PTSD - Who'da Thunk It
So, for the longest time I was thought PTSD was a myth. I mean, I've had such good control over my mind and body I figured that those who claimed to have suffered from it were just weak-minded pussies. What I didn't realize was just how some things could affect you, and why they affected you that way. If you go by my former opinion, I am indeed a weak-minded pussy, though I'm far from killing people in my sleep, as is the case with some of the further mindfucked Vietnam vets, but I'm messed up in a handful of other ways, which as my friends can confirm, I am definitely not the same man I was before I did my rotation in Afghanistan.
Usually when people hear "PTSD" they think of vets getting super vivid flashbacks whenever they hear loud noises and whatnot. I can somewhat relate. Loud banging noises still make jump, and there were a few times where I dove to the ground here on Ft Bragg because of unexpected explosions. Only once did I actually have a flashback. It wasn't from an explosion, though, at least I don't think it was. I don't remember what triggered it, but for a few seconds I was right back where I was when my buddy triggered the IED that blew off his leg. That was a somewhat traumatizing day for me. I was the first person to get to him when he exploded, and barely a day goes by where I don't think of that moment. I was wrist deep in his leg with blood everywhere trying to slow the bleeding while I put a tourniquet on his leg. I'm never, ever going to forget that day. The dust completely clouding the area, the shitty taste of the air because of the mixed HME (home made explosive) and vile Afghan dust. The feel of his blood coating my hands. The sight of his legs, completely mangled, one completely missing. The look on his face, his eyes glazing over as he was drifting into shock. The sound of his grunting and moaning.. Never will I forget it. He did survive, thank God. We never did find that missing leg. Guessing it was blown to mist. There's also that deep sense that it was my fault. I had a metal detector, and I was leading the way with it for the purpose of finding any bombs before anyone stepped on them. Yes, he was not in the path that had been swept, but it was still my damn job. That guilt will always be there. I spent a night balling my damn eyes out, shitty drunk at a friend's party because of it. I also spit in my best friend's face that night. Twice. I hate tequila.
I've also noticed I've become a lot angrier as a person. I used to be such a cheerful, nice, optimistic person. Well, I'm still cheerful and optimistic, but holy shit have I become an asshole. My friend's back home can confirm this. One in particular would be Sami, though I have worked a lot on not being such a dick to her. Not sure how much success I've had there. I know at one party my buddy Ryan had while his parents were gone, a bunch of us got shitfaced, enjoyed a bonfire and whatnot. Well, while I was attempting to enjoy some happenings in the basement, a lot of people kept interrupting something that should have been very private, and it got me pissed. I asked people to stop. Then yelled at people to stop. Then threatened people. Nope. People kept butting in until it got to the point where I grabbed a nearby KBar knife and went upstairs. Of course, they had the sense to block the door, where I sat patiently taptaptapping on the door with the blade. Possibly stabbed it as well, since there's something of a hole there... Well, when the door opened I tried to stab Ryan in the face with the knife. I kinda failed, seeing as he was waiting there with a chair, trying to knock me back down the stairs with it. After awhile we settled down and talked it out. Still good friends.
In addition, a lot of little things piss me off quite often, whereas I used to almost never get angry. The thing that sets me off most would be people complaining about the dumbest shit. "Dumbest shit" is based almost completely on my opinion of dumb, though there is a good amount of stupid in some things... My favourite would be those who complain about how hard their life is, and they don't even know the definition of "hard". Sure, even without having been deployed, I've been through some shit, but before I could usually just shrug it off as "whatever, none of my business". Now it just makes me angry. Like the #FirstWorldProblems shit on Twitter. That things makes me want to rage.
Lastly, since deployment I've had a lot of issues with insomnia and drinking. God knows I usually don't sleep at all most nights, and everyone has noticed my drinking. Sure, I've slowed it down a lot since those first few months back where I was permadrunk 24/7, but I'm obtained something of a dependency on alcohol. It helps me remember. Helps me forget. Helps me feel. Helps me go numb. At some point I'll probably seek help about it, but as long as I'm still able to function in life, it's not going to stop. Still, thank God I at least slowed it down some. Hangovers suck.
