Back in my head…

I’ve posted about my journey of recovery and PTSD in the past. In fact, this blog was started for that and to help me my thought out of my head. Honestly, it’s getting pretty crowded in there lately.

I’ve known for a long time that my emotions were mostly shut down, except for the safe ones. “What are safe emotions?”, you probably didn’t ask. Well, anger is safe. Except for the violence it can let out. Maybe on special occasions a flash of amusement, but not much, that can lead to happiness and that’s always risky. If I’m happy something will come along and crush it. Satisfaction is usually okay, if it’s from something that I’ve accomplished. I like the feeling of completion. It just doesn’t last either. I mean what have I done lately?

The only other emotions that I feel regularly and recognize are sadness and love. Nostalgia is in there somewhere, for the lost innocence of childhood and feeling like I was safe. I don’t get envy or hatred; they take too much energy. Appreciation and gratefulness show up and punch me in the gut sometimes, when someone just does something nice. It really is stunning. Loyalty is strong. I may not keep in touch with people as well as I should, but I will drop everything to help a friend.

I feel like the slow kid in class who is trying to color, but all I have are the fat five color crayons that kindergarten kids use and everyone else is using the big 64 color set. You remember the ones, with the cool sharpener in the back. I just don’t understand. I can’t feel the rest. Are there anymore emotions out there? Compassion, empathy, fear? What is contentment like? I don’t trust it. To squishy.

Fear came up recently. It is likely why I’m awake at 3 A.M. writing instead of sleeping. I was talking to a counselor today, trying to describe why my lack of fear was an issue and admitting that I put people in danger because I lack the common sense of pond scum. I got people hurt and killed, put people in bad situations because I was too stupid to be afraid or think about them. I keep reliving incidents, walking into a riot with my partner, just the two of us. No fear, nothing can hurt me. But Stephanie, about half my size, with a daughter at home. Ed following me into an apartment with a shooter inside. Omar trusting me to get him out and holding his hand while he died. What about the kids I trained? Did they try to imitate me and my stupid, reckless behavior?

It feels like I was screaming; “Look at me! I’m too stupid to be afraid! You should be just like me!”

Shit it’s crowded in here.

Potions of Life

via Daily Prompt: Elixir                                                 

bar                               coffee

Many would think that with an Irish surname, I would think of alcohol as the Elixir of Life.  It’s more like the Elixir of Like, enough can even transform into the Elixir of Love.  Check out any bar around closing time.  Alcohol is truly transformational in it’s powers.  It is the elixir of bad dancing at weddings and poor decisions on many occasions, often leading to weddings.

There is only one true Elixir of Life, one potion that restores vitality.  We faithful pause daily to receive its blessings, the distilled essence of joy.  The devout show proper respect by preparing and consuming in unadulterated forms.  Other sect have grown up, arguing that it is better to spread the word by any means.  Temples sprout like fast food franchises around the world.  Pause in your day to be thankful for Coffee, The True Elixir of Life.

Not “My color”

via Daily Prompt: Purple

blackeye

If you look in my closet, it’s mostly dark colors.  There are lots of blacks, browns, greens and for variation shades of gray.  I get wild and wear blue some days.  I guess earth tone is an accurate description.  Funny thing is, I wear purple a lot.

I tend to favor the paisley and bull’s eye patterns.  They can stand out really well if you accent them with yellow and green.  It’s eye catching in an otherwise bland wardrobe.  The trick is to wear it as a highlight.  Too much and it takes away from the overall effect and throw people off.  It looks a little creepy.  Makes others uncomfortable.

It’s also neat if you have a good story to explain why you’re wearing the splash of color.  “I walked into a door.” is boring and lacks (excuse me), punch.  Instead, try, “I got caught between a Pilates class and a troop selling Girl Scout cookies”.  And, finally shake it off with a manly laugh.  Next week we will talk about “The Art of Scars”.  Until then, Man Up!

Insanity defined

via Daily Prompt: Meaningless

“Insanity; doing the same thing over and over, but expecting different results.”

Albert Einstein

fish

Are we trying to empty the ocean with a tea cup?  Where do we empty it to?  Do we create a new ocean or empty the first?  Is the effort only to make us feel as if we are accomplishing something?  We create laws for our societies and expect them to change hearts and minds.  We try to be fair to others and treat them as we do our own.  Give.  Protect.  Shelter.  Feed.  Accept.

