Yes, this is my life

Since Mike died, military wives all over the country now come to me for help or advice on their spouses struggled with PTSD. I do my absolute best to give them resources, identify with their frustration and let them know they are not alone. I have to admit though, it's scares me sometimes.  I obviously didn't know how to help Mike. Or that their could be help. I have learned so very much since he died and want to spread awareness but I am not a professional. I take each and every case personally. It's like I have to relive the time leading up to Mikes passing. And then the outcome, he died.  I think to myself "what if another service member dies?" What if one of these ladies I have spoken to loses their husband. Can handle that? Did I do enough for them? Will I crumble if not? What I want you to know is I am just a wife. I have no professional claim. I can't "fix" anyone. Nor can you. If you come to me with your struggles I will listen, empathize and...

Witnessing my husband committing suicide was traumatic. An unfortunate result of the trauma was I developed PTSD. But...what exactly does that mean?  I don't look any different. I am not a danger to myself or others. I am not crazy. Although, I thought I was at first. I even spent the night in a psychiatric hospital a month after my husband died. They took all the strings out of my pants, strip searched me, the whole nine. It was a terrifying. After all the questions and speaking with the doctors I found out that I'm not crazy. Just grieving with PTSD. I was in a traumatic situation and now my brain is different. A balloon popping, a toy pop gun, a basketball hitting the door...it sends me into a panic. I know this will happen and yet, it gets me every time. After the initial startle I then am forced to relive WHY the loud noise scared me. The sound of the gunshot that night will never leave my head.  Any time we are in a crowd and I feel like the safety of myself or my childr...

I understand mental illness, the downward spiral he was in and how suicide is a common result of such conditions. I knew my husband when we were teenagers. We had 20 years worth of memories. I knew him before he was sick. I knew what was in his heart. My kids are so young. They only know that they had a dad when they went to sleep and when they woke up he was gone.  It's such a raw deal. I had absolutely no problem explaining to my kids that daddy was a Marine and we must sacrifice our time with him so that he could go to other countries and protect their kids. I told them we should be proud, not upset that he's gone because he was helping others and keep our country free.  He was deployed four times. About 28 months. That's not counting training missions, etc. including training he was gone 37 months of our marriage. That's over three years. My daughter was 6 when he died. We are talking about half her life. He was gone half her life. This was not even an issue until n...

I have spoke a lot lately about the loss of my husband and the life we led up to his suicide. And some may think, why stay? Why not leave. The answer is pretty simple. Living with a sick person is all I have ever known. It's also not the worst situation I have even been in. That's sad but true. Our bills were paid. We had food and a roof over our head. I appreciated this because I have lived without. And, with mental illness thrown in the mix. I was raised by addicts. Substance abusers. One of the reasons I choose to marry a Marine and move far away is that I needed to get as far apart as possible from the life I once knew. Growing into an adult didn't free me from the dangerous cycle of substance abuse and mental illness. I needed to teach myself how to be a woman. I had to learn to cope with life, not abusing drugs and alcohol.  By the time I left Missouri, my sister had been in rehab twice and both my brothers were full blown alcoholics. There was not one sober person in...

We lived an ordinary life by military standards. We were married 11.75 years. There was nothing particularly special about our life. We had three kids. They played soccer. I was the team parent for several years. PTA parents. We weren't rich. We lived on base. My husband deployed regularly. We learned to be flexible. We just lived our life. From the outside looking in we were your typical all-American family.   What you didn't know...nor did he, was my husband was fighting a silent battle within himself. He began showing signs of PTSD in 2005. I begged his command to have him evaluated. He denied the problem at work and spoke of suicide at home. He said after Recruiting Duty he would be better. It was just the stress and pressure of the duty. I trusted and had faith in him.  It never got better. It got worse. Our life began to change. My husband was slowly fading away. He was replaced by an agry, hateful, resentful version of his former self. No one knew when he would explode ...

