Letting Go

I still miss Danger, but there are so many questions I have for him that he will never answer now, that I have no choice but to try to distance myself from this near-obsession I've had with him in the last year.
I took down most of the pictures I had up of us in my room, and replaced them with happier pictures...
I'm really trying to move on from this guilt and confusion, no matter how much pain it still causes me.
I feel trapped right now.
I don't know who I can trust at work anymore, and the symptoms of PTSD just keep getting worse.
How does it just keep getting worse?!
I hate medications.
I asked for anti-depressants when things got bad.
I went in to talk to the doctor and get a refill, and she took one look at me and asked if I was sleeping at all.
I had gotten 4 hours the night before, which has become about average.
She put me on meds for nightmares and sleep.
I got tired of the way my female-ness was screwing up what little control I had over the symptoms, so I asked for birth control, after doing my research on different kinds.
Even with all these medications, it just keeps getting worse.
The only symptom I haven't seen too regularly is the injuries I was waking up with.
It happened for a couple weeks, then dropped off.
I don't know what are good signs and bad signs any more, I just now that I'm struggling, and feel like I'm in a downward spiral. Mr Nice Guy is the most stable part of my life. Imagine that! A relationship, the most STABLE part of MY life!!!
It's been more than two months now, and, while that seems like a small feat to most, that's more than twice as long as anyone has lasted in a relationship with me in over a year. And he doesn't want to lose me. Go figure.
Work has become a major point of stress for me. I lay in bed at night, dreading going back the next day. I don't know who I can trust there, who I can let know how bad it really is. I'm terrified of this. I know I need to do something, I know someone besides my commander needs to know, but... I can't end up screwed over again. I can't go through that here. I had too many NCO's in Korea that decided I was bad for their career and they fed me to the wolves intentionally. They got rid of me the second I asked for help.
I filled out intake paperwork for the behavioral health clinic today, but I still need to call and make an appointment. That phone call is causing me so much anxiety and it doesn't make sense.
I'm on my lunch break, crying. I haven't eaten today, and just started the birth control yesterday, and I don't know whether these tears are just part of the usual deal now or triggered by something else. I'm tired of fighting this. I just want to be living, not living in the past.
It's like I'm trying to run away from my shadow.

From The Inside Out

An average month:

I spend a week in dark clouds of anger and depression that, while it's happening, I never seem to be able to remember is hormonally induced. Before tapping out and getting myself an anti-depressant, some of these days included suicidal ideation and entire days spent in paralyzing fits of tears.

Then I'll have two, sometimes as many as four, pretty good days, where the clouds just seem to have lifted and I might just make it after all.

Then I wake up feeling like I gained twenty pounds in my sleep, and ran a marathon the day before. I'm sore, bloated, exhausted, cramping, and, well, might as well say it, bleeding. That lasts five days, none of them are generally morale-inspiring.

Then, just when I think things are about to settle down, the hormones chill long enough for me to see clearly the fits of rage, depression, fear, anxiety, nightmares, sleep avoidance because of the nightmares, lack of appetite, and, on bad days, flash backs. This lasts for the two weeks until the hormones kick up again.

I am guaranteed two good days a month. 

The rest of the month, I am drowning in a person I don't want anything to do with, let alone be.

It's taken me so long to even begin to separate PTSD from PMDD, and, well, I suppose they're not completely separate issues, anyway. The nightmares and anxiety tend to get a lot worse during my week of anger. 

I am tired of this black hole I seem to get sucked into. This person who just spent two hours crying, overwhelmed at the laundry, the dishes, the angry cramps and extra weight in my abdomen, combined with, well, life. If I didn't have to get up at 0430 tomorrow to accomplish any of what I wanted to get done before work, if I didn't have to spend a ridiculous amount of time in uniform with people I have some pretty mixed feelings on, if I hadn't promised to take out a very good friend of mine to dinner and our favorite bar tomorrow night for her birthday- and farewell, really- well, then, the laundry, dishes, errands and physical misery might just not be so overwhelming.