Why are we still surprised when nothing changes?  Why do we feel betrayed when our efforts aren’t appreciated or worse actively rejected with violence and betrayal.  Why do we continue to make the same gestures over and over?  They are nothing but empty and void before they accomplish anything.

What are we going to do with all the fish?

Ordinary? No such thing

via Daily Prompt: Ordinary

vanilla

I’m a biker.  Two wheels, a motor, usually loud pipes and a rock and roll IPOD.  It helps me keep perspective on life.  You see mine is out of control in almost every way.  No nine to five job, no “Leave it to Beaver” home and family, crazy women abound and crazier friends.  But, nothing ordinary.

Ordinary would mean that I’ve become accustomed to the extraordinary.  The beautiful and amazing can no longer grasp my attention.  The small pleasures in life aren’t as pleasing.  Ask a resident of Flint, Michigan how ordinary a clean glass of water is.  Ask the homeless how ordinary it is to sleep in a warm safe place.

Nope.  Ordinary is as rare as common sense, which makes it extraordinary. Like vanilla ice cream.  If you take the time to think about it, it’s not ordinary.

War

hamas

I was staring at my book shelves trying to be inspired this morning and noticed something.  There are a lot of books about war there.  My Sci-Fi collection is a who’s who of daring do in camouflage, armor and space suits.  For military reference, I have collected most of the major works.  The sections on religion and psychology are to better understand the way groups think.  Economics are a part of war and society.  Even my favorites from the classics have conflict.  All of that is understandable when you consider what I have done for most of my life.

What I don’t have are a lot of self-help books or feel good easy readers.  I’ve tried a couple and even kept “Siddhartha” and “The Legend of Bagger Vance” because they are good stories in their own right.  There are no magic pills or philosophies that can cure the world.  Governments can’t give enough to lift everyone out of poverty.  We cannot all embrace the one true god, simply because we can’t agree on how we are supposed to pray to him and what his rules are.  I don’t believe there are any simple answers.  People are to diverse and selfish to have easy answers.

This brings us back to war.  War is not evil.  The effects can be tragic.  The loss of life seems pointless.  Financial cost are ruinous to at least one of the parties.  For all that they are fought by nations, states and religious or political entities only a fraction of the population actually gets involved in the fighting.  Collateral damage means that those near the fighting suffer the same fate as the soldiers.  Lives and homes are ripped away by buzzing clouds of fire and steel, by Generals trying to reduce to overall cost of war.  The perverse logic of combat being the faster you destroy your enemies ability to fight, the less damage you inflict in the long run.

As a world spanning civilization are we slower to go to war than 100 years ago? Would the terrorist attacks of 9/11 have launched a devastating reprisal, holding Saudi Arabia responsible for the actions of it’s citizens?  Probably not, another thing that has changed is our ability to project force around the world.  The decision cycle is dramatically shorter, too.  In the early 1900’s it still took information days to cross the continent.  We didn’t have a standing Army large enough to confront another nation.  Gathering and shipping supplies around the world would have taken, as it did, the mobilization of most of the countries population.  Additionally, the 250,000 Soldiers, Sailors and Marines would have been required to stay there for the duration.  No.  I don’t believe our response would have been the same.

Something about war.  It is cathartic, purging.  The anger and outrage are washed away in the blood and bodies left on the battlefield.  The ultimate punishment delivered to the faceless enemy by shattering a nation.  Now, we even have national remorse and survivors guilt.  PTSD on a massive social scale.  We feel so overwhelmed that we help rebuild their shattered infrastructure.  An extension of the Marshall Plan, to put the people back to work.  What happens is that US contracting companies hire local unskilled labor and only introduce short lived fiscal stimulation that leaves worse behind later.

We want good intentions and self-restraint to be our hallmarks.  Instead it’s like watching the little kids try to gang up on the big kid on the playground.  When the big kid fights back, the protest is against the victim for defending themselves.  Restraint is well and good if it produces results.  In war it only draws out the conflict by allowing the little kids to think they are capable of beating the big kid.  After the fight, the big kid helps the “poor victim” back to his house, only to be berated by Mom.

