Pushed Into The Mud

Our group started off today with our burn-out therapist saying she'd watched the movie Restrepo over the weekend and "got" why we're all messed up. She then proceeded to discuss in detail certain gory aspects of war and how she understood why it would mess us up.
Let me remind ya'll- this is a group for people with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The majority of these guys have been through multiple combat experiences AND a lot of us have childhood abuse backgrounds too. Our therapist is a perma-stoned woman old enough to have grandchildren, and has been divorced from an abusive guy with combat-related PTSD for a couple decades.
And this __________ _________ thinks it's a good idea to start off our Monday by speaking graphically about violent, bloody images and experiences.
Five of us walked out.
Let me explain why the therapist is stuck on this movie- sorry, documentary: we have a female soldier (and I use that term lightly in her case) who insists that was her unit and she went through that with them. I don't have to see a bloody, violent infantry movie to know that females aren't sent to places like that was filmed. The stories she tells have no emotional value- they could be taken from a shrink's notes, rather than real life. She talked about going to court, and, when prompted by the therapist she said- in these words- "I spent the entire time searching for an exit."
Nobody spends two hours "searching for an exit". You know where the blasted exit is, and you might spend a lot of time wanting to blow the joint to bits (let's be honest here) but you KNOW WHERE THE EXIT is.
Anyway, five of us walked out when we couldn't handle it anymore. Five of us might sound a lot, if you know that the most common process group therapy size is excessive at about thirteen people. However, there are more than 20 of us in ONE GROUP right now, which is insane at BEST, so it's really a miracle they even noticed we were gone. They "wrote our names down" (holy second grade batman!) and sent the admin dude out to "negotiate" with us. I went off the second I saw him coming out- I got three hours of sleep last night and had two anxiety attacks yesterday, I was in prime shape- and told him our therapist was unable to keep control of our group and discussing things that were setting us off- though I may have been more graphic and not quite as calm about this explanation. We also went off about the two people in our group who lie constantly and obviously and BS about everything. He pulled them out of group individually and spoke to them, the details of which I don't know.
Tonight, I got a phone call from a good friend from group, and he was crying. He'd already taken the drugs, they hadn't kicked in, and he was in meltdown mode. He described the "time-traveling" I do, trying so hard to hold on to reality, while being drowned in memories he didn't want to remember, feeling like he was barely hanging on. This is one of the toughest, most honest, most unbeatable dudes I know, and he calls me crying! I love this man like a brother- we understand each other so well it's scary, like looking in a mirror sometimes. Someone had made a comment about his service dog, and another had made several comments about violent stuff in front of a lot of children. He asked the guy to stop- more than I'm capable of in similar situations.
I am so angry at this therapist and at all these people allowing my friend, my brother to be hurt like this, to be dragged down in the place that's supposed to help pull him up. I'm so upset that these people put him in this situation.
He's better now, it's been a couple hours since the last part of this went down, but.... can nobody be trusted????

Anxiety

I wasn't anxious, angry or even particularly aware of my symptoms when I woke up this morning.
Then I started focusing on the thoughts about our service dog training session that would happen at the airport this evening, and the anxiety went wayyy up.
Then I got to treatment, and got particularly aggravated by a female soldier who talks about what she insists is PTSD in terms of war movies and text-book-entry-sounding (and ENDLESS) monologues of her "symptoms". Anybody who can sit there and say that she "repeatedly looked for an exit" who doesn't normally sound like a walking dictionary is, in my opinion, full of it.
Judging people is wrong.
I know.
Yet, it's so hard to avoid such sentiments when repeatedly one-upped during group "therapy". Mind you, this group therapy was once nearly life-saving to me. It's incredible how one person can monopolize entire days to the point of ruining it for the majority of the group.
So, anxiety and anger present were en masse.
Usually, anger negates my anxiety- anger allows me to feel in control, while anxiety is an "under attack" sort of feeling.
Today, though, they just seemed to be tag-teaming. I felt like I was fighting the Hardy Boys old-school WWF style.
Once we got to the airport, I was so grateful to have two of my friends from treatment with me. I was on edge already, but hoping I didn't need the "chill pills". I should have taken one.
I almost started crying when a loud buzzer went off to signal the baggage carousel was about to start moving. That wasn't the only time I was fighting back tears.
It's been a long, long, emotional day. We were also informed that our group's therapist is leaving next week. It looks like the lady we'll be getting is the burnt-out hippie that has yet to keep anyone under control. In a group full of combat and rape survivors, all of whom are soldiers, maintaining control over the chaos is VITAL.
Having our trust would help, too.
Sugar did great with training. I'm very proud of her.
I wish I were proud of me, for a change.