhaps this other soldier was simply putting on a show for his wife.  Maybe he was in denial and felt that by attacking my husband he was distancing himself from PTSD.  Whatever the reason, that soldier is now dead to my husband.  He will never forgive him for the words he said.  I don't blame him.

Asshole

Why can't he be happy?   We've had a good run over the last few months.  I almost forgot how awful he can make me feel and how quickly he can make me cry.

He's definitely starting up one of his long cycles.  It seems an ugly twist of fate that he always gets this way in the fall.  Autumn is my absolute, hand's down, favorite time of year.  I love the pumpkins, the weather, football, corn mazes, haunted houses, candy apples....everything!   It's especially cruel then that during my favorite time of the year is when his PTSD is the absolute worst.  We miss out on so many family memories because he doesn't want to go, or doesn't feel good.   In the past I've stayed home not wanting to make memories without him.  I cling tight to the American family ideal.

It's crap.

I've got to just go out and do it myself.  He isn't going to be much use of anything for awhile.  All the freaking drugs he's on and none of them work to pep him up.   Nope.   The only drug that works at all for him is weed.  Seriously?   I'm like the biggest opponent to legalizing marijuana but unfortunately it's the only thing that makes my husband likeable.  And....he's out.   He doesn't have any and he doesn't have ready access to any.   So really, for the next unseen many weeks, he's just going to be a total ass.  It's totally unacceptable to me.  Having PTSD doesn't give you an excuse to be an asshole.   I get that he is stressed and worked up, but that doesn't give you the right to yell at me or the kids.

Earlier today I told him I was going to my mom's.  I was heading downstairs to get my laundry together when I stopped myself.  I'm always the one leaving.  Many years ago, we got into a huge fight and I kicked him out of the house.  He ended up going to his mother's and we remained separated for a year. Now, whenever we have a big enough argument that one of us should leave, it's always me.   He says it's because his mom told him never to leave the house again.

Thanks a fucking lot, mother in law.    How bout you think of your grandkids who have to be hauled across town to my mother's house and ripped from their beds?   Did you ever think of that?  NO!

I go, because it's easier.  It's easier than trying to make him leave.  He's such an ass when he gets that way, that he won't go willingly.  Instead of making an even bigger ruckus in front of my babies, I've always just packed a bag and talked about the "fun times" we'll have at grandma's.

Tonight I just decided not to do that again.  He's not physical, he won't hurt me or the kids physically.  Emotionally......well, he's hurt me so much in the past that I'm starting to get a pretty thick skin.  As far as the kids go, he's not too bad with them.  He knows when he's getting pretty bad and he'll leave and go into the basement.  That's where he is now, in the basement.

So, for now, we are not talking and we'll just go about our business as separately as possible.    I don't think the kids will be too affected.  They are used to their dad disappearing downstairs to play video games or needing time alone.

Am I fucking up my kids?  When I stop and think about it, I'm appalled that this is "normal" for my kids.  My only hope is to get through school, safe up money and put us in a better place.  One way or the other

Another round of PTSD starts up

     I should have seen this coming.  Things had been going so well, however, between the Hubs and I, that I got lulled into a false sense of security.  Ever since March, when I was hospitalized for that darn gall bladder, things had been pretty good between him and I.  We have had minimal fights, and for the most part, I was finally starting to enjoy marital life.

    That's the funny thing about PTSD.  You never really know when it's going to hit.  Here we were, swimming along happily when BAM......PTSD strikes again.   It started a little less than a week ago:  I started noticing the shorter fuse for his temper, the more frequent outbursts of swearing, and the change in his physical appearance.  Hubby has a habit of wearing the same clothes for days.  He will sleep in them and wear them for at least two days in a row.  It's disgusting.  It's bad enough when he does that when it's winter out, but here in the dog days of summer......Gross.   

Along with the lack of changing clothes, I noticed his facial hair going to crap.  He tries hard to grow a beard and mustache.   Some people look great in a beard and a 'stache.   He does not.  The crappy thing is, that he KNOWS he looks bad in one.   It'd be different if it was the sexy 5'oclock shadow thing going on, or a few days of scruff.  Nope.  Instead, he grows it out so its scraggly and his mustache has that nasty part down the middle that some men get that looks creepy.  To compound the look, his beard grows in gray.  Not all the way around, either.  It has hairs growing in gray just on his chin.   

