Family Of a Vet - PTSD, TBI, & Life After Combat

Compensation and Pension Exams... one of the reasons the system is broken (aka Our Hellish Day at the VA)

2012-05-24T07:39:00.000-07:00

As I write this I'm sitting in our VA waiting on my husband who is in a *THREE* hour C&P (Compensation and Pension) exam with a doctor he's never met without a caregiver present. This is my husband who many days can't leave the house because he simply can't deal with the chance of meeting unknown people. This is my husband that because of TBI often has a hard time maintaining focus for 5 minutes, much less three hours. This is my husband whom if you ask questions in a way that is too long or too convoluted, will give the wrong answer almost every time (not because he's lying, but because by that point he's not sure what to say and is just going to give you some answer). This is my husband that by the time they called him back for the exam was literally vibrating he was so anxious and had to go outside to get away (and then I had to figure out whether to go with him, or wait so that I could tell the doctor where he was when they called... may sound like a simple decision, but it's actually agonizing). This is also my husband who recently did the Gulf War Registry Exam (at our VA it's done by the C&P department even though it's not a compensation related exam) and despite the fact that I sent him back with detailed notes, a large portion of his registry info is now incorrect (and I now have to figure out how to get it redone) because he couldn't remember the info they asked for and the physician didn't read my notes (I guess he didn't believe me when I said he needed them).

We’ve had two weeks of complete hell getting to this day. My husband seriously hates these exams (for all the reasons listed and because he always leaves feeling so agitated and edgy and it takes days to get settled down afterwards). They’re sort of a form of torture in our household… granted I get why they’re necessary… but they cause an unbelievable amount of stress and fallout, both before and after.

So, I just had to pause typing for a moment because the examiner came to get me so that I could go and get Shilo (my husband’s PTSD/TBI/mobility service dog) because she was getting in the way of the physical exam. Now, let me explain that Shilo is extremely well trained and spends A LOT of time with us at the VA in various exams and appointments. The only time she "gets in the way" is when she's working... when she's doing that part of her job that means she's "alerting" to a high level of stress and anxiety in my husband and is doing everything necessary to distract and "ground" him. When I went in the room to get her (and asked if I sat in the room and never uttered a word, if I could sit there and help with Shilo so that my hubby didn't have to be without her, but was told "no"), my husband was so upset and so overwhelmed that he didn't even look up from his shoes to acknowledge that I was in the room. He looked defeated. He looked lost. He looked like he was in pain... mentally and physically. Talk about a way to tear a wife's heart out... though I am not at all implying that was the intention of the doctor.

And here I sit... with a service dog who is trying to figure out why she was pulled away from her job at a time when she was needed... and trying to keep myself calm and convince myself not to cry. I so incredibly hate seeing him like that and worse still I hate seeing him like that when it's not necessary.

There is no national VA policy that says I am not allowed, as a full-time caregiver, to be in the exam room with my husband. It's actually a decision made individually by each VA. There are some VA's that recognize and appreciate the significance of caregivers... the comfort we bring which results in a Veteran who is better able to focus and provide answers if possible... the insight we bring as the person most familiar and aware of the difficulties and challenges our Veteran's injuries cause on a daily basis... and even the cost-savings we offer since exams are then as accurate as possible, leaving it less likely for them to need to spend the time and cost redoing them (at a time when the VA claims process is incredibly backed up around the country and could use any and all means to increase efficiency).

I went yesterday (with my Caregiver Support Coordinator) to meet with the head Administrator over C&P's at our VA to find out what our actual policy is here. While I will say she was kind and helpful in brainstorming how to at least make sure that my husband doesn't have to go through his PTSD exam this way (we're going to use a new VA program that allows other physicians (physicians more familiar with and more familiar to our heroes) to complete exams for 70 conditions, including re-examinations of PTSD, but not initial PTSD exams), she also was unable to provide me with a copy of the written policy for our VA (she said she'd have to find it) and explained to me that if caregivers were allowed in exams (Note: Those caring for a veteran who has been legally declared incompetent through the courts can attend the exams, but they're the only exception.), it would give the examiner an unfair disadvantage to have a Veteran and caregiver present in the room so they would have to have more staff so the then it could be "even" (i.e., 2 people from the VA and 2 people on the "veterans" side).

While I understand and appreciate that these exams are normally about money (while in our case this time it's because we've filed for Total and Permanent Status early for my husband, which won't actually change anything about the amount my husband is receiving each month, but still triggered a new round of all his previous exams) and there is a concern that some people are trying to "play" the system and get more compensation than they're entitled to, I disagree greatly with that stance. My argument is that having a caregiver present doesn't make any more risk of that then if the Veteran-only is present. There is always a risk that someone is going to lie or embellish, though for the most part I find people UNDER-endorse their symptoms, especially those that are related to mental and neurological conditions, because they simply don't know how to put into words everything that they're experiencing. However, by having caregivers present, there is a strong probability of coming away with a more accurate exam... one that is most fair to the Veteran and most completely reflects what the Veteran is facing as a result of his or her service to our country. AND the C&P process would also be much less stressful and anxiety filled for those heroes.

Instead, it seems in some places, at some VA’s, we (those who spend our days and nights loving and caring for injured warriors) are viewed as adversaries… someone who is trying to “trick” the system, someone who is trying to give their hero an unfair advantage, someone who (despite the thousands of hours we’ve spent by the side of our heroes) has an opinion and insight that is not valuable enough to include in trying to get a full picture of a Veteran’s injuries.

So, here I sit. Hoping that the hours I spent filling out the form the VA sent for these exams and adding additional notes for the doctor... combined with the 60 seconds I had to try to explain to her to please keep her questions brief, clear, and concise to minimize my husband's confusion and anxiety... is enough.

Fast forward... we are now 2 hours and 15 minutes in to the exam, and she (the doctor) comes out and calls my name so that I can take Shilo to my husband. She then says that her portion of the exam is over and that now he needs to go to X-ray, but that I am welcome to go with him to wait (thank GOD!). Shilo goes into full work mode, trying to get him calmed down and focused, while we wait. We are finally done with this exam 2 hours and 45 minutes after it started. My dear hero keeps commenting about the “blankety, blank, blank” scales (pain scales) that the doctor kept trying to get him to use to rate his pain levels. He says he just didn’t understand and kept trying to explain that he didn’t know what to say. He says the doctor finally found another sheet to try to make it easier for him to figure out but he’s still not sure if he did it right. And (of course) that he kept having to ask her to repeat things and a few times he finally just told her “something”. Lovely. So hope it’s actually accurate. Of course, now I’m worried that the exam report will be wrong… not because the doctor recorded anything wrong, but because the hubby provided incorrect responses because he was overwhelmed and needed to just get done. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened. (And it’s REALLLLLY hard to “fix” once the wrong answers are in black and white.) Bleh. Just bleh.

My husband looks like crap, I look like crap, and we have 2 hours to kill before the next one starts (an audiology C&P... at least that one is pretty straightforward... "Do you have ringing in your ears... Press this button if you hear a beep.")

With two hours to fill (and my hubby threatening to mutiny) I pull out a tried and true caregiver card.. "tell me anywhere I can take you to get something to eat and we will go." Of course, in our world that means fast food, drive thru, eat-in-the-car is the only option (got to love that PTSD), but at least it's a distraction. Of course he names somewhere that I don't know where it is and he "thinks" he knows (some of the most dangerous words in TBI world are "I think I know..." because then it means on the caregiver side you have two options. First, follow the "I think" directions with the very real probability of being on a wild goose chase. Or, not following those directions and seeming like you think your Veteran doesn't know what they're saying. Bleh.) So for a while, I follow the directions and we're getting more and more lost (a lovely PTSD trigger) and my headache is turning into full on Caregiver "crazy mode"... head pounding, stomach churning, trying to use my best nurse-calming-soothe-the-beast voice. Fortunately, I have fellow caregivers on speed dial... wonderful people who live here in PTSD/TBI world with me and whom I can call and make strange requests to (i.e., I need to find a Krystal's ASAP!!!)... friends who don't ask questions, can hear that "nurse" voice, and just help (a LIFESAVER in our world).

And now we're back at the VA waiting. Lunch has been found and we are holed up our favorite quiet corner of this facility... trying to calmly wait out the time and let the storm of the events of the morning caused recede.

We finally head to the waiting area for the Audiology C&P. When we get there they hand us another form to fill out with the dreaded SCALES at the top that my husband is already pissed about. We’re sitting in a tiny waiting area with 3 or 4 other Veterans and caregivers. As soon as I start going down the form to help fill it out, and I get to one of the scales (i.e., How loud is the ringing in your ears?”), he goes off. “No more f---ing scales, I’m not doing any more scales, I don’t know how to answer that all I know is it’s f---ing loud in my head… it’s f---ing loud.” “OOOOOkay,” I think, as everyone in the waiting area stares and the receptionist behind the desk leans out to see what the commotion is, “we’re going to say ‘f---ing loud’ is an eight.”

Before I have a chance to complete the form, the audiology doctor comes to call the husband back. I hurry over, try to explain that if he’s going to need dates for the information on the back he’ll need to ask me, and try to calmly smile at the man I’m married to… the one who has already had a much too long, much too stressful day.

While I’m waiting, there’s an older couple (in their eighties I would guess) sitting in the waiting room, too. She’s doing the same thing I was just doing… going down the same form and paraphrasing the questions so they’re simpler and more straightforward for her husband. When she gets to some questions about “how well can you hear at parties,” and “does your hearing loss impact your ability to visit friends,” both times he says something to the effect of “How would I know, I don’t go to parties, why would I go to a party?”, “I never visit friends. What are they talking about?”. I think to myself that I wonder if he’s a World War II or Korean War Veteran… and I wonder from those responses, a few others, and the “everything is alright” tone his wife is using (one I recognize well… after all I was just using it), if he, too, has PTSD. There’s even a question about if his hearing loss contributes to or makes him feel more agitated… at that question his wife sort of does a semi-sarcastic giggle and says, “Well, I can answer that one.” (Wow, she sounds like me.) I wonder if I’m looking at a picture of my husband and I in 50 something years… some of this sounds sooooo familiar. And, I had also noticed that they were the one couple in the waiting room that didn’t really glare or give any “looks” after the hubby’s tirade. “Yep,” I think, “maybe she’s a fellow PTSD wife.” (and I snap a quick picture… only of their feet for privacy purposes… to remember my potential “sister” PTSD wife.)

