fabiodriven
12-16-2013, 12:23 AM
I want to say right off the bat, if you find this boring or it's not your cup of tea don't read it. I'm not looking for praise or thanks, we've been through that. I signed on the line, it was my choice. It's my burden to bear the consequences. I've had some stuff bottled up in my mind lately. I feel like I have to let it out. If I can educate some people along the way, all the better. I'm not looking to brag. There are a lot of people out there that did a lot more than I did during the war. This is more about what happens to some people after.
I've recently found myself becoming what I pictured as a rowdy veteran when I was a kid. One of my favorite movies growing up was "First Blood". Now, I'm not comparing myself to John Rambo. It's just that since I got home (January 2004) I have had some problems. I've dealt with a plethora of physical and mental problems all stemming from my deployment, that's no secret. What I recently asked myself was if there was one point, one event, one cause to all of this. I couldn't think of one single event that did, but I thought of many that would have contributed.
I talked with a squad mate for a couple of hours on the phone today, he's got the same problems as I do. I didn't even have a chance to bring it up when he asked me "Hey, do you ever wonder if there's one specific event that has caused us to be this way?" I told him I had just been asking myself the same question. We were both very curious because as messed up as we are, you would think we were on the PT boat steaming up the river in "Apocalypse Now", when in fact we were in more of a support role. We were involved in light combat on several occasions but not full blown battles. Not enough in either of our minds to cause us to be the way we are today. So we started thinking of things that may have caused us to become what we now are.
First and foremost, I deployed out of Fort Drum, NY. During our preparations to deploy, Uncle Sam stuck us with 24 different needles, and that's not including the ones for administering Small Pox vaccination or anything like that. Inside those needles was a concoction of chemicals, some of them allegedly toxic, some of them allegedly completely untested (Anthrax vaccine). Not only that, but allegedly none of these chemicals had ever been investigated as far as how they would all "jive" when administered all in the same body within a short time of each other. We were basically human petri dishes. There is no possible way having these things injected into your body can have any sort of beneficial results aside from if they happen to save your life at some point. If they never did that, then you've just been injected with some nasty shite for no reason. We also had insect repellants that were designed to be sprayed on the exterior of uniforms, sleeping bags, or tents, and then dried. It was not designed to come in contact with the soldier. We lathered ourselves with this stuff. It was that or get eaten alive by biting insects. While we're on that subject, I developed more than one anomaly on my skin while I was over there that I had always attributed to some sort of insect bite, but I never knew for certain. They would fill up and turn purple and then have to be drained. I probably had that happen at least half a dozen times while I was deployed and never had I seen anything like that on my body prior to my deployment. They showed up more than once after I got home though, probably a handful of times within a 4 or 5 year period. My thoughts were that maybe it wasn't an insect after all. It was something that happened to me during the deployment for the first time in my life, then for a while after, then never again. What insect lives both in Iraq and here, but didn't live here before I got deployed and left the area 4 years after I got home? Obviously there is no such thing. So what would cause that? Take your pick. Depleted Uranium, smoke from the burning feces, chemicals applied both topically and internally... It's a crap shoot.
The hazards in that country are only now being realized. As I mentioned already, there is depleted Uranium all over that country from our tank rounds. They've been there since the first gulf war. My camps were all towards southern Iraq, more than likely an area coalition forces would have been encountering Iraqi soldiers. Even if they didn't get that far north in 90-91, we certainly had been there in 2003. Our first three camps were built by us with our own hands. Our tents did not have floors and we lived on the very sand that may have been harming us while we were none the wiser. Our first few showers didn't have floors either. We stood in the sand. The MSR (Main Supply Route) we lived on was MSR Tampa. It was peppered with A-10 rounds and burnt out vehicle carcasses so there is no question as to what had transpired there just before we had arrived. I haven't looked into it too deeply yet, but I would venture to guess there's even more than just depleted Uranium in the sand there. Which brings me to my next hazard. The sand.
