That moment when it just all sinks in...

We have been working for years to get to our "new normal".  Been buying into that the whole time.  The last few weeks, even for our "new normal", things have not been normal.  I work very hard to be the Ringmaster of our circus, but when morons not part of the show interfere, it makes all the balls I'm juggling, drop to the ground.  That just ruins the circus.  This month has been full of celebrations, yet so depressing in trying to come to grips with this "new normal".  It is no longer new ( 2005 it began, 2007 it was officially diagnosed) and I don't need anyone to tell me this is NOT normal.  Sure, it may be normal for PTSD, but it is just not normal one bit.  I don't want to pretend anymore that it is.  It sucks.  It stinks.  I'm worn out.  I have never once asked anyone to help, but I seriously wish they could realize how much their stupidity and interference HURTS.  The one it hurts the most is- me.  I get to witness my husband hurting, I have to be responsible for bringing him back to reality (haha, that's easy), I deal with all the fall-out from whatever happened, and as a bonus I have a husband who has been reminded of his problems and how he no longer handles them "properly" AND then I get to be the person he lashes out at, gets mad at because he's still stuck there in his recovery process, and when PTSD is in full swing, the one he avoids the most.  The last "issue" was with the neighbor.  11 days before Easter- so March 20.  The neighbor ( who probably has some PTSD himself ) has been forgiven and is an amazing guy.  A month and 5 days later- Old Guy is still mad at me, still blaming me for being "fine" when he isn't, still avoiding me like the plague.  Me- the one who stopped the insanity, the one who kept him from who knows what, for being the voice of reason when he was unreasonable, and the one who loves him through it.  I am the bad guy.  The moron who wanted to have a shoot out because he didn't really like the way someone parked in front of our house and hurled insults to the Old Guy for all the neighbors to here and talk about the "Crazy White Guy"- we'll he's cool.  He made a peace offering of leftover flowers.  I'm not saying don't forgive and accept (wife forced) apologies, but maybe a little bone of thanks or even a little appreciation, or just nothing hurtful to the one person with only your best interest at heart.  Silly me, that is totally who should get the anger and avoidance.  It is especially helpful his PTSD counselor feels he has his PTSD under control.... you should always ask that guy if he's crazy or not anymore.  I'm sure he'll tell you the truth.  I mean, most people want video cameras installed to watch the next door neighbor and get up and check for safety at 2am.  I don't know why it was something he needed to work on before, but now, you know, of course he's rationalized why it's necessary.  Doesn't make it true. I am just so freaking frustrated and wish it was easy to just turn his care over to a stranger so he has someone else to be mad it.  Aside from the chaos it would create, I know that would just make him mad at me too.  So, I am just the lady who feeds him, manages his medication, washes his clothes, does the things he says he'll do (and never does), fixes the disasters he creates, and has to undo the things he continues to do and not even think of the consequences.  I get paid each month for that, and then he promptly makes plans to overspend it all because it is "ours" since he is injured and I shouldn't get paid for doing what a wife is supposed to do.  Funny, please don't refer to me as your wife... but that is such a different post that I don't even begin to have the energy or emotional strength to discuss right now.  I don't even wish for one more day like it used to be.  That would just be too painful.  I feel like I'm honoring sickness and I honored health, I'm doing worse just like I did better... and I've lowered my expectations and am realistic about what he can do. I'm still a human being who needs to be loved, and I still want it from the man I married even though that man is gone and another one is in his place.  It's so complicated.  Escaping it, even temporarily, only leaves me with more problems to fix.  My heart is so broken, there is no way it would all fit back together again.  He has no idea because I just do what needs to be done and he does what he can to keep himself happy.  Never once noticing or thinking about me.  This part, well, there is no way to fill that.  No professional can help that, no medicine, no typing.  My acceptance doesn't help, I WISH I could pretend it isn't going to go on forever.  I hate being realistic sometimes.  I'm sure this will eventually pass and maybe the wounds won't be so open.  I can't avoid moronic neighbors, or dumb people, and at anytime anything can trigger him and get us right back to this spot where I really don't want to be now or then or ever....

Why do people suck?

So fed up with my "friends", or I guess people who pretend to care to our faces.  Been slapped in both cheeks a little too much recently.  I am TRYING so hard not to stop being who I am and just avoid people all together.  It has been difficult recently and I think it SUCKS that people can be mean, hateful, use others and not think one thing of it.  Be inconvenienced one bit... and BAM, their world comes to an end.  I always help others as much as possible.  To a flaw, most would say.  I never ask for anything in return and I am ok with that.  When I feel used, it is hard to keep it up.  I know I probably should continue, but I am trying to heed the message that sometimes people should not be in your life.  I do need those people removed.  Some days I wish it were easier, neater, and cleaner... it never is.  We always want the easy way out.  Hahaha.