We should be who we are.  We became a world power and super power by working harder than anyone else.  We have limited friends, unless we pay for them.  We are resented and despised on a global scale.  Pretending anything else isn’t real politic, it is just stupid.

Procrastinating for the Future

pierced

I am supposed to be on my way to the gym, the modern version of labor and fitness, but I got distracted by my thoughts.  It was a simple thing at first.  Just a post about a random event in the news.  A little later, I was skimming Blog posts and found something about losing languages and cultures as the world moves towards a single culture.

Then, I tried to imagine it.  A single unified world, all speaking one language, eating a fusion cuisine that we can only imagine today.  My luck it will turn out to be some formless pap, that looks and tastes like cat food.  With the drift towards sameness, race and ethnicity will become meaningless.  The entire human race will become a Latte colored, medium dark haired, average build, bland copy covering the world.  Individual expression will be reduced to brightly colored shoes or body art.

I’m probably wrong about most of that, but it throws a lot of the news today into perspective.  We are ripping into each other over ignorant, pointless issues like race and skin color.  Language and arbitrary national borders are enough to kill over as we try to protect ourselves from outside danger.  Economics, politics and religion are being used to divide the world instead of unite it.

What’s the point?  In this distant future, when our equally bland colored descendants look back at where they came from and waggle their ears in sad confusion, none of this will matter.  The perspective of time will reduce most of what we do to pointlessness.  A dash of color or spice to dilute to change anything.

plane stunt

The point is it does matter today.  I won’t be here in the distant future, except as a tiny scrap of DNA and recycled atomic particles.  We have to live where and when we are.  It is vanity to assume anything we do will impact that distant future.  I hope someday one of my borderline insane descendants will hit the gym and shave their head before they go do something monumentally stupid.  First, because they still have the choice.  Second, because that little strand of DNA is still around to make the world at least a little interesting.

Not Quite 12 Steps (Addicted part II)

This is a big piece about a tough subject. I’m putting it out hoping for feedback on the process I am suggesting. Every little bit helps.

PTSD2At my worst, I was a basket case.  A rolling chassis with bits and pieces still hanging off and a bunch of pieces in a plastic bucket.  Probably an old five-gallon pickle bucket with grease on the side.  I remember the absolute fear that would hit me when anyone asked me what was wrong.  “No!  I’m not ready!  I can’t even think about that.” How can you explain to someone what it’s like to hold the hand of another man while they died, from a wound they took following your orders?  Looking down the sights at a living person who is nothing more than a target.  It’s not even math anymore, at that point it’s just survival.

In the early stages of my counseling, I found a book by Dr. Abraham Twerski, “Addictive Thinking” (Hazelton Press, 1990).  It was on a discount rack in the mall, and I just wanted something to read.  It turned into a personal guide to recovery.  As I read, there were constant points where I saw my own life in the pages.  Making excuses for my actions, trying to hide what I was doing from others, binging on rage and violence, shame and remorse in the aftermath.  There were even co-dependents and facilitators, family and friends who helped me make excuses.

The excuse, “no one else understands”, let me continue to associate with other PTSD Addicts.  There was comfort in their presence.  There is a real feeling of belonging and safety with others who had “been there”.  The same as with high-risk behavior, it fed the disease.  We were self-medicating out of a bottle or popping pain pills that some got hooked on after an injury.  Anything to numb the pain and let us pretend to be normal.  Denial is still denial, no matter how you dress it up.

Internal conversations reinforced our denial patterns.  How can there be a problem if I’m still able to function in society?  Sure, there are some rough spots.  Relationships are destroyed, but that happens to everyone.  New job?  Just a change of scenery, they didn’t like me being gone for a year, either.  Uncontrolled emotions.  Not a problem.  I can deal.

Here are the modified 12 steps I came up with to work my way towards recovery.  It has been fifteen years in the making and there is still work to do.  

Step 1.  Admit that there is a problem.

That was the hardest part.  Like most addicts, it took a situation and moment of clarity, waking up with your belly on fire, head pounding, feeling your body dying from the abuse you’ve poured into it.  Admitting weakness, injury or not being strong enough is anathema to most soldiers.  Mine was road rage where I was going to shoot someone for changing lanes to quickly.  

This needs to be public to a group, in a way that can’t be contested later.  There is a point of saying, “Hi, my name is Butthead.  I have PTSD and I’m hurting myself and others.  I need help.”  If we make it public, it is harder to deny that you have a problem.  Just the effort of saying it out loud, hearing your own voice and confront reality is significant.  