It seems like my life has been on pause for about 12 years now. I mean, we grow older and still go through our days but I've been "waiting" on something or other for over a decade. When I was married to Mike it was wait for Recruiting Duty to be over so we can breathe. Then, it switched to wait for a deployment to be over so we can be a whole family again. Wait for his mood to change so we can be harmonious. Wait until retirement so we can start our real life. Now he's gone, I'm waiting but I'm not sure on what or why? I'm pretty tired of waiting. I'm wasting my life on hold for something I'm not ever sure now, what it is.  I want to love in this moment. Right now. I have wasted enough time waiting. I'm still young and pretty healthy. I want more from life than waking up, cleaning, caring for kids and Netflix.  No one is going to get a life for me. It's time.

This afternoon Kira and I were in the garage collecting items we needed for a holiday wreath we made and the boys were playing basketball in the front. As usual the ball slammed into the aluminum garage door and made a loud crash. And...as usual I yelped. It scares me every time. This time though, Kira was out here with me.  She asked me if it scared me as much as it scared her. I said it did. She then said something that made my heart stop. She said "it sounded just like a gun shot, huh?"  ....I panicked. Does she know? How does she know what a gun shot sounds like? What do I say? Do I ask if she remembers the sound from that night? They have not mentioned anything like this in the past six months. I decided to let it go for now and see if anything else is said. I really want to talk to them after we no longer live here. I don't want them to fear the garage or feel bad about this place. It breaks my heart to think they might but my hands are tied. All I have ever wanted ...

On Mar 19, 2014, at 12:34 PM, "Brown, Chris" <ChrisBrown@mail.house.gov> wrote: Mrs. Blum,   Thank you for contacting Congressman Luetkemeyer to relay your story and ask important questions regarding suicide in the military and related benefits.  We greatly appreciate your willingness to take the time to contact our office.  I have reached out to the House Armed Services Committee staff to raise these issues.  At this time it does not appear that there is a legislative initiative that would change the military benefit structure.  However, I will also reach out to the Pentagon to make sure they understand that this is an issue that causes Congressman Luetkemeyer great concern.  I believe DOD has some internal administrative authority to change certain elements of benefit programs.  I would be more than happy to discuss with you further if you are interested.  At the very least I wanted to reach out to thank you for raising this issue and shar...

I finally went yesterday and had my bloodwork. Something I put off for too long. I actively avoided it. I had more concerning issues to deal with. Sean was here and held my hand while they poked me. I got my results back this morning and everything is good. It came back within my threshold and cancer free. All is well. My kids need me to be healthy and strong. So far, so good. I'm all they have. That part scares me. But knock on wood...I'm great. Sean was in town for the weekend and we had a great time. The kids love him as much as I do. Lu Lu however still barks at him every time he walks in the room. She will learn to love him in time. The kids invited him to the cemetery to see their daddy and he happily accepted. We went on Saturday and it was a good visit, the kids enjoyed watching the deer near his headstone and I liked watching their interaction with Sean. Loving him, bringing him into the mix in their way and their own timeframe. He was beautiful with them. Made my hear...

Here it is. He's been gone Six whole months. I don't really feel any different than the day he left. I still sit here hoping he will come to me and explain why he did it. I still hope to find a letter in a hidden spot or some sign that he's sorry. There's nothing. Silence. Emptiness. Tears.

This happened just outside out subdivision this morning. http://fox2now.com/2014/03/11/school-bus-motorcycle-collide-in-wentzville/ and yesterday my neighbor was washing his bike. It happened right about the time he leaves for work in the AM. I froze. I screamed for Amanda to go over there and find out. Now.  I broke down. Even though he was the guy who forced himself on me at the Halloween party and the wife of the woman who accused me of killing my husband, I was overwhelmed with sadness knowing he may be gone and their kids had no daddy or she would be alone... About an hour later I saw his work truck pull up and he got out. The tears were rolling down my face. I ran over and knocked on the door and said I am so glad he's ok. I'm so thankful he's alright. I must have looked like a total loon.  I saw past all my hurt and sadness to give thanks for his safety. Without even thinking. I just went. I can't imagine anyone else feeling the sadness we do. I don't want to...