The sand over there isn't what you think. It's not what you see at the beach or in the sand pit. It's like talcum powder. It whips up with the slightest agitation or breeze. It's extremely fine material. So fine, in fact, that our respiratory system cannot filter out all of the particles we're breathing in. In those particles is god knows what and in turn, inside of me now is god knows what. Our nostrils and the insides of our noses had some odd sort of scabbing. You could actually see it on some people. We all dealt with that the entire time we were there, and some of us dealt with it for years after getting home. Another thing about the sand there, it is a very high percentage salt. Everything was covered in salt. If you sweated (and you did) you would end up with sweat stains soaking through your clothes which would then dry with a salt line clearly outlining the area that had been wet. It would also harden like starch. To this day I get irked dealing with any sort of powder. When you've lived in that disgusting powder for as long as I have with it in your eyes, nose, and every other orifice, with the wind whipping it up into everything, your dinner, your breakfast, getting out of the shower and walking back to your tent in a sand storm... You get the picture. It gets old. I have a tough time dealing with cement mix and mortars and stuff. My buddy had the same problem. He used to work waterproofing basements. He would cut and break foundations, add his pipes and pumps, and cement it all back into place. Between his physical ailments (I'll touch on that later) and not being able to deal with concrete all day every day, he had to resign from his position where he made a very good living. He is now 100% disabled through the VA.
I was a truck driver in the army. We hauled fuel in 5k fuel tankers. Our trucks were M818's that were from the 60's and 70's. There is no insulation between you and the outside, just sheet metal. They are very loud and the exhaust stack comes out forward of the passenger compartment which isn't legal on road vehicles outside of the military. We hauled JP 8 and we handled it a lot, both loading and off loading. It's basically diesel fuel. We ended up with it on our skin from time to time and it fricken stinks. Between having that exhaust stack in front of me all day every day and swimming in JP 8, I was starting to develop some issues. The amount of hours we drove on a daily basis varied, but some days we would drive for 12 or even 14 hours. For the last couple months of my tour I would arrive at our destination with a migraine that was just literally pounding to the point my eyes were squinted and I would have to dash to get some chow and then immediately go to sleep only to start over the next day. It was incredibly trying, but I couldn't just stop. I didn't have a choice, I had a job to do. So I went for months going to bed almost every night with a migraine headache. I became very sensitive to the smell of JP 8, whether it was already burnt or still unburnt. To this day if I go into a room with an oil furnace running, I can smell this odd smell, I can taste it, it's not quite burnt diesel and I can't quite smell it, it's odd... It's almost as if I can sense it. I'm sorry, but there are some things so odd with me I lack the ability to explain them. But the smell, sense, whatever it is I get, I can't stand it. I have to get to fresh air. I've had other people right next to me on many occasions and I ask them if they can smell it. I've not yet had anyone tell me yes. Meanwhile it's overtaking me to the point I can't breathe.
As I touched on earlier, we burned human feces on a daily basis. The job was rotated so we didn't all burn it every day, but it would blow around everywhere. You'd go around to the shitters, collect the crap by pulling the bucket out of the back of the John, haul them all to the burn pit, dump them in, cover it with diesel, and light it up. Then you had to stand there for hours on end stirring the crap because the fuel floated on top and the crap just boiled underneath. Burning a fire from the top down is extremely inefficient. It took a really, really long time to do. We also burned all of our trash as well. Neither of these are healthy for you in any manner, shape, or form. Throw into that the smoke from burning bodies, buildings, and god knows what else.
Those are some of the speculated causes to the problems myself and so many others suffer today. The verdict is out as to whether or not I'm correct about any of this. What I will list out now are the problems they may have caused. Again, I'm not looking for sympathy or understanding. I'll tell you right now, there are likely very few, if any reading this that can understand it. I am the one who has the problems and I don't understand them, so it's unlikely others do. A lot of the things that go on in my head are tough to describe, so I'm going to do the best I can. My aforementioned squad mate, the one I was on the phone with for a very long time today. As much as I hate to admit it, I had very serious doubts about my dear friend not long after we got home. Yes, I had my problems almost immediately after getting off the plane and returning home, but his problems were really bad. His deployment also got cut short, he wasn't there nearly as long as myself or most of the other people, which made me question his issues even more. He is the one I mentioned having been in basement waterproofing. Not long after we got home he was having issues with working, getting along with his wife, and just getting through the day in general, "supposedly" I thought at the time. He was, and still is, getting a LOT of assistance from the VA and various veterans associations. So much, in fact, that I thought it looked a little fishy. A lot of the people I deployed with still hold those feelings today. I do not. Although I have had my share of issues over the years, never until this past spring (Late May, early June) did I realize what I was in for. One would imagine that over time maybe these things would get better. After all, time heals all wounds, right? In this case no, it does not. In this case I seem to be getting worse and worse, which is part of why I've decided to write this today. I have many fears, many I shouldn't have and many I know inside are unfounded, yet I cannot shake them. One fear I currently have is that at some point I may not have a mind right enough to accurately share this information, so here I document it with you fine people. But I digress. Back to my buddy.