I have to make a very big change. I am trying my damndest to get treated for the PTSD, but, between many parts of the Army mental health system being of the policy 'if we didn't break it, we ain't fixing it' (only treating COMBAT RELATED PTSD, not that other, less important stuff like PTSD from being raped a time or two) and the fact that, well, let's face it, the Army is systematic. There's not a lot of things they accept as being therapeutic, no matter how much it helps me, or how little talk therapy does.

So, that, really, feels like a dead end. The PTSD seems to get worse by the day at times, all too often aggravated by a feeling of being trapped in these same situations with these same people who are triggering bad memories and thoughts. 

So, the PMDD. I already got myself put on anti-depressants, which have definitely helped- the crying jags are much shorter, far more controllable, and there's none of that suicidal crap floating around in my head. However, I need to do more. I can't stand the thought of birth control, but, until I have kids, suppressing ovulation is simply not something I'm doing. I want babies, and I will have them, and then they can take my ovaries out and feed them to their dog for all the trouble the things have caused. I'll take estrogen for the rest of my life, a half dozen pills a day if I must, so long as I don't have to keep going through these two weeks of darkness- or at least not this badly. 

So, for the first time since I got my tubes tied in 2004, I'm going to ask to be put on birth control.

Let the research phase begin.

Beautiful Spirit (A Million Words)

It was a good day.
Work wasn't much more than the usual, though I seem to be back to being able to handle it without freaking out on anyone.
I got a great deal of cleaning done between last night and today, with the last bit of unpacking done. I have been slacking lately, so dishes must be done, and clean laundry put away- meanwhile, due to the unpacking, the dirty laundry filled right up and the trash must be taken out again. However, my small room feels rather less small after having gotten the two large boxes out of the way- though I still have one here, collecting clothing, shoes and books for my next trip to Goodwill.
Tonight, I had some pictures of Mr Nice Guy and I printed. Today, we have been together two months- more than twice what anyone else has really stuck through since Danger passed.
So, this evening, I rearranged pictures, pulled out half a dozen picture frames I wasn't using, and, well, I have 23 pictures up throughout my room now. Some of Mr Nice Guy and/or I, some of, well... everyone.
It amazed me to look through these pictures, and attempt to sort them between three photo albums, 23 picture frames and one box.
This is part of what I posted on my facebook page about this...

It doesn't surprise me much that there are so many people that I have met in these 25 insane years. What really took me by surprise was the incredible diversity of activities and places and types of people in those pictures.

There are probably too many pictures of me and my buddies living it up in bars, particularly in Korea.

There are pictures of motorcycle rallies, and various people under hoods.

There are pictures of me sitting back, quietly talking and relaxing with close friends at the hookah bar.

There are pictures of me with various people's kids, and a circus worth of animals- to include a python and a monkey.

There are pictures of natural wonders and new friends.

There are pictures of me in training, some with people I haven't heard from in years, others whom I still speak to frequently.

There are some pretty hysterical (and frequently questionable) pictures in various bowling alleys...

There are pictures of shadows saying more than any face could.

There are pictures of me in DJ booths- one in Korea, one in Atlanta.

There are pictures of trucks sliding down sand dunes, and guns being shot.

There are pictures of children smack in the middle of moments of the most intense joy.

There are pictures of friends on their knees in the middle of downtown Daegu begging forgiveness for some long-forgotten misdeed.

There are pictures of me surrounded by Baha'i friends of three or four different nationalities, sitting on the floor of a Korean home, sipping the most amazing tea.

There are pictures of sword fighting "knights" in shining armor- and of Templar Knights.

There are pictures of only me- and the memory of the person holding the camera.

There are pictures of house parties that, by some miracle, didn't end up with anyone dead or in prison.

There are pictures of candle lit dinners, and pictures of rock stars. 

There are pictures of people who helped me push my car out of a ditch, and people who almost got me arrested, at least once.

There are pictures of people who were the only witness to a story that wouldn't be believed without one.

There are pictures, so many pictures, of people who I simply loved- and most of whom I still do.

I may not have the easiest time all the time, and I feel like I'm on a never-ending rollercoaster all to often, but I am truly blessed to have had the amount of experience and this kind of diversity in my life.