If it helps, the people who know you already know that you are having problems, you’re not fooling them.  There will be some that can’t or won’t understand why you don’t just get over it.  You can’t explain it but try anyway.  

Step 2.  Commit to the change every day.

You are going to have tough days and episodes no matter what you do.  Be prepared for them and dedicate yourself to getting better every day, sometimes every hour.  It may help to make a list of how you are harming yourself and others.  I write, so I kept a journal, documenting my episodes and how I responded.  What I could do better.

Have a friend, or professional you can call when you’re feeling overwhelmed, or join a support group.  

Meditation, without all the mystic mumbo-jumbo, just means a quiet time to think about your day and goals.  In the morning it is a way to review your tools and prepare yourself.  At night, a way to look back on your day and see where you have made progress and where you need to work harder.  

Step 3.   Be honest about what PTSD means and what it has done to you, your life and those who share your life.

Most of the people who love you haven’t been to war or shared the trauma, they can’t understand.  It is also true that they won’t have a chance to understand unless you try to explain.  Apologies are probably in order as well.  You’ve been through hell and put them through the hell of watching you suffer. Acknowledge that you have hurt others.

Step 4.  Make amends.

In a lot of situations, you can’t.  The hurt and injury you have caused are to those who are closest to you.  Just saying “I’m sorry”, won’t cover it.  Be prepared for some of them to reject your efforts, don’t rage against them.  You need to accept that they may never forgive you and that’s their choice.  Respect it.  Accept it.  Move on.  For the ones who let you, try to be better.

I made a lot of phone calls and had some very hard conversations.  Since I lied for so long about what I did and what happened, I had to correct the record.  It was harder to say, “I lied.  What I really did was … It changed me.  It hurt me and I hurt you.”  There will probably be some pissed off people, wanting to know why you lied in the first place.  They have a right to be angry and hurt.  Ask if they can hold off on lashing out at you, so you have a chance to get past the moment.  But give them the chance to say their piece.  

It has been pointed out that you are going to have a hard time with this and will probably slip up a lot.  Make it a point to recognize when you have hurt those around you and apologize, every time.  Even when they don’t want to hear it, say it.  It is part of recognizing and admitting that you have a problem. 

Step 5. Live the changed life.

You are trying to reprogram your brain.  It won’t happen overnight or in the first few years.  You will have PTSD for the rest of your life.  The only way to avoid relapse is to change those things that are your personal triggers.  I know, to easy.  

Life models – you have to pick a person who has gone through the process, or you respect for who they are and copy what you admire about them.  It doesn’t have to be everything about them, their ability to laugh or how courteous they are, copy it.  Find someone and something else and add that to your list.   

This also means avoiding the risky lifestyle behaviors.

Drinking – numbs the pain until you try to sleep and have to wake up hungover.  I am not saying don’t drink.  I am saying don’t drink to excess.  We tend to socialize in clubs and bars, part of our lives and all that, don’t walk in with a bunch of money in your pocket, leave the credit cards at home.  Set limits and stick to them.

Thrill Seeking –   The behavior that gets more people killed than any other.  Riding a motorcycle fast, driving through slower traffic, pushing the edge of your talent or the machines tolerance, the rush!  For just a minute, you feel alive.  It’s not just your life you are risking, there are others around.  You are risking them for your own entertainment.  You shake off the honking horns and shouts with a dismissive response of, “Screw ’em.  They need to get out of my way, or I’ll move ’em.”  Is disregard for human life manly or selfish and stupid?  Just asking for a friend.

Fighting – This one is hard for me.  I like it, always have.  Keep it where it is legal.  Join a gym that has a fight night.  Join the UFC and get paid to have someone punch you in the face.  If you do it in public, just walk around and look for trouble, you will find it.  You will also find someone better or carrying a gun, or a jail cell.  

Here is one more point.  Don’t try to be someone or something you are not.  In this case, “Fake until you make it”, is just setting yourself up for failure.  Work at being different, don’t pretend to be different to appease others.  

Step 6.  Get help.

I know, I’m repeating myself.  Find a friend.  Go to a meeting.  Get counseling.  It takes a while for some things to sink in.

