Posted on

PTSD and Church Attendence

My journey for mental wellness continues.  Ever since I was a young boy, church attendance has been a consistent part of my life.  Except when illness, pain, or military duty kept me away, I’ve attended every week.   I don’t remember a time when I didn’t go simply because I didn’t want to go.

PTSD and Church Attendance

I didn’t go today though.  Not because I didn’t want to, but because I don’t feel up to it.  Though not what you would normally think of when I say “illness,” my mental state (mental illness) kept me home today.   This has happened before, but today is easier for me to explain why.  Hopefully it is easier for some to understand.

With my PTSD I will often find myself having a moment of panic about the “what if’s” of a certain location.  It’s happened at football games, restaurants,  choir concerts, Thanksgiving Point, anywhere and everywhere, even at church.

What if a gunman comes running through that door? What if a car starts running people over? What if that bus explodes?  What if someone grabs one of the kids?  What if some kids come through with knives? What if… ? What if… ?  What if…?

Logic/Reason

My own thought processes tell me those thing won’t happen.  Or at least that the odds of them happening are so small that I shouldn’t be bothered by them at all.   The same thoughts that YOU have about these things are usually what I have too.  But sometimes the PTSD is stronger than that, and reason goes out the window.

Last Sunday

But sometimes those things DO happen.  The attacks with knives, cars, guns, bombs… those do happen at times, and so it makes me even more prone to the moments of panic.

And last week it did again.   I assume if you are reading this that you know about the shooting at the Texas church house.   26 dead, countless affected.  Families torn asunder.   Unimaginable pain and grief.

Because of the regularity with which I’m at church services (where as I’m almost never in restaurants or football games), church is one of the more common panic inducing thoughts/locations that I have.   So when it does happen in real life, even if its a thousand miles away, I’m not really in a good mental position to head back to my own church house.

Vulnerability

After a night filled with more nightmares, I made the conscious decision not to go to church today.   I don’t ever “know” when a moment of panic will occur, but for some reason I just felt more vulnerable than normal today.  Is that excusable?   Does that make me less faithful of a Christian?  Will my friends think less of me for admitting it?  Is it as acceptable to stay home because of mental illness as it is for a physical illness?   Would you judge me more harshly (in your opinion of me) for this slip in my church attendance?

 

Posted on

Happy Veteran’s Day!

Happy Veteran’s Day to all veterans out there!  I wish you the best and thank you for your service and sacrifices.

I’ve been typing out a now fairly lengthy post on Veteran’s Day and what it means to me to be a veteran.   Much like my previous PTSD post from last weekend, I’m not going to post it either.

Most of it was all pride and glory and sacrifice and nobility: like most of the stuff you read getting passed around on Facebook.  And all of that is true and fair.

But then I also typed up a long list of how being a veteran also meant a lifetime of pain, wrangling your conscience about taking another human life, dealing with the betrayal of a “battle buddy” who hurt you, spending the rest of your life trying not to become a “22 a day” statistic, and on and on.  There was just as large a host of negative aspects of military service as there was positive one.

There are a LOT of veterans out there for whom the negatives far outweigh the positives, and so I decided not to post my flag-waving, chest thumping, USA chanting post.   I don’t want them reading that post and saying, “that isn’t what it was like for me” and feeling like their service wasn’t sufficient, or their sacrifice wasn’t meaningful, or that they somehow “did it wrong”.

Instead I’ll be happy to just wish all my veteran friends who see this a happy Veteran’s Day, and my hope that you are happy on all days after this as well.

Take care of each other out there…

Posted on

Halloween: How My Depression Saved a Man’s Life

*AUTHOR’S NOTE:  I wrote this and published it as private just a few days after Halloween 2017.  That was 6 months ago today.  After reading it you’ll understand why I didn’t publish it immediately.  It is the primary event that has stopped me from writing anything in the past few months.  I tried a few times after this, but I haven’t been great, and I’ve wavered on how much I really want to share.    So if any of you have been wondering why I stopped posting anything, this is the cause.  I’m just experiencing things that I’m not ready to share, and I don’t want to write dishonestly; telling you how good things are when I’ve been having a hard time.   So I just gave it up.   Maybe it’ll come back.   Maybe this will be the last ever post.  That isn’t decided.   

Please don’t judge me too harshly for this post.  I’m better than I was at this time.   I still don’t carry.  I still avoid public places.  I’m still getting treatment.  It will probably be a lifelong journey.   I hope you are all doing well out there!