So I thought my buddy may have been taking some liberties with the support provided us. I just didn't think there was any way he could be as fawked up as he is. Now here I am, a fellow soldier that saw everything he did in his deployment, that knows more than anyone what he had been through, and here I am doubting him. Now if I'm doubting him, you can only imagine what people think of him that have never been there. He gets it all the time from people because he's only 32 or something and he can't work and hasn't been able to for a couple of years. People laugh at him and people put him down from time to time. My problems are now on their way (if they're not already there) to being every bit as bad as his, and you know what? Now I can see what he was going through. I am living it right now. I am now in contact with the very same charities and agencies that he was and having almost the exact same problems he was. This is where it gets tricky to explain so I'll do my best. My outlook on life is not what it should be. I get overwhelmed before I even get out of bed. The most simple task I can obsess over and worry about until it gets done. Upsize the problem, upsize the worry. I get worried all the time about something and then multiple things until I overwhelm myself and then nothing gets done. I give up before I even get started. I can no longer hold a regular job. I worked at my last real job for almost 5 years. It was very easy and it paid really well. My work salary combined with my monthly disability check made for no financial issues. I paid my bills and then some. Then in the spring I lost my mind. I left my job. I had to go to the hospital as I was no longer in control of my own thoughts and actions. My boss really didn't want me to go and he bent over backwards trying to get me to stay. I told him I was going to step down, I didn't want the job anymore. This wasn't the first time my personal issues had affected my work, and it was by far the worst incident. I didn't want to burden him anymore. Not only that, I didn't want to burden anyone anymore. The real reason I was all set with accepting my job back was because I didn't think I'd be alive long enough to go back to work. I spent 4 or 5 days in the loony bin at the VA. I got out and a day and a half later I tried to kill myself. The cops and ambulance showed up at my house and hauled me off to the local hospital, as they do not deliver patients to the VA. I spent a night in the Brockton Hospital and the next morning they transported me back to the Brockton VA, at which point I escaped their clutches and made my way back home. I was on the run for a day and a half before I gave myself up. These are not the actions of a healthy mind. I then spent another week in the loony bin.
This year has been the worst year of my life. Things have gone downhill really, really fast for me. The sunshine bothered me. I would squint and look down at the ground. Sunny days in general bothered me. That's not normal. I feel like the odd man out wherever I go. Many of you saw this first hand at Trikefest this past year. I am reckless. I ride my Buell much faster than I had in years past, and not always sober. One of the first things I did when I got to Trikefest this year was attack the Backbone on my 225DR. It was clear after my first attempt (which drew blood) that it wasn't such a good idea right at that moment. Well I tried it again, and fell again. Then I tried it a third time and fell again. If The Stud wasn't there to stop me I may still be trying to get up that fawker right now. Then I wiped out on the 500. No regard for my own well being whatsoever. That's just kind of how I operate right now. That's not normal. I work crappy jobs that don't pay well and I end up flipping out and walking away. Prior to this year, every move I had made job wise was up. Better pay, better job, until this year. Now I have nothing. I have $146 in the bank, it's the 15th, I own a home, and I owe a lot of different people a lot of money. In years past, I moved up. Now I'm moving down. That's not normal. A very big problem I have is I am dependent on having a significant other in my life or else I'm not happy. That's not normal. That is one of the very few questions I had that I believe I have found an answer for though. I was talking to a fellow vet that served over seas and he very simply asked me if I always feel alone no matter who I'm with or what I'm doing. I told him yes, that's exactly how I feel, save for the times when I'm in a relationship with someone. That's the only time I feel "normal" and seem to operate like a "normal" human being. Viola! That explained one thing to me. The problem is, when I'm single I'm messed up enough that no one of the opposite sex wants to get near me, and I can't say I blame them, but I can't be "normal" without a member of the opposite sex in my life. It's a catch 22, and those I'm getting very used to. I smoke like a chimney, on the weekends I drink like a fish. It's the only time I smile, and half the time I can't remember what happened.
A very recent development I've had is my hips and lower back feeling like they're getting ready to throw in the towel. Physically I've always been very healthy. Now I feel like I'm 60. I did some laps around the yard on the DR in the snow today, only for about 20 minutes, and I felt like my whole lower body was going to give out. I'm curious to see what happens the next time I go to New Hampshire. The odd thing is, my squad mate's back has been deteriorating at a very rapid pace over the last couple years with no real explanation as to why. He now walks with a cane.