You can’t do this by yourself.  Find someone who you can trust and talk to.  It doesn’t have to be a professional, but it does have to be someone who is committed to the process.  Another plus to professionals is detachment.  Your significant other can be easily hurt by what you say and do.  It is important that you be able to vent sometimes, more often in the early stages than the later ones.  Group therapy is another tool that can help a lot.  Hearing others who hurt and are fighting the same demons reminds you that you are not alone.  There is a chance that you might even pick up a partner in healing or a trick that someone else is having success with.

Step 7.  Use the tools.

It’s stupid to try to tough it out unless you have to.  I don’t recommend meds because your body tends to adapt.  I AM NOT A DOCTOR, so don’t take that as a prescription.  On top of that, you can’t reset your brain chemistry if you keep artificially adjusting it.  As a short-term assist, they work to give you a break, room to catch your breath.  Not every therapy will work for you.  If you honestly try something and it doesn’t work, go to the next one.

Counseling and Groups are the most common tools, whether it is one on one with a trained clinical psychologist or going to the local VFW for a weekly meeting.  Have someone to hold you accountable and force you to confront what is going on.  

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is a method of processing what is going on inside your head.  Some of it may seem strange or be beyond your ability.  I can’t draw for crap, but I believe that I write well.  It gets the garbage out of my head and on paper, the same as painting.  

8.  Faith or a higher power.

This is another tough one.  Not everyone has a religion to lean on.  The idea is solid, a way to give up the struggle and take the strength of God for forgiveness, for healing, to be strong when you can’t.  Belief doesn’t mean that you aren’t still responsible for your actions, or you don’t have to put in the work.  A church family can also provide another source of support, people who have put in the work already.  There are a lot of veterans out there.  Different wars, same wounds.

9.  Forgive yourself.

Again, this isn’t carte blanche to go on hurting others or continue with self-destructive behavior.  It is simply a way for you to let go of the burdens that are keeping you in a dark place.  If you are a veteran, you have probably seen or done things that most haven’t.  You were in an extraordinary situation, forced to do terrible things, seeing the aftermath of IEDs or counter battery fire, fire fights that left you feeling dirty.  

Another group that is in the same position, the guys inside the wire.  They had to live through mortar attacks and random harassment and not respond.  Just take it every day.  Yep, we called them Fobbits or POGS, but they ate it every day.  Then when the guys outside the wire came in stinking and filthy, demanding more ammo, new uniforms, hot chow, and Motrin.  They took care of us, fed us, patched us up and put up with our crap.  They tried to talk to us, and we looked down on them and made stupid jokes.    

10.  Practice love and trust.

For a long time, I felt that I didn’t deserve love. I rejected it and everyone who tried to love me.  The funny thing was that I acted like it was everyone else rejecting me.  The ability to trust was lost.  For a long time, the only one I trusted was the man who rode with me every day.  He had my back and pulled me back before I went too far.  

Practice means you have to make a conscious effort to be open to being vulnerable.  Trust that the ones you are opening up to won’t try to hurt you.  Even if you try and fail, you need to keep trying. That is the practice part, doing the same thing over and over until you get it right.  Don’t stop after you get it right one time.  Practice until you can’t get it wrong.

11.  Find Someone until you are Someone.

In most support and recovery groups, you have a sponsor who has already gone through the steps and work of healing.  Since what we are talking about is a little less structured, a sponsor isn’t an automatic thing.

Find someone willing to be there for you any time of day or night.  It should not be a family member.  No spouse, brothers or sisters, close personal friends.  If they already care for you so that much, they aren’t going to be tough enough on you or your behavior.  The Someone in question is going to piss you off if they are doing the job.  Telling you no or calling you out for your bullshit isn’t something you need to hear from someone close to you.  This avoids the chance of picking up a co-dependent or facilitator who will accept your slips as “something you need” or “just this once”.

One day, you will wake up and discover that you are the Someone.  The someone your future self will be is strong enough to be strong for someone else.  I really hope you get there.  I’ve been there for others, on call.  It is huge honor. Just don’t try to step up until you’ve done the work yourself or you can hurt the one you’re trying to help.

There are alumni groups VFW, Foreign legion, Unit Organizations, the VA out there who are willing to help or point you in the right direction. You just need to reach out.