Wait, What?

Yes that title is accurate.  There isn’t a slightly confusing twist that makes the headline misleading as I’ve done in the past.  This isn’t a play on words.  My depression (potentially) saved a man’s life this Halloween.

CWP

I have a active concealed weapons permit.   This permit allows me to legally carry a concealed weapon in 36 different states.   I have and DO carry a weapon.  Given the specific nature of the serious threats made against me and my family, I have religiously carried everywhere I go for several years.

Depression’s Role

That is, I carried everywhere up until a few months ago.   A few months ago I went through some depression more serious than normal.  Fearing that my sidearm would more likely harm me than defend me, I had it locked up in a family member’s safe that I don’t have access to.   It was a hard decision to make, because I’m considerably less comfortable in public places without it,  but it was something that the depressive state demanded that I do.

The Man Whose Life Was Saved

His name is unknown to me.   I don’t even know what he looks like.  I do know that if I hadn’t had the depressive episode a few months ago, and therefore hadn’t locked my sidearm away, that this man might not be around today.

Here’s how it happened…

Halloween

Joshua had been invited to a friends house/neighborhood to go trick-or-treating.  Around 9:15 Josh texted to say that they were done and he was ready to be picked up.  I had dropped him off earlier in the day, so it was I who went to pick him up.

When I had dropped him off, it was in a quiet subdivision on Bluffdale’s western most edge of 15000 south.   The sun had still been shining on the million dollar homes that make up the area.   There weren’t any kids out running around yet.  I have friends who live there.  It is a good area full of nice people.

When I returned it was well past dark.   It appeared most kids had packed up and returned home, because there weren’t many of them visible either.  There was, however, a full grown man in a mask walking down the middle of the road.  He was wearing what appeared to be a gorilla mask, gloves made to appear as gorilla hands, and what looked like a heavy set of Carhartt coveralls.

Our Meeting

He just stood there in the road as I drove closer.  I slowed down, not knowing what his intentions were.  I didn’t want him to jump in the way in order to scare me,  and then accidentally hit him with the van.  It’s hard to anticipate him doing anything that stupid, but you never know about people.  I drove past at just 5 or so mph, passing him on the driver’s side, with him only about a foot from the side mirror.  He didn’t say anything or even move, but just looked at me as I drove by.

So far so good.  I got past the guy without any problem, so I continued down the block a couple of hundred feet to where I was getting Josh.   I pulled over and texted that I was outside.  Then I looked in my mirror to watch the guy in the road (just be make sure he didn’t come my way).  I don’t like people enough to put up with strangers who think they are funny.

Another’s Meeting

Another car passed me going the other direction, toward the man.   This smaller white car slowed down and appeared to talk to him.   Probably somebody who knew him from the neighborhood and wanted to have some laughs together.   Suddenly the guy in the mask made a grab at the car door and looked like he was trying to open the door to get in.  The driver hit the gas and the car took off as the masked man gave a short chase running after him.

At this point my reasonableness went out the window and my PTSD kicked into “Oh Shit” mode!   My heart started racing and blood started pumping.  This guy had made a physical move against someone else.  He wasn’t safe.  He was a threat.  I had seen it happen myself.  I reached for my sidearm and, “F**K!” it wasn’t there. (Bold Italics are my thoughts).

He stopped chasing the other car and turned around and started coming toward me again at a walk.  I thought of just driving away and put the van into drive, but then it hit me, “S**T, Josh!”  And this guy is getting closer!

Defend My Family

I was in full panic mode.  Because of very real threats, my nights are filled with nightmares about people torturing me or my children.  And I was in a panic that here was a man willing to carry out those nightmares.  There was no chance that I was leaving my son in an area with this guy.

With no gun, I opened the glove box looking for any other weapon, a screwdriver, a pipe, string, anything.   “I can’t turn the van around in this street before he gets here, so I can’t use it as my weapon.” 

I settled on the van keys; they’d have to do.   I pulled them from the ignition and positioned them in my palm so that they would serve as a dull knife between my fingers as I punched.  I had my hand on the door handle and was playing out in my mind the number of steps to him, how he might react, what outcomes I might expect, etc.