Again, this is hard for me to put into words. I feel like I'm not doing anything wrong or abnormal, but the results of my actions and the reactions of those around me continue to say otherwise. It's as if my mind isn't processing the information in front of it correctly. I feel as though I'm not doing anything wrong, yet I continually end up dealing with the repercussions of my actions and sometimes I can see after the fact how I was wrong. No matter how many times this happens, I am completely blind to it while it's happening. Only after do I figure it out. It makes me question everything. Things I've done in the past and what not. I've lost multiple relationships, jobs, opportunities, friendships, you name it, due to my ailments.
Everyone's suffering varies in one form or another, although there are also a lot of similarities. I direct my problems inward, to myself. I blame myself for a lot of things, whether or not they're my fault. I'm my own worst enemy, and I'm very hard on myself. Some of us project our problems outward. I was at a fellow veteran's house a couple of years ago, a guy I served side by side with. His wife makes a very good living. They've got a nice house and all that happy horse shite. We had gone out and had a few drinks and then went back to their house. I was spending the night. Something happened, I don't know what, but before I knew it he had his wife by the throat up against the wall right in front of me. I immediately wrapped my arm around his throat and choked him to the ground, he's a big boy. He submitted and I let him up. He immediately went for the kitchen, specifically where the kitchen knives were kept. His eyes were blank, he was looking right through me. He looked me in the eyes with a smile on his face and told me he was going to kill me and then kill his wife. Luckily they were having their kitchen re modeled and the knives were put away. I still had to fight him again though. The next day we parted ways and it wasn't a huge deal. That's not normal. From what I've been told, 22-24 vets kill themselves a day. I know why and I know how. The amount of times a week that the thought of suicide crosses my mind is absurd. We're just not afraid of death, and I'm not saying that proudly. There is something seriously wrong with us. I've got more stories just from the small amount of guys I'm still really close with, I can only imagine what the rest of my company has gone through, or the battalion, or the army in general.
The VA has absolutely no issues whatsoever pumping us full of chemicals that do nothing but mask problems and turn us chemically dependent. They put me on Klonopins in the spring which are highly addictive, but they took the edge off my anxiety at least briefly. Then I was addicted though. I got off of those when they switched me to an anti depressant which I initially really liked, but that only lasted 4 days. At first I liked not feeling depressed anymore, but I found out really fast that not only was I not feeling depressed anymore, I wasn't feeling anything. I couldn't feel bad which was good, but I couldn't feel good which was bad. So I stopped all medication by late in the summer. I don't like that stuff, it's no fricken good at all. The keys to me feeling good and improving myself are two very simple things. Working out and Marijuana. Here again is yet another way in which I'm cursed. Marijuana is not currently legal where I live, but if I don't smoke pot I won't work out. If I don't work out I won't feel any better and I'll not be improving my situation at all. The only substance at all that keeps my mind in check is a natural herb with next to no side effects, which I'm not supposed to take, but they'll gladly pump me full of addictive chemicals that cause more problems than they solve. As if I don't have enough issues.
My whole point in writing this is to attempt to share something from the other place I've been in, and am currently still at. Whether or not I will ever return is not yet known. What set this in motion today was when I realized how much I didn't understand about my fellow soldier that was going down the very same road I am now. He just went down it ahead of me. Now that it's happening to me, I can assure anyone who may have any questions that these problems are in fact very, very real. I have gone from a more than productive member of society who was always doing or building something to someone who cannot maintain a relationship, a job, and doesn't know how he's going to be paying the mortgage upcoming. Every aspect of my life is absolute shite, which is why I wouldn't mind if it ended soon, but I'm pretty sure that's a delusion. If anyone can explain to me which thoughts in my own head I should believe and which I should dismiss, I'm all ears. How do you dismiss something you "know"? If you know in your heart of hearts that your life is absolutely shite and nobody can tell you otherwise, how do you change that way of thinking? It's not just a thought, it's something that I know for a fact, like Suzuki's really, really sucking. All in all, my life really isn't that bad, but something inside of me doesn't see things that way. Something inside of me has given up, my spirit is broken. I'll never marry or have kids, I'm too old now. I couldn't afford to take a girl out to dinner right now anyways, never mind raise a family. What's the point? It's not getting easier, it's getting harder. Nobody truly understands. I get underhanded comments from people when I try to explain things or they just tell you things aren't that bad, I'll get through, whatever. Maybe I will, but that's not guaranteed. Many of us haven't. If any of you have sat there and read through this, forget about me. This isn't about me, this is about us. I learned today how powerful this invisible enemy is, it can even turn those closest to us against us as well. We look down, we are down. It's tough to deal with people who have the problem we do. It's not an excuse though. Sometimes we're quiet, sometimes we don't go out. Sometimes we say odd things, sometimes we're inappropriate. Many times we're misunderstood, and many times we're overlooked. We get strange looks from people and sometimes strange treatment. We'll be dealing with this for the rest of our lives. Just remember, you'll never understand, but you can be understanding.