For those who don’t fight this daily, pass it on.  There are 22 Veterans who lose the fight every day and choose suicide.  That’s a little less than one an hour, almost a quarter of the daily suicide rate in the U.S. alone.

Help them keep fighting.

12.  Start over

You will fail.  You will give in to your rage and pain and lash out.  You will crawl back in a bottle and hide, breaking a promise or violating parole.  You will say and do hurtful things because you can’t express what is truly hurting you. You will feel ashamed of who you are or what you have done.  There is a lot of “you” in those statements for a reason.  No matter how much help you get from others, this is about you, about your healing and growth.  You are responsible for you.

If you fall, start over.  Go back to the top of the list and begin again.  

Just to Lazy

A coworker said to me, “Don’t get angry but…” the rest doesn’t matter.  It was that phrase that caught my attention.  Like warning me that something irritating is forthcoming will make me like it more.  The funny thing to me is that I don’t get angry.  I get irritated.   Stupid and lazy really piss me off because I have to deal with them and the lazy idiots that inflict stupid and lazy on me.  I rarely get angry.  It probably says unflattering things about me that I can differentiate between the two.

Anger to me is about an emotional response.  Not normally my problem.  For me to get angry I would have to really care about something enough, to hold on to the hurt long enough to change something fundamental.

           “A strong feeling of displeasure and belligerence aroused by a wrong;

                                  wrath; ire.”  (Dictionary.com)  

   Wrath sounds exhausting.  Ire is a little to petty.  Which ever definition you use, there is a lot of emotion pent up in anger.  Listen to it when you say it out loud.  An -Gerrr!  Anger take energy, I’m to lazy to be angry.  Just thinking about being angry makes me want to take a nap.

This unique quality, or lack there of, has preserved me from some terrible things going on in the world today.  Bigotry and racism are right out.  If you’re stupid enough to hate people because of skin pigment, you have way to much energy.  You really have to hold on to that anger in the face of some serious evidence that you are probably wrong.  Sexism?  I’ll work my butt off for a pretty girl. (note the ironic statement)  Religion?  Sorry, I don’t care enough about the welfare of another person’s immortal soul.  There are whole classes of people, things, ideas or situations that I could be angry over, but I’m not.  The truth is, I’m just to lazy.

The world would e a better place if more people were just a little more lazy.

The Blue Line

blueline

Unheard behind the screams of police brutality and Black Live matter are the gunshots fired at Police Officers and silence from the White House as Obama pretends everything is fine.  In spite of more officers being killed by ambush, gunned down on the street while on duty there are cries of abuse of power and idiots trying to record these abuses.  With a snippet from a cellphone recording, Officers are tried in the court of public opinion.

How long until the protectors start pushing back?

In Baltimore, complaints of oppressive policing policies resulted in riots that the Mayor sanctioned and ordered police not to respond.  In the aftermath, the police gave the service that the community demanded and violent crime soared.  The backlash?  Complaints that the police were providing less service to black communities because of racial motivation.

Just in the month of February we have had a run of tragedy in the policing community.  Where is the resulting protest?  What about the condemnation of the acts where the perpetrator states that the act was intended as reprisal against police?

For our Blue Family, we have done what we always do.  We gather in our circles, closing ranks to protect each other as best we can, knowing that we are all vulnerable.  Still, we endure.  Still, we patrol the most violent and dangerous areas of cities like Detroit, Chicago, Los Angles and Philadelphia.  We show restraint more often than not.  For how much longer?

It feel like we are the guard dogs, being teased and beaten.  We try to remain loyal because it’s not everyone who joins in the abuse.  Not everyone joins in the abuse, but almost no one helps protect us either.  We loose a little trust everyday, just a small part withdraws.  We are less likely to take risks for others because everyone is starting to look like our tormentors.  When we do act, we are hounded by people threatening us, our lives and livelihoods.  Why act when it’s easier to just clean up the mess and not take the risk.

There is s Thin Blue Line of man and women sworn to fight to protect others, to risk that other might live better.  On one side are the peaceful citizens in need of protection.  On the other side of the line are the criminals and predators who would attack them.  More people cross the line everyday.  Not because they are preying on the weak and innocent but because they have started attacking the line.  We represent less than 1% of the population and we are under attack.  How much longer before we are reduced to protecting ourselves more than the weak and innocent?