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.
Showing posts with label army. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army. Show all posts
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Buffalo
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.
Crap.
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....
Crap.
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
Consumed
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.
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.
Friday, April 6, 2012
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!
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!
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Dark
My husband has been gone so much for work, it feels impossible to talk to him.
How do you just open up about having been suicidal to someone who wasn't there or even reachable at the time?
How do you turn on the faucet to pour out emotions and stories that happened when the one you love and are trying so hard not to hurt or run from was away?
He's in bed, asleep. Despite my questions, and my attempts to talk today, I feel like my words were wasted. If he has feelings on any of what I'm going through, he's not showing them to me, and he's certainly not talking about any of it.
I hate that I make him deal with this, with me.
I feel like I'm slowly drowning in a tar pit- slow, dark, hot and never-ending.... and oh so eerily quiet.
How do you just open up about having been suicidal to someone who wasn't there or even reachable at the time?
How do you turn on the faucet to pour out emotions and stories that happened when the one you love and are trying so hard not to hurt or run from was away?
He's in bed, asleep. Despite my questions, and my attempts to talk today, I feel like my words were wasted. If he has feelings on any of what I'm going through, he's not showing them to me, and he's certainly not talking about any of it.
I hate that I make him deal with this, with me.
I feel like I'm slowly drowning in a tar pit- slow, dark, hot and never-ending.... and oh so eerily quiet.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Two Days Of Me
It's Monday evening, and the first day of the workweek has drawn to a close.
It's been a mostly positive weekend, though full of overwhelming stimuli. We went to a movie Friday night- my first time in a theater since I got my service dog about a month and a half ago. It went very well, though she won't be sitting/lying on the floor next time, as she likes eating the icky popcorn off the ground. We went to see the Harlem Globetrotters on Saturday night. I was sure I'd lost my mind even trying that, but, between a service dog, medication, my husband, a good friend and his girlfriend, we made it through it fairly well. It was my third time seeing their show, but it was almost as funny as the very first time. My husband and our friends loved it, and it was their first time- overall, it was worth the effort, and I didn't completely lose my mind.
.........................................
And, now there's this......
Getting out of the Army has been something I've generally viewed as a positive the last couple months, maybe more. It's been a big part of who I am for the last few years, and it never really occurred to me that it would ever hurt to lose that...
Until I read this.
The military is opening up THOUSANDS more jobs to women.
You know, all those jobs I wanted to be able to do, but couldn't, because I'm a "girl".... yeah, I could do them now, if only I wasn't broken beyond repair.
My heart is breaking in a way I didn't know it could.
Being part of the division colorguard, being aid station NCOIC and standing up a non-existent aid station as a SPC with three years in the Army, the 270 PT score and hopes for a 300....
That woman is dead.... No, that SOLDIER is dead.... And she's never coming back.
My heart is breaking.
There's nothing I can do about it.
It's been a mostly positive weekend, though full of overwhelming stimuli. We went to a movie Friday night- my first time in a theater since I got my service dog about a month and a half ago. It went very well, though she won't be sitting/lying on the floor next time, as she likes eating the icky popcorn off the ground. We went to see the Harlem Globetrotters on Saturday night. I was sure I'd lost my mind even trying that, but, between a service dog, medication, my husband, a good friend and his girlfriend, we made it through it fairly well. It was my third time seeing their show, but it was almost as funny as the very first time. My husband and our friends loved it, and it was their first time- overall, it was worth the effort, and I didn't completely lose my mind.
.........................................
And, now there's this......
Getting out of the Army has been something I've generally viewed as a positive the last couple months, maybe more. It's been a big part of who I am for the last few years, and it never really occurred to me that it would ever hurt to lose that...
Until I read this.
The military is opening up THOUSANDS more jobs to women.
You know, all those jobs I wanted to be able to do, but couldn't, because I'm a "girl".... yeah, I could do them now, if only I wasn't broken beyond repair.