I've recently found myself becoming what I pictured as a rowdy veteran when I was a kid. One of my favorite movies growing up was "First Blood". Now, I'm not comparing myself to John Rambo. It's just that since I got home (January 2004) I have had some problems. I've dealt with a plethora of physical and mental problems all stemming from my deployment, that's no secret. What I recently asked myself was if there was one point, one event, one cause to all of this. I couldn't think of one single event that did, but I thought of many that would have contributed.
I talked with a squad mate for a couple of hours on the phone today, he's got the same problems as I do. I didn't even have a chance to bring it up when he asked me "Hey, do you ever wonder if there's one specific event that has caused us to be this way?" I told him I had just been asking myself the same question. We were both very curious because as messed up as we are, you would think we were on the PT boat steaming up the river in "Apocalypse Now", when in fact we were in more of a support role. We were involved in light combat on several occasions but not full blown battles. Not enough in either of our minds to cause us to be the way we are today. So we started thinking of things that may have caused us to become what we now are.
First and foremost, I deployed out of Fort Drum, NY. During our preparations to deploy, Uncle Sam stuck us with 24 different needles, and that's not including the ones for administering Small Pox vaccination or anything like that. Inside those needles was a concoction of chemicals, some of them allegedly toxic, some of them allegedly completely untested (Anthrax vaccine). Not only that, but allegedly none of these chemicals had ever been investigated as far as how they would all "jive" when administered all in the same body within a short time of each other. We were basically human petri dishes. There is no possible way having these things injected into your body can have any sort of beneficial results aside from if they happen to save your life at some point. If they never did that, then you've just been injected with some nasty shite for no reason. We also had insect repellants that were designed to be sprayed on the exterior of uniforms, sleeping bags, or tents, and then dried. It was not designed to come in contact with the soldier. We lathered ourselves with this stuff. It was that or get eaten alive by biting insects. While we're on that subject, I developed more than one anomaly on my skin while I was over there that I had always attributed to some sort of insect bite, but I never knew for certain. They would fill up and turn purple and then have to be drained. I probably had that happen at least half a dozen times while I was deployed and never had I seen anything like that on my body prior to my deployment. They showed up more than once after I got home though, probably a handful of times within a 4 or 5 year period. My thoughts were that maybe it wasn't an insect after all. It was something that happened to me during the deployment for the first time in my life, then for a while after, then never again. What insect lives both in Iraq and here, but didn't live here before I got deployed and left the area 4 years after I got home? Obviously there is no such thing. So what would cause that? Take your pick. Depleted Uranium, smoke from the burning feces, chemicals applied both topically and internally... It's a crap shoot.
The hazards in that country are only now being realized. As I mentioned already, there is depleted Uranium all over that country from our tank rounds. They've been there since the first gulf war. My camps were all towards southern Iraq, more than likely an area coalition forces would have been encountering Iraqi soldiers. Even if they didn't get that far north in 90-91, we certainly had been there in 2003. Our first three camps were built by us with our own hands. Our tents did not have floors and we lived on the very sand that may have been harming us while we were none the wiser. Our first few showers didn't have floors either. We stood in the sand. The MSR (Main Supply Route) we lived on was MSR Tampa. It was peppered with A-10 rounds and burnt out vehicle carcasses so there is no question as to what had transpired there just before we had arrived. I haven't looked into it too deeply yet, but I would venture to guess there's even more than just depleted Uranium in the sand there. Which brings me to my next hazard. The sand.
The sand over there isn't what you think. It's not what you see at the beach or in the sand pit. It's like talcum powder. It whips up with the slightest agitation or breeze. It's extremely fine material. So fine, in fact, that our respiratory system cannot filter out all of the particles we're breathing in. In those particles is god knows what and in turn, inside of me now is god knows what. Our nostrils and the insides of our noses had some odd sort of scabbing. You could actually see it on some people. We all dealt with that the entire time we were there, and some of us dealt with it for years after getting home. Another thing about the sand there, it is a very high percentage salt. Everything was covered in salt. If you sweated (and you did) you would end up with sweat stains soaking through your clothes which would then dry with a salt line clearly outlining the area that had been wet. It would also harden like starch. To this day I get irked dealing with any sort of powder. When you've lived in that disgusting powder for as long as I have with it in your eyes, nose, and every other orifice, with the wind whipping it up into everything, your dinner, your breakfast, getting out of the shower and walking back to your tent in a sand storm... You get the picture. It gets old. I have a tough time dealing with cement mix and mortars and stuff. My buddy had the same problem. He used to work waterproofing basements. He would cut and break foundations, add his pipes and pumps, and cement it all back into place. Between his physical ailments (I'll touch on that later) and not being able to deal with concrete all day every day, he had to resign from his position where he made a very good living. He is now 100% disabled through the VA.
