Good day, Riana,
First and foremost please remember I’m not a professional, I’m fellow traveller in this largely misunderstood state of mind.
As 03Fox2/1 mentioned and I'm sure you can understand this can be difficult to talk and or even write about. I've been though a twisted path with this, but I've been luckier than most to have a family which never questioned, shrunk away from me, or abandoned me when I needed them. (I mention this first because it is probally the thing, which saved my life.)
The thumbnail version of my battle with PTSD is as follows, just so you know where, to some degree, my head is at. I’ll try to not ramble off.
In summer of 1995 in the aftermath of the Rwandan Genocide, I was sent to Kigali as part of a Canadian UN Contingent, on very short notice. I was part of the Intelligence Team. Five of us to cover a lot of issues and taskings for the mission. Being Int, job one is know your enemy or in a UN Mission case, all the players and the situation. I drove into this like a man possessed and quickly became one with my subject, too much so as I would later come to know.
In my work I was from one end of Rwanda to other, spoke to countless survivors and witnesses, investigated massacre sites and mass graves. As well as keeping an eye on what was going on in and out country in regards to the refugees, insurgents and with the countries’ government and military.
As the mission wore on our own people started to see no point in being there, of course they didn’t know the full picture, nor had seen the horrors. So I took it upon myself to run “tours” to a massacre site. Hoping to educate and inform, improve their attitudes to the mission. Eight times maybe nine I played the “Macabre Tour Guide”, again another “mistake” to be dealt with later.
The mission became the only thing that mattered. I volunteered dangerous tasks like mine proving roads. Went into risky areas with no thought at all, sometimes without my weapon, just to get snippets of information. Anything to ensure we were able to produce useful Intelligence to ensure the missions’ success. By this time I had lost my objectivity, I didn’t know this then.
You get the picture to a degree I hope because the details right now are too hard.
Six months latter we were pulled out, mission uncompleted, I begged to stay but it was over…….well…….
Home, was a sea of people seemingly with their heads buried in the ground, all of us living life too many can’t even imagine…..you know this drill, I’m sure this needs no huge explanation…..I’m angering now thinking on it.
Needless to say I spent a lot of the next while flipping out on people. I then got to my next post and found we were to be focused on Bosnia, for me at the time. It was new mission and I again made it my Mission, I lived and breathed it and while I hadn’t forgotten Rwanda I started meet other soldiers who were worse off than me, so thought well, my waking screaming in the night was just part of job and who was I to complain when these guys went though (I thought) much worse than me. The next few years went by much like this, everything was a mission and the nightmares ebbed and flowed. Despite, my attempts and my expertise I couldn’t get another deployment to Africa or the Balkans. Finally, I was posted to National Defence HQ. The place I went had no mission I could see, I tried to get on board, but to no avail I started to fall apart. First it was the nightmares and they started to be a regular event and my sleep began to become an issue, as I couldn’t stay awake at work, then the flashbacks and burning anger. I now believed I was going insane. At around this time General Dallaire, the original Commander in Rwanda, problems with PTSD went public. My bosses sent me to the Military Hospital.
I was diagnosed with PTSD.
My military spent 2 years filling my head full of drugs and psychobabble that left me spending the times in between sitting at home staring out the window like a zombie. Some of what was done may of helped but their was an air of experimentation that never sat well with me, especially the drugs, the only real therapy was the short period of group therapy, the doctors, well none of them were even military let alone having any experience with real operations. Then they "retired" me as unfit from the one vocation I loved and gave 22 years of my life to, with not so much as one follow up call once out the door. I slowly phased out the drugs and the fog began to lift and pulled myself back together to some degree.
However, I’m still coping by focusing on missions, although these days it’s my family, my job, and computer. I still rage, although my wife knows the signs and know how to steer me away from it, the dreams still come on occasion, and the countless thousand still call to me, but I’m dealing with it.
Riana, Now with all this being said (I thought it would shorter) I wish there was a venue like a web site to talk these out. I don’t think any professionals will ever offer faceless assistance, especially for free. Several opinions in regards to therapy, drugs are only a Band-Aid at best, not long-term care. Doctors have to be knowledgeable about the military if treating military personnel, spending hours explaining following orders for example, is BS. If those you love can’t accept you because of your problems, not everybody can adapt to us, I have a long list of lost friends and an ex-wife. Those who stay by your side, you are better to have them. Self-medicating doesn’t work, I still drink from time to time, but frankly I must be very careful of situation in which I do. One wrong statement, I’m off the deep end. Last drink, at a beach resort 2 years ago.
I’m looking for another situation myself, because only those who have seen the elephant can truly share it, maybe not understand it, but share it. Our VA was ever so helpful to only find a group in Toronto 6 hours away and they were not sure if there was any military in the group. There was one here in Ottawa but it had died before I could join.
Anyway, I hope I didn’t bore you and I hope someone can find a way to help those fellow travellers, maybe even knowing others carry the demons within will help them seek some help in some form.
Whew…………….
Have a Grand Day, Bob sal;
and thats a standard I live by