My heart is breaking in a way I didn't know it could.
Being part of the division colorguard, being aid station NCOIC and standing up a non-existent aid station as a SPC with three years in the Army, the 270 PT score and hopes for a 300....
That woman is dead.... No, that SOLDIER is dead.... And she's never coming back.
My heart is breaking.
There's nothing I can do about it.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Outpatient- Out Of Patience
Yesterday was a horrifically eventful day.
The day of my last post- the day before yesterday, now- I had left a note for the gentleman who is assigned to my unit to help aid with "Combat And Operational Stress". He is a wonderful guy, but didn't get back to me about this note, in which I asked for someone to talk to about the anxiety. I didn't hear anything, but had my first true anxiety attack in formation during PT.
For those of you who aren't military minded, and I commend you for trying to follow this mess, we line up in several rows, with one person in charge (more or less) and that's a formation. Now, we do our exercise in these formations- to include running.
We got about a block before the pain in my chest was so horrible I couldn't breathe and run at the same time- and certainly not while surrounded by other people running and bumping into or stepping on one another. I took myself out of the formation, trying to continue to run, albeit at a much slower pace, but eventually gave up and walked. A senior NCO came over, and asked what was wrong. Breathless, I told him 'anxiety attack'. He told me I could just go back to HQ, and my response was to shake my head and say 'that's quitting.' He didn't argue. A female NCO I'm pretty close to fell out of formation to come run/walk with me. We followed the same route the runners did, and I didn't quit. By the time we made it back to HQ, people were already finishing their stretches. My 1sg and company commander pulled me aside. My commander asked if I'd run that route, and when I (still not able to breathe well at all) told him I'd walked it, my 1sg (First Sergeant) asked me what was going on, I, again, said "anxiety attack". He instructed my boss to make sure I was alright.
For those of you that are familiar with medicine, my blood oxygen level (pulse ox) was 93. I wasn't getting enough oxygen, go figure.
Anyhow, I went to group yesterday, and was pulled aside at the end of the session. A social worker noted that I'd been coming to these groups "religiously" each Tuesday and Thursday, while most showed up once a week, at best. The note I had left the combat and operational stress guy had also been brought to her attention. I told her about the anxiety attack, and the incredible amount of problems all of this was causing for me at work.
She said I sounded like a perfect candidate for outpatient therapy.
....Wait, what?! That's an option?!
I spent several hours after that at a behavioral health clinic about 30 minutes from work, filling out papers, until I was certain to be late to my reiki appointment. Fortunately, the person scheduled after me for reiki wound up rescheduling completely, and the woman I work with on this was very understanding about it.
Today, I headed to work, not knowing whether or not my command was okay with me taking part in the outpatient program. After several hours, and more than an hour and a half after I should have already been at the clinic, it was finally cleared up.
My command is allowing me to go, and I am responsible for keeping them in the loop about everything and maintaining my own physical fitness, so I won't find myself moving from multiple hours of therapy into a crowd of running soldiers (again). This is expected to be several weeks long, 10-14 business days. Today was only a small taste of what I'll be dealing with, as I will be moved into a military group (I wear civilian clothes to this, wearing my uniform makes me more tense and anxious than I already am).
I am incredibly grateful to my commander for blessing off on this, and incredibly grateful in a more general sense for the opportunity to be away from my work, away from those people, and actually take some time and heal all these raw, open wounds.
I'm terrified, too, though.
I have had more anxiety since that one hour meeting with the social worker summarizing my life than I have ever had. If that's what happened after one hour, what happens after a day or a week of me talking this out, spilling my guts and really looking at those still-gaping wounds?
This sweet thing managed to nearly put me into another anxiety attack. I love her dearly, but she is so excited to see me sometimes that she gets a little bit too much so. She clocked me in the mouth after repeatedly jumping on me (she's full grown, but new to us, and not completely trained yet) and I had to push her away, and, eventually go put myself behind the closed door of our bedroom. She didn't want me to walk away from her, and she didn't mean to do any damage, but my anxiety turns to anger too quickly, and I will NOT hurt my dog, or anyone else.