Like I said, he knows he looks like crap with a beard and mustache.  He's said it to me before.  I have come to determine that the facial hair starts growing when he is feeling depressed.  I try, in a nice way, to motivate him to shave.  I tell him how much younger he looks without it (he does!) and how it's not his best look and how often by having a better outwards appearance, you can make yourself feel better internally.  

Last night he said he was going to trim it up and I thought "Hallelujah!"   This afternoon we were outside and I commented about how I thought he was going to trim it up.  "I did" was the reply.  What????   His idea of trimming is to get some of the neck hair off.  That's it.  He still has wild long hairs growing in every which way, still has the creepy mustache line, and still has the gray hairs coming in.  I told him I didnt like it and he told me something along the lines of "when I start caring, I'll let you know".

That hurt.  I don't know why......He's told me before that he doesn't care what I think.  When he's like this, in the middle of a PTSD cycle, it's true.  I know that when he's feeling better, he does care.  But right now, he doesn't.  It hurt because I had been in a state of denial that another cycle of PTSD was upon us.  Life had been so nice for the last 4 months or so.  I forgot how much it can suck.  

I have to start putting on my thick skin again.  I've let myself go soft the last few months.  Being soft lets the hurt in......I have cried more in the last week than I have in months.  Stupid stuff really.  Comments that shouldn't cut me, do.  The rude, sarcastic comments are back and I have to get used to them again.....I have to remember that although his words and actions hurt, he doesn't really want to hurt me.    I have to remember that his crappy, mean attitude is just an outward reflection of his shit mood internally.

It doesn't help though.  It still hurts.  But, I have to buck up.......I can't spend my days crying or tip toeing around him.  I'm too busy for that.     Here's hoping that this latest flare up doesn't last long.

PTSD and school/jobs

My husband has not worked a job since his medical discharge from the Army in summer of 2008.   He receives social security benefits and compensation from the VA so we have income from him, as well as income from my job.   So lack of funds has not been the issue.  However, not having a job has really affected him in terms of esteem and his mood.

It's funny how society judges you on your profession.   You go to a class reunion and you talk about what you do.  Meeting someone new on a date, you talk about your job.  Your kids talk about what their dad or mom does to their friends.  Imagine not having anything to say.....Imagine your children having to tell their friends that daddy doesn't work at all.   Kids may not judge, but their parents sure do.    Thoughts enter their brains.   "Oh, a deadbeat dad."   "What a schmuck".   Negative thoughts before they even know what the situation is.

For a long time my husband would lie about his career plans.  When asked, he would tell his friends that he was in grad school.  I told him that that would only get him so far.  Eventually people would wonder why he was still in school 5 years later for a two year degree.  Why did he lie?  Because he was embarrassed.  A lot of his friends from college are successful professionals.   It's sad that he sacrificed so much for our country, and has done more than a lot of people will ever do in their lifetimes and he feels that that is not enough.  

He did try to go to school a few years ago.  He had gone to residential treatment for 6 weeks and felt like he had his shit together enough to go back to school and get some kind of degree.  He enrolled at a small, private,  christian university close by to our apartment we were living in at the time.  For the first quarter he seemed to be thriving.   He was motivated to do well and was pulling good grades in his classes.   However, the roller coaster that is PTSD eventually set in about October and he withdrew from the university in January.  In the end, going back to school proved to be too stressful for him.  His grades began to plummet, he started skipping classes, and he eventually lost all interest in going.

  I'll admit, I was pretty discouraged when he quit school.  He had such potential.  He still does.  After that semester, the PTSD seemed to rear it's ugly head even more than usual.  He plummeted into a deep depression.  He couldn't be a soldier anymore, something he was excellent at, and now he couldn't seem to go back to school either.

Part of it had to do with fear.   He was consumed for several years with the fear that if he went back to school and eventually got a job, that the VA would declare him miraculously cured from PTSD and he would lose all his benefits.  The fear came from being scared about taking care of his family.  The benefits he receives are how he supports his family.  The thought of that getting taken away from him really scared the crap out of him.  He has finally, FINALLY, through opening up and talking to his psychologist started to realize that he will never lose all of his benefits.  He goes to therapy several times a week, and even though he's getting better at handling his disability, he still has a disability!