Lately I have not been finding the irony in life, the humor in small things everyday. This does bother me. Despite the events that occurred in my life I still usually feel positive. I notice I'm struggling with it and I am going to work on it. I'm not mad at God or the world or happy people. I've just been incredibly sensitive lately. I acknowledge it. I will try to focus less on what not working and more on what is going well. I'm sorry to all I am annoying. Trust me, I am annoying myself with it. I gotta find the good. I will. Promise.

https://www.youcaring.com/help-a-neighbor/family-of-usmc-vet-lost-to-suicide-needs-fresh-start-/148354

It just occurred to me that Cayces birthday would be in a few days. She's the reason I met Mike and now they are both in heaven. I'm happy with knowing they have each other up there. I'm sure she was one of the first people waiting for him, pushing others out of the way to get a big hug. It made me smile. She, Mike, my aunt Linda and my grandma are the most profound losses in my life time. Most special people to me. They are all in good company. I love them all.

One of my fellow TAPS members, the mother of a soldier who also committed suicide told me yesterday the way I talked about Mike it seemed our marriage was a difficult one. It threw me off a bit because the truth is...I didn't know how bad it was until after he died. It had been the way it was for so long that it was our normal. We became comfortable walking on eggshells with him. I got used to trying to predict his reaction to things, his moods and lying for the kids to keep them from bearing the brunt of his rage. But I never felt like it was a "bad marriage".  But I guess now that I have had time to reflect it sort of was. I was emotionally and sexually abused. My kids were emotional, physically and verbally abused. I guess I was in a state of denial also.  I remember telling the kids not to do certain things because their father would flip out. I had to hang his clothing in the closet just right. Jeans first, then shirts by color and all facing forward, only on black p...

My stress level is through the roof lately. First, this house is like a prison. Living here is keeping me sick. Walking past the door just feet from where he killed himself gives me panic attacks daily. The blood stain on the garage floor is permanent and when the weather warms up I can smell the chemicals used to clean his remains in the garage.  And...I can't afford to live here. I've been trying my hardest to support a family of seven. I'm just broke. And broken. I wake up everyday already out of breath because it's all so overwhelming.  I tried my hardest to stick it out and be strong but it's getting harder. Things in this house trigger my PTSD. I see my therapist and take the medication prescribed but I still can't sleep, eat or concentrate on anything. I try hard to find the positives but I'm so completely overwhelmed. I need help but I don't even know where to start or who to ask.  I need guidance, direction...something. This is hard.

Kira's birthday will be this week. She's turning seven. He won't be here to celebrate. We've always gone all out for her birthdays. We wore costumes and made a big deal out of her day. I'm heartbroken he's missing it. But I take comfort in the fact that I have a million photos of the parties before and she will see just how much he loved her. I think he will be watching from up there. 

We are struggling with the VA to reclassify his death as service related suicide. As of now it's just a 'self inflicted gunshot to head".  In order for this to happen I must collect letters from people who knew him and witnessed his behavior change. I found out this week that I must also write a letter. So, as hard as this will be to write out I am doing it today. This may be incredibly raw and extremely hard to read. I will warn you in advance. But remember; as hard as it is to read it was even harder to live through.  My name is Misty Blum. My husband was SSgt Michael John Blum. He served 20 years in the Marines. He retired May 01, 2013. 136 days later he walked into my garage and shot himself in the head. He died instantly September 15, 2013. The pain he'd been in for the past 8 years finally got the best of him. He could no longer live with it. At the time of his death we had been married for 11 years. But I knew him since childhood. We grew up in the same small to...