So, yea..PTSD. Thought it was a myth. Found out it's real. Now I've become something of a person I'd rather not be. I'm working on it, though. I hate being angry, and I miss the innocent guy that everyone became friends with.
Usually when people hear "PTSD" they think of vets getting super vivid flashbacks whenever they hear loud noises and whatnot. I can somewhat relate. Loud banging noises still make jump, and there were a few times where I dove to the ground here on Ft Bragg because of unexpected explosions. Only once did I actually have a flashback. It wasn't from an explosion, though, at least I don't think it was. I don't remember what triggered it, but for a few seconds I was right back where I was when my buddy triggered the IED that blew off his leg. That was a somewhat traumatizing day for me. I was the first person to get to him when he exploded, and barely a day goes by where I don't think of that moment. I was wrist deep in his leg with blood everywhere trying to slow the bleeding while I put a tourniquet on his leg. I'm never, ever going to forget that day. The dust completely clouding the area, the shitty taste of the air because of the mixed HME (home made explosive) and vile Afghan dust. The feel of his blood coating my hands. The sight of his legs, completely mangled, one completely missing. The look on his face, his eyes glazing over as he was drifting into shock. The sound of his grunting and moaning.. Never will I forget it. He did survive, thank God. We never did find that missing leg. Guessing it was blown to mist. There's also that deep sense that it was my fault. I had a metal detector, and I was leading the way with it for the purpose of finding any bombs before anyone stepped on them. Yes, he was not in the path that had been swept, but it was still my damn job. That guilt will always be there. I spent a night balling my damn eyes out, shitty drunk at a friend's party because of it. I also spit in my best friend's face that night. Twice. I hate tequila.
I've also noticed I've become a lot angrier as a person. I used to be such a cheerful, nice, optimistic person. Well, I'm still cheerful and optimistic, but holy shit have I become an asshole. My friend's back home can confirm this. One in particular would be Sami, though I have worked a lot on not being such a dick to her. Not sure how much success I've had there. I know at one party my buddy Ryan had while his parents were gone, a bunch of us got shitfaced, enjoyed a bonfire and whatnot. Well, while I was attempting to enjoy some happenings in the basement, a lot of people kept interrupting something that should have been very private, and it got me pissed. I asked people to stop. Then yelled at people to stop. Then threatened people. Nope. People kept butting in until it got to the point where I grabbed a nearby KBar knife and went upstairs. Of course, they had the sense to block the door, where I sat patiently taptaptapping on the door with the blade. Possibly stabbed it as well, since there's something of a hole there... Well, when the door opened I tried to stab Ryan in the face with the knife. I kinda failed, seeing as he was waiting there with a chair, trying to knock me back down the stairs with it. After awhile we settled down and talked it out. Still good friends.
In addition, a lot of little things piss me off quite often, whereas I used to almost never get angry. The thing that sets me off most would be people complaining about the dumbest shit. "Dumbest shit" is based almost completely on my opinion of dumb, though there is a good amount of stupid in some things... My favourite would be those who complain about how hard their life is, and they don't even know the definition of "hard". Sure, even without having been deployed, I've been through some shit, but before I could usually just shrug it off as "whatever, none of my business". Now it just makes me angry. Like the #FirstWorldProblems shit on Twitter. That things makes me want to rage.
Lastly, since deployment I've had a lot of issues with insomnia and drinking. God knows I usually don't sleep at all most nights, and everyone has noticed my drinking. Sure, I've slowed it down a lot since those first few months back where I was permadrunk 24/7, but I'm obtained something of a dependency on alcohol. It helps me remember. Helps me forget. Helps me feel. Helps me go numb. At some point I'll probably seek help about it, but as long as I'm still able to function in life, it's not going to stop. Still, thank God I at least slowed it down some. Hangovers suck.
So, yea..PTSD. Thought it was a myth. Found out it's real. Now I've become something of a person I'd rather not be. I'm working on it, though. I hate being angry, and I miss the innocent guy that everyone became friends with.
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