Just as I’m doing the debate about whether or not to strike up a conversation (and whether or not it would just add to her husband’s obvious irritation), my own Veteran is back. Thank goodness at least this C&P was only 20 minutes. When I ask how the exam went, he says, “The pauses between the beeps were too long, so I kept pressing the button.” To which I respond, “Honey, you were only supposed to press the button if you heard a beep… if you didn’t hear the beep, it’s because your hearing isn’t good enough to hear that sound.” Then, he replies again, “But the pauses were too long, I had to push the button.” We go through the cycle one more time… and then I give up. Pointless to argue, apparently somewhere in TBI land this stance makes sense to him, and I’m not going to do anything other than upset him by continuing to push it. Lovely. We’ll just have to wait and see if the testing now shows he has miraculously perfect hearing now (despite needing hearing aids on a daily basis) because he was concerned about filling the pauses. Ugh. Did I mention it’s a REALLY GOOD IDEA for a caregiver to be in the exam room????

I can’t help but remember we’ve still got the TBI exam to go in a few weeks… the exam I find it MOST ridiculous that caregivers can’t attend. “Hello, hero with brain injury that causes memory loss, confusion, agitation, and general monumental processing difficulties… we don’t think you need someone here to help you… we’re just going to sit and ask you a bunch of questions that you don’t know how to answer, can’t remember how to answer, and in general just are too totally overwhelmed to answer. BUT, we’re not going to allow the person who lives with you every day and could help us get the right answers in the room to help. Nope. That doesn’t make sense. Why would we do that?” Bleh.

As I’ve had the opportunity to meet with, speak in front of, and work with people at different levels of leadership around the country within the VA and in agencies that impact the VA, I’ve continually brought up this issue. So far, I haven’t been able to find anyone to listen. However, I am a “typical” stubborn Veteran’s wife and won’t be giving up any time soon. It’s a portion of the C&P process that is broken, that wastes time, that weights the system (albeit I believe unintentionally) against Veteran’s with mental and neurological issues, and it does not mesh with the VA’s advancements toward more patient-centric and family-inclusive care (the type of care that is best for those who have laid down their bodies and minds for our country).

So, there’s our story… a day in the throws of the VA Compensation and Pension process. What’s your experience?

((HUGS)) to all,
Brannan

Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and Life After Combat!

*NOTE: for more information about having a physician familiar with your Veteran complete a C&P exam (instead of going through the traditional C&P examiners), including a list of the 70 conditions this applies to, visit: http://benefits.va.gov/disabilityexams/*

Monday Momisms: The Pros and Cons of Loving a Combat Veteran

2012-05-14T12:48:00.000-07:00

In 2001, my son wanted to join the Army. He even tried to get me to sign the papers when he was seventeen, because he would not be able to sign on his own until his birthday at the end of June. I thought about it, I even went to the recruiter’s office and had the pen in my hand. Then for some reason, I looked at the recruiter and asked “What if there’s a war?” The recruiter assured me there was no reason to believe that. I could see his point. I had been an Air Force wife and although Desert Storm had occurred, it really hadn’t affected us personally. Still, I looked at my son and said “I’m sorry. I just can’t. If something happened to you because I signed this, I would never forgive myself.”

This was in May. On his 18^th birthday weeks later, he enlisted and was soon notified he would be going to basic October 1. He had dreams of becoming either a history teacher or a police officer. The morning of 9/11, however, changed everything, for the country, for our family, for him.

My son did not hesitate. He insisted being in the Army was more important than ever in order to defend his country, his younger siblings and me, the luckiest mom in the world to have these three young people in my life. What he was about to experience, what we all were, was far different from being the spouse and children of an Air Force sergeant. I was about to become the mom of a combat soldier.

One of the absolute greatest “pros” of this is most definitely pride. One of the biggest “cons” is fear. Even after combat, the pros are still there. However, unfortunately, so are the cons.

Think about this: if a wonderful young man went to war who had never once had so much as a traffic ticket, was so proud of his hometown he brought comrades home some weekends with him to see it and meet the family he spoke of with love and pride, had half a dozen girls chasing him but was ethical enough to refuse to have anything to do with the ones his friends and cousins liked except as a friend, was protective and loving over his mom, little sister and younger brother and had dreams of helping others, that says something, right?

Okay, now think about this: when someone returns from combat acting completely different, pacing constantly, having nightmares, mood swings, withdrawn and does things you never would have believed he would have, it tells you as loud as possible: hello, something isn’t right here.

To this day, the pros of loving my combat veteran son do outweigh the cons, even if they are fewer in number. Take a balancing scale: you put the cons in and it immediately hits close to the ground. You put one thing, the only thing sometimes that you have left on the pro side, love, on the other scale and it will bring that balance back and then some.

Every day I live a life of pros and cons, wondering what the day will bring. The only constant in my life regarding my combat veteran son, is I still love him and I still have pride in the young man who never hesitated to defend his country. I have lost pride in how he and his comrades are looked at and treated, ironically by some who never walked in his shoes yet knew him before combat. When I balance that scale? Definitely not a contest: I would take him over those who put him and other combat veterans down any day.

Monday Momisms: Mother's Day

2012-05-07T12:18:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day is Sunday and I know that many of you are anticipating the time with your kids. Some will get cards and drawings that will forever be treasured in scrapbooks or special drawers, perhaps even on walls and refrigerators. Some may be without their children due to a painful loss. Some may have a son or daughter in a war zone.

Then there are those who are in a different situation like me. While two are pursuing their dreams with college, I honestly don't know whether I will have any communication with my oldest. It depends on what kind of day it is for him. Things that seemed perfectly normal just a few years ago are now rare moments in time. Family holidays, Super Bowl parties with their favorite appetizer, family movie and game nights: these are almost as rare as the Super Moon we experienced a couple of nights ago.

PTSD, brain injuries, epilepsy and memory loss have taken those every day natural times and made them treasured memories, not only because I love my kids but because one of them will never be the same again and it is not his fault.

That is what I cling to: my son's personality changes are NOT his fault. They are his wounds from serving in combat, defending his country, protecting his loved ones. Seriously, I deal with people telling me I cut him too much slack. Really? Well, maybe so. But if had been someone with problems as a juvenile, someone who always had a bad temper or didn't care about being around his family or kept himself locked up in a room, I could see their point. But he wasn't. He was a young man so proud of his hometown that he brought his Army buddies home whenever he could. They would tell me about how he would go on about being from the greatest place in the world. When Hurricane Katrina hit and I thought of going with a church to help, my son called and told me not to because his unit was going to be helping and he didn't want to have to worry about me being there with some of the “not-so-good” stuff going on with people taking advantage of a disaster and hurting others.

Mother's Day is nothing like what it used to be. If I get a moment with him, I will definitely be thanking God. If I don't, I will probably go through old pictures, old letters, old memories and still be thankful to God.

If you are about to experience your first or yet another Mother's Day in a world filled with PTSD, please remember that you are not alone. There are other moms out there who understand what you are going through. If you need help finding a support group, email me at monica_newton_writer@yahoo.com. Or reach out to Family of a Vet here and someone will be happy to assist you in getting the right resources. We care because we understand. We understand because we have been through and live with a lot of the same things you do.

Also, remember this: we as moms are a lot stronger than we realize. I didn't know how strong I could be until I became my son's combat buddy here at home, a name his own commander gave to me. We are your combat buddies, also. Let's smile and enjoy our Mother's Day and not let the “enemy” take it over. We can spend it with our children if we are able to or we can take comfort in the wonderful memories of how it once was. Either way, we are the lucky ones for having those brave young men and women in our lives. No one can take that away from us, not even PTSD.

Happy Mother's Day. :)

Monica Newton

Veterans with PTSD - Heroes or Monsters? My thoughts...

2012-04-24T20:21:00.001-07:00

In a time when hundreds of thousands of heroes and families are living with “invisible injuries,” injuries that cannot be seen, but have a very real impact on their daily lives, the Dr. Phil show had an opportunity on Thursday to make a difference. It had the chance to educate the general public about the wide range of stories that live behind the mask of post-traumatic stress disorder. It had the responsibility to help and not hurt. But, it missed the mark… by miles.

I am the wife of a Combat Infantry Veteran who has PTSD among other injuries. I am also an advocate that often spends 20 hours a day working with families like ours while caring for my own dear hero. I know their stories, their challenges, their fears. I also know that our heroes are not monsters.

Many families I know were approached by the Dr. Phil show to be part of Thursday’s show, and each one refused because of the tone of the producers. Spouses who were trying to talk about how their family was coping, about tools and support they’d found to help, were interrupted with endless questions about whether their husband was hitting them, about how often he was taken over by rage, about how horrible their lives were and how bad things “really” were. Those orchestrating the show were not looking for hope… they were looking for sensationalism.

So now, I feel a responsibility… a responsibility to try to tell the rest of the story… to fight against the stigma of PTSD that many warriors and those who love them face every day. It’s a stigma that was sadly strengthened on Thursday because of a drive for ratings. And thanks to that sensationalistic tactic, the jobs of advocates and spouses nationwide just got harder.

Why are our jobs harder? Because our veterans already sometimes feel like society views them as monsters. They are injured, they are living in broken places, and the majority of news coverage about PTSD covers the worst-case scenarios - the situations where heroes go too long without care, where their symptoms and struggles are ignored, where their family does not have the help and support it needs, where those in their support network are not educated with real-world information about this injury. While these stories grab headlines, they leave out the huge number of heroes and families who are coping, even when days are difficult, and building a new life with PTSD. This sort of coverage (which includes Dr. Phil’s episode entitled “From Heroes to Monsters?”) only serves to widen the gap between those who have served our country and those who benefit from that service but have little understanding about what post-traumatic stress disorder “looks” like in the average household.

