Monday, April 16, 2012


Just when I think I can't make things any worse on myself, I prove myself wrong.


It's almost time for me to leave for my therapy appointment with the doctor who talks more than I do, but I had a few minutes after I got done getting ready and I needed to write.
I feel like things are bouncing a bit right now- better to worse- on a near-daily basis. I feel so much better, and, other days, I catch myself contemplating suicide more than is even vaguely rational. I'm tired of fighting, and I want a release. I think I can make it after I get out, now, and I have a few ideas I'm scared to put too much stock into, because I don't trust myself to see them through, but they are, potentially, good ideas.
Buffalo Boy has been incredibly supportive of my ideas, though my husband seems to be drowning in my issues right now. I asked him to take some initiative to try and learn more about what I'm dealing with because, frankly, I'm out of ideas for how to help him. I really feel like I'm just dragging him down as I'm trying to stay afloat. I guess drowning really is a good analogy for this.
We see his chaplain and an actual therapist for marriage counseling, I see my own one-on-one therapist, the doctor at the treatment clinic and am enrolled in an outpatient therapy program, yet he still seems to be struggling to understand any of it. I've written emails, given him the address to this blog (which he reads about once a month) and suggested books. I've asked him to do his own research, because I don't even know what parts of the picture he's missing right now. He's going to be busy with training and deployment preparations for a while, and, frankly, if we don't get on the same sheet of music by the time he deploys, I am not positive we'll make it through that deployment. I want this to work, but I'm so damn tired of fighting for everything I just don't know what will anymore.
Just trying to keep my head up for another week....

Sunday, April 15, 2012

The Day Before

Sundays are so difficult.
They have so much potential, yet they're so full of anxiety for me as of late- all that anticipation of yet another week of juggling military nonsense with an attempt at survival- let alone happiness.
I'm a bad soldier right now, I haven't done my physical, I am still a week away from the dental exam I'm overdue for, and I haven't spent any excess time hunting down specific people because I was told to. I'm at a point where I will take nearly any opportunity for happiness, even if it means risking some punishment. I don't get much for myself anymore, and I have no escape from the darkness these days, so, really, when I see a bit of light shining through, who can blame me for trying to stay close to it?
Another week... I really hope I'm able to sleep tonight.

Saturday, April 14, 2012


I just flipped out on my dog and my husband.
Fortunately, it wasn't violent this time, but I'm sure I scared both of them badly.
I'm ashamed of who I've become, I'm ashamed of the monster looking back at me.

I don't get a break from the things going on in my head, from the problems, or from the pain. It all gets worse when I go to work, and that used to be my refuge from it all. I sobered up two years, eleven months and three weeks ago as of today, and it seems like a bad idea to go back on that, although, lately, words can't describe how much I miss the alcohol. Medical marijuana would certainly help give me a break, but that's not an option for me now, either. I can't get away from it, I have no escape and no refuge.
I have no idea how I'll survive this.

Friday, April 13, 2012


The two things I really feel passion for as of late?
Service dogs and medical marijuana.
I'm in the military, I'm not allowed to use marijuana or any other "illicit" substances, be they herbal or otherwise. Alcohol and caffeine are perfectly welcome, of course, and we sure don't get checked for steroids, but marijuana, game over.
I'd be lying if I said I understood the logic behind that.
Caffeine, alcohol and steroids all would incur some pretty serious side effects on anyone who dared stop using, but you can eat "pot" brownies all day long, and, whether or not you quit, the worst that will happen is you gain some weight and lose some stress. There's plenty of studies out there that say that you'll have issues with memory and such if you smoke weed.
I have PTSD. A decent memory is a thing of the past, and I'm not getting any of the benefits of the herb that stands to improve my ability to function the most.
The service dog thing is pretty obvious at this point.
What I'd really like, right about now, is something to take the edge off the pain.


Some days, I feel like I accomplish nothing in life but hurting others.