My husband has recently started talking about going back for some classes.  He has taken up an interest in gardening and considered a degree in botany.  He talked to his psych about it today, and while his psych was encouraging, he was also careful.  His psych made the comment that he would hate for Hubs to go back to school and somehow it ruin his interest in his hobby.  It's frustrating.  Part of me is like, "what does he know?"   But, on the other hand, I could see that potentially happening.  His doc did suggest that Hubs take a few noncredit classes somewhere for fun.  It's a step!

  It's frustrating because society judges him.  People just don't understand, I guess.  For example, during my recent girls weekend we talked about our husbands and of course the question came up, "what does your husband do?"  I give my standard answer that he is a combat veteran who is retired.  Sometimes, given the people I'm talking to, the conversation goes further on and I explain that he's disabled.  Anyway, this weekend that happened and I got the whole, "he can't do anything?"  

Um, yes he can do something.  He can keep fighting the fight.  He can keep going to treatment and working on being the best father and husband he can be.  We both hope that someday he can go back to school and maybe someday start another career.  However, just because he can't right now, that doesn't make him any less of a man, of a provider.  

I wish people/society would get that concept.  Wounded warriors are wounded for a reason.  Try walking a mile in their shoes.  I guarantee that most of society wouldn't be able to do that.  It's no wonder that they come back different people, unable to go back to how they were before.  If a wounded warrior can't go back to school or a job, it doesn't make them any less of a person.

Playing the "what if" game

Do you ever stop and ask yourself "Is this really my life"?  And then after doing so, get depressed?  I don't allow myself to think What If  very much, but sometimes I do stop and wonder about how different our lives would be if PTSD had never entered the scene.

I'm pretty sure my husband would have stayed in the military.  He was a damn good NCO and I know he would have progressed up the ranks.  He had thoughts about becoming a warrant officer and I know that if he had pursued it, he would have excelled.   Both hubby and I like to travel, so it would have been interesting to move around every three years in the military.  I don't know if we would have lived on post, or maybe bought a house off-post somewhere.  Our kids would have been military brats and I would most likely still be teaching.  Moving every couple years would mean getting a new job for me, and teaching is portable.  Or maybe I would have become a stay-at-home mom.....I would have loved that.

Or, maybe after a couple years, the deployments would have gotten too hard.  Maybe Hubs would gotten out, or maybe retired early.  I try and imagine Hubs going to work every day in a suit and tie.  Part of me giggles out loud, because it has been YEARS since I've seen him in anything dressier than a sports coat and even that is so rare I don't remember the last time he wore one.  I close my eyes and imagine him leaving in the morning, kissing me goodbye and then coming home at the end of the day to dinner on the stove, almost ready and the kids playing quietly.  OK, maybe the kids playing quietly is a bit of a stretch.

Point is, I feel like i'm in mourning for the life we were supposed to have.  Is that bad?  If I start to feel bad for myself, even a little, Hubs tells me to stop feeling sorry for myself.  I get so mad because I am hurting too.  He has PTSD, but it's affected my life also.  I sure did not foresee this as my life.  The constant bickering, the worrying, the feeling of being inept at being able to help your partner.  I so badly want the white picket fence and the happy family life.  Why does it have to be so hard for us?  Is this some kind of test?  I sometimes tell Hubs that I feel like Job from the Bible.

Ok, enough, ENOUGH!  See, if I sit here and pine about my life, I'll get depressed.  I try to remain upbeat and I KNOW that there are so many people worse off than me, so I shouldn't complain.  However, I think sometimes you just have to vent otherwise you'll go crazy.  So that's what this was....a blog post about the "what if's".  But that's not my life, my life does have PTSD in it and we aren't in the military anymore.  My husband is unemployable and I do most of the work around here in child rearing and house keeping and that's just the way it is.

Stepped in something this morning.....ew!

Today has not been a good morning, to say the least.  I woke up 10 minutes late and was running around trying to get our daughter ready for school.  I was in the kitchen making her toast and realized my foot was wet.  Looking down I realized I had stepped in cat crap.  Oh yuck!  not just any cat poop, but diarrhea.  Double yuck.    I looked around and saw puddles in the kitchen and then found a wet spot in the living room also on the carpet.  Evidently my older cat, Polly, has the runs as well as the new kitten.  Awesome.

