PTSD

Introduction For so many years as the spouse of someone who has PTSD, I suffered in silence. I assumed the role of family mediator -- trying to prevent my husband from becoming angry and trying to fix the situation if he did. I learned to pick and choose the times I would tell him certain things which usually was after I had rehearsed the conversation repeatedly in my mind and gotten up the courage to reveal the situation. I always watched my words so as not to cause a scene in public. I wanted others to see his best. In many ways, I assumed the role of his character protector. Not wanting others to be a witness to his anger and irritability. I do not know the exact date when PTSD slipped into my world. It is as if I woke up one day and realized that PTSD had been secretly occupying space in my home without my permission. It would occasionally cause a scene or an emotional outburst from my husband that seemed out of proportion to the situation. I did not understand why my husband responded in the fashion that he did, but I just thought that was the road our lives had taken. When my husband returned from the Gulf War, I gradually began to notice changes. As time progressed so did his anger and irritability. He was talkative one minute and withdrawn the next. I never knew which mood would greet me when he came home. I began to think it was my fault. Everything became personal. I began to feel inadequate as his wife and as a person. My husband was different some how, but I could not exactly put into words what I saw. Many days I was not sure that I wanted to continue in this life that had been dealt me. I began slipping into a black hole. I found myself in a dry land. Each day, it seemed I sank deeper, and I did not know how to get out. The need to escape became a constant companion. When asked, “Where?” I did not know. Just away. “Why?” Maybe to reassess my life hoping that somehow distance would change the feelings that tormented me inside. I had slipped into survival mode. My doctor kept asking me if I was depressed. I found that question quite humorous as I never thought of myself as someone who could become depressed. But my doctor kept saying there was something about my eyes. After repeatedly seeing the doctor for symptoms that could not result in a diagnosis, I began to wonder if she knew something about me that I did not. Perhaps it is true that the eyes are the pathway to the soul. For my eyes revealed the sadness I felt inside. I believed that nobody would or could understand and that I could not possibly tell anyone about what I felt. After all, what would they think of me? I learned to live behind the mask that was always a part of my daily attire. I wanted people to believe that everything was well and that I was happy with no problems. It was easier to live life behind the façade than face people seeking answers to questions that I did not know the answers to myself. All I knew was that inside I was sad. Alone. It seemed the pain was incurable. The sadness turned into withdrawal from people along with a barrage of feelings that I did not understand. Why not suicide? Certainly the thought was a constant occurrence. Stepping in front of the transfer truck going 70 plus mph would have been easy. But my instinct to live was greater than my desire to die – at least at that moment. My mind became a conglomeration of major interstates with hundreds of lanes of thoughts traveling at enormous speeds. Lights flashing. Horns blowing. I knew that I needed help before a major collision of my thoughts occurred. Maybe the doctor was right. Depression had invaded my world and forced me into a black bottomless hole. I had to break my fall and find something to hold onto. Living with a spouse who suffers from PTSD had left me depressed with feelings of insecurity, low self-esteem, and wondering if his mood swings were my fault. I never knew how he would respond to situations which resulted in me quite often walking on egg shells. Through my husband’s counselor, I became aware of a counseling session for the spouses of those veterans attending counseling for PTSD. Reluctantly, I attended the first session. It was a small group of four ladies and two counselors trained in PTSD counseling. As I sat and listened to the other spouses the tears began to flow as I began to realize that the anger, irritability and mood swings I saw in my husband were the same emotions that these four ladies described about their husbands. It was comforting to realize that I was not alone. That the issues I thought were just problems I would have to live with were being faced by many other ladies just like me. It was as if someone turned on the light in the dark room in which I had been confined. Finally, someone understood. I continued to attend those support group meetings for a short period of time. The doctor put me on medication for depression, and I was doing so well that I thought I did not need the medicine anymore. So I quit taking it. About a year later, my husband and I had a very heated argument. For the first time, I saw a level of anger in him that I had never seen before. After weeks of replaying the episode in my mind, I realized that I needed someone to help me with the intrusive thoughts for I had begun to sink into that bottomless pit of depression yet again. I reached out to the only person I knew to call which was the therapist I met during the spousal support group two years earlier. I was deeply depressed again. It seemed that all the years of dealing with PTSD came crashing down around me. This time I could not ignore the signs or the pain that I felt inside. I had to learn that it was my responsibility to stand up and reclaim my identity in order for me to rise from the depressive state that I found myself. My husband’s behavior is not my fault, but the result of some experience in combat that he may not ever share with me. However, it is something he deals with daily ……. and so do I. While I deal with Secondary PTSD from my marriage, I also deal with PTSD as a result of events that happened to me during my childhood. Therefore, I have the unique opportunity to write this book from both perspectives.