Yesterday was a very rough day around here.
It was the last day before my husband would be returning from a week-long field problem, our truck got hit in a parking lot, I helped teach a Service Dog training class, and, of course I went to treatment. I managed to sleep through alarms yesterday morning, so I missed the check-in with my unit I'm supposed to be doing every (very early) morning.
After I saw that the quarter paneling on the truck was crunched up pretty good, I went to spend some time with Buffalo Boy. I've missed hanging out with him a lot, and, these last few days more than ever. Mr Nice Guy is the best husband I could ask for, but there's a lot of qualities we don't share, and for the times I need someone who understands the PTSD, the non-shy introverted personality, and the wild streak, Buffalo Boy is my shelter.   Anyone who's been keeping up with my writing knows that I am quite frequently surprised by how close I've become to Buffalo Boy, and, all the while, still plenty able to keep up a friends-only boundary system with him that makes our friendship so much less complicated than it could potentially be. 
Anyway, we watched Eastbound And Down- a show I haven't seen before yesterday. It's not something I would have expected to enjoy, but it turned out to be pretty entertaining. Buffalo Boy and I also got a lot of venting and discussing of symptoms and issues done, and that always helps so much. I can't explain how easily I relax around this massive, muscular, tattooed biker dude that, in so many ways, should probably scare me. It was just really nice, sitting there on his couch, with the cat he didn't realize was pregnant running around crying, my service dog looking at the cat like lunch (even though that cat has made her point more than once with my dog) and us just, for lack of better word, bitching.
It's so nice to have a friend like that.
Anyway, the husband is headed back today, and I'm sitting here writing as I should be cleaning. I'm just so tired. Oh well, back to it.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Of Dogs, People And PTSD

So, amid all of this chaos with our post making it incredibly difficult to have a service dog, I was informed today by my doctor at treatment that I need to be involved in things that are, you know, outside my home.
The only thing I still have the heart for is service dog stuff. Even though the military is trying it's hardest to break me so that I might give in and let them separate me with fewer benefits, even though they're trying to make it harder for me to have my service dog, and definitely harder for others to get service dogs, THIS is what has made a difference in my life. The doctor actually point-blank said she was glad I had a service dog because, among other reasons, it meant I had a responsibility to someone else.
I just checked in with our former trainer, and there's a session this Thursday that we'll go to.
I guess we're going to do this.

We're also looking at adopting a male dog, as a secondary service dog. She gets along fine with male dogs, more often than not, and I intend to make her a part of bringing home a second. I want another dog around her size, maybe bigger, that she gets along with and that we can train. I know seeing another dog doing what I'm trying to teach her has helped her, so I think training a second may be easier.

So much going on in my head....

Sunday, April 8, 2012


One would assume that not ever getting out of one's pajamas would mean it'd be nearly impossible to have any sort of difficult day, right?
I fell apart first thing this morning- just a complete train wreck. Once again, I'll leave out the gruesome details, but, as you might have noticed from my previous post, it was pretty bad.
We came to a conclusion, though, and decided we'd try to go through the VA to see about in vitro fertilization once I get out of the military. I don't want to wait five years to get around to something we want so badly, especially when it's something nobody can ever be truly or completely prepared for.
I'm not ready to return to treatment tomorrow, to deal with the week ahead or try to face the people I know I will have to. 
I just want a break from the "real world".