I was a truck driver in the army. We hauled fuel in 5k fuel tankers. Our trucks were M818's that were from the 60's and 70's. There is no insulation between you and the outside, just sheet metal. They are very loud and the exhaust stack comes out forward of the passenger compartment which isn't legal on road vehicles outside of the military. We hauled JP 8 and we handled it a lot, both loading and off loading. It's basically diesel fuel. We ended up with it on our skin from time to time and it fricken stinks. Between having that exhaust stack in front of me all day every day and swimming in JP 8, I was starting to develop some issues. The amount of hours we drove on a daily basis varied, but some days we would drive for 12 or even 14 hours. For the last couple months of my tour I would arrive at our destination with a migraine that was just literally pounding to the point my eyes were squinted and I would have to dash to get some chow and then immediately go to sleep only to start over the next day. It was incredibly trying, but I couldn't just stop. I didn't have a choice, I had a job to do. So I went for months going to bed almost every night with a migraine headache. I became very sensitive to the smell of JP 8, whether it was already burnt or still unburnt. To this day if I go into a room with an oil furnace running, I can smell this odd smell, I can taste it, it's not quite burnt diesel and I can't quite smell it, it's odd... It's almost as if I can sense it. I'm sorry, but there are some things so odd with me I lack the ability to explain them. But the smell, sense, whatever it is I get, I can't stand it. I have to get to fresh air. I've had other people right next to me on many occasions and I ask them if they can smell it. I've not yet had anyone tell me yes. Meanwhile it's overtaking me to the point I can't breathe.
As I touched on earlier, we burned human feces on a daily basis. The job was rotated so we didn't all burn it every day, but it would blow around everywhere. You'd go around to the shitters, collect the crap by pulling the bucket out of the back of the John, haul them all to the burn pit, dump them in, cover it with diesel, and light it up. Then you had to stand there for hours on end stirring the crap because the fuel floated on top and the crap just boiled underneath. Burning a fire from the top down is extremely inefficient. It took a really, really long time to do. We also burned all of our trash as well. Neither of these are healthy for you in any manner, shape, or form. Throw into that the smoke from burning bodies, buildings, and god knows what else.
Those are some of the speculated causes to the problems myself and so many others suffer today. The verdict is out as to whether or not I'm correct about any of this. What I will list out now are the problems they may have caused. Again, I'm not looking for sympathy or understanding. I'll tell you right now, there are likely very few, if any reading this that can understand it. I am the one who has the problems and I don't understand them, so it's unlikely others do. A lot of the things that go on in my head are tough to describe, so I'm going to do the best I can. My aforementioned squad mate, the one I was on the phone with for a very long time today. As much as I hate to admit it, I had very serious doubts about my dear friend not long after we got home. Yes, I had my problems almost immediately after getting off the plane and returning home, but his problems were really bad. His deployment also got cut short, he wasn't there nearly as long as myself or most of the other people, which made me question his issues even more. He is the one I mentioned having been in basement waterproofing. Not long after we got home he was having issues with working, getting along with his wife, and just getting through the day in general, "supposedly" I thought at the time. He was, and still is, getting a LOT of assistance from the VA and various veterans associations. So much, in fact, that I thought it looked a little fishy. A lot of the people I deployed with still hold those feelings today. I do not. Although I have had my share of issues over the years, never until this past spring (Late May, early June) did I realize what I was in for. One would imagine that over time maybe these things would get better. After all, time heals all wounds, right? In this case no, it does not. In this case I seem to be getting worse and worse, which is part of why I've decided to write this today. I have many fears, many I shouldn't have and many I know inside are unfounded, yet I cannot shake them. One fear I currently have is that at some point I may not have a mind right enough to accurately share this information, so here I document it with you fine people. But I digress. Back to my buddy.