He was still advancing and getting close.  At any minute Josh could come out of the house and this man could be closer to him than I was.  “I have to keep him from Joshua.”  I was just about to pull on the handle and get out, when the passenger door was flung open.   Joshua, smile firmly attached and bag of candy in hand, jumped into the van.

Cool Down

“Hi, Dad.”

“Breath!  Breath Jax.”   

“Hi, Josh.  Have fun?”  I check the mirror to see how close guy is getting.  He has stopped and is looking down a sidestreet.  Threat stalled.

I put the keys in the ignition.

“Oh Yeah.  We had a blast.  Feel how heavy this bag is.”

I hope Josh can’t tell something is wrong. “I’m fine” I tell myself.  “It’s Halloween and he’s not a threat. You’re safe. Just breath dammit!” 

“Looks good son.  Did you guys stay out of trouble? Cause any problems?”

Blood pressure is going down and levelheadedness is returning.

“We were good Dad.  No problems.”

“Good.  Let’s get out of here.”

I pulled off the curb, turned the van in a neighboring driveway, and started toward home.  This takes me past the man in the mask again.

2nd Meeting

I’m calm again.  Joshua is safely next to me.  No worries.  The panic only lasted 15-30 seconds, and having family around helps it to pass.

I roll down my window to talk to the guy.

“Hey man, I’m a PTSD vet.  Don’t do that again.”  I’m not sure how he takes this.  I meant it as a request to be thoughtful of others.

He laughs, “It’s just me man, your neighbor.”

“I don’t know you at all,”  I reply.

I think about adding, “you almost got yourself shot” but I don’t want him to think I’m threatening him, so I just leave it at that and drive away from him as he laughs again.

Hindsight

Like all of my PTSD panic episodes, I know the reasoning isn’t logical.  The thought process is flawed.  I’ll lead with that.  I know my reaction wasn’t normal.  That is why it’s a mental health issue.  That’s why I go to so many therapy sessions.

He didn’t do anything outlandish or wrong.  It was Halloween and he was out trying to make the night fun for the kids.   I bet he had kids laughing and shouting all night.   I figure he was playing around with a neighbor in the white car, someone who knows him.  He was probably the highlight of several peoples night.

I, however, wasn’t out to actively participate in Halloween.   I don’t think he knows the danger he was in.   That panic attack was real, and if I’d had my sidearm I probably would have been out of the van quicker than when I realized I didn’t have it.  Thinking I’d be going hand-to-hand with someone slowed me down.

The time it took me to “think” (in quotes because it isn’t an ideal way to describe thought processes during panic attacks) gave Josh time to get to the car, and Josh getting into the car shook me from the panic and helped my head clear.   It potentially saved this guys life, or my own, even though he was only out trying to have fun on a holiday.

I’m very, very thankful that it played out like this instead of any other way that involved violence.  Though of course I wish I didn’t have these attacks at all frankly.

Justified?

I’ve been thinking.  If some violence had occurred, either with firearm or without, would it have been justified?

A legal justification for violence against another is to protect others when fearful of death or harm.   I know he was out to have fun now, but at the time I legitimately thought he was a threat.   Would it be reasonable to say I was scared for my life and the life of my son when this mans intent was obviously TO SCARE people?  If his intention is to scare someone, and it works too well, then what?

Effects

I’ve been okay during the day.  Not any more stressed than normal, but nights have been worse. I routinely have nightmares about violence anyway.  They’ve been worse in the days since this happened though.  They’ve been particularly violent and disturbing.   Lots of fighting.  A lot of torture.   Thankfully all involving me, not Julie or the kids.

Almost every night I have woken in sweats.  I try to hold Julie to calm myself, but I hate to wake her.  She works so hard anyway (here, here, and here), and the kids will be up early getting ready for school, so I try not to disturb her.  She needs rest more than I do.  So I lay next to her and listen to her breath (snore?) and try to let the stress pass.   It’s a bitter and lonely time, but it’s better than the terrors that come with sleep.

I mentioned this event during my weekly group therapy session.  I talked about the panic and my reactions and thought process.  We talked about how others have had similar reactions to events and how they dealt with it.  Everyone agreed that this man obviously had done nothing wrong, but about how nice it would be if people could understand how some innocent things create massively negative reactions for persons with PTSD.

PTSD Thoughtfulness

This guy’s attempt at fun put me into a full on panic.  His attempt at entertainment made me feel that it was quite likely that either myself, my son, or this stranger was going to die that night.   It was only 15-30 seconds, but the feelings were intense and real.  A momentary hell.

