Let me start this by saying, I’m not a psychologist, Councilor or a Doctor.
I suffer from ptsd, survivors guilt, and depression. I’m a mental shop of horrors. I was into some very bad things. things that would have ended up with me in Jail or worse. The dirt nap. Which at a time I would have loved.
I’m not suicidal, I have a death wish, huge difference. I want to die but I wont do it because well I’m shallow. I don’t want people to be ashamed of me. NOW that said your choice is your choice I’m saying what MINE is. Keep your poison pen letters to your self. My head, my world, you are reading this of your own free will.
I have seen time and time again that one of the biggest things that help the person with ptsd. It is the love and understanding of some one. It needs to be a Lover. Because the person with ptsd needs love of someone to make them feel safe. The ones that don’t have that seams to be more destructive than those that do.
Now here is the rub. The person that helps, the person with ptsd. May not be the person that the ptsd survivor spends the rest of their life with. I will let that sink in. See we meet people for reasons. Some heal, some break, some repair, some destroy. But they all have a place. The person that fixes ( wrong word but) the ptsd survivor may not be the person that’s right for them long term.
From my side two women saved me. One gave me a bed and a place to wall up at. The other a beautiful woman that I still hold dear. The 2nd woman loved me so much she rearranged her world for me. And helped me heal. As I healed it was becoming apparent that we had started to grow apart. Now she held me as I cried. Screamed at the world. Fought my demons. She would make me lay in bed with her and not ghost the house when I could not sleep. She would take the Dragon strikes and love me after. She took the brunt and stood strong. Till she could do no more and was time for me to face the world I had ran from.
People that can not connect with that one person. They drift and spiral down to the abyss that there is little chance to come back from. Yes sometimes beauty can save the beast. The beast can be a woman that needs the hansom man to save her. To love her for all her scars and warts. A man that can find the love of a Woman. That will stand in Dragons fire and look more polished than before. Again they may not be the forever loves. They my have a year, or 5. But they will have something that only people that have seen combat can understand. For they have seen combat. the War of a soul. Of a person. Of a human being. We have scars some are seen, some are invisible. At this time most of my hero’s are all women. Because they have a style and grace to just smile and look stunning after. I’m the Dirty, unshaven, heathen. But I’m seeing the day light. So in a sense the women are Valkyries leading the warrior home.
To a druid that gave me a Bed and a cave. To the Vampire that withstood the fire and anger. To the gothic model that told me that because I’m broken does not me I’m useless. The army Harlequin, the Mom Model. They all have lead me a little further. Many more have touched me I just named a few.
The difference between the two people with PTSD. One allowed the right person in. The other let NO one in. There is a scene from a movie called UNCOMMON VALOR
Col. Cal Rhodes: You know, for years, I couldn’t sleep after Korea. My nightmares all had to do with the Chosin Reservoir. The ground there was so frozen, we couldn’t bury our dead. We had to pile ’em on trucks and lash them up against the tanks. For years I’d wake up with those dead, frozen faces staring at me.
Wilkes: Did it ever go away?
Col. Cal Rhodes: No… I finally made friends with them, though.
You need someone to love you that will give you the feeling of safety that will allow the healing to begin. With out that they fight the war and never have a chance to breathe.
Talk to some one, let some one in. Your not week to open up. Your stronger for knowing you cant do it all. In the Corp It’s not the single man its the team. You cant win this fight alone. Its ok to let someone fight for you so you can breathe.