So I thought my buddy may have been taking some liberties with the support provided us. I just didn't think there was any way he could be as fawked up as he is. Now here I am, a fellow soldier that saw everything he did in his deployment, that knows more than anyone what he had been through, and here I am doubting him. Now if I'm doubting him, you can only imagine what people think of him that have never been there. He gets it all the time from people because he's only 32 or something and he can't work and hasn't been able to for a couple of years. People laugh at him and people put him down from time to time. My problems are now on their way (if they're not already there) to being every bit as bad as his, and you know what? Now I can see what he was going through. I am living it right now. I am now in contact with the very same charities and agencies that he was and having almost the exact same problems he was. This is where it gets tricky to explain so I'll do my best. My outlook on life is not what it should be. I get overwhelmed before I even get out of bed. The most simple task I can obsess over and worry about until it gets done. Upsize the problem, upsize the worry. I get worried all the time about something and then multiple things until I overwhelm myself and then nothing gets done. I give up before I even get started. I can no longer hold a regular job. I worked at my last real job for almost 5 years. It was very easy and it paid really well. My work salary combined with my monthly disability check made for no financial issues. I paid my bills and then some. Then in the spring I lost my mind. I left my job. I had to go to the hospital as I was no longer in control of my own thoughts and actions. My boss really didn't want me to go and he bent over backwards trying to get me to stay. I told him I was going to step down, I didn't want the job anymore. This wasn't the first time my personal issues had affected my work, and it was by far the worst incident. I didn't want to burden him anymore. Not only that, I didn't want to burden anyone anymore. The real reason I was all set with accepting my job back was because I didn't think I'd be alive long enough to go back to work. I spent 4 or 5 days in the loony bin at the VA. I got out and a day and a half later I tried to kill myself. The cops and ambulance showed up at my house and hauled me off to the local hospital, as they do not deliver patients to the VA. I spent a night in the Brockton Hospital and the next morning they transported me back to the Brockton VA, at which point I escaped their clutches and made my way back home. I was on the run for a day and a half before I gave myself up. These are not the actions of a healthy mind. I then spent another week in the loony bin.
This year has been the worst year of my life. Things have gone downhill really, really fast for me. The sunshine bothered me. I would squint and look down at the ground. Sunny days in general bothered me. That's not normal. I feel like the odd man out wherever I go. Many of you saw this first hand at Trikefest this past year. I am reckless. I ride my Buell much faster than I had in years past, and not always sober. One of the first things I did when I got to Trikefest this year was attack the Backbone on my 225DR. It was clear after my first attempt (which drew blood) that it wasn't such a good idea right at that moment. Well I tried it again, and fell again. Then I tried it a third time and fell again. If The Stud wasn't there to stop me I may still be trying to get up that fawker right now. Then I wiped out on the 500. No regard for my own well being whatsoever. That's just kind of how I operate right now. That's not normal. I work crappy jobs that don't pay well and I end up flipping out and walking away. Prior to this year, every move I had made job wise was up. Better pay, better job, until this year. Now I have nothing. I have $146 in the bank, it's the 15th, I own a home, and I owe a lot of different people a lot of money. In years past, I moved up. Now I'm moving down. That's not normal. A very big problem I have is I am dependent on having a significant other in my life or else I'm not happy. That's not normal. That is one of the very few questions I had that I believe I have found an answer for though. I was talking to a fellow vet that served over seas and he very simply asked me if I always feel alone no matter who I'm with or what I'm doing. I told him yes, that's exactly how I feel, save for the times when I'm in a relationship with someone. That's the only time I feel "normal" and seem to operate like a "normal" human being. Viola! That explained one thing to me. The problem is, when I'm single I'm messed up enough that no one of the opposite sex wants to get near me, and I can't say I blame them, but I can't be "normal" without a member of the opposite sex in my life. It's a catch 22, and those I'm getting very used to. I smoke like a chimney, on the weekends I drink like a fish. It's the only time I smile, and half the time I can't remember what happened.
A very recent development I've had is my hips and lower back feeling like they're getting ready to throw in the towel. Physically I've always been very healthy. Now I feel like I'm 60. I did some laps around the yard on the DR in the snow today, only for about 20 minutes, and I felt like my whole lower body was going to give out. I'm curious to see what happens the next time I go to New Hampshire. The odd thing is, my squad mate's back has been deteriorating at a very rapid pace over the last couple years with no real explanation as to why. He now walks with a cane.
Again, this is hard for me to put into words. I feel like I'm not doing anything wrong or abnormal, but the results of my actions and the reactions of those around me continue to say otherwise. It's as if my mind isn't processing the information in front of it correctly. I feel as though I'm not doing anything wrong, yet I continually end up dealing with the repercussions of my actions and sometimes I can see after the fact how I was wrong. No matter how many times this happens, I am completely blind to it while it's happening. Only after do I figure it out. It makes me question everything. Things I've done in the past and what not. I've lost multiple relationships, jobs, opportunities, friendships, you name it, due to my ailments.
