Yesterday was fun--tornado warnings as far as the eye can see, people freaking out about them on FB, and texts flying about hiding in bathtubs! Meanwhile, where am I? Not in the tub. Not in the closet. Hell, I'm not even in my house! My oldest son and I were on the porch looking for the funnel clouds! So, we're a little nuts, but hiding in the tub for a tornado that may or may not come seems silly to me. I was told by a friend that she'd see me in Oz after the tornadoes had gone.
This tornado scenario, while completely true, is just a segue into my true topic of bitching today: redeployment. If you read my last blog, you know about the FRG meeting and how the boss was towing the party line about exactly when the boys would be home. "The orders are for one year, so it will be one year give or take a couple of weeks." Fucker. If you already have an idea of when you are deploying next time around, do you really expect me to believe you don't already have the flight schedule for redeployment?
Anyway, (sorry, venting again) PTSD and suicide were another topic of conversation at this meeting. The usual crap about how the redeployment brief will have someone there to explain the symptoms and what help is available to your soldier. Yippy skippy! So already we have wives in a panic, expecting their husband to come home from deployment a totally different person who will either have violent tendencies or will be so depressed we need to have 24 hour suicide watches set up. Can we all just slow down a bit and breathe?
They all come home fucking weird. Weird. That's really the most appropriate word I can think of. You're not going to have really noticed much over mid-tour because that's a honeymoon stage and for a month or two after they get home, that happy blissful feeling will still be in place. Wait for it. For a year they've been in the land of Oz and now they are home and have to learn to be a normal Americans and not one of the flying monkeys. It takes some getting used to. You may have to adjust some things or pay a bit more attention to the shit that bugs him. Most of this shit is completely livable. Believe me, if he needs help, you'll fucking know it.
Here's some examples of what I mean. My husband is NOT allowed to have vodka. Ever. Vodka makes him have flashbacks and stand on the porch screaming at the POG neighbours about all the people he has killed. We do not get into a vehicle until it has been checked for IEDs. I do not wake my husband up by shaking him by the shoulder or shouting--this may lead to a very brief confusion on his part where I am an Iraqi soldier trying to kill him. I do not expect nor ask my husband to ever sit with his back to a door if we go out. And large crowds are bad, very bad--people can sneak up on you in crowds.
This kind of a reaction from a soldier is really typical from what I've heard. Some guys duck and cover when they hear a loud noise. Some guys have to go out on the freeway on their bikes and blow off steam. None of this is unmanageable. But none of this is a reason to assume that my husband is out of his fucking mind and needs drugs for PTSD. Just go off post, talk to the shrink and don't claim it or go through Army One Source which is free and confidential. No big deal and definitely nothing panic worthy. And for the girl at the meeting asking about "what if I think he needs help, but he doesn't and I can't go to the chain of command behind his back, and he get mad and bitch, bitch, bitch. . . " If it's that bad, fucking dial 9-1-1!!!
I personally know guys that have PTSD--guys that are on drugs to keep dreams and paranoia and anger and depression under control. If your husband has it, you will know, believe me.
As my hubby likes to say, they don't come back with PTSD. They come back with NTBS--No Tolerance for Bullshit. Don't be freaking the fuck out, ladies. They may be weird when they come home, but at least they'll be home where we can be sure they are safe! We wives are a resilient bunch. If we can handle a year of being alone and not getting laid, raising kids and going to school, we can handle any weirdness our husbands throw our way.
No comments:
Post a Comment