She really is a fantastic dog, though, and very attached. I'm really glad to have her.
The day of my last post- the day before yesterday, now- I had left a note for the gentleman who is assigned to my unit to help aid with "Combat And Operational Stress". He is a wonderful guy, but didn't get back to me about this note, in which I asked for someone to talk to about the anxiety. I didn't hear anything, but had my first true anxiety attack in formation during PT.
For those of you who aren't military minded, and I commend you for trying to follow this mess, we line up in several rows, with one person in charge (more or less) and that's a formation. Now, we do our exercise in these formations- to include running.
We got about a block before the pain in my chest was so horrible I couldn't breathe and run at the same time- and certainly not while surrounded by other people running and bumping into or stepping on one another. I took myself out of the formation, trying to continue to run, albeit at a much slower pace, but eventually gave up and walked. A senior NCO came over, and asked what was wrong. Breathless, I told him 'anxiety attack'. He told me I could just go back to HQ, and my response was to shake my head and say 'that's quitting.' He didn't argue. A female NCO I'm pretty close to fell out of formation to come run/walk with me. We followed the same route the runners did, and I didn't quit. By the time we made it back to HQ, people were already finishing their stretches. My 1sg and company commander pulled me aside. My commander asked if I'd run that route, and when I (still not able to breathe well at all) told him I'd walked it, my 1sg (First Sergeant) asked me what was going on, I, again, said "anxiety attack". He instructed my boss to make sure I was alright.
For those of you that are familiar with medicine, my blood oxygen level (pulse ox) was 93. I wasn't getting enough oxygen, go figure.
Anyhow, I went to group yesterday, and was pulled aside at the end of the session. A social worker noted that I'd been coming to these groups "religiously" each Tuesday and Thursday, while most showed up once a week, at best. The note I had left the combat and operational stress guy had also been brought to her attention. I told her about the anxiety attack, and the incredible amount of problems all of this was causing for me at work.
She said I sounded like a perfect candidate for outpatient therapy.
....Wait, what?! That's an option?!
I spent several hours after that at a behavioral health clinic about 30 minutes from work, filling out papers, until I was certain to be late to my reiki appointment. Fortunately, the person scheduled after me for reiki wound up rescheduling completely, and the woman I work with on this was very understanding about it.
Today, I headed to work, not knowing whether or not my command was okay with me taking part in the outpatient program. After several hours, and more than an hour and a half after I should have already been at the clinic, it was finally cleared up.
My command is allowing me to go, and I am responsible for keeping them in the loop about everything and maintaining my own physical fitness, so I won't find myself moving from multiple hours of therapy into a crowd of running soldiers (again). This is expected to be several weeks long, 10-14 business days. Today was only a small taste of what I'll be dealing with, as I will be moved into a military group (I wear civilian clothes to this, wearing my uniform makes me more tense and anxious than I already am).
I am incredibly grateful to my commander for blessing off on this, and incredibly grateful in a more general sense for the opportunity to be away from my work, away from those people, and actually take some time and heal all these raw, open wounds.
I'm terrified, too, though.
I have had more anxiety since that one hour meeting with the social worker summarizing my life than I have ever had. If that's what happened after one hour, what happens after a day or a week of me talking this out, spilling my guts and really looking at those still-gaping wounds?
She really is a fantastic dog, though, and very attached. I'm really glad to have her.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Anxiety
I'm still going to "check-in" groups twice a week.
It helps so much to talk to other people who are facing the same ignorance and dealing with the same struggles that I am. It's so hard going through this and not forgetting that I am not crazy.
More than anything, I want to feel like it's okay for me to be going through what I am, like this is just part of the healing process and nothing to be ashamed of.
But I don't.