Everyone's suffering varies in one form or another, although there are also a lot of similarities. I direct my problems inward, to myself. I blame myself for a lot of things, whether or not they're my fault. I'm my own worst enemy, and I'm very hard on myself. Some of us project our problems outward. I was at a fellow veteran's house a couple of years ago, a guy I served side by side with. His wife makes a very good living. They've got a nice house and all that happy horse shite. We had gone out and had a few drinks and then went back to their house. I was spending the night. Something happened, I don't know what, but before I knew it he had his wife by the throat up against the wall right in front of me. I immediately wrapped my arm around his throat and choked him to the ground, he's a big boy. He submitted and I let him up. He immediately went for the kitchen, specifically where the kitchen knives were kept. His eyes were blank, he was looking right through me. He looked me in the eyes with a smile on his face and told me he was going to kill me and then kill his wife. Luckily they were having their kitchen re modeled and the knives were put away. I still had to fight him again though. The next day we parted ways and it wasn't a huge deal. That's not normal. From what I've been told, 22-24 vets kill themselves a day. I know why and I know how. The amount of times a week that the thought of suicide crosses my mind is absurd. We're just not afraid of death, and I'm not saying that proudly. There is something seriously wrong with us. I've got more stories just from the small amount of guys I'm still really close with, I can only imagine what the rest of my company has gone through, or the battalion, or the army in general.
The VA has absolutely no issues whatsoever pumping us full of chemicals that do nothing but mask problems and turn us chemically dependent. They put me on Klonopins in the spring which are highly addictive, but they took the edge off my anxiety at least briefly. Then I was addicted though. I got off of those when they switched me to an anti depressant which I initially really liked, but that only lasted 4 days. At first I liked not feeling depressed anymore, but I found out really fast that not only was I not feeling depressed anymore, I wasn't feeling anything. I couldn't feel bad which was good, but I couldn't feel good which was bad. So I stopped all medication by late in the summer. I don't like that stuff, it's no fricken good at all. The keys to me feeling good and improving myself are two very simple things. Working out and Marijuana. Here again is yet another way in which I'm cursed. Marijuana is not currently legal where I live, but if I don't smoke pot I won't work out. If I don't work out I won't feel any better and I'll not be improving my situation at all. The only substance at all that keeps my mind in check is a natural herb with next to no side effects, which I'm not supposed to take, but they'll gladly pump me full of addictive chemicals that cause more problems than they solve. As if I don't have enough issues.
My whole point in writing this is to attempt to share something from the other place I've been in, and am currently still at. Whether or not I will ever return is not yet known. What set this in motion today was when I realized how much I didn't understand about my fellow soldier that was going down the very same road I am now. He just went down it ahead of me. Now that it's happening to me, I can assure anyone who may have any questions that these problems are in fact very, very real. I have gone from a more than productive member of society who was always doing or building something to someone who cannot maintain a relationship, a job, and doesn't know how he's going to be paying the mortgage upcoming. Every aspect of my life is absolute shite, which is why I wouldn't mind if it ended soon, but I'm pretty sure that's a delusion. If anyone can explain to me which thoughts in my own head I should believe and which I should dismiss, I'm all ears. How do you dismiss something you "know"? If you know in your heart of hearts that your life is absolutely shite and nobody can tell you otherwise, how do you change that way of thinking? It's not just a thought, it's something that I know for a fact, like Suzuki's really, really sucking. All in all, my life really isn't that bad, but something inside of me doesn't see things that way. Something inside of me has given up, my spirit is broken. I'll never marry or have kids, I'm too old now. I couldn't afford to take a girl out to dinner right now anyways, never mind raise a family. What's the point? It's not getting easier, it's getting harder. Nobody truly understands. I get underhanded comments from people when I try to explain things or they just tell you things aren't that bad, I'll get through, whatever. Maybe I will, but that's not guaranteed. Many of us haven't. If any of you have sat there and read through this, forget about me. This isn't about me, this is about us. I learned today how powerful this invisible enemy is, it can even turn those closest to us against us as well. We look down, we are down. It's tough to deal with people who have the problem we do. It's not an excuse though. Sometimes we're quiet, sometimes we don't go out. Sometimes we say odd things, sometimes we're inappropriate. Many times we're misunderstood, and many times we're overlooked. We get strange looks from people and sometimes strange treatment. We'll be dealing with this for the rest of our lives. Just remember, you'll never understand, but you can be understanding.