Tag Archives: anger

Where Did the Magical Season Go?

So, can this day/week/season hurry up and be over with already?

Every year I hide behind my words – <Insert Holiday Title Here> is nothing but a commercialized guilt trip and we should celebrate love, kindness, thankfulness, gratefulness, family, friends, and whatever else, EVERY day.

Yeah, just words. Sort of.

In all honesty, I have always disliked many holidays. I dislike Valentines Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents day, Boss’s Day, Administrative Assistance Day, and any other day you can think of. The truth of it all is, it’s a holiday that people adopt so they can party (like St. Patrick’s Day, or Cinco De Mayo), or it’s a day that all the retailers try to lure you in with “savings” to get your money or guilt trip you into buying something for your love or your child and if you don’t, you suck.

And it seems to be worse around Christmas.

My heart and soul must live in a different time period, especially around Christmas time.  The magic of the season is everything to me. You know what I mean. Old movies like HOLIDAY INN or WHITE CHRISTMAS, or the kind you see in a Thomas Kinkade painting, and all the stories of miracles happening around Christmas. A quaint little neighborhood. A blanket of virgin snow. A single trail down the center of the road that leads to the horse-drawn carriage. Christmas lights and decorations lining the streets and warming the houses. Everyone smiling and wishing passersby a Merry Christmas, helping those who needed help, and giving a small gift of friendship in any form. Friends and family circling round the fireplace drinking hot apple cider, singing Christmas carols, and sharing in the warmth of the love. Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.

Oh to see the world through my childhood eyes again.

To set the record straight, It’s not just about the lack of presents. With all due respect, presents under the tree is only a tiny part of that ideal Christmas image in my head. With each passing year, though, the magic of the holiday seasons grows more distant and unattainable. Decorations, still packed away in boxes stored in the garage, are left untouched for years. The lack of cold and snow, does nothing to put me in the mood either. I have no motivation. And when I do, I do it all alone. And now, while the desire is there, that little voice inside my head says, “what’s the point?”

I no longer like going out window shopping, just to enjoy the decorations or looking for ideas for my own house. There are way too many people. It would be ok if everyone was happy it was Christmas time. But now, everyone is so rude, and a thousand times worse during this season. It spurs anxiety in both TheHubs and I.

PTSD and Pain have ruined this time of year for me. TheHubs only feels 3 emotions: rage, despair, and nothing. He doesn’t get into decorating, socializing, or celebrating anymore. This, in turn, makes me not want to put in the effort. Maybe it’s the lack of UV light, the drab days, the lack of color all around, that adds to the depressive state. They do talk a lot about this time of year being worse for depression. So maybe that’s part of it. But I also know that seeing your loved one in constant pain, suffering his demons, and hardly ever seeing the smile on his lips and twinkle in his eye, well, you just let it slip through and wish it were all over so you can get back to the everyday life without seeing everyone else’s Christmas cheer.

This year has been especially hard, making this holiday season a bit worse for wear.  We’ve been through some seriously trying times. Communication is the only way to get through it. And while the PTSD Rage Monster flares bright, I wondered if we’d ever get back to that point. But we did. We both opened up. We both are constantly working on our communication. But while you’re smack in the midst of living the hell, it is hard to see the light. There were several of these times throughout the year. More than we’ve had in a very, very long time.

And then there were all the medical issues.

For me, luckily, this year was pretty simple. Just a few follow-ups with my Psychiatrist and adjustments to my meds–which at this time, I am not going to up them because of the price. It’s like two completely different prescriptions, even though it’s the same medication. One strength dose in the morning, a different one in the evening. But, it’s on a higher tier in the formulary so I have to fork out a bit of money for that. (And don’t even get me started on next year’s medical insurance.)

When TheBoy started school this year, he also started complaining about his feet hurting. It wasn’t until about a week in that it got so bad he called us from the nurses office saying he couldn’t walk anymore. We took him to a podiatrist and that’s when we found out he has incredibly flat feet (like his father) and loose tendons (like his mother). Luckily, the doctor had a quick and permanent fix, giving him an arch and correcting his feet to hopefully not have pain. It would require surgery on both feet. And now was the best time for him to have it since he’s still growing. He’s already had one surgery, and his second is on Dec 8th. (if you want to read about this condition, you can see the pictures here)

And then we found out he needed braces. UGH!

On top of all this, we also have to foot the bill for what the VA doesn’t cover for TheHubs. All his medications, and the neurologist he’s been seeing for a little over 10 years. His Botox injections, and pain medications. He also had surgery in September to help correct his severely deviated septum, which was supposed to help his apnea and we were hoping to alleviate the positional pain that came from sleeping since he would now be able to breath out of his nose while sleeping on his belly. It helped somewhat, but nothing to write home about.

So, our bank account has been pretty much wiped out — of course adding to my already discouragement for this season.

So when TheBoy comes to me, without prompting, and says he would be fine with nothing for his birthday and Christmas, an instant surge of pride is quickly replaced with a great sadness because I know with all these medical and dental bills that are going on I cannot afford to get him something, or anyone else either.

This season is about giving. And I do so love to give, whether it be a present, a smile, a hug, a positive thought. I am happiest when I am giving and helping people. I am happy making others happy. Sometimes, though, I would love if everyone else felt the same way I do.

When I started writing this post, it was so very negative. I couldn’t see the positive, and wondered if I would ever feel any Christmas spirit again. After getting it out, admitting it, I realize that just like being positive in everyday life, being happy on Christmas is a conscious decision. So today, I am making that decision – the decision to try to enjoy the season and not focus on my dreams.

I am going to try to make other people happy. Maybe it will help me get back into the spirit of the season. If I can buy someone’s coffee while I’m out shopping, or find a homeless vet who hangs out on the corner near the mall and give them $20. Or get back to leaving my Positive Post-It