I'm embarrassed to have PTSD. I'm embarrassed to have gotten myself into not one but TWO situations where I could be raped. I'm embarrassed that I can't control my anger or my tears more often than not. I'm embarrassed that I feel like everybody is a threat. I'm embarrassed that my boyfriend is carrying so much of our relationship right now, as I fall apart and find him taking care of me over and over and over again. I'm tired of being this way, and I don't for one second feel like it's okay to feel this way.
I woke up this morning with an elephant-size ball of anxiety sitting squarely on my chest. When my wonderful, amazing boyfriend tried to get too close to me physically, it got worse. I've never had flashbacks with him, and I rarely feel the need to close myself off from him. This morning, though, it was like he was the enemy. I had to get him away, even though I wanted nothing more than to feel loved. I had to hide my fear and anxiety and hurt, even though I wanted nothing more than to hear that it's okay to feel this way, and that the man I love so much understands.
I hate being stuck inside this ugly, angry, horrible shell.
I just want this all to go away. I don't want to be anxious about being around people anymore, and I don't want to wonder when I'll fall apart again. I don't want to worry about being in formations because I don't know if something will set me off while I'm surrounded by so many people. I don't want to worry about how much trouble I'll get in after I've had to walk away from a situation so I wouldn't lose control. This isn't who I want to be.
Last night, when I drove over to pick up my boyfriend from work, I had someone run up to the truck on the driver's side, to my open driver's side window, and scream at me to slow down. I was doing 10 mph in a 25 or 30 mph zone. It scared me and startled me so badly the one hand I had on the wheel at that particular moment jolted, and I caught myself just short of running the truck in his direction. I had been having a good day, and he set me on edge so badly I couldn't calm down completely for most of the evening.
I'm at work now, having chest pain and fighting tears and there's no specific reason that I can think of that I feel this way. I'm so frustrated.
It helps so much to talk to other people who are facing the same ignorance and dealing with the same struggles that I am. It's so hard going through this and not forgetting that I am not crazy.
More than anything, I want to feel like it's okay for me to be going through what I am, like this is just part of the healing process and nothing to be ashamed of.
But I don't.
I'm embarrassed to have PTSD. I'm embarrassed to have gotten myself into not one but TWO situations where I could be raped. I'm embarrassed that I can't control my anger or my tears more often than not. I'm embarrassed that I feel like everybody is a threat. I'm embarrassed that my boyfriend is carrying so much of our relationship right now, as I fall apart and find him taking care of me over and over and over again. I'm tired of being this way, and I don't for one second feel like it's okay to feel this way.
I woke up this morning with an elephant-size ball of anxiety sitting squarely on my chest. When my wonderful, amazing boyfriend tried to get too close to me physically, it got worse. I've never had flashbacks with him, and I rarely feel the need to close myself off from him. This morning, though, it was like he was the enemy. I had to get him away, even though I wanted nothing more than to feel loved. I had to hide my fear and anxiety and hurt, even though I wanted nothing more than to hear that it's okay to feel this way, and that the man I love so much understands.
I hate being stuck inside this ugly, angry, horrible shell.
I just want this all to go away. I don't want to be anxious about being around people anymore, and I don't want to wonder when I'll fall apart again. I don't want to worry about being in formations because I don't know if something will set me off while I'm surrounded by so many people. I don't want to worry about how much trouble I'll get in after I've had to walk away from a situation so I wouldn't lose control. This isn't who I want to be.
Last night, when I drove over to pick up my boyfriend from work, I had someone run up to the truck on the driver's side, to my open driver's side window, and scream at me to slow down. I was doing 10 mph in a 25 or 30 mph zone. It scared me and startled me so badly the one hand I had on the wheel at that particular moment jolted, and I caught myself just short of running the truck in his direction. I had been having a good day, and he set me on edge so badly I couldn't calm down completely for most of the evening.
I'm at work now, having chest pain and fighting tears and there's no specific reason that I can think of that I feel this way. I'm so frustrated.
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