My ex-husband let me think I'd cheated on him all this time, when he'd understood the entire time that it was an assault. It tears me apart that I've hurt several people whom I cared about very much because I was so convinced I was incapable of being faithful to someone who wasn't nearby.
I don't know how to process all of this, but it hurts me clear down to my soul. I let this man get into my head so much that I believed I was this horrible, cheating, out-of-control woman who was incapable of taking other people's emotions into account when she should have. I'm so disgusted with myself for all of this. Until recently, my ex-husband and I have been friends, but, right now, for the first time, I am so disgusted by the fact that I allowed this man into my heart and mind to such an extent that he could hurt me so badly for so long that I can't even speak to him.
Mr Nice Guy and I have been dealing with a lot of stress with an upcoming deployment that was recently announced, my medical board, all the fun PTSD stuff and just day to day life as newlyweds- not to mention the incredible amount of trouble I have gotten from the army side of the house as of late. Yesterday, we had the closest thing to a fight we've ever had. We've been discussing trading in his gas guzzling pick up for a car. Originally this was his idea, as he prefers driving cars. I prefer trucks, but $100/week in gas is enough to make anybody rethink their stand on that. Yesterday, I guess he was questioning his feelings on this, but he made the first passive-aggressive comment he's ever directed at me when he took a shot at my truck- which is paid off, mind you.
I went off the deep end, quick fast and in a hurry.
I'll spare you the gruesome details, but, eventually, the biggest reasons for me to feel so strongly about my truck being taken from me came out. Yes, I'm insecure and still believe my husband may leave me. The part that surprised me, though, was the part where I realized that I have nothing to plan for but a number of months without my spouse. Despite having put in for a referral for in vitro, they haven't so much as sent me paperwork to fill out, so I'm plenty aware they probably looked up my records in the computer system, realized I have chronic PTSD and scratched my name off the list. It's been months, and, well, they think it's alright to play God as long as they're doing it with someone who has no control over their conception without them. We can't start fostering or adopting while the other half prepares for deployment and then getting out- and while he's in college will probably be a pretty bad time to do it all, too. So, about five years from now, maybe we'll stand a chance. We called off the full ceremonial wedding because we didn't have the time and money to put into it and I was going through a med board and wouldn't be allowed to take leave to do it. We were planning on getting the actual ceremony done with family and friends this month. I don't know when I'll be out of the military, whether it will be before, during, or, God forbid, after he goes on deployment, so there's no way to plan for anything during that time frame, either.
I've taken up running to give myself something to focus on- we did another run last night, longer than the previous- but, really, I'm not sure what I'm doing all of this for. I have no goals that I can even plan for at this point, I'm not high-functioning enough to work once I'm out, and I don't even know how I'll manage to get through a deployment- what living condition, what state, what anything- without him around.
I feel like the ground has been pulled out from under me, and I'm just free-falling. Nothing I knew has proven real, not about myself, not about the world or people I trusted, and I'm really, really tired of fighting.

Saturday, April 7, 2012

The Childless Mother

It's so difficult to watch my social networking sites and see women talk about the babies they already have and the ones they have on the way.
I'm tired of feeling sorry for myself, but, really, I want it to be my turn already. I want to adopt and/or foster.... but it's such a long process we can't evens start it until we're both out of the military and settled.
I am tired of waiting.

Friday, April 6, 2012

Run Like A Woman

I went running today for the first time in about a month, and, hormonally speaking, my timing sucked.
It lasted less than twenty minutes, I have been hacking like a three-pack-a-day smoker since, and I still feel quasi-nauseated. My dog, however, thought it was the greatest thing EVAR.
She usually does.
Anyway, am I happy it was so short-lived? Not a chance.
Am I proud of myself for doing it at all? DAMN SKIPPY.
I'm not the best or the fastest- I'm sure not the most disciplined. I still got off my butt, put on my running clothes, and did it, though.
It was short, but there wasn't a single harassing comment or gesture the whole time, and, having PTSD and anger issues, I can't tell you how much better it made me feel that, at noon on a Friday, a heavily-tattooed woman and her dog could go running down a busy road and not get any sort of negative crap for it.
That will make it much easier to do in the future, no doubt.