I hurried up and picked her up and put her in the bathroom with the other one.  She was leaking poo as I walked with her.   I am guessing she must have gotten it from the kitten.  Great.  My husband started complaining about the costs of the cats (which really, our first cat has only cost us food and one shot a year....but this is going to be two vet visits in a week).  I called the vet, and can't get her in til after work.  I wish Hubs would have taken her this morning but there's no way he's dealing with the cat.  In the meantime, they're both locked up in the bathroom sharing germs.

This was all before 8am.  After getting our munchkin off to school, the arguing started.  How we have no money, how he wants to file bankruptcy.  I didn't have anything to say.  I was upset because I used to be good at handling money situations but the toll of dealing with him has made me sloppy.  I didnt want to talk.  Sometimes, when you're that upset, you just don't want to talk about it.  He doesn't get that.  "Why are you mad at me?  Why won't you talk to me?"  

"I have nothing to say"  (because I didn't).


Well after following me around asking me what was wrong we talked.  Anything I say to him he takes personally so that's why I don't talk to him.  Now he's laying in our bed with the covers pulled over him sulking.  God forbid I cry or complain because then all of a sudden "You're just feeling sorry for yourself"

Well, you know what?  Maybe I am!  Why can't I feel sorry for myself?  My life has not gone how I wanted it to at all.  Most of the time I keep a stiff upper lip and carry on but dammit....Life sucks sometimes.  And all I want to do is be able to vent.  Can't complain to him though or he takes it as a personal attack.  I tried talking to my mom on the phone but she goes all Pollyanna on me which annoys the shit out of me.  I don't want to hear how "this too shall pass" or any other stupid sayings.  When I call to complain, I just want to get it all out there, have her say, "i'm sorry, that does suck".  Acknowledge that my life is hard sometimes!!  This is why I don't call my mother often.  She sticks in little sayings and paints it as a fleeting moment and then usually, then she goes into something similar she's going through.  This morning I got to hear about how her dog has a scratched cornea and needs to go to the vet and how "I don't have money either, but animals love you unconditionally and we need to take care of them..."  BARF!

Ok, now I need to go to work.  Let's hope this day turns around!!

Done.

It's amazing to me how quickly things can turn ugly and how effortlessly he can point the blame at me.

Earlier I blogged about new siding and the new roof and windows.   Hubs and I decided TOGETHER that this needed to be done and we discussed PRIOR to signing a contract how we would pay for it.  Today the window dudes came and installed three new windows and a new sliding glass door.  I was at work for most of it, but came home as they were finishing up.  Hubs was laying in the bedroom uninvolved in the process.  I heard the foreman come and so I went and told Hubs to come out and he said he had already talked to him.   Okie dokie.

Well, I went out to say bye and the foreman told me that the guys hadn't rehung our blinds because they had been installed incorrectly before.  I wasn't suprised, the people who owned the home before us must have been on something when they did some of the stuff to this house.   He left and Hubs wandered out.  I told him about the blinds and he started swearing and telling me it was my fault because I didn't tell them to hang them up.  Never mind the fact that I told him to come out and he didn't.  It's amazing how I turn into the verbal whipping boy.

Hubs got pissy and quit talking.  I went to my Bible Study (my one sliver of peace in my evening) and came home around 9pm.  I walked in and saw that nothing had been put away and so I cleaned up the kitchen and went to take a bath.  Right before I'm getting in the tub he comes to the doorway and asks "what's your problem".

I hate that.  What's my problem?  Whats YOUR problem?  A few minutes ago he came in and told me i was being bitchy.  I got that he is now stressed about paying for all this.  He then got mad because I"m not stressed.  I just don't get it.  We talked about it, he assured me all was good, all will be good, all is good.  I didn't have much to say.  I knew whatever I would say he'd twist it around in his head so I didn't even bother.

Then he told me not to talk to him tomorrow.  So, as he was walking out of the bedroom I told him happy birthday because tomorrow is his birthday.  He must have thought i was being smart because he told me Fuck you.