Betrayal

I don't know why these thoughts and memories are sticking with me so much right now.
I've had friends betray me, and, well, I thought I was over it.
I've heard people say there's no such thing as closure... but I just want to understand what would make people pretend to be your friends, all the while talking badly behind your back, putting you down, and never even telling you what they really think? What would make them suddenly decide to gang up on you- online, no less, the most cowardly form of attack out there- and attempt to tear you into pieces?
I thought I could trust these people, even though I didn't always care for their attitudes about some things.
Some of the pain, though, is because I lost one of my closest Baha'i friends in the process. Even though she and I are now friendly towards one another, and she swears she really wasn't a part of it... I just can't bring myself to trust her anymore.

Breaking Point

I love my father.
I used to love the Army.
I still love my boyfriend.
I don't love the horrible mental images that show up, uninvited, and uncalled for. I don't love feeling like I'm letting people down because I'm feeling like such a wreck myself that I don't do what they expect me to, need me to or want me to. I don't love getting a look of irritation from people when I know I'm about to fall apart and have to ask to split from work for a while. I don't love sitting around the office for hours with nothing to do but fight off flashbacks and unpleasant thoughts or mental images. I don't love feeling useless and worn out. I don't love feeling like a number, rather than a person. I don't love getting up before dawn every day, only to be seen as a waste of space and time. I don't love being around people who pretend they didn't see that tear roll down my cheek, and that me losing my temper on two different occasions within two weeks is not unusual. I don't love being looked at as weak because I'm a female. I don't love being told that my wounds don't matter because they didn't come from a combat zone. I don't love being looked at as flawed because I have scars that no clothes or makeup can hide, and that no surgery can fix. I don't love being in the Army anymore, and I don't love feeling like I'm a horrible Soldier for the things I experienced- and thought I'd handled- years before volunteering to go to war for my country.
I'm overwhelmed.
I'm defeated.
I'm trying to keep it together long enough to not hurt anyone, physically or career, and not lose the few benefits that haven't been slashed or taken already.
Mostly, I just want out.
This life is not good for me anymore, and I'm not good for the Army anymore.
Short of getting injured, pregnant, or in a whole lot of trouble, though, I have no option but to suck it up and try to survive my next two years in this uniform.
I don't know how I'm going to manage this.

Responsible

So, I am sponsoring the other female of my rank to go to a mock promotion board towards the end of this month, in the absence of the two (male) NCO's we have. One will be on duty, the other on the board itself. 

This NCO thing is catching.

So, responsibility seems to be the flavor of the phase right now.

Mr Nice Guy and I have made it nearly two months now- the longest to stick around (officially, anyhow) since Danger. 

I love this man in ways I can't explain.

I always thought I was wide open, that I really didn't have any walls left. He is showing me I was wrong. Slowly, I see myself let walls down with him, trusting him not to abandon me, trusting him to not take advantage of me showing my slightly-less-rebellious side. Everyone at work sees the hard-ass, the one who doesn't take anything to heart, and gives everyone a hard time at every opportunity- the Soldier who holds everyone accountable. 

Mr Nice Guy is actually having a hard time adapting to that part of my personality.

With him, I am insecure, emotional, overly-sensitive, horribly scared of losing someone I care about so much. I talk about the miscarriages, and babies, about my mother and what I want in the future, and what's bothering me from work. Slowly, I am learning to trust him not to walk away from me, or give up on me. I thanked him last night, for letting me trust him. He thanked me for not running away when it seemed too good to be true. I love him so much. He has certainly seen my bad days- I am not proud of how harsh I have been to and with him when the hormones and fear start flowing- and he has persevered. He loves me, even though he knows I'm not always the nicest person, even though I've been rude to him far more than he deserves. 

Yet I caught myself playing the Plan B game last week- the what-if game. If this doesn't work out, who would I date. I'm wrong for that. I don't want to even think this could fall apart. I love this man, he loves me, and I want this forever. 