It would be completely unreasonable to expect everyone to think, “I better not do anything scary on Halloween just in case there is a PTSD vet driving by.”  That would be an odd thing, right?   Who would make a decision that way?  Nobody, right?

So I don’t blame him.  With hindsight, I see he did nothing wrong.  The consequence was terrifying for me, and could have been fatal, but there was no way to foresee that coming in order to prevent it.  And on Halloween of all days, it is almost expected.   On any other day of the year I’d be livid, but for that day…   what can I say?

And I know my reaction wasn’t normal either.  That’s why I don’t go out into very many public venues.  That’s why I avoid large groups of people.  It’s why I am seeing doctors and getting treatment.  It’s a huge reason why I wish I still had Iris around.

I wish more people were thoughtful of PTSD in moments like this; or fireworks on the 4th of July and their effect on combat vets.  It’d be nice, but there is no way to reasonably expect it.

If you happen to live in this man’s neighborhood, or know who he was, you might just share this story with him.  He might find it worth laughing over again, or he might be horrified to know how close he was to a violent conflict.  Who knows, maybe it’ll make next year’s Halloween even scarier and more entertaining for him!

Feedback

So… what are your thoughts?

Did he do anything wrong?

Did I do anything wrong?

It thankfully didn’t occur, but is there more I could have done to prevent a violent encounter?

If one had occurred, where would the moral/legal responsibility lie?

Any other thoughts you have?

 

 

Posted on

Mental Health Crisis

While I had an absolute blast on Saturday at the Elders Quorum social shootout, it wasn’t all roses and might have started me on the path toward a mental health crisis.

Dealing with Mental Health Issues

While I have several firearms, and feel like I am quite proficient in their use, I don’t actually use them all that often. Last weekend was the first time in 2017.  I think I only had them out once in all of 2016.

I’ve even stopped carrying my sidearm.  I still have my carry permit, fully support carrying, and think it is largely a smart thing to do.  But while I think having one is a good idea for most people, unfortunately I think it might be more dangerous for myself to have one.  Maybe as my treatments at the VA continue this will improve.

I was slightly nervous about the shootout on Saturday, but mostly that was nervousness about other people’s safe handling of the weapons.  And everything at the event was fine.  I felt good.  But later, after returning home, I started not doing so well.

Mental Health Crisis

I don’t know even if it is directly relatable to the shootout.   I was slightly depressed all afternoon afterwards though.  And when I get depressed I want to snack as a way to distract myself.  About 10pm I headed to the store to pick up a bag of chips.  I had the windows down as I drove to feel the cool night air.

There is a Maverick gas station on the corner of  state street and 300 East in Pleasant Grove.  As I went through that intersection a man I didn’t see yelled to someone else, “Hey, will you…(something). ”   I can’t identify why, probably the inflection in his voice similar to somebody else I knew, but something about that sentence had me back at Fort Huachuca in an instant.

As I rounded the corner of that intersection, only a fraction of a second after hearing the words, I was already in a panic.  I was shaking and terrified.  Immediately I pulled over into the Smith’s parking near the same corner.   I spent 20 minutes there just trying to breath; to relax; to convince myself that I WAS safe.  It was as long a 20 minutes as I’ve had in quite a while.

I texted Julie, only telling her that I wish she had come because I was feeling “some anxiety.”  I had thought about telling her to grab Blake (her father) and coming to pick me up.  I was in really bad shape, but I didn’t do that because I didn’t want to reveal to Blake/Joan how bad I was doing.  (Yes, I see the irony of that decision and then sharing it here on the blog.)

Ongoing Issues

The only reason I relate this to the shooting at all is that during the episode I kept hearing the gunshots ringing in my ears.  They’re probably unrelated.

I eventually convinced myself I WAS safe and calmed down.  I made it home just fine.  That was Saturday night.  Sunday was… difficult.  No full blown meltdown at church like I’ve done before, but periods of it were difficult to get through.

Monday was… fine.  Julie has spent several days trying to coax me to talk.  But I don’t know what to say to her.  She can tell I haven’t been well. Nightmares, as expected, have been worse than normal.

Today, Tuesday, wasn’t a great day either.  This morning, still on edge and dealing poorly with the stress, I got a phone call from the insurance which didn’t help (I’ll write more about that in another post).  That was while on the way to my parents to do some work again today.

