Several years ago I read an article about patients coming out of comas. The TV version--waking up to suddenly find ten years has passed--is not typical. Instead, the reawakening is more of a gradual return of consciousness. This describes very well my experience with PTSD .
Three years ago I had this image of keeping a diary of my journey through the underworld of PTSD. Isn't it great that we are so naive when we start a miserable journey? If we knew just what it would be like, we'd probably never begin. As it turned out, it's been enough to get through each day. Rather, it started out being enough to just get through each hour of each day. It's only been in the past six months that I've had whole days in which I felt okay, and it's only been recently that I've been able to look towards the future and imagine anything other than doom & gloom. It really is like slowly coming back to some feeling of consciousness. I'm even learning to accept that PTSD cannot be "cured," although it can, with work, be managed.
I've been very, very lucky. I have a wonderfully supportive & patient family, an understanding set of colleagues, and an outstanding therapist (who also helped me navigate the VA). As much as this has sucked (and it has really sucked), I've had a lot of support on my journey. Without any of those elements, I have no idea where I'd be.
Which is really my point. How many of my brother and sister vets haven't been as lucky as me? How many of those traumatized by this war cannot get the help and support they need? How many of our neighbors are still carrying the wounds of the other wars we've sent young men & women off to fight? How many are still in the PTSD coma, struggling to return to this world?
Screw the yellow ribbons, screw all the "support our troops" crap, screw the parades & flags; why can't we commit to honor our vets by taking care of them?