That kind of coverage makes Veterans nervous about seeking treatment and getting “labeled” with a PTSD diagnosis. That kind of coverage makes potential employers less likely to hire current and prior servicemembers who have PTSD (the current unemployment rate for Veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan is at 12.1%). That kind of coverage makes it much harder for families dealing with the injury to reach out and find support. That kind of coverage makes the children in our Veteran community less likely to share their story (and thus find needed peer support) with friends. Basically, that kind of coverage is exactly what we don’t need.

What do we need? We need people to understand that while our families may be broken, we are not giving up. We need society to comprehend that PTSD does not automatically mean that the heroes we love are violent. We need healthcare providers to step in before our stories become headlines and help orchestrate proper, thorough care. We need people who are willing to use their platforms to showcase the resolve, determination, and unbridled stubbornness within our community to pull ourselves up and persevere in the face of PTSD. We need to spread hope and information about successfully coping… not spread panic and alarm.

I will not say life with post-traumatic stress disorder is easy. Our family has been living with it for almost six years. Many days are a struggle in our household… a battle between this invisible thing that attempts suck us dry and the life we’re building post-combat. But, we continue… and so do hundreds of thousands of other heroes and families.

So, Dr. Phil, I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I was by Thursday’s episode. And, I challenge you to offer a second look… a look at the heroes and loved ones who now spend their days educating themselves, pushing for treatment at all costs, finding ways to cope, and often helping others like them to do the same. I challenge you to showcase the families who are, slowly but surely, pushing forward. I challenge you to highlight the heroes and spouses who have faced domestic violence as a result of PTSD and have found their way back. I challenge you to tell the non-sensational stories… the stories that may not garner huge ratings… but will actually help foster hope and understanding. I challenge you to make a difference in the lives of those who have laid themselves down for you.

Sincerely,

Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and Life After Combat!

Monday Momism: Walk in Their Shoes Before You Judge

2012-04-23T06:12:00.002-07:00

This weekend has been a roller coaster of emotions following the Dr Phil show Thursday. The intent was probably a good one, but the intro turned it into a controversy that actually took away from what the message was most likely (hopefully) suppose to be.

PTSD has been a stigma ever since it was first associated with the Vietnam war. Yet other people in other situations can understandably have PTSD and it seems to be deemed acceptable: rape, the death of a loved one. A young father has to identify his precious son's body after he was killed by his mom's boyfriend. When PTSD was diagnosed, it was no surprise to me. I could certainly understand.

Jurors are told they could get PTSD after serving on cases that involve the deaths of children. Again, understandable. Just hearing about a child missing or murdered brings tears to my eyes.

When police officers have to “use deadly force” in a situation, they are given time off to cope. Understandable. Yet a soldier in a war zone does not have that option. He/she must keep constant guard for the next IED, roadside bomb, decoy.

What's NOT understandable? Soldiers and veterans with PTSD. Oh, no, why are they complaining? Why are their families complaining? So they go to war in a foreign country after being on a boat in their own country (Pearl Harbor) or woke up to the news that their country had been attacked and nearly 3,000 killed (9/11).

Soldiers, some of whom were away from home for the first time except for basic and AIT, some teenagers themselves, hearing a woman cry out in an alley, rushing to her aid only to find out it is an ambush. Soldiers finding mass graves, some with notes about the dead person's “crimes” against Saddam. Really, what did a child do to him?

Soldiers calling home because a young girl going to school for the very first time or playing soccer reminds them of their younger sisters or daughters; young boys remind them of their younger brothers or sons. These same children being used as decoys and bombs, most probably without their own knowledge.

Serving in combat and having a brain injury or PTSD does NOT make our heroes monsters. It makes them victims of a war they fought in order to defend our country. Now, perhaps the show intended to try to do good with this particular show. I don't really see that, starting with the title itself. Still, the difference is I am giving it the benefit of a doubt. A small one, however...VERY small.

They say that those who can, do, and those who can't, teach. I don't agree with that because I know some remarkable teachers who have done awesome things in their lives. Yet, I am curious, why is it that those who have never been to battle think it's no big deal? I have seen people shrug off my worries and experiences along with my son's yet they turn around and “whine” themselves about things that have not changed the course of a person's journey in life. They “whine” about their own mood swings, running out of coffee, being called in to work, a television channel messing up.

I think the worst way to handle PTSD is to continue stigmatizing. Calling our heroes monsters does NOT help. I think the best thing we can do is remember this: do not judge if you haven't walked in someone's shoes. I have had bad things happen in my life but I am the first to say I have never experienced anything like what my son must have in combat.

Another good thing to remember is that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. This doctor with his own talk show has been called a monster before as well. Whether the allegations are true or not, they are certainly all over the internet for people to see, as well as in newspapers and tabloids.

The bottom line, our heroes are not monsters. They are courageous men and women, some paid the ultimate price, some paid a significant price. As the saying goes “All gave some, some gave all”. I'm the mom of someone who gave quite a bit. Yet even when I hear of people making the stigmatizing worse when they are in positions to make it better? I don't wish what we have gone through on them. I consider myself lucky and blessed not to be in their shoes at all. Hindsight is better than no sight at all in my opinion. But what do I know, right? I'm just a mom. I actually like that. It gives me the added advantage when I need to “go Mama” on someone.

Survivors' Guilt Happens to Families, Too

2012-04-16T05:47:00.000-07:00

Survivors' guilt. We've all heard of it. A soldier comes home. His combat buddy doesn't. He doesn't feel like he deserves to seek help, apply for benefits. Why should he be compensated for that brain injury, PTSD, or lost limb? He got to come home.

That is the thinking of many of our returning troops and veterans. It is actually a pretty normal one for them. What some people don't know, don't realize, is survivors' guilt affects families as well. I'm here to tell you it's nothing to be ashamed of.

When our loved ones came home from combat, it didn't take long for most of us to realize something was different, something was missing. It was the light in their eyes, the laughter and spontaneity. Instead, there were hours of silence, a distance as if they were someplace else.
I was grateful my son came home. I'm still thankful every day that he survived Iraq. Yet I knew there was something wrong. The wonderful young man who loved his family, was popular with the girls, sparkled and lit up a room every time he entered, who didn't hesitate to go to war when called because he believed in his country, that young man came home with nightmares and epileptic seizures caused by a brain injury. He came home with mood swings and memory loss. He came home with PTSD.

But he DID come home. And it was because he did that I felt my own survivors' guilt. I was lucky. But there came a day when I had to put aside the fact that I was indeed blessed to have him come home and start the journey to get him the help he needed.

I remember going to a funeral with my husband. A family member was deploying. I didn't mention my son or his TBI and PTSD. I didn't want to “whine” when someone was going to be leaving. Yet after that person was safely home, I began to express some of my own experiences with my son's TBI and PTSD. I was then blasted in a private message for whining by another family member. My son was injured. Her husband was not. By the end of the day, I had removed her from my Facebook. We still do not speak to this day.

I was told by a spiritual counselor that perhaps she was dealing with her own survivors' guilt. Just as I would feel bad that I was dealing with a TBI and PTSD while others had lost loved ones entirely, she was facing the fact that her loved one was bragging about being protected in a bunker while some such as my son were on the front lines. Yet to this day, I wouldn't wish the front lines on her husband or anyone else.

Survivors' guilt affects our veterans and affects us as families. Neither is something to be ashamed of. Both are natural. Both are understandable. Reaching out to each other instead of blasting each other can help tremendously. Find a support group in your area. If you need help doing so, let us know. We'll help you find the resources you need.

Tragedy Through My Eyes

2012-04-14T20:11:00.000-07:00

On September 20th 2008, my husband experienced the most horrific tragedy in his life. Working overseas in Pakistan, he nearly lost his life in a suicide bombing. Miraculously he survived the catastrophic bombing, but has suffered ongoing side effects since that horrendous day.

He arrived in Pakistan on a 40 day job assignment, only to experience tragedy three days later. The first time I heard his voice over the phone, it was sheer anguish. All he could utter was, "I'm okay." But was he really? Would he survive his injuries? Was his heart slowly beating now but after we hung up the phone, would his life suddenly fade into eternity? I had no answer. I was told that he was involved in an accident, had facial lacerations, a doctor would be doing stitches and that he would be okay. But his voice....all I could remember was his anguish as he lay in a corner of a chaotic Pakistani hospital trying desperately to hold on.

As time slowly ticked by, more and more of the story began to unfold. Much of it continued to remain a mystery, such as his whereabouts. I sat at home helpless, waiting and hoping for the next phone call to come. I wanted to be with him but I had no idea where he was or how I would get there.

The answer was clear....Terrorism. A 1,700 pound bomb exploded throughout the luxurious Marriott Hotel killing at least 60 people and wounding more than 250. As the bomber drove up to the heavily guarded hotel, he detonated more than a ton of explosives leaving a 30-foot deep crater. It's a good
thing I didn't hear those details and the fact that my husband just arrived at the Marriott and was sitting in the parking lot, 35 yards away when it happened. If I had seen the photos of that parking lot, that almost every vehicle was completely demolished, I would have lost all hope of him ever
surviving.

Due to the sensitive nature of the work my husband was doing, I was not able to share details with anyone. I lived in fear of saying what I shouldn't, but wanting and needing to be comforted as a wife who lived through her own personal tragedy. I didn't know what I could and couldn't say, yet I needed prayer from people in my church and from my close friends and family. The gravity of the situation was horrible and yet I had to suffer a little more silently than I would have liked to.

Travel arrangements were finally being made so that I could join my husband at the hospital. He would be flown to Landstuhl Hospital in Germany, a place I was very familiar with after having lived in the area for 8 years. I was picked up by a special escort who led me to the place where I would finally get to see my husband.

As I walked slowly down the corridor, heart pounding, not knowing exactly what my eyes would see, a man walked slowly down the hall in my direction. When our eyes met, an incredible feeling washed over both of us. He had no idea I would be coming to Germany and he was overcome with emotion. We embraced for a few moments taking in the reality of what has happened, and
then made our way back to his room. I gazed over his fragile injured body that had received numerous wounds and injuries both internal and external. He had multiple wounds and his face was imbedded with glass and shrapnel. How he was physically even able to walk down the hall I don't know. I wanted to hold him and kiss his lips, but was afraid to cause him even more pain. Every part of his body appeared swollen, especially his face. This was the beginning of a long road to recovery.