Ding Ding Ding! Wrong Answer.

For my first time ever, I took my feet and got a pedicure.  41 years in the making.  It finally happened.  My sore, tired, scaly feet.  It is on my list of 101 things to do and part of my promise to take care of myself.  Something I have long wanted to do, something I need to do, and something I would never do because it seemed irresponsible to spend money on something frivolous for me.  Had my kids wanted them, they would have had them.  Had my husband wanted one, he would have had one.  But me, I've been last on the list for so long, I would have never considered it.  Today, I found myself in the nail salon and there was a moment of weakness and I went for it.  BAM!  Pedicure.  It felt so good.  Purple sparkly toenails are so pretty.  My hubby hates my feet and won't touch them.  He adores the color, but his response was- Oh, so you can get pedicures but I can't go to the movies... so wrong.  Makes it continue to be hard to look out for number one when someone makes you feel like number 2.

Nothing is kinda good, kinda bad...

I've really had nothing to complain about lately.  That is positive, but there is also nothing great to talk about. That would be ok, except, there really isn't anything kinda good to discuss either.  It is a bummer.  Things keep unraveling, but we had a rough discussion of things that I know needed to be said, but didn't want to say.  It was zingers all around, hurt both of us tremendously.  Even though it feels good to be free of the burden, it hurts differently to know it had to be said.  Hurts even worse to know I live it and it isn't going to change.  I wish this whole PTSD/ brain injury thing didn't cause someone to become so completely self-absorbed and self-centered.  I know I am everyone else oriented, but sometimes I really do need someone to help with my burdens.  My personal ones, not even the ones I carry for someone else.  There isn't enough free space on the internet if I had to unload all of those.

Some how, I just pick up and carry on.  Some days I wonder if I will stumble, but most days I know I don't have the luxury of falling.  It is pressure, just as it is incentive to keep going.  We do a lot of good things around here.  Nothing fancy or exciting, but we are still managing to make a difference for everyone who walks through our door... and a few others out there when needed.  Shouldn't complain.

Plus, I'm still working on my personal mission to fulfill the 101 in 1001.  No one even knows it but me.  Of all the secrets I keep, funny how I just want to keep that one.  Have it to myself.  I want to take care of me.  I'm making progress.  As with everything, I had to put a lot of thought into it before I would put it out in the universe that I was going to do it.  101 things didn't seem bad, trying to think of myself for 1001 did.  No one quite gets why or that I am serious when I say I need time to focus on myself.  I was afraid for a while I was going to have to run far from home to do it.  Right now, I'm working on balancing it.  Some days, I'm still invisible to those around me.  I will never be invisible to myself again.  I'm certainly not going to feel bad that this particular season does not have me out there, giving my time and myself away to people or organizations that do not care about me.  This is me time.  My season.  I don't know how long it will last.  I know my life will not be how it once was, and I am more than ok with that.  I am never one to complain, but I am glad the Army days are behind us.  God bless all those serving and especially the families standing behind them, it is extremely difficult and thankless.  It shouldn't be, but it is.  I wouldn't wish it on anyone.  I made the best of it, had great experiences, and met some amazing people.  I am still glad it's done.  If we had to go back, I could not.  I would not.  To me, it is over.  New season.

My color, invisible.

I would SWEAR on all that is holy that I am invisible.  Sure, people can see me, they can ask me to do things, but for some reason, it is as if I do not exist.  I am TRYING so very hard to change that.  I am getting worn out trying to explain to people that if they could please take me and my feelings into consideration, that would be great.  Being a caregiver has taken part of me away.  It is like I have become a robot to care for my husband.  I totally get that I am here to care for him, I am compensated to care for him, I want to care for him, but I NEED him to realize I am still a human.  I do not exist solely to make his every whim possible.  There is more to me.  He's not getting it.  I am NOT A FAN of brain injuries.  I'm not a fan of wondering is this a brain injury thing, is he being a jerk, am I being a jerk????  I'm definitely not a fan of feeling like the world is moving around me and I'm just there waiting for someone to tell me what to do.  I don't feel bad for myself, I know so many would appreciate my position over theirs, I know it could be much worse... I still just want this to get better.  Like, now.

A Good Night's...