I've been doing a lot of emotional work lately. I've started focusing on what attitudes and behaviors I have that make me happy, and which ones make me uncomfortable. I'm reading the book Quiet: The Power Of Introverts In A World That Can't Stop Talking right now, and I have to say, not only do I like it, but I'm incredibly impressed and surprised by this book. I have never considered myself an introvert a day in my life, and this book made me realize that, while friendly, I'm not actually an extrovert. I had, originally, started reading this book because I was hoping to get a better understanding of my generally not-outgoing husband. It turns out, that, in some ways, he's actually more extroverted than me. There's a difference between shy and introverted, and I'm the latter, while I believe he's either the former or an ambivert- about half and half. Shyness is more of a discomfort dealing with people, while introversion is more about how you process things and what energizes you- time to yourself or time with people. I need my alone time, in a very real way. I can enjoy being around people, but, as a rule, I absolutely must have some quiet ALONE time when it's time to recharge. I think my husband actually likes being around people, though he's just not someone who talks a lot. I love him not despite that but because of it. I can talk to him about anything- and he does talk more to me than to anyone else that I know of- but we can also just sit in silence and be totally okay with that. He doesn't feel the need to comment on everything that's said or done around us, and I really like that about him.
All that being said, I'm slowly learning to realize that my habit of responding to everything said to me is just that- a habit. It's something that I've learned to do to show people I'm aware of their presence and I don't completely despise them. In reality, I'm far more comfortable just observing and processing things for a while, rather than pressuring myself to immediately respond to the stimuli. I can't tell you the difference this one little thing has made for my emotions. Giving myself permission to keep my mouth shut has helped me tremendously.
So, I'm sitting here quietly sipping my green tea and writing, and mentally preparing myself to go see some friends of ours (and their ADORABLE infant daughter!) tonight.
I'm getting there.

The Plan

So, the husband and I haven't been eating as well as we should lately, and, while I can't bring myself to be upset about our occasional- or thrice weekly- indulgences in take out, because, man, it's just so much easier than cooking!- I also know that it needs to change. So, I've decided that, on top of pushing myself to go running and, hopefully, do yoga more often, the eating habits need to be improved too.
Mr Nice Guy doesn't have any problem eating the same meal frequently, and, even though he isn't a vegetarian himself, he has actively been trying to cut back on the amount of meat he's been eating. I wonder if his carb intake hasn't increased for this reason, and not the good carbs, but we're both trying to improve our habits, regardless.
I realized last night that, even though it may get boring sometimes, if I have 3 meals a day that I already have easy go-to meals for, I'll probably stop shamming out on the cooking quite so much, even if they're the same ones I had yesterday, so long as I like them and feel good about them. So, these are the things I've decided to start keeping on hand:

Breakfast: Yogurt, granola (I always have granola, don't ask me when THAT happened), fruit and oatmeal. I figure I'll only eat the oatmeal when I have time to actually sit down or a few extra minutes to make it to-go style, but with these on hand, I'll always have something quick to grab on my way out the door. I only eat certain flavors of yogurt, but I'm hoping my taste buds change to allow for the generic stuff.

Lunch: Many more traditional Buddhists believe it's less than purposeful to eat after around noon-time, because, after that, you're probably not doing it so much to fuel your body for the rest of the day as to, well, fill your stomach. I haven't gotten to the point where I can manage skipping my evening meal, but in an effort to focus on getting a lot of nutrition in during this meal, I am going to push the salads. Dark, leafy greens with peas, mushrooms and olives, at a minimum, are my plan. I'm hoping to gradually work in more diversity, but I'm going to start with what I know I'll eat, and go from there. (By the way, for you non-vegetarians, there's a LOT of protein in dark leafy greens, and you probably don't need as much protein as the Western meat-culture has you convinced. Many folks agree on about 75 kg if you're basing it on the generalized 2,000 calorie diet, or 0.8 grams per kg. KG=2.2 lbs. At 170 lbs, or 77 kg, I need 61.6 grams of protein. One 6 oz steak contains approximately 42g of protein.)

Dinner: I've gotten addicted to a concept I can only term as "refrigerator salad"- a term coined by a friend of mine who recently caught a glimpse of this concoction. The recipe varies every single time I make it, but the average is this: canned corn, a couple medium avocados diced, some feta cheese, green onions, red, yellow and/or orange bell peppers diced, and garbanzo beans (chickpeas- same thing). I might throw some of the ingredients in a pan, particularly the corn, to give it a grilled effect, but I generally try not to throw all of any ingredient in to be cooked. I've seen enough written conjecture and evidence that many foods lose nutritional value that I try to maintain as much of the natural state of my food as I can without losing flavor. I mix in some apple cider vinegar and seasoning to taste- Mrs. Dash Fiesta Lime is one of my favorites. It's just a cold everything-salad, but it is incredibly good, and neither me nor my husband have gotten sick of it, despite having eaten it at least two or three times a week for the last several months. There are so many variations you can make to it, just by adding a different vegetable or seasoning, and it's really healthy.