The days and weeks at home passed slowly. Most often our days were spent driving from one appointment to the next, seeing a different specialist for each separate injury. The healing was slow but steady and appeared to be moving in the right direction. Some appointments were not planned but came suddenly when a piece of glass would seem to be working its way around the eye causing discomfort, and therefore had to be removed.

Before long, my husband was back at work doing the job he loves. He didn't reveal the extent of his numerous injuries to anyone for fear he would be kept from the work he longed to do. He loved his country and was willing to fight for it and die for it if necessary.

As life went back to normal, ours eventually did too. But the long term effects of that type of injury is something we were not aware of. We did not think that progress in the right direction could take a sudden turn. That is the day to day reality we are living in now.

Succumbing to the inability to control the pain, the desire to want to live a normal life yet unable to. Being at the mercy of a body that has moments of wanting to fight and moments of wanting to give up because the pain is unbearable. Desiring to take that prescription medication just to ease the
pain, but hating the fact that a day can't be lived without it. Frustrated and angry over not being able to do all that came so easy before. Wanting to be strong for your family yet feeling weak and unable to complete a simple task. Dealing with other symptoms such as fatigue, hearing loss, migraines, memory loss, trouble concentrating, emotional trauma, poor vision, dizziness, loss of balance, back and leg pain, sleep disturbances and nausea. Yes, life goes on but for the one who suffered a traumatic injury day to day activities can be wearisome and agonizing.

I don't know if total healing will ever come. I don't know if my husband can ever enjoy the sound of a thunderstorm again without his heart racing out of control. I don't know if he will get through a day without intense physical pain. I don't know if he will be involved in an accident someday
because he is so fatigued. I don't know if the day will come when he doesn't have to refill his prescriptions because he no longer has a need for them. I don't know if he'll ever sleep undisturbed through the night or wake up feeling refreshed. I don't know if he'll be able to do all the
physical work to keep up our home like he once did. I don't know if the memory loss will increase little by little over time. I don't know if he will be in too much pain to hold his new grandchild or if he will be able to play ball or sports with him as he grows up. I don't know if he will ever regain his health that he had prior to September 20th, 2008.

The only thing I am certain of is that I will honor the vow I made to him on June 2nd 1990, to love, honor and obey in "sickness" and in health. I am proud of the man he is and for the love he has for God, family and country. He is a true warrior. That is the man I am proud to be married to.

Submitted by Marion Esposito

My World, Now and Forever

2012-04-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

The inspiration to write this came from the recently ended “Love Letter Campaign”. I’m currently assigned to a WTU, and have basically nothing but time, so I spent part of today looking through the FOV blog. It was touching to read all of those heartfelt letters to spouses. Even though the campaign is officially over, I felt that I needed to contribute. Not as a spouse that’s a caretaker, but as the spouse with PTSD.

When I first met and got to know you, I was awe-struck. You had a way of carrying yourself that showed confidence and intelligence, and your beauty was spell binding. It took me a while to wake up to the fact that you were attracted to me, and I’ll admit that you made the first moves, but that was because I figured you were out of my league.

Now it’s ten years later, and you’re still out of my league. Your beauty has only improved over the years, and your qualities of intelligence, compassion, resilience, selflessness, and dedication have grown beyond the levels that any normal person should have. I love you for this.

You’ve moved, worried, and cried over the last eight years in support of my job and me. You’ve given so much and never asked for anything material in return. You’ve held me when I needed it, gave me space when I’ve needed it, and called me out when I’ve needed it. I love you for this.

I don’t know how you’ve held it together over that last few trying years. Your strength is amazing. You’ve been my caretaker, my counselor, my friend, and wife without fail. You never took me for granted, and didn’t leave when I shut down, or raged, or lied, or drank, or wanted to die. I love you for this.

You have done nothing but improve as a wife, a woman, and a friend, even while I was slipping into my own hole. Your support, love, conversation, affection, and stubbornness helped pull me out of that hole. Now that things are slowly getting better, I appreciate you more than I could ever express with words. The time we spend together, even when it’s doing something as simple as watching TV, is precious to me. Small things, like rubbing my back as I’m about to fall asleep remind me of why I love you.

You are my world, now and forever.

Love,

Tears of Terrorism

2012-04-09T21:50:00.002-07:00

I wrote this in February of 2011 for my English class I finished it the week my husband (Chad Eppinette) left me and our child because he thought we would be better without him. It was read by my sister at his funeral after he took his own life in July 2011. This poem/essay means a lot to me and it has very personal meaning. I hope it touches someone's heart and really reaches out to someone in need.

According to the Webster Comprehension Dictionary, terrorism is defined "as the act of terrorizing. A system of government that seeks to rule by intimidation or unlawful acts of violence committed in an organized attempt to overthrow a government." The problem that I have with this definition is that it is so simple. It is meant to be taken literally with no room for interpretation. Terrorism has taken a new meaning for the United States of America. Terrorism use to be thought of randomly and only related to foreign countries. It wasn't something that we thought of everyday. It is not just an act of violence to overthrow a government. Terrorism is a way of life for many people, a constant haunting ghost, and an unseen force that affects everyone it touches. Terrorism is generally defined as a physical act of violence. It is never defined for what it really is... A constant internal raging war.

Terrorism is about making an impact on society and its goal is to affect the society as a whole or disrupt the peaceful existence.

As a military spouse for six years, I can empathize this definition. Of those six years, my husband was serving in Iraq for three of them. I know firsthand how terrorism affects people and families. It is not just direct physical attacks on our security, but mental attacks on our stability and way of life.

Terrorism for me and my family is a way of life, a constant change; not knowing what will happen next. Terrorism is having your family ripped apart. It is living everyday not knowing if your husband will come home. It is waiting on a phone call from someone to tell you your husband has been wounded. Terrorism is the unknown and it doesn't end when the war is over, instead it follows you home. It lurks in the corners of your security, stability, self-esteem, and trust. It is becoming a one parent household in a house that use to be two. It is welcoming a soldier home that you don't even recognize, a new person than one than the one who left you for war.

Terrorism is a constant cycle of sadness, depression, and fear. It is wondering if the person you love will ever wake up. It is not sleeping in the same bed with the one you love. It is your child seeing you cry and being your comforter instead of you being theirs. Terrorism is doing it all because the other person you are supposed to be doing it with is gone. It is growing up fast and alone. It is being a mother, father, and counselor in one. It is not knowing who you are because you are trying to be everything.

For my husband, terrorism is death. Death because of the people he had seen die, the people he may have killed. Death was the constant sea he swam in. My husband, Chad, once said, "A lot of people like to play in the rain, but I liked to play in the mortar fire. I tried everyday not to come home." It is living with the choices he did or did not make. It is never being the person he thought he would become. Terrorism is paranoia, one that everyone and everything is dangerous.

It is insomnia, because when he slept, he remembered. Terrorism is feeling like you have no purpose, but to kill, because they trained him so well. It's being the father he told himself he wouldn't be. It is never waking from an endless nightmare. Terrorism is addiction or self medicating, anything to escape the pain.

It is a love-hate relationship. You love to hate it, but you can't hate what you love. Terrorism is every scar, every tear, every battle lost or won. It is every soldier, friend, or foe. Chad once said, "Terrorism is me."

Terrorism has struck, it started in a war years ago that followed us home. It exploded on our lives and it has battled and destroyed many aspects of our life. The effects of terrorism will never disappear. It hid in the shadows just waiting for the day it could claim it as its own. Terrorism is a way of life.

I am not the only wife, just as my husband is not the only soldier, and we are not the only family.

Many governments my describe terrorism as a political attack and it may stem from politics, but the roots go deeper than you can ever see.

In Loving Memory of Chad Eppinette

Submitted and written by: Kacey Eppinette

Book Review: Suzie Bitner Was Afraid of the Drain

2012-04-07T18:42:00.003-07:00

My dad made my lunch-
He meant to be sweet,
But the meal that he packed
I'm not sure I can eat....

This is the beginning to a poem that left me smiling and quite possibly with a few giggles, My Dad Made my Lunch by Barbara R. Vance. As the poem continued, it left me thinking about how life after combat has changed my husband and how this would most definitely be something he would do.

Suzie Bitner was afraid of the Drain is a book filled with poems and illustrations by Barbara R. Vance. This book is perfect for children and will leave your little one full of laughs, smiles, and things they can relate to. From poems about Patience, Sharing, My Brother Is Driving me Crazy, Braces, someone being Sick to Maisy brushing her teeth and so much more, parents will be thrilled to see their children smiling as they read through 'Suzie'.

Barbara created illustrations for every poem she included in 'Suzie', pulling people of all ages into each page. 'Suzie' will turn a child's mood from sad to happy after reading a few lines of any poem in the book.

While Suzie Bitner was afraid of the Drain is not a book based on deployments, life after combat or anything related to these things, it is a book that people of all ages will enjoy reading. It is a book filled with things that children and even adults can relate to. 'Suzie' also caught my attention in the fact that my nine year old, who has ADHD, is drawn to it. She can read and comprehend. While reading the poems, it took her to another place and left her with a smile. The way the poems are written and pictures are illustrated

Overall, this book is a wonderful read. The poems and illustrations have been created in ways that kids will understand. 'Suzie' is a book that I would recommend being in all homes and shared with many. As I read through it, it took me back to when I was a child reading Shel Silverstein's Where the Sidewalk Ends and left me thinking this is the first book that has held a place next to Silverstein's book.

Suzie Bitner was afraid of the Drain
Suzie Bitner was afraid of the drain, and so she never showered,
And consequently smelled like milk that was left to long -- and soured,
"I simply won't go near the tub", she pinched her face and cried.
"The moment I turn the water on, it will suck me down inside!"...

Oh, did I leave you hanging onto what happens to Suzie and her bath? Pick up a copy of Suzie Bitner was afraid of the Drain for your house, for your child. Bring childhood in yourself to life again as you share the laughs and insight of situations and experiences in this book.

About the Author, Barbara R Vance

Barbara Vance wanted to make a contribution to a cause that she felt was important. Her
grandfathers, father, sister, and brother-in-law had all served in the armed forces; so it’s not at all
hard to believe that she chose the USO’s United Through Reading program as a perfect
complement to her children’s book, “Suzie Bitner Was Afraid of the Drain”.