He's surely getting more comfortable with me, and with what I want from my future, too. The more insecure I am, the more I tend to talk about the things I want from the future (marriage, kids, etc.) and, usually, that does a pretty good job of making anyone who doesn't want those things run for the hills. I realized a few days ago, that, since Mr Nice Guy and I had the conversation about what we think is the right time frame to consider marriage (not as long as the year and a half or so he was in his last relationship for, as it turns out), I haven't really felt I needed to ask him or talk to him so much about it. I am more and more secure with him. I really feel like forever is becoming more of an inevitable outcome, rather than a hopeful thing for us. Well, I had realized I didn't feel the need to talk about it all the time and I was happy about that. And then, yesterday, as we were leaving Carlsbad Caverns, I handed him a key chain with the Kokopelli  symbol on it- a symbol, to me, of my stepfather and protection, but also, to a much broader chunk of the population, a symbol of fertility. Mr Nice Guy smiled at it, then tapped me on the arm with it a couple times and says "There, you have been beaten with the symbol of fertility! Now have some babies, dammit!" 

You want to talk about surprised....

It took me quite a while to really process that, above and beyond his goofy nature, he was comfortable enough to casually talk and joke about us having children. This did wonders for my nerves. 

It seems like every single time we go somewhere public, I see a man, either with a wife or child, or sometimes just a drunk guy at the bar, and, as I bristle at that man's behavior, I inevitably realize that Mr Nice Guy would never behave the way so many of them do. He wouldn't dream of speaking down to me, or talking to a child like they're worthless or somehow inept because of their size/lack of adulthood. He would never get cut off at a bar, because he doesn't lose his cool just because there's alcohol in his system. He is a good man. And I am so proud of him.

Change

Mr Nice Guy and I had managed to be that annoying, affectionate-in-public, so-in-love-it-makes-you-want-to-puke couple for a month and a half.... Now, in the matter of a week, it seems like it just went away all of a sudden.
I don't know how to handle this, and it hurts more than I'd expected it to.
I knew we'd settle into a groove eventually, but, well, I thought we'd always be more lovey-dovey than this, and I hate it.
I tried to talk to him about it earlier, but he really sucks at that stuff sometimes.
I miss him being happy just to be able to put his arm around me, and me making a big production of sitting in the middle seat of his truck just so I'd be next to him. I miss playing twenty questions when we drove, and getting so caught up in the conversation that we forget we're playing a game. I miss him pointing out the guys he catches looking at me, and glowing proudly because of it.
I know this will pass, I know the pain of change will cease... I just hope it is soon, and I hope I can learn to be secure in our lack-of-cling, rather than hating it passionately.

Up And Out

I had a 1sg while I was in Korea- one that, at the time, I absolutely couldn't stand, mind you- who told me, when I was fed up with the clinical BS, competition and Soldier-on-Soldier hatred that went around there, "Soldier, the only way out, is up. I learned that the hard way when I was tired of the clinic, too."

Today, as I sat there, in the Aid Station, finding myself being continually undermined and disrespected by other females and males, junior Soldiers and NCO's alike, watching the males team up and treat the females like we weren't even there, much less capable of doing anything worthwhile, it hit me hard.

The only way out, is up.

These people will not stop me.

If they want to behave like this, okay.
I have more than two years left in the Army, and these people are not going to get the good fortune of having me around any longer. I have other options, and I am not staying here. I will do what I have to to be able to shut down my emotions at work, no matter who doesn't like it, and I will do my job, but I will work to get my education, get my stripes, and get out of this hell hole.
I won't deal with this crap any more.

Sanity Thy Name Is Not My Own

PTSD.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
Shell Shock.
Combat Fatigue.
Post-Vietnam Syndrome.
Soldier's Heart.
War Malaise.
Battle Fatigue.
Effort Syndrome.

I don't care what you call it, it sucks, and I'm tired of it.
For those of you who aren't aware, PTSD is not just something that occurs in people who have been to war. Any traumatizing event can inflict this hell upon any one of us, against our will.
I survived two rapes. I have PTSD.
I have the nightmares, episodes of hyper-vigilance- and other episodes of hyper-anger. I have had more flashbacks than I can count, though, thankfully, by knowing the precursors and being very, very careful about the situations I choose to put myself in, I have lowered the occurrence rate of them for myself drastically. I have blacked out from anger.

If you have never lost control of your senses and your body, you have not known fear.