If I'm honest with myself.....the love is gone.  I know it, he knows it.  It sucks so badly to be in a marriage where you feel degraded all the time.  Why don't I leave?  Scared I guess.  98% of the time our marriage is miserable.  Maybe I hold out for that 2%.  I don't know.  I guess I'm also scared about how I would provide for my kids as a single mom.  I'd figure it out, but we wouldn't be able to keep the house, and I'd be financially ruined.  My daughter does not adjust to change well at all, so moving her again would be devestating for her.  She needs consistency.

So what do I do?  I guess.....I need to just focus on me and the kids.  I can't change him.  I can't make him happy, he can't make me happy so I'll focus on making myself happy and finding peace within myself.  

I'm going to go cry now.

School, stress, and bank accounts

Yeseterday was the first day of school for kids here in Wisconsin.  Some people out of state are amazed that our kids start so late.  I personally like the late start.  Summer officially ends with Labor Day so it's nice to go back after that last hurrah to summer.  I will admit, however, that come the end of May, beginning of June when i start reading Facebook statuses about last days of school and my kids still have 3 weeks to go:  Then I get a little jealous and woe the late start.  However, in reality, I live in the upper midwest and it doesn't even get really hot until July so why not stay in school and start later in the fall.

Anyway, yesterday was the first day of first grade for my Munchkin and the first day of a new job for me.  I was a little stressed getting her up, lunch in the backpack and out the door.  I go to work around lunchtime so it would have been nice to clean up the house a bit, or have a few minutes of peace and quiet with my cup o' joe.  However, as soon as the bus pulled away I had another stressor to deal with.  I had to go to the bank.

My mother in law had been Hubby's Representative Payee for his social security.  One day she called me up and said she didn't want to do it anymore.  No big deal.  We went to Social Security and switched it over to me.  All I had left to do was go to the bank and open the checking account for him.  My mother in law told Hubs all she needed was the Social Security check.   Not so, Not so.

I went to the bank and first of all, the twat lady didn't know what the hell I was talking about.  

"It's like a custodial account, for my husband"

"We only do custodial accounts til age 18"

"I just need an account he isn't on"

"So a joint account"

This is when I started mentally hitting my head on the wall.  THe lady was clueless.  Then she told me she needed court papers documenting this.  What?  I left and phoned the Hubs to tell him the bad news.  Wow.  He did not take it well.  He yelled.  A lot.   When I got home he was surprised I was quiet and upset.   I explained that it wasn't my fault and I'm tired of being his verbal punching bag. 

Long story short, I had a good cry on his shoulder and went back that afternoon with the paperwork I needed from Social Security.  A sarcastic thanks a lot to my MIL for not telling me everything I needed.  The lady still didn't have a clue and I'm a little doubtful that my checks will come out the right way, but we'll see.  Something tells me I should start shopping around for a better bank. 

The rest of the day was good, thank goodness.  Munchkin enjoyed her first day of 1st Grade.  I saw her in the hall, talking a way in line.  She didn't see me though.  I enjoyed my first day.  I spend the first two hours with kindergarten working with some students with pretty severe needs.  Holy cow, they tired me out both mentally and physically.  The last two hours I go to the upper elementary grades to help another student 1:1.  That was nice.  I bet there will be some days with that student but yesterday was easy peasy.

iPad goes splat

Well.....we don't have an iPad anymore.   My daughter was obsessed with it, spending all her time on it playing silly, stupid apps.  Hubs and I monitored her usage and we would put it up high but the little stinker would climb up and get it down.  In my defense, originally she was only to play educational games on it.  

Well, over the past 2 days she went on an app marathon totaling up.....get ready..........over $1000 in charges for apps such as "gems", "pet world" and "garden".    Yes....over a grand on these things.  We're not even sure how the hell she did that.  Hubs caught it at first and took the code off the credit card and contacted Apple who agreed to take off $450 of the original $500 purchases she made.   We had a long talk with her and thought all was good.  Nope.  She got ahold of it again and purchased $600 in apps.  The apps she purchased, many were $50 apps so it escalated quickly.  I don't know how she did it because the security code was off the credit card.  Between you and me, I don't know why he didn't take the ENTIRE credit card info off....but it's sometimes hard to rationalize his thinking.  So, Hubs cannot call Apple back and say "oopsie, please refund these charges too!"   So, our darling daughter is in the dog house and we are stuck paying all that money.    When Hubs found out about the second time, he went bezerk and ended up smashing the iPad to smithereens on the floor.  Yeah.....mature, right?  Once again, he said he "saw red" and his thinking was that if he destroyed the iPad then there would be no way she could do it again.     Ahhhh, PTSD strikes again.   Act first, think later......

