Life is Funny

I spent nearly a decade trying to get Mike to realize he suffered with PTSD. He knew something wasn't right but couldnt admit it. He thought just "DISAPPEARING" would make our lives better. In that choice, his final act...he actually caused me to develop PTSD. I see the irony now.

I've had the condition for nearly a year and a half. Unlike him I recognize the symptoms and work hard daily to overcome. If not overcome at least live with.

I met Sean, shortly after Mike passed. He had heard about his death and sent me a condolence message on Facebook. I learned that they had been friends since 1993 at school in Memphis. He said their careers kept them in contact and they even took the retirement class together on Pendleton. I thought it was so strange that they had known each other as long as I'd known Michael, 20 years...and I'd never met him. It made me wonder what else I didn't know. We talked a few times. I felt like he was a living connection to Mike. We spoke on Skype and through email mostly. We lived 2000 miles apart. He mentioned he also had PTSD. It was something we had in common.

At some point we fell in love. It was completely unintentional. Neither of us were looking. I certainly was not ready for commitment as I still felt committed to my husband. The part that impressed me most was that when I told him this he understood and said he didn't want to take Mikes place in my heart. He just wanted to know me. He felt good when he talked to me. There were no expectations.  There was no pressure. We didn't define our relationship. There was no label. We just knew we liked what we had. Our relationship developed easily. It was incredibly safe and comfortable from the beginning. We seemed to know what each other needed and were able to provide those things simply by existing. We eventually visited eachother, met families, now we live together.

I think there is irony or perhaps something more karmic that we ended up together. People ask me how we met. When I say Sean and Mike were friends I can literally see the wheels turning in their heads and can only laugh. The stereotypes of Marines and their wives are hilarious and they don't stop once you hit the gate of the base. Whether or not they want to admit it the Military community invented the stereotypes and we perpetuate them daily. We are our own worst enemy. Even though I had never met him before Mike died they will form a scandalous scenario in their minds regardless of if I explain or not so I don't bother.

In the beginning of our relationship I told my mom about him. And moms being protective and concerned as they are...she said "He has PTSD too? Aren't you afraid of going through the same problems you had with Mike?"

For a split second the question cut me. I have PTSD. Is she afraid I will hurt myself or my kids? I gave myself time to process it and I know it came from the most well intended place. She's just concerned for us. But it just shows the stigma attached to illness. Even up close and personal.

PTSD can occur from any life threatening situation. PTSD can happen to anyone.  There are no gender, race, creed, class limitations.

And after living with Mikes condition for 8 years and now my own for over a year, as well as talking to so many others struggling...I know it's not the PTSD itself that is dangerous. It's the denial, the substance abuse developed by some in coping with it, it's the pride "I am a Marine! That's a weakness. We don't have weakness!" It's the unnecessary shame that prevents them from treatment. There is no shame in having this. It's no different than having diabetes. Diabetics can go into shock if not treated or even die. We have panic attacks, fight or flight, and intrusive thoughts but with acceptance and proper treatment life is good for the most part.

The earlier you reach out the easier it is to manage. Even after living with Mikes condition for so long, I didn't know what I was dealing with was ptsd. A doctor told me. I was committed to a psych hospital a month after Mike died. I sincerely thought I had lost my mind. I was not in that ward 8 hours when they diagnosed me and released me in the care of a ptsd specialist. 

I thought afterward of all the people who should have recognized the classic symptoms...it should have been me. Life is Funny that way.

So now, here we are in Sunny San Diego. Two people sharing a loving and supportive life with a manageable condition, a few kids and a couple dogs. Life is not so bad. We really enjoy the life we've created together. We know there are ups and downs and we are prepared and patient.

PTSD is only a disability if you allow it to be. It exists as we exist. Just another part of life. It doesn't define us, it's merely something we accept and acknowledge. I am not a fan of my allergies, but I know I have them so I treat it. PTSD is like my allergies. Not all people who have allergies will go into anaphylaxis and die. Not all people with PTSD will hurt themselves or others. It just "is". People with allergies know what causes a reaction and takes steps to reduce and prevent attacks. People with ptsd know their triggers and do the same. Or, I should say it CAN be that easy. All you have to do is reach out and accept treatment. You don't need to wait until your face is so swollen you can't see to know you need to see a doctor. PTSD is no different.

Life is funny.