The nightmares have been increasing again, as of late, though, until today, I didn't think my stress level was quite at the point where they usually make an appearance. These new nightmares aren't limited to the same nasty film reel that's been such a big part of my sleep since I can remember. Some of my usual dreams are terribly graphic mental images and scenes that have been playing out in my head since before I can remember why they started in the first place. Some are revisiting the rapes, the guilt, the pregnancy and miscarriage that followed my first rape (and the loss of my virginity)... The new nightmares, though, are different. They are happening here, now. These are not memories I try to avoid contemplating in day light, these are battles that occur in this small, cramped barracks room, with people who's face/faces I do not see. There are some that involve my mother, with whom I have a long, painful history, but who I have wholly forgiven by this point in my life and after a long separation from her.

Today, I got bad news. I got bad news on top of that slightly off-kilter feeling that always drags me down a bit when I've had a rough night with memories, dreams, nightmares.... I tried to keep control, really I did. Fortunately, I didn't black out or become violent, but I sure did lose my temper- quickly- on someone who I should not have, and in a very inappropriate place, even if my sudden flash of anger had somehow been warranted.

I spoke to my supervisor, asked if we had anything going on that would preclude me from slipping a way until after lunchtime to detox my brain. With his okay, here I am, sitting in my room, wishing this battle for life, for control, for peace would just end already.

But this battle will never end.

It will never end, and I am not the only person who suffers from my PTSD.
My father suffers when I lose my temper at him when I simply cannot handle the stress.
My boyfriend suffers when I break down into tears and begin to shake uncontrollably, sometimes with no obvious trigger or reason.
My friends suffer when I am so ashamed of the way I have behaved, despite my best efforts, that, all too often, I simply do not want to face them any more.
My male friends suffer when I won't be alone in a vehicle with them, when I allow no male in my room, save a few very trusted individuals, without my door propped open.
I have knives hidden around my space, and often two or three on my person, because, somewhere in my heart, I tell myself, over and over, that if it happens again, this time I'll be ready, and this time one of us will not walk away. I will not go through this again.
I will not go to the emergency room, strip naked on a collection pad, in front of four or five people, only to be poked and prodded, wiped and rubbed, tested and medicated, questioned and judged, and I will never again be treated as a liar or a defendant.
Have you ever had a cop tell you to your face that you need to stop lying about what happened, accuse you of being racist, and demand to know why you're "putting that poor man through this"? I have. I was smart enough and strong enough to report my second rape, after regretting not having reported my first after I learned of more survivors he'd left in his destructive wake. After going through hell, after living in fear, after being humiliated even after the rape had been completed, I was called a liar and a racist.

I won't go through this again.
Except I know I will- every time I try to sleep, I will wonder if I'll have to go through it again tonight.
I'm living a battle that will never end.

Out

Mr Nice Guy and I went to see Cowboys And Aliens the other night (great flick, by the way) and some things started rolling around in my head. I can't explain what the actual trigger was, only that I'm glad it happened.
At some point the 'who am I once I leave the Army' thought popped into my head.
I've decided recently that I want to get my degree in landscape architecture. Looking at it now, it is almost funny to me that it hadn't occurred to me before I heard the ad on the radio in T-town for an educational program of such a nature. I've always been fascinated by architecture in general, especially that which uses the structure's natural environment for materials and design influences, rather than fighting the environment around it. I remember being a child and looking at pictures of houses built in the 1960's that were this way, and thinking how revolutionary something like this would be- maybe not in those words, of course, but the emotions were dead-on.
So far as this Army gig goes, though, I am increasingly unhappy.
The Aid Station I have spent so much time and effort on has been, for all intensive purposes, taken from me. The two male nco's have excluded me on every level of operation and decision making possible, and I am completely left in the dark over and over. I was informed this morning that the big color guard trip I'd so been looking forward to is now restricted to nco's only- even though I've been to more practices than anyone, and have been more determined and dedicated than anyone else, even volunteering for the events that were after duty hours. I am promotable, but simply cannot make points and my promises of corporal have still been ignored.
I'm tired of this lifestyle, tired of being walked on every time I give myself to something, and tired of seeing my efforts demolished and forgotten. Getting pregnant is next to impossible for me and, short of a bad-conduct discharge, that would be my only foreseeable way out before early 2013. I'm tired of this, and I want out.
I want to leave the Army and work on my degree and not go through this any more.