“Suzie” is a hardcover collection of 124 poems with over 100 black-and-white illustrations. It
has received both a Moonbeam Children’s Award and an Indie Book Award, has been nominated
for a Children’s and Young Adult Bloggers’ Literacy Award and for a Digital Book World
Publishing honor, and was in the running for a Texas Bluebonnet Award. Lauded as the largest
collection of children’s poetry since “Where the Sidewalk Ends”, the book has received nods
from The School Library Journal, KERA’s Art & Seek, and numerous others.

The poems range from humorous to whimsical. With situations such as getting stuck in a tree,
training a dog, and a girl who turns into a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, “Suzie” offers a
lighthearted perspective of childhood in an upbeat tone, without any apologies for the little
things that are so important in the life of a child. It is a book that boys and girls can grow with,
appealing primarily to elementary-aged children. To both encourage and teach children, some
challenging words are interspersed throughout and, on her website, the author makes available a
free printable dictionary, written just for vocabulary words found in the book.

But here’s the wonderful part: although the book is available through major retailers, what many
people don’t realize is that books purchased on Barbara’s own website reap a special reward. In
an effort to pair her love of children’s poetry with a cause that means a lot to her, Barbara has
decided that, for each book sold on the “Suzie” site, she will donate one to the USO’s “United
Through Reading” program. Departing service members select and read a book aloud; the event
is recorded; and the book and accompanying DVD are shipped home to his/her kids, so they
have the opportunity to see their parent and hear his/her voice. “It means a lot for the children of
our soldiers to be able to see their moms or dads reading to them, even when they’re far away,
and to follow along as the stories are read to them,” she said. “I am proud to do what I can to
make their time apart a little easier.”

We hope you will get the word out so more books can be provided to our Troops’ families
through this very worthwhile project! For more information, please visit www.suziebitner.com.

Suzie Bitner was afraid of the Drain
By Barbara R Vance
April 2010

Brittney Biddle
FOV Communications Liaison
brittney(at)familyofavet.com

Book Review: Mama Moonlight’s Wisdom for Warriors with Wounded Souls

2012-04-07T16:38:00.000-07:00

Theresa Kahle starts with a very small simple introduction. She gives you her two rules and lets you know that is how she bases all of her teaching throughout the book on. Now after I read the first two rules, I started to think “wow this isn’t what I thought it was!” When I read the title of the book, it caught my attention because it gave the impression of a Native American Warrior base of healing and at this point I had nothing to lose. I personally am not big on the Christian based books, but this one is different. She has mixed Native American beliefs with those of common Christians.

Theresa Kahle holds a bachelor’s degree as well as nursing background and working in a psychiatric hospital yet the approach she uses of “Mama Moonlight” gives you the idea that she is trying to help not be a “head shrink”. Because it is an elder like approach, you almost feel like you have to do what she says out of respect. That “been-there-done-that” attitude would seem very appropriate for the general male wounded warrior.

The book takes a very “work book” approach at healing a soul of a wounded warrior. The first half of the book gives you lots of examples and details into why each animal she gives you is right for you. She works with the healing totem concept and personally I think it’s a great fit. Her PTSD totem has two meanings, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as well as Possum, Turtle, Snake, Dog.

While I read each description and how they relate to a wounded warrior’s soul I could easy see who in my husband’s life were the turtle, snake and dog. She goes on to explain HOW to walk the healing path, and that you are already on this path, realizing it or not. She suggests a note book approach to journaling and tracking your progress so that you are more aware of how your soul is healing and where you are in the path. Something that may be discouraging is that she says that it takes roughly 5 years to heal, however she also states that you may be on the last years of the healing path by the time you picked up this book. She gives a good list of books, television shows, movies and other media to find more “healing” in. Each “chapter” starts with a very pleasant quote that really gets you thinking. She uses both quotes and sections from the Bible as well as Native American ways throughout the entire book. The way the book is put together you never feel forced into believing a set religion, just the general idea, that this is not in your control entirely but you do have the control and now the means to heal your soul and move on.

On a personal note, I would highly recommend this book for those who are READY to start a spiritual way of healing. My husband is a very infantry based man, therefore this type of book may not do him a lot of good and there is also a good chance I’ll never get him to read it. Even with his background in Native American/ Nature based beliefs. However, I know that I need healing from past experiences as well as from suffering from secondary PTSD and I know that I can get great use out of this. I really feel it’s a great book for any spouse who has dealt with the PTSD side of loving a war hero. Perhaps it may even enlighten a person who is having a hard time understanding why our warriors act the way they do. The entire section on the possum is a great simple way to compare how warriors deal with PTSD. There are way too many sections I wanted to quote, this is one of those books that I will push around to anyone who will listen!

Author: Theresa Kahle
(Copied from Amazon.com)

Theresa Kahle graduated from nursing school in 1979, when PTSD was being explored due to the responses of Vietnam Veterans to war. She received her bachelor s degree in education in 1982 and worked in psychiatric hospitals throughout the eighties and nineties. In 2007, when she began planning to leave the profession, she wrote this book to share her professional perspective with the young men who were coming back from Afghanistan and Iraq. Far from being a psychiatric theory, it is an attempt to do what she always did in the hospital, which was talk to each person and make sure he knows what he needs to know to cope.

Author: Theresa Kahle

Dorrance Publishing Co., Inc Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania 15222 United States

60pp $9.99 Kindle $15.60 paperback on Amazon.com

ISBN: 978-1-4349-0669-4 ISBN-10: 1434906698

Special Features: Numerous quotes from Native Americans, Bible, additional “healing” recommendations (i.e.; books, movies and Native American Medicine)

Religion & Spirituality Genre

Monday Momism: Taking Care of You

2012-04-02T03:25:00.002-07:00

Dealing with the effects of a beloved veteran's PTSD and/or brain injury can take a lot out of a person. Dealing with our own emotions can, too. It starts even before PTSD, any injury. It starts when our loved ones have the orders to go to war.

We live in fear (and faith) while they are in combat. Most of us can't help but watch the news. It's hard to sleep at night knowing that it is daylight over there. While communication has increased greatly since the first deployments back in 2003, it still seems like ages between phone calls, Skype or emails.

Keeping the fear inside can cause it to fester. Some of us may not be lucky enough to have a group we can share it with. Parents often fall into that problem. My son was one of the first in our community to go to Iraq/Afghanistan. It took several years even for some people to say they actually knew someone personally who had deployed.

I was still raising two young children at home, one in grade school and one in junior high then high school. They had enough to deal with as the siblings of a deployed soldier. One slept with his older brother's sleeping bag the whole time. The other hugged the huge teddy bear her “Bubby” had given her every night, hoping he could feel the hugs across the miles.

What did I do? I wrote. In my journal, in spirals. I wrote letters to my son so that he would hear his name at mail call every day, even if it was just a short note. Our mailman called the letters “top priority”. I wrote poems and essays, such as how I spent his 20th birthday, how a phone call from him made me feel, how I grieved over the loss of soldiers I will never have the honor of meeting down here.

By getting it out through writing, I wasn't allowing it to consume me and overwhelm me. Yes, late at night when the kids were sleeping, I admit I had the news on. During my lunch hour, the same. But I was able to write down the fears I was too terrified to say out loud. I even turned some of them into a fictional paranormal murder mystery I am finally getting the courage to let go public.

Writing allowed me to hurt and cry when I needed to and also be there for my other two. I was a cheerleading mom, played volleyball with my daughter and her classmates on Friday evenings. I would go watch my younger son's basketball games.

I wrote during my son's deployment and it helped me with my frustrations. Living with the diagnosis of PTSD and a TBI in that same young man, I continue to write today. For so many of our veterans and us as their family members, the war will never be over, although we occasionally get a little “R & R” from it. Still, we live one thing the same as we did during their deployments...we don't know what the next day is going to bring.

It is OKAY to feel frustrated. No one understands what you are going through if they have not gone through it themselves. Yet, even today, I can proudly say I am adult enough not to wish on someone else the roller coaster ride of PTSD.

You are going to have some rough patches as I'm sure you've already discovered. That's probably what brought you here today. During those times, if possible, take a break and get it out in your own way through a healthy alternative...your own passion in life.

Use whatever your passion is to help you deal with your frustrations. If you like to write or journal, do so. If you like to paint, do so. If you like to walk or jog, play a sport, sing, play a musical instrument, do so. Take care of your needs and it helps strengthen you to take care of your veteran. You will soon see a difference in your own strength and outlook. I know I have.

Monday Momism: First Steps for Dealing With "Firsts"

2012-03-26T05:33:00.003-07:00

Remember your child's first steps? As parents, they are imprinted in our hearts, our memories, in pictures and video if we are lucky. There are so many more “firsts” in the lives of our children: the first day of school, first sporting event, first dance, first date, first time behind the wheel of a car. Exciting times, right?

There are other firsts, too, that we don't look forward to. First peer pressure experience, first heartache, first day of combat. We watch the news, we keep a phone nearby, we pray, we go through family albums, we sit in their room, smell their sleeping bag, pet their favorite stuffed animal, feed their beloved pet.

If we're lucky, they come home. A lot of them don't come home alone. This brings on a whole new set of firsts. First noticed changes, first feelings that something's not “quite right” First nightmare, first argument that doesn't make sense to us but makes perfect sense to our veteran.

How do we deal with these firsts? Trying to find a way may be exactly what brought you to this page today. The “first” thing to do, the most important, is to understand that you are not alone and this is not as uncommon as others might lead you to believe. More and more of our combat veterans are coming home with brain injuries, PTSD, epilepsy, mood swings, headaches, memory loss. The very ones who say differently usually do not have a family member dealing with these issues. Some that did go over? Those bunkers protected them or they never saw the front lines and still don't get it. Personally, this mom doesn't get how that could be but it has been confessed to me by some of those same veterans.

It may be hard to get your veteran to seek help. In that case, perhaps bring help to the home. Perhaps you could invite a veteran that has been through a similar experience, whether in the same war or a different one, to the home. I have seen firsthand how these veterans have a bond and can open up to each other. Why? Because they “get it”, they understand what the other has been through.