Soooo, now we are without an iPad.  The only real bummer (besides the fact that iPads are expensive and that was a dumb thing to do) is that I used the Kindle app a lot on there and ALL my books were on that thing.  I don't want another iPad, our daughter is obviously addicted to technology and even without the credit card info on there at all, I'm over it.....the only time she is using a computer now is at school or when she's older to write reports!  However, I do miss reading my books on the Kindle app.  My birthday is in a few months, Hubs talked last night about getting me a new Kindle or a Nook from Barnes and Noble.  That might be nice.   Does anyone have either of those?  Which do you prefer?

As for our daughter, she is learning the lesson of a dollar.  No NOTHING for a long, long time.  Yikes!

Someone's missing their funny bone

PTSD is such a nasty thing.  It is anxiety.  All the time.  When you're anxious you don't find humor in things.  You instantly turn to worst case scenarios and make mountains out of mole hills, sometimes out of ant hills!  It has caused so much heartache and tears and bouts of anger in my household and it's taken away the humor in my husband.  

Case in point:

Tonight I let my 8 month old bulldog out back to do her business.  The hubby was gone so I left her out there while I got the kids ready for bed.   Afterwards, I opened up the sliding glass door, opened the screen door and stepped out into the night, shutting the screen door behind me.   Well, I unhooked her collar from the lead and she took off like a bullet out of a gun.

Straight through the screen door.


I couldn't believe it.  The dumb-ass dog must have not seen the screen.  I couldn't believe she went through it like that, like there was nothing there.  I was annoyed, already thinking ahead to when I was going to find time to fix it, but after a minute or two I smiled.  It was kind of funny!

I called up the Hubs to let him know.  He found it less than humorous.  In fact, he was downright pissed off about it.  He started swearing into the phone about how he hated the dog, how she was no good, yadda yadda, etc etc.    I ended up hanging up on him because he was so grouchy and I think he was enjoying hearing himself yell, to be honest.

He was still a ways off in the car so he didn't make it home for another 40 minutes or so.  He walked in, yelled at the dog, grouched at everyone, and sat down on the couch, bitching about random crap.   Then when I told him it was kind of funny, that the dog did that, he said, "yeah, it's funny to you.  You don't have to pay for it".   I don't really get that....it's his old stand by veiled insult to me.  Because I've stayed home to raise our kids and take care of him, we have lived off of his income alone.  Somehow, when he says that, I think I'm supposed to be offended.  I used to be, but now I mentally roll my eyes and tell him to take a pill.

Anyway, I wish he found humor in the small stuff.  Life would be a little easier if he would.  Come on, a big fat bulldog puppy just burst through a screen door like a knife through butter.  Yes, it's going to be a pain to fix but only because we'll have to take the time to either take the screen in, or fix it ourselves.
In the grand scheme of things, it isn't a big deal and it was funny!

At least, I thought so...

New Psychiatrist

I don't really love the VA....I mean, come on.....They haven't exactly been super helpful in our fight against PTSD.  We've met some good doctors, one or two outstanding therapists...and that's about it.  One exception is the PTSD program that is at the Lovell Federal health Care Center in North Chicago.  This program is rated, I think, like number 1 or number 2 in the country.  Hubs has spent 3 six week long stints in their inpatient PTSD unit.  Each time he's gotten more out of it, with this last time showing the best results.

The staff is great there.  They actually care about the patients and they are there to work for you, not against you.  Seriously, if your vet needs a place to go,  I highly recommend it.  Hubs was so enthralled by the level of care he received there, that he drove there weekly instead of going to our local VA facility.  In fact, he's in the middle of switching ALL his care from our local VA to the N. Chicago location.

One of his problems is that he's been on the same psychiatric medications since 2008.  Hello, hasn't anyone heard of tolerance?  Well, he's built it up against some of the drugs he's on.  His awesome social worker at N. Chicago recommended he switch to the psychiatrist down there and have a whole new makeup.  Last Thursday was the day of his appointment with his new psychiatrist down there.

