PTSD isn't new

My first experience with PTSD was as a child. At the time my grandparents lived with us and my uncle was returning from the military after being in long before I was born. Both her and his brother, my other uncle served in Vietnam. My uncle was going to be living with us until he got settled. Before he came my grandma sat us down for some very specific and serious rules. I had no idea why but if my grandma made her serious face and said it...it was the law.

We were told to never ever wake him up by shouting and shaking him, the way we did to each other. No reason why was given. We didn't ask. We were told when we woke him up to open the door, flip on the light and say his name from the door.

We were instructed never to never try to jump out of dark corners and BOO! him. The way kids do in fun. Never try to startle him. Again no reason was given but we didn't ask either. 

I learned later why. His natural reaction was to defend. In startling him, he could accidentally hurt us in response. His brain just worked differently. By all accounts he was a regular guy. He was a biker. He loved his harley and his whiskey. We never tested the rule so we pretty much forgot about it, it was just the way it was. I don't remember any other behavioral difference or changes. We loved him and became very close to him as children.

He died when I was 20. He actually had a heart attack from alcohol withdraw. His first grandson was born and he wanted to make healthy changes. Live longer for the babies. He had a heart attack at the kitchen table eating a bowl of ice cream. He tried to go cold turkey. He'd been drinking Jack Daniels daily for so long that his body couldn't take not having it.

It was only after he passed away that my grandma told me his drinking problem is what led to his forced retirement at 18 years service instead of the standard 20. 

Now it makes more sense having experienced it with my husband. I know that people with untreated PTSD sometimes turn to substance as a way of self medicating. I wish I knew then what I know now. I wish I could go back and tell him I understand. Much like I wish I could go back and tell my husband. 

Ironically both were named Mike too. They were very similar. Both sort of intense. Both patriotic and dedicated to their family. 

I gave the eulogy at my uncles funeral. I never realized until now that I saw my uncle Mike in my husband. Maybe that's why I held on so long. I loved them both. They were good men. 

It seems like such a raw deal to serve so selflessly and be affected so tragically in return. They basically died as a result of their service but no streets are named after them. No medals were awarded. They aren't mentioned in any songs or dedicated holidays. Their story is not unique. But their lives were special to the ones who loved them just the same.

They are part of the "some gave all..."