No work took place though.  While discussing what needed to be done my Dad made some fairly benign comments directed at me that set me off.  I didn’t want to blow up so I just left.  I stood, said I couldn’t handle it today, and left.  Julie tried to stop me saying Dad was just joking.  I said I was leaving and if she wanted a ride home she better get in the car too.  A few minutes later we were on the road back home.

Family is great… but everyone needs a friend!

So here I sit feeling like a grade A loser unable to control his emotions.  I feel like I’m just barely hanging on.   I wish desperately I had a friend to call.  The one and only good friend I feel like I’ve had since my discharge is now way back in Missouri, possibly never to be seen again.  A while back he suggested I get out there and meet people, saying I’m a great guy and will find friends.

Despite feeling like I’ve tried doing that, it hasn’t happened yet.  Everybody else at my stage in life seems to already be set in stone with work, schedules, friends, family.  Nobody has time/room in their life for a needy, broken vet.  I can’t blame them.  I wouldn’t really want to hang out with a depressing mental case either.

I’m desperately missing Joshua, who is at Scout Camp this week.  With him here I could find a reason to get out of the house at least and go help him practice some basketball or golf.

Don’t panic… I know I’m loved.

I know Julie loves me, and so do the kids.  And my parents.  I know that.  I know I can talk to them (despite what happened with my Dad today).  I’m sure I could probably reach a church leader or two.   I know there are people to talk with, even if it is only because of their calling, but I wish I had even one good friend as well who I could call up and get together with.

And I wish I could stop all this damn crying!

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Examining My Motivation

This question was asked  during church this week… “What motivates you?”  I was able to sit through about 10 minutes of discussion before JR started fussing.  He was loud enough that I needed to leave so that he didn’t bother the rest of the class.   So I sat with him in the hall and thought about that singular question… what is my motivation?

Searching for Motivation

The first answer that came to mind to me is “I have no motivation.”   I didn’t share this with the class, but kept it to myself.   I do find it very hard much of the time to find motivation to do anything.  I’m in a depressed mood much of the time.

Even when I have the desire to get up and do something, quite often the chronic pain is there to change my mind.  I want to get up and be outside doing things, but knowing they are going to hurt while doing them AND continue hurting long after I’ve stopped makes it extremely difficult to do much at all.

Fear of pain

But that means that I am motivated to stay docile because of fear of pain.  Having many times experienced headaches so bad that they leave me vomiting or blacked out, I find pain avoidance to be highly motivating.

Now, because I know that continuing to gain weight will also cause more pain, I do find motivation to do what I can.  Even 8 years after being medically discharged I am still trying to find the threshold between activity and pain.   The same fear of pain that sucks motivation from me, also makes me want to get up and do what I can so that I don’t get worse.  It is a balancing act that I often feel I am failing at.

Love of family

Love for my family is the one thing that consistently overcome my fear of pain.  I will do what NEEDS to be done for them even if I know it will be painful.  Right now this is happening with getting my parents house cleaned out.  We NEED a permanent place to live.  Every day I wake up stiff, sore, and nauseated from pain.   But the clock is ticking toward start of the next school year, so I get up and get moving.

Before this though there were many days when I probably would have stayed in bed all day.  Or if I did get up, I wouldn’t go anywhere as I hate being in public.  If it weren’t that Julie hates this and it makes her feel bad, then I’d never leave the house.

But making Julie happy and wanting to see the kids is enough to get me out of bed and dressed.  It’s really been the only thing getting me to church for years.  Don’t misunderstand,  I love my church.  I have a deep and abiding faith in Christ.   But the pain and PTSD would be enough to keep me from attending except that Julie wants me there with the family.   So I go, for love of the family.

Other motivation?

I don’t know if I can come up with another one.  I don’t do much pleasure seeking, I don’t care about money, I’d rather not be famous.  While at Fort Huachuca I lost the will to live, and am only still here today because of my love for Julie and the kids.   There are occasionally things I would like to do, but they all largely go unfulfilled for reasons previously discussed.   And even when I do something that I “want to do” it is largely unsatisfying.

I have good moments of laughter and love, but am largely unmotivated toward anything in particular.   My decision making paradigm can basically be boiled down to pain avoidance and love of family.

I’d love to hear… what motivates you?

Andrew with his puppy
Andrew circa 2015 with our Great Pyrenees puppy ‘Chief’