As we walked into the hospital, I suddenly became nervous and full of anticipation.  Would this doc really be all that he was supposedly cracked up to be?  We'd been to so many doctors over the years.  Would this guy really help us?   Since he came so recommended, I had high hopes and I was just afraid that the bar had been set too high.

I was pleasantly surprised.  Hubs had been told by some of the other fellas in his group that we wouldn't actually spend that much time with the doctor.  Instead, we'd be with his nurse most of the time.  I was surprised when his name was called and there was no nurse, it was the actual doctor.  He led us down this long maze of yellow institutional-like hallways.  I remember thinking that they should really put some art on the walls or something to liven it up.  Anyway, we went back to his office and got down to business.

The psychiatrist was thorough......he actually took the time to go through the meds he'd been on and ask what was going on in his life, what symptoms he was going through.  I chimed in when Hubs wouldn't fully give out how bad it was for him.  I don't know about your veteran, but mine always tries to make it sound less bad than it really is.  The doc listened, interrupting when appropriate to ask a question or two, and he listened.  That was nice.....there was no psycho-babble going on.

Turns out the psychiatrist at our VA locally had him on not one, but TWO Benzodiazepines.    The doc whipped out some handbook that listed them as HARMFUL in the treatment of PTSD.  What the hell? That really got to me and Hubs.  Harmful??? and he was on two????  Unbelievable.   Hubs is now off those stupid benzos and only on one new drug.  The guy said it might make him sleepy at night, which would have been a good thing since he's up all night.  However, so far the darn things don't seem to make him sleepy.  However, yesterday was his first full day on them and he reported that he felt "happy".  

Tonight he is sacked out on the couch so maybe the drugs are starting to work.  I have to believe that not having as many drugs in him is a good thing.  He goes back in 4 weeks so that's promising too.....that we're going to receive follow up care.  Hubs only saw his psychiatrist at our local VA once every three months, which I always thought was dumb.

So, for now, I hold my breathe and wait and see.  THat's the nature of this, I guess.   You hurry up and wait for a new prescription, a new therapy group, a new EMDR session and you wait and see if it helps.  The psychiatrist made a good point Thursday:  medicine is not a cure.  You're going to get more out of your therapy groups and individual sessions to process the traumas.  The medicine is a bandaid to help you along the way.  Well, our bandaid had been holding on by a thread, a dirty, torn barely-there thread.  Hopfully this new bandaid will help hold him together a bit better.

The kids

My little baby boy is almost 10 months old.  It seems like only yesterday I was sitting at the kitchen table with my feet up because my ankles were so swollen they were disgusting.  Time sure does fly sometimes.  Just the other day he fit so well into my hands and was so teeny tiny.  Now the little munchkin is crawling all over the place and he's been pulling himself up on everything.   Yesterday he walked around the coffee table and around the couch by holding onto the furniture.  Yikes, not sure I'm ready for walking yet.  In fact, I know I'm not!

Then there's my baby girl.  She's been through so much, including the time in our lives when Hubby wasn't receiving any help from the VA.  She has had to see a lot, go through a lot.  I've tried to shield her, but I'm sure it's affected her....how could it not?   She's such a trooper though.  She's definitely got the sassy attitude....wonder where she got that?  Lol.  She's very artistic and I just can't wait to see what awesome things she continues to accomplish as she gets older.

Sometimes, all the time I worry about how all this PTSD crap is going to affect my kids.  Will they grow up thinking that this environment is normal?  I sure hope not.  I pray that they aren't going to need years of therapy and blame their mom for staying in an environment that isn't always probably the healthiest.  There's no abuse here, let me be clear.  It's just.....well......Our household is not really a happy one.  Hubs is depressed all the time.  I'm stressed out majority of the time.  How did we get here?  This is definitely NOT how I envisioned raising my kids.  I always wanted a very involved husband, and I always pictured us being very outgoing and taking our kids lots of places and having the Donna Reed type home where everything is happy happy.   Well, I'm not Donna Reed and he is definitely no whatever-Donna-Reed's-husband-was-called.