This is the number one problem in my opinion. So many don't get it. The irony is, I remain hopeful and thankful that someone else's child hasn't gone through what mine has. I don't have vindictive feelings about not being understood. I've even seen a parent who thought I was overreacting change her way of thinking after she experienced the same thing with her combat veteran son. Then she came to me seeking understanding. Yes, I was there for her. Her apology was heartfelt and I accepted it. Still, wouldn't it be nice if our combat veterans, if us as family members, could get that understanding without everyone having to go through it before they decide they want to help?

Another first step is to seek a group for yourself as the family member. More and more are opening up to parents. If you don't have one in your community that does, then perhaps it is part of your journey to open one yourself. I was about to do that here in mine when an active one invited me in. I was a mom but I was being accepted.

Eleven years ago, I would not have seen myself on this journey. To be honest, and I believe you other parents can attest to this, if I could have my son as he was, I'd gladly be one of those people who don't get it. But I'm not. My son's defense of his country led to his brain injury. His injury led to my fight for his physical needs and my need to not feel alone.

You are not alone, either. If you are having problems finding a group in your area, feel free to leave a comment or email me at monica_newton_writer@yahoo.com. I will be happy and honored to help you to find the right resources in your community. If there aren't any, it could be a sign that you need to be the first to take it upon yourself to make a group.

We were there for their first steps. Now let's be there for each other's first steps into life as the family members of combat veterans dealing with PTSD and TBIs.

This is Me

2012-03-21T21:49:00.000-07:00

Hey Friends,

Just going to lay it all out on the line. Whatever you think of me or what he's told you, I don't care. I'm the one who has lived with TBI and PTSD the last almost 6 years and I know the deal.

First, I don't think anyone understands the depth of his injuries. He sustained a penetrating brain injury, Suffered a sub arachnoid hemorrhage and as a result had part of his right temporal and parietal lobes of his brain removed from an anti-tank grenade thrown at his Humvee. He has pretty extensive brain damage to include damage to his right frontal lobe from the blast, not just the damage to the temporal and parietal lobes. He took another blow to the head in November when he was helping our landlord trim trees. Of course he decided to help trim trees when I had gone to a VFW meeting for the ladies. I took him to the hospital after I got home because he had all the signs of a concussion. Docs confirmed it was a concussion, but since then he has gotten progressively worse, especially in the paranoia department.

This past weekend, he told me he thought his close friends were monitoring his computer activity. How, I don't know and he doesn't either. Monday morning he came home from his AA meeting telling me that someone was "following" him and he had to take evasive maneuvers in traffic to get away from whoever was following him. I played along with it. This isn't the first time. Last time it was random strangers hacking his accounts and placing tracking devices on his truck and listening devices on his clothes. He was hospitalized for that. That time he voluntarily went.

When he took off this time, he accused me of cheating on him while he was in the hospital. Between visiting him everyday, sometimes 2x a day, the kids, school, and work, it's not like I had a whole lot of time to run around on him, but he doesn't think things through logically. I've never ever run around on him period. Ever. I know he's also told people I was out to take his money because I had him sign some documents. He accused me of it in counseling, he told his sister, etc. Ok, so I've been plotting the last 15 years of marriage to wait for the right moment to steal it?? No, what I had him sign was papers for his social security disability because it's being re-evaluated and he had to sign off on the paperwork. He's not rational. At all. He has moments of clarity alongside moments of instability. He doesn't trust anyone. Like I said, he even expressed thoughts that was of his closest friends was monitoring him.

I tried to talk to his sponsor and I got the "you need to attend AA meetings because family is important". Excuse me, I'm trying to keep my family in tact. Family is of the utmost importance to me. I so wanted to tell his sponsor off and not in a very nice ladylike way either. And Please tell me when I have time to attend AA meetings between my husband, children, graduate school and work. I'm barely keeping my head above water as it is and his issues go far far beyond alcoholism. He has brain damage and PTSD on top of it.

The last 2 times he has taken off is because I told him to chill when dealing with our son. Our son is autistic. After disciplining our son once the other night, which I agreed with, my husband crossed the line. He grabbed our son's face and screamed at him for not looking him in the eyes. Autistic s don't like eye contact. Our son does the same to me. Autistic s don't like to be touched. Our son will push me away, his mothers But in this instance our son had no clue what he'd done. I saw the look on his face. His IQ is 70. It's the nature of the beast. My husband then began to push our son several times into his room. That's not discipline, that's bullying. He's not going to push the autism out of him. He's not going to yell it out of him. Our son's issues are also due to a chromosome deletion, a rare one at that. It is what it is. My husband's problem is that he has not accepted our son for who he is. But my husband has not accepted who he is post-injury. He's been avoiding it like the plague.

So the result is that my son is scared of his Dad. Understandably. I am too because I never know when he's going to flip out. So I drew the line and said chill. I wouldn't let my husband do that to our daughter either. I did the right thing. And I don't regret it one bit.

Our daughter has expressed wanting to hurt herself. I even had a deputy from her school call me and tell me. She is in counseling. This is enough. I just ask that y'all as his friends, encourage him to get help. I've done all I can at this point. I don't want a damn thing from him except to figure himself out. I want the best for him.

That said, I think he's a powder keg waiting to blow. I've told the VA and I'm telling you. His paranoia is out of control and if he doesn't do something about it, he will break at some point and become another statistic. He's deteriorating.

He knows he needs help because he keeps going back and forth on it. He even went so far on Monday as to call the place he went to in 2009 asking to come back he said because he knows he's so up and down. My husband is his own worst problem. The doc at the psych ward said he needed at least one medication for the rest of his life to regulate his moods. He refuses to take anything. At least get squared away, If not for anyone else, he needs to do it for his kids.

I think I've said my piece/peace. You can think what you want of me, but I know what I've done and I know who I am as a person, woman, wife, and mother. I know he blames me...he has to have someone to blame because it keeps him from having to deal with himself. I haven't always handled things perfectly, but it's not like this came with a manual. I've spent the last 6 years of my life living this...from Walter Reed to poly-trauma rehab in Richmond to this very point, I've been trying to keep him from imploding. I've been there every step of the way and I'm exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally. But I don't want you to worry about me. My kids are suffering far worse than I can imagine. At least I can handle it. They can't. This unfortunately is their defining moment i life. I just pray they will learn from it and be okay.

Thanks for listening,

Your Friend

Monday Momism: We are Not Alone

2012-03-12T13:00:00.001-07:00

Hi. Are you sitting there, looking through the internet, feeling alone and isolated because of a situation beyond your control? A situation looked on by others as no big deal, the deed is done, get over it? If so, look no further. You have come to a place where your feelings, your experiences, your pain is understood. If you had a loved one serve in a war zone, you do have a place where people understand. You do have a family beyond your physical one. You have us.

It honestly does not matter if you are a spouse, a sibling, a child, a parent or even a friend. Here at Family of a Vet, we understand those moments when you miss how it used to be, when you have your own moment of survivor's guilt because thankfully, your loved one came home but he or she came home so different. We understand that PTSD and brain injuries are just as real and just as painful as losing an arm or a leg, just in a different way.

Many times I have been told how wonderful it is that I want to help our veterans. Many times I have made the statement that if I could turn back time, if I could keep my son from going to war, I would have. I didn't. I couldn't. But I can take our experience and use it to help not only my family but those who are also going through it. You, your family, your veteran.

There are times when I am angry, really angry, at what going to war has done to my family. But I am taking that anger and I am turning it into an educational process, an aid to help others who are dealing with the same fears and anger that I am.

I am proud of my son just as I am my other two children. My son's service deserves to be saluted and recognized just as every warrior's does. He was willing to fight for his country, his homeland, his family. So were hundreds of thousands of others. Some didn't come home and my heart truly breaks for those families. Some came home seemingly shrugging it off and saying it was no big deal. Those are the ones I look at skeptically. Perhaps it just hasn't hit them yet. Some, like my son, came home with physical problems that now cause headaches,
epilepsy,memory loss and pain. There is a comrade with him 24/7 called PTSD. It causes nightmares, pacing, trust issues, flashbacks.

It also causes roller coaster days and nights. One day he seems fine. Yet in a matter of minutes, it can turn around. You know what I'm talking about, right? That's what brought you here. We found out the hard way that the phrase that pays tribute to our veterans about being willing to write a blank check up to and including their lives is more than a phrase. It is a very real fact of life and those lucky enough to come home? They and their families seem destined to pay “overdraft fees” for the rest of their lives.

Let's help each other. You are not alone. I am not alone. Our loved ones are not alone. Let's support each other and them by taking that first step. Reaching out to each other. Reaching out FOR each other. If you need someone to talk to and you want to help others know that they are not alone, contact us. We are a family. All of us.

Today in my life... let's talk about SUICIDE.

2012-03-10T21:33:00.002-08:00

I typically share these "today in my life" updates on my private Facebook wall, but it is with a heavy heart tonight... and an ongoing mission... that I share it here, and several other places as well. I hope that you'll do the same.... I pray that you'll do the same. We've *GOT* to move people to action.

Today in my life...

I am the founder of Family Of a Vet and in that role I talk to, by phone, e-mail, and message, hundreds of veterans and loved ones a month. Truthfully, I've lost count.... and not because I don't care to count, but because these people are *SO* much more than numbers to me. They're family... heroes... and mirrors of myself and my own dear hero.

There was a new study highlighted this week in the headlines, stating what most of us who work in this "world" already know. The suicide rates among our heroes are continuing to climb. The members of our military, our veterans, and their spouses and caregivers are at an EVER INCREASING RISK OF DYING.

In the last few days alone, I've talked with two people who attempted suicide, one who stopped at the last moment, and to the loved ones of three heroes who were lost to suicide. TWO days... SIX people directly tied to these "statistics" we're talking about. It's heartbreaking... and it's everywhere. If I chose to, I could let the the sadness of this overwhelm me, but I won't. I refuse to. Instead, I choose to call out to you... to the world... and beg for, plead for, and demand help.

There are studies that indicate the suicide rate among veterans (currently said to be 18 per day... 1 every 80 minutes) is approximately 2 or 3 times that of the "average" population. The military suicide rate is now officially also higher than that of the average person. So basically, being a hero makes you more likely to die at your own hand. There's something incredibly, terribly, monumentally wrong with that.