Especially during times my husband is out in the field or when he deploys, I'm really going to push myself when it comes to running and yoga. I know from experience these things always make me feel better- but motivation is key.

I can't get pregnant- in vitro fertilization is the only way. That is expensive, and, again, I'm just not sure that's the choice I want. While I still so desperately want to have children, I've come to terms with all of this, and understand that it's not meant to be part of my life right now. I have enough friends who are insistent that I will wind up with children that I have to have faith. Since pregnancy doesn't appear to be any concern, long or short term, I am looking at it as a push to get in shape physically. I will not ever have the excuse that I could be pregnant and I don't want to hurt the baby, or be able to convince myself that I should take it easy and I can lose weight after I have my child. I don't want to take it easy, and there's no reason to. This body is mine alone, and I need to start using it as the instrument that God created it to be. Most of all, I need to stop hating it, and using it as it was intended is the only way that will ever happen.

So, here's my plan. Wish me luck!

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Save Me

Today is my daughter's almost-birthday.
It would have been her birthday if I hadn't miscarried her a few months into the pregnancy, when my fourteen year old body, riddled with drugs my mother forced me to take every day, which I didn't need, could no longer keep both itself and a child alive.
I still love her.
She would have been eleven today.

It's been a long day, and the new therapist at treatment is most assuredly the devil incarnate.

Fortunately, I bring my journal to treatment with me- well, one of my journals- and I get more therapy from that than this woman most days.
Today, I cried- just like the last two days. The husband and I are still happy together, but the PTSD, in a combined effort with the military, is making our lives a living hell. Between flashbacks, ab responses, nightmares, blackouts, and field exercises, when we're together, we're mostly struggling just to avoid hurting one another.

I made a decision this afternoon that I'll have to make again in the morning. I'm going running tomorrow morning. I'm not going JOGGING in the morning, I'm going RUNNING. I'm going to run down the street, with my dog, around the corner, to the light and back, and if we have to stop, we will, but I'm going to try really hard to just let loose tomorrow morning. I don't want this primal side of me to be caged anymore. I can't open up at treatment most of the time, now because I don't trust the therapist, but also because of the guy who admitted to being a sexual predator and the guy who won't talk about anything but his penis and sex life. Maybe if I push myself to the brink, if I stop being scared of feeling fear or anger and just feel it anyway, and RUN like my life depended on it, maybe then the tears and sweat and pain and weakness will have a place to go. Maybe if I open the floodgate, I won't have to prod anything to come out.

I need this.

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

To My Daughter

My Angel,
               Tomorrow would be your eleventh birthday. How do I say goodbye to a daughter who's face I've only seen in my dreams? I will never forget the changes you brought to me, and to my life. 
               Yes, you know you were a product of rape- but you were my child, my daughter, from the moment of your conception. That boy can never lay claim to the child that I carried in my body, however briefly. You were the only positive thing to come from the forced loss of my virginity, and, even though my fourteen-year-old body couldn't carry you to full term, you WERE a positive thing. So many years later, I still have been unable to let go of the loss I felt the day I miscarried you. I was young, and still a current victim of abuse at my mother's hands. You were the first part of my life I could call my own. When my body wasn't even my own, you were, and nobody has ever been able to take that from me. 
               I still don't talk to too many people about you, but you know that, don't you? It's hard for most people to understand the attachment I still hold to you. I would do anything to be planning my daughter's eleventh birthday right now, rather than questioning how I'll make it through the day tomorrow. I would have done anything to protect you, and I tried. I didn't press charges because I was more concerned with my daughter's future than our past. 
               I don't know how I would have kept both of us alive, had I given birth to you at only fifteen. All I know is that I would have done anything to manage it. I don't know what you would like, or what kind of things you would be interested in now. I just wish I did. I love you and miss you. 
                 Your Mama