It certainly isn't sleep.  Being WIDE awake at 0400 is never good.  Especially when you took sleeping pills at 0030.  I am in for a long, I'd bet on painfully long, day.  SIGH.  I remember when I used to sleep.  Fancy music that takes you back in time.... to 2004 when the Old Guy had deployed to Iraq.  It was supposed to be a cake walk, no worries, all the BS they hope you believe.  The ones that last until the first guy is killed in a major firefight (Sgt. David Heath, who is guaranteed to never be forgotten by any member of 1/41 Inf)  It was just past the two month mark of the tour, and reality started to set it.  They were really fighting a war.  Daily.  It was dangerous.  People were hurt and being killed.  That hurts.  When my husband was injured the first time, my first notice was from him.  THANKFULLY! the doctor who treated him had been around and knew for this particular injury ( just a little shrapnel to the left side of his face- they left out the bullet that destroyed his plates, but I guess since the plates did their job, that bullet didn't count.)I didn't need to hear from any one other than my husband first.  The second call came later in the afternoon.  Just about the time we sent out a search party because the boys didn't make it home from school yet.  The phone rang as we were walking out the door, and ONLY because it said US GOVT WASHINGTON DC did I answer it.  The gentleman gave his little speech ( that who knows how many times he had to give it, bless his heart) and he was so kind to explain everything and answer every question I had.  Shrapnel sounds scary and in your face makes it sound worse, but really, it was not much of an injury and as a bonus they let him keep most of the shrapnel and this incident earned him a Purple Heart.  Later in the evening, I received a call from our local Rear-D Commander, Lt-Promotable Nelson (ok, we ALL knew he was promotable...they said it EVERY TIME!) who regretted to inform me that my husband was a casualty after sustaining wounds while engaged in combat blah blah blah.  I calmly told the LT. I was very glad he was the last person I heard from that day, because that makes it sound like my husband is dead.  I totally get that soldiers call injured causalities- but all those big, fancy Army terms scared me senseless for a minute and I thought maybe he had been hurt again ( oh, he would be...) and it had already been told to me it was not serious, but when you hear it like that, you worry and wonder non-stop after that.  And, when the incidents pile up, and your husband's personality changes,and he calls around 2 am, it's hard to go to sleep.  I was already afraid of the doorbell, I couldn't tolerate being asleep when the phone rang.  So, I never slept.  From November of 2004- January 2005, I slept only when I collapsed.  It became a problem when I sat down after dropping the boys off at school one morning.  Put my ankle on my knee to remove my shoes and then, an entire school day plus a two-mile walk later, I had two unhappy boys wondering why I didn't pick them up.  I went to the doctor and got some sleeping pills that I only took when I KNEW he would not call.  At least I slept sometimes.  It got closer to his return and I couldn't WAIT to sleep with out pills again.  However, insomnia is helpful when your husband returns and is on a different schedule.  I'd be awake all night with him and up all day with the kids.  He adjusted to a "normal" schedule before I did.  AND, if you have a husband who brought home PTSD, you know exactly how much worse my sleep got with each passing night.  I was so thankful that all hell broke lose in September of 2007.  It did begin the worst time in my life, made me fight harder than any soldier, but I could sleep.  I think it was due to mental and physical fatigue.  It's amazing what sleep can do.  I struggle with it worse now than the Old Guy.  The Army in it's great wisdom has decided not to carry the effective medication anymore, so I get some stuff that works sometimes, sometimes does not.  Devoted a lot of money into the best bed, keep nice sheets and pillows- so when I can sleep, I do it well.  I just don't do it that much.

On a roll, and then, a speed bump.

I never intended to write everyday, but I don't want to feel derailed either.  I'm trying very hard to focus on myself and then I get slapped back into reality.  I hate that.  I would like to have enjoyed a few more days of feeling confident about being able to make myself a priority.  Sadly, this was not the case.  I can not break through the Old Guy's skull and make him understand that when he is sick he does NOTHING.  I don't expect him to, I cater to what he needs, do what I normally would do that day and do what he would do that day (which usually means, do dishes all day since he took that chore over to prove a point- and the only point he ended up proving was he should not talk smack when he can't back it up...)  When the day comes that  I really need to rest, lay, recover- whatever.  It does not happen.  I tried nicely to say several times I am not only not feeling well, but I am having a day where every part of my body is HURTING!  That didn't get through.  If I'm just hurting, well, then I could.... No, not today.  Didn't work.  Not at all.  I keep trying to be nice about it, but I am sick, tired, hurting, frustrated, and he won't stop- so, nice eventually goes out the window.  No, becomes an argument because I am not doing what he thinks I should be doing.  I NEED A SICK DAY!  It happens.  Geez.  I try not to, but I really need to give myself permission to not do those things that can wait until I feel better and I do not need someone yelling at me because they aren't getting their way.  I may need to keep count of how often I am sick to the point where I can't.  It isn't often.  There are a lot of days where I don't want to, but always end up doing it.  Eventually, it will have to be done and I am the one to do it-  I don't want to be behind.  I am just frustrated.  I feel invisible and I think there is no worse feeling than that.  No one can see my needs and no one can hear my voice.  Super big sigh.