We *HAVE* to stop waiting for someone else to "fix" this... for the government, or the military, or the VA, or whomever, to come up with the solution. While they're catching up to a problem no one was prepared for, people are dying... and they're dying fast.

So, what can we do? Believe it or not, there are some straightforward (while not completely simple) answers that CAN help.

First - If you know a Veteran, get informed about PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) - a leading cause of suicide. You can click HERE to get started. If you don't know a Veteran, go to your local VA, Veterans Service Organization (like the VFW or American Legion) and tell them you want to help a local veteran. I promise they can find you someone. Make a connection. Get involved. Let these heroes (and their families) know you care. 1% of our population has served in the military... that leaves 99% to be the eyes and ears... the watchmen... the lifelines. Surely that's an even trade? They laid themselves down for your freedom... so now you spend a little time trying to make sure they don't die as a result?

Second - Don't be afraid to TALK about suicide. Saying "Are you thinking about killing yourself?" is not going to cause someone to suddenly decide to commit suicide. *BUT* not asking can be a matter of life and death. If they answer yes, then call their local VA Mental Health Department (during business hours, if they aren't immediately at risk) or the National Crisis Hotline (available 24 hours a day, for those immediately at risk, or those who are worried they might be). The number for the Hotline is 800-273-8255. Press 1 if you're a Veteran, anyone else can just dial directly. By pressing 1, Veterans can get help, referrals, and a host of other services within the VA.

Third - Help us spread awareness and keep this conversation *GOING*. Share this blog post. And, if you're on Facebook, please CLICK HERE to share a photo with a ton of information about who heroes and family members can contact if they're in crisis (the same photo featured at the top of this blog post).

HELP US SAVE LIVES. It's not up to "them"... it's up to each and every one of us. Heroes dying is not okay. Caregivers dying is not okay. We've got to start not only paying attention but TAKING ACTION.

Thanks for listening,
Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and Life After Combat!

Book Review: The Things They Carried

2012-03-09T12:51:00.001-08:00

When I first encountered “The Things They Carried” by Tim O’Brien, it was 2003 and the book had just been announced as the “One Book, One Chicago” selection at a press conference. A friend had given me a copy and even though it was a Pulitzer Prize finalist and five inside pages were dedicated to glowing reviews, it sat on my bookshelf unread, collecting dust for six years until rather unexpectedly, I met and fell in love with a wounded OIF soldier and my search to understand him began.

Tim O’Brien is not only an award winning, critically acclaimed, great American writer, he is also a Vietnam Vet whose bold and vivid storytelling creates an experience the reader won’t soon forget. “The Things They Carried” is a war story, a collection of short stories of the men of Alpha Company fighting the Vietnam War, it is also a story of the fragile yet ever-enduring human spirit as it struggles with both the horrific reality of combat and the foggy, shape-shifting memory of it.

“The Things They Carried” is a masterly crafted book, deeply insightful, shockingly brutal and for families of a combat vet, may even feel strangely familiar. Once left on a shelf to collect dust, my copy now contains scribbles in the margin, earmarked corners and highlighted passages far too many to quote, this book has become an essential part of my journey to understand my vet and all the things he still carries.

The Things They Carried

Written By: Tim O'Brien

Published: 1990

Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Submitted by: Amber

Monday Momisms: From Just a Mom to Supermom

2012-03-05T15:53:00.000-08:00

I walked in Monday morning and got a seat in the second row. I couldn't believe it. I was actually beginning my first day of training in a program to bring people awareness of what our service members and veterans and their families were going through, as well as learning steps I could take to help them in my own community. There was just one thing I was nervous about thanks to my personal experiences the last six years dealing with the aftermath of my son's brain injury: I was just a mom. Would these veterans accept me?

Our trainer was awesome. She made us all feel welcome. She gave us an opportunity to introduce ourselves. Again, I was nervous. I wasn't a veteran, I wasn't the spouse of one. I had been at one time, but my ex had been fortunate enough to have a desk job and never had to deal with any conflicts during his time in the Air Force. Still, our lives as a military family living in housing out in California and in Texas had been a piece of cake compared to what my kids and I would go through as the mom, brother and sister of a soldier literally in a war zone, and even more so what our soldier and his comrades would face.

We signed confidentiality statements and quickly became comfortable with each other. I was grateful. I could feel I was being accepted. The stories that were shared hit home. I even made the statement that I could put my son's name in place of some of theirs, the experiences were so similar. They all felt that way.

The training class was filled with veterans from Vietnam and the current conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. We quickly went from being “students” to being family. Just as Family of a Vet is made up of veterans and their family members, Bring Everyone in the Zone is made up of family as well, people who's lives have been forever changed by combat situations. Both share a common goal: to let veterans and their families know they are not alone and to bring awareness to the public regarding these special heroes and their families.

I learned a lot last week. I was also told something while standing at the elevator by two of the veterans I had come to know: “You're not just a mom. You're Supermom.”

Supermom is back home and ready to legally and ethically make changes in my own community to better serve our veterans and loved ones. From experience, I know I'm not the only one. Let's join forces for those who took their job as defenders seriously. Supermoms, Superdads, SuperSpouses, Superkids, Supersiblings, you can do it.

Submitted by Monica Newton

Living with TBI

2012-03-04T21:16:00.001-08:00

My husband is retired Army National Guard. He was deployed to Iraq for 18 months and while there suffered a TBI due to a Humvee accident. TBI has become a very large part of our life. Emotions are different, thought process is different, tolerance is different, mobility is different…welcome to our world TBI.

As a caregiver for someone suffering from TBI, I see his frustration and struggles. The desire to recall words that use to come easily to him, the daily search for his keys, the headaches, the mood swings and balance problems, TBI has become the focus of our lives. It is there at 6am in the morning when we wake up, and it is there at 10pm when we go to bed. It is an all-day struggle. It interferes with the small daily tasks, with job performance, and it interferes with hobbies and the things in life that use to be pleasurable. It is an invisible wound that most people are not aware of because on the outside a person who suffers from TBI may not show signs of an injury.

Despite all the differences, in many ways my husband is the same. He is courageous, persistent, honorable, adaptable and determined. Many of the traits that made him an excellent soldier are the same traits that serve him in his struggles with TBI.

Although he relies on me to be his memory, to find his glasses, to bounce off of when he loses his balance and to handle most of the finances, he still finds something humorous in his daily struggles with TBI.

For my husband, some days are better than others. On the good days we make small steps forward…..and we gladly take those small steps because you have to learn to walk before you can run.

Submitted by Karen

Dancing in the laundry room... finding romance even in Life After Combat

2012-03-02T19:06:00.000-08:00

So, for those of you who follow my updates, you've probably noticed that our family has been in a really yucky place lately. It's been our "PTSD on SUPER DUPER steroids" time of year, that thanks to a bunch of anniversary dates clustered all together for about 6 months means that our fall and winter each year are... uhm... we'll go with "interesting" (and those of you who live in this "world" will TOTALLY get that).

But two nights ago I was doing my normal nightly running around like crazy to get laundry and school bags and lunches ready for the next day when the hubby found me in the laundry room. To the sound of the running washing machine, the "thump, thump, thump" of tennis shoes in the dryer, and the not so romantic smell of the kitty litter box, he held me for a moment and rocked me back and forth... and we danced. It lasted maybe 30 seconds... a brief moment in the middle of a chaotic day and a difficult week... but a brief moment that I've stored in my heart. A light in the darkness.

I find in living this life that holding on to those moments is one of my most important coping mechanisms. I could have pulled away... thought of all the "stuff" that had been said (or yelled) in the preceding days and weeks and months... I could have held on to the hurt and anger... I could have rightly (at least by some standards) still been not "okay" enough to give in and enjoy that moment. But, if I had made that choice, I would have been on the loosing end. Because, I tell you honestly, in the most unlikely place, we found a bit of romance... a bit of connection.

And, not only would I have lost, but my husband would have also. In his PTSD/TBI world, that 30 seconds was a big effort. It was him reaching out, showing his heart, and offering up his emotions. And, if I had shut him down, there's no telling how far I would have pushed down and away the glimmer that was trying to work it's way out.

So, here's me saying that romance in Life After Combat isn't easy and that it often appears in the most unlikely places. And, this is also me hoping that we all remember to keep setting aside the "stuff" so it has a place to grow where it can.

((HUGS)) as always,
Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and more!

Venting ala Blog...

2012-02-26T18:55:00.001-08:00

So, tonight I'm pissed. There's really no other way... no prettier way to put it into words (my VERY southern mom hates it when I use that term...). And, in my typical fashion, I'm going to blog. Read or don't read... I'm okay with that :)

I live 24 x 7 in a household run by PTSD and TBI (traumatic brain injury). I am a full time caregiver of a physically and mentally wounded hero. I am the mom of an adorable, but very precocious five year old. I also spend every ounce of the time I have left trying to figure out how to help other heroes and families that are living in households like mine. To put it simply, my life is stressful. My days are long. My nights are never long enough. And, I do my best.

Today, someone (a random stranger) found the time, after talking to me for 2 minutes in the middle of an extremely chaotic moment, to track down someone I know and completely bad mouth me and my family. I have no way to address that person directly without pulling the "middle man" into the fray (which I won't), but I thought maybe instead I'd use my frustration to explain a little bit about my family, my life as a caregiver, and why I (and others like me) may not always be in perfect form... no matter how hard we try.

For the past 5 days my husband has been in a sleep cycle that includes 90 - 120 minutes of sleep followed by 6 - 8 hours of being awake. He's having horrible nightmares (PTSD) and his sleep rhythm is completely messed up (TBI). As a result, in the last five days, I've had 90 - 120 minutes of sleep a night because as a caregiver and mom, I don't get to "catch up" during his next sleep time during the day.

Not only am I sleep deprived, but my husband's sleep deprivation means his mood swings are all over the map. Hello, super giddy hubby. Hello, super meanie. Hello super giddy hubby. Hello, Mr. Meanie on steroids. As a result, I'm in full time "management" mode... reducing and anticipating triggers, soothing circumstances, managing moods... for roughly 20 hours a day.