We do try though.  Even though Hubs is depressed all the time, he does try to put on a happy face for the kids.  We don't do as much outside the home as other families, but we do get out on outings like the local zoo, we take our daughter to the movies and I try to have a few playdates for her.  Even through all that though....there are days that I'm just too exhausted by the end of the day to make a great home-cooked meal for her.  My family eats more take-out and hotdogs than I'd care to admit.....but my kids are clean, fed, and they are loved.  Yes they are.

I hope they know how much we love them.  I think they do.  I hope that in the end, they grow up realizing that their dad did his best, and that he was a good dad, despite, or perhaps in spite of his fog of depression and anxiety.  I hope they grow up knowing their mom shielded them as best she could from the brunt of his irrational mood swings and anxiety-driven rages.   I think they'll grow up maybe a little older than their years, maybe with a little more weight on their shoulders than they should have had to have bared.  But.....Above all else, I hope they know that their mom and dad did their best.  That they love them, that they want the best for them, and that we would do anything for them.

I think they will.

  I've really got to stop blogging at 1:30 in the morning.  I don't know why I'm up this late.  It's like I get my 2nd (3rd, 4th, 5th?) wind and off I go.  Maybe because it's the only time of the day that I know I am not going to be interrupted by "mom, mom, mom....MOM!".  

  Last night I couldn't sleep.  I was up until about 4am and my children cheerfully got up at the ungodly hour of 8am.  I know that's not that late, but for me, it was awful.  Hubs, of course, was not in bed.  I told munchkin to go get her dad and tell him to feed her.  She tried, but he was so out of it that she came back up the stairs without him.  I managed to get her a bowl of cereal and her medicine before half sleeping back to the bed.  My head hit the pillow and about two seconds later the baby woke up.

Seriously?

It was a bad morning.  Hubs did come upstairs but he went right to bed.  I was frazzled and I snapped at him.  He had this wounded look on his face and I felt bad, but I just wanted to cry because I was so tired and stressed and it was only 9am.  I again brought up a divorce.  I meant it when I said it.  I finally got 10 minutes to myself and I cried in the shower.  I don't know what the heck was up with me.  I think, this past week has been stressful and my husband finally hit the nail on the head when he asked me if I was overwhelmed.

That's it!  I am just so overwhelmed with everything.  We had a talk, again.  I told him that I never get to sleep in.  It was more than that though.....I feel like the weight of our family rests on me.  He laughed and said it was funny because he felt the same, but for different reasons.  He feels it financially, because he brings in the bacon.  I feel it more emotionally and physically and mentally.  For example, when the kids get up, he knows that I'll have to get up and take care of them because I'm not going to let them just cry and scream and be neglected.  I can ask for his help, but if he falls back asleep, it's not that big of a deal because I'll be there to make sure everything gets taken care of.    It's not just the kids;  I do the laundry, i clean up, I do most of the cooking.  I make sure this household runs.  It may not run the smoothest, but I make sure it keeps on chugging along.  

There is no partner for me.  I can't really count on him, and it makes me sad.  He's a good guy, he really is, but I feel like,  I know that everything rests on me.  It's a big stress that rests on my shoulders and I think most of the time he doesn't realize how much I worry and stress over things.  

He told me that if I wanted a divorce, he would give me one.  "It's cheaper to keep her", I told him, which is a line from a song he threw at me the other day.  In all seriousness though, I can't divorce him. He is sick.  I wouldn't leave him if he had cancer, or if his leg had been blown off.  I made up my mind today, at that very second, that divorce is simply NOT AN OPTION.  The only way it would be, is if he got abusive to the kids or to me.  Since he's never been abusive (some verbal putdowns, yes, and a push a long time ago....but nothing like abuse and never to the kids) then I'm in for the long haul.  Since Divorce is not an option anymore, and never really was, come to think of it.....Then my whole mind frame has got to change.  Not, I wish this would get better.  Boo Hoo to me, woe is me.  Instead, it's more like Ok, what things can I do to change the outcome.  What steps am I going to take to protect me and my feelings when he gets like that.  What am I going to do to help him understand my point of view in a calm, meaningful manner?

Hopefully I come up with some great answers to these questions.  It's not going to be easy, but we've managed this long and I'm not giving up.  PTSD is not going to ruin us!!