The complicatedness of our lives

I blog a lot about me, my perceptions, our lives, etc., but I don't think there are a lot of people who truly get it. We have our ups and downs and twists and turns, just like everyone else. The complicated part comes when you take into account the outside influences. I've blogged about PTSD and I've blogged about it almost impersonally. But, what I haven't said is just how much it affects us. It's not just a mental disorder, it's a way of life. I'm struggling with this right now. Hardcore. My eyes were opened recently to just how much of a hold it has. They were opened rudely, I might say. I used to read the blogs about PTSD and read the accounts of the wives who lived with it and I used to say to myself, "well, that's just not how it works in our house" or "yeah, her husband is a lot worse off than mine" or even, "well, we're handling it a lot better than that". Boy, was I a fool. We weren't handling it, it was handling us.

I refer to PTSD as "it". I do this for a reason. That shit has a motherfucking mind of it's own. I think back on the first bit of our marriage and how happy we were and how none of this ever, ever entered our minds. I remember the night before my husband deployed and I remember crying in his arms. The only thoughts that I had, was "please be safe, come home to me". I never thought "please be safe, come home WHOLE to me". A piece of him and a piece of our marriage was left in Iraq. I fucking want it back. War is a bitch. In more ways than people will ever know.

I always hesitate to state how I truly feel and what's really going on in our lives, because frankly, it's not up to ridicule. And our friends and family like to ridicule and belittle. I use the terms "friends" and "family" in these instances very, very loosely. We don't reach out, we don't ask for help and if we do, we're shot down without even a blink. People just motherfucking suck. Plain and simple. So, we're carry on. We carry our burdens silently. It sucks. And now, I read the accounts from PTSD wives and I think "Yeah, I get that".

The monkey on our shoulders.........

Let me start this post off in a positive note. My family is my everything, my husband is my partner, best friend, and lover. He is the rock I lean on and the one I run to. In no way am I condemning him for a condition over which he has no control.

Now, let me continue. We have a monkey on our shoulders, a ghost in the room, if you will. And this monkey is called PTSD. It's something we live with daily. Even on the days when the monkey is quiet, I know there'll be another when it rears it's head and brings on the mischief. It's an invisible force in our lives, but a force it is. A strong one. It drives one day to be the best we've ever had and the next to be  near apocalypse. It's what brings my husband so far down that he feels that he is worth nothing, but brings him back up again.

I call it a monkey, because it's something that we have no control over. It's frustrating and it wreaks havoc, but we can't discipline it. It rules us. I wish we could rule it.

The hardest part of living with this condition is the misunderstanding and the condemnation that comes my husband's way from strangers, friends, and mostly family. There is a lack of understanding and a lack of care that comes his way. Instead of taking the time to educate themselves and to understand what he lives with, they aggravate him and it. They push buttons and they brush him off as simply "angry". I hate that word. It's become a convenient way to ignore what's going on beneath the surface. It's like, angry has become a key to excuse poor treatment. I fight hard, everyday. I fight to keep control of myself, for fear of pushing him too far, I fight to keep control of our lives. I fear. Everyday. Will this monkey get the best of us? What is going to set him over the edge, to the point where I can no longer reach him? I can't lose him. And so, I fight. And he fights the same fights, only harder.

I push people away who I feel are hurting him. I push people away who do nothing but push him. I push, push, push. I pick fights over stupid arguments that should never have occured in the first place, but I do it to keep my family. I stand solidly by him. I do it because I love him. I do it because he loves me. Immensely. We have a great marriage and we work with eachother. And the monkey stays in control, most days.