I'm also in "super mom" mode. Our five year old (remember I said "precocious"!) has to stay busy... c-o-n-s-t-a-n-t-l-y during these times or it's a recipe for disaster. A bored, whiney five year old = a PTSD nightmare... ask anyone.

I've also had a headache of the super-duper form for almost a week, have several (fellow caregiver) friends with their own crises that I'm trying to at least be a listening ear for, have several pieces of paperwork (VA related) that are overdue and I'm trying to get finished, my house is a wreck and we have a VA home visit on Tuesday (36 hours give or take), I need to go grocery shopping, I'm way behind on laundry, there are several household business-related things that I need to address... and the "to do" list goes on for about five miles.

I'm describing all of this, not from a "poor me, don't you feel sooooo sorry for me" standpoint (because, honestly, I'm not a fan of that), but because the life I'm describing is the "typical" life of the majority of caregivers who are living with and loving a Veteran with PTSD, TBI, and/or physical injuries. We have our "stuff", our hero's "stuff", our kids "stuff", and then about a billion things that a typical person wouldn't even imagine. Because of this, we become kick "grass" managers, referees, consolers, cajolers, nurses, and jills-of-all-trades... but even with our new found super powers (ha! don't I wish!) we're very much human. AND, we are very much tired, struggling, frayed, barely-keeping-our-heads-above-water humans at that.

So, the next time you meet a random person in public... or a member of your family who's caring for a Veteran... or are with a friend who is living this life... please remember just how much is hidden in the smile and life of that caregiver. Remember, try to understand, don't judge, and most of all be kind. We have enough weighing on us without someone tearing us down, promise.

Thanks for listening!

((HUGS)),
Brannan Vines
Proud wife of an OIF Veteran
Founder of FamilyOfaVet.com - an organization dedicated to helping heroes and their loved ones survive and thrive after combat with real world info about PTSD, TBI, and more!

Humor - Even When Lost

2012-02-23T18:06:00.000-08:00

My grandfather has been one of the most quintessential people in my life. He's the only man I can honestly say has always been there for me no matter what from birth until his mind would no longer let him fill that role. He's the man who taught me how to ride a bike and lectured me about the hemline of my skirts. He was the closest thing to a "dad" I had in the moments when it mattered most.

While I was back home visiting last week I went to go see him. He's in a nursing home now with Parkinson's Disease and moderate dementia. There are days he doesn't know his own name much the less those of family and friends. A friend from my Mom's church stopped by and saw him while I was there - someone who he likely wouldn't have even recognized before the dementia, but since she's there often visiting a friend she stops and says hi.

She came up to him with a big genuine smile and said "Jack, you're looking good today!"

Without missing a beat he looked right at her and said, "I'd rather be good lookin'!" and smiled the same smile from ear to ear that I remember seeing with every joke he delivered for as long as I can remember.

I love that his sense of humor is still intact and he's enjoying life. He's not going to let the fact that he can't remember most things get him down - he's going to keep RIGHT ON doing what he loved most - making himself and others smile...even when he doesn't probably remember why he does it because that's who he was and in some ways still is. He doesn't let what's wrong in his life stop him from doing what his heart tells him is right - bringing others joy.

When I told him who I was, he looked at me puzzled yet smiling and said, "When did you get so old?"

I quipped back "When you did!"

And that same smile appeared.

Yup - he raised me to do the same. To bring others joy even on the days when I'm having a hard time. While I was there he was complimenting me over and over on always being a good kid and showering me with praise. He didn't know it, but I'd been having a rough day mentally and was very grateful for hearing that I was still a good kid. :)

We exchanged several rounds of teasing and smiles before I had to leave. It might have been the best moments I have had with him in half a decade.

At the end of the day, we make the choices in how we choose to spend our time on this earth. Certainly not every moment can be filled with happiness and laughter, but I'd like to think I've taken a page from his life. I'd like to think I spend my time and energy lifting up others with a smile and some encouragement rather than ignoring them or letting them down because at the end of the day, that's what it's all about. My grandfather taught me that. Can he help you learn it too?

Just Frustrated

2012-02-21T16:06:00.000-08:00

I originally posted this a few days ago on my personal blog, Southern Girl's Stand, and have now decided to share it here because of the amazing response I received from it... I am sure many of you can relate to my feelings. Being able to relate to someone when things are tough somehow makes us feel human again and in a "better" place because we know we really aren't alone.....

We have officially survived the first month and few days of Kev's retirement. To lay it out there, it has been exactly one month and six days since Kevin's retirement began and to be honest, I am still struggling to process it in ways that I never thought I would.

Let's take the main factor of it all... My husband is 31 years old and *MEDICALLY* Retired from the army. People, do we realize why one would become medically retired? It is all really beginning to hit me like a ton of bricks just tumbling on top of me. I have known for quite awhile the serious extend of my husbands injuries, but there is just something about having to face the facts and to put it simple, accept it all. Kev was MR due to the injuries he sustained while deployed to Iraq. In our worlds, many of these issues seem so common, yet when I look out into the world that I once knew...they are far from common and truthfully, I feel the distance between myself and family/friends because they just don't get "it". I know to some that one thing may sound absurd, but to the ones living this life after combat, it makes perfect sense.

I wish I could just make a detailed list of all the changes that not only Kevin has been through and will continue to go through, but also the changes that each one of us in our house has had to endure. Too many times I have already heard comments on "how nice" it must be that Kevin does not have to work or how "great" it is that he is out of the army and yet, to avoid the "drama" or misinterpretations, I typically just change the conversation. In all honesty, I want to shout back to these people that I would much rather have Kevin in the army full time like he was and working all the time if I could have him back as he was before 2007. Yes, I am blessed that my husband is still alive, but he will never be the man I married. Don't misconstrue what I have just stated, because he IS the man I love and the man I am IN love with, but when it comes down to it, he isn't the man that he use to be.

Too often, I also have people tell me that to look at Kevin, one would never think there was something wrong. Sadly, I find myself trying to keep the giggles from seeping out at this. Really? That is the first thing people think? I have a laundry list of health issues and all the time hear the same thing about me. When are people going to open their eyes and realize that just because someone doesn't look like they are sick or doesn't look like they have a disability that it doesn't mean there is nothing wrong with them?

Tonight I am just feeling out of sort and simply alone. It is 1:30 in the morning, everyone else is in bed, I can't sleep, and even though I have friends I could call I really just don't want to try to explain why I feel the way I do when they expect me to be okay with it all and to be excited that we no longer have the worries or concerns of the army. I want my friends to tell me it's okay to be angry for what we are going through, it's okay to be completely pissed that even though my husband returned from war, a part of him died over there. I want them to tell me it's okay to in a sense "envy" others relationships because they carry on with life because they have never had to live through the hell that war brings. I want to see people appreciate what they have more and quit taking it for granted because their loved ones have to work late or whatever. I want to be told it's okay to get upset, it's okay to be frustrated, and you know what...it's okay to even shed a few tears now and then. What I don't want to hear right now is "Be glad he's home", "Be glad that he will never deploy again"... and so on. Yes, I am glad for these things, but I would do it all over again if I knew Kevin would come home unwounded...

It just breaks me to see him on days when he can barely walk. It breaks me to see him snap over things that seem so trivial to most. It breaks me to see him no longer find happiness and joy in the simple things in life that he use to. I hate seeing Kevin hurting mentally and physically. I hate seeing him struggle with simple tasks and daily routine. I hate the permanent changes. I hate people simply not understanding or even trying to understand. I despise how people that promised they would stand beside us through these times and would always be here don't even bother to pick up the phone anymore.

So, yes, I would rather have lived through another 11.5 years of Kevin active duty army and retiring at 20 years other than seeing and living through my husband becoming severely injured in Iraq (multiple times) and being permanently changed.

~Brittney Biddle
Proud Wife of an OIF Wounded Veteran
FOV Communications Liaison
brittney@familyofavet.com

PTSD INJECTION

2012-02-18T02:38:00.001-08:00

J and Kateri Peterson have a new update on their progress with the injection for PTSD. Check out http://damespaz.blogspot.com/2012/02/quick-update-on-2nd-injectionand.html for the update....

The Love Letter Campaign: The Love I Hold

2012-02-15T08:10:00.000-08:00

Thank you to all that submitted during our Love Letter Campaign! We truly appreciate each and every one of you and love that you so openly wrote and allowed us to share your letters. Throughout the year, we will continue accepting submissions and will launch our second annual Love Letter Campaign on Veterans Day, November 11, 2012.

Again thank you so much to everyone that participated this year, thank you to our dedicated readers, thank you to the ones that thought about writing, yet just couldn't quite find the words. We've all be there and there is still time to write for our next one!

"The Love I Hold" will be our final submission for this years campaign.

-Brittney Biddle

My Dearest Bran,

I have thought long and hard about how to write my feelings for you; we have certainly been privy to a way of daily life experienced by few, and understood by only that few. However we have managed to pull through stressors that many other couples could not. I have decided the best way to let you know my love for you is to fill your heart full of superlative adjectives.

I am the most grateful wife to have the honor of holding your innermost thoughts. I am the proudest wife in the world when it comes to your service, your sacrifice, and your dedication to our country, our family, and our marriage. I am the most hopeful wife there is knowing that our journey together will hold significant meaning in the grand scheme of life. I am most excited when thinking of how far we have come, and pondering where we have the ability to go. I am fondest of the times we have held each other close, not being able to see the light at the end of that inevitable tunnel, knowing that somehow our love for one another is enough. And finally, you are my greatest friend. I love you sweetheart; I know our love will continue to grow even during those moments where our superlative adjectives aren't so positive.

May the world know the love I hold for you and the love I know you hold for me,

Jennifer

This blog post is part of The Love Letter Campaign... a project started by FamilyOfaVet.com to encourage those who love a hero to write a letter sharing their story (where they started, what they've faced together, and why their love endures). It's not just for spouses, but also for parents, siblings, caregivers, and friends. It's about telling the "rest" of our stories... stories that continue despite PTSD, TBI, and the challenges of life after combat. To share your love letter or find out more about the campaign, visit http://www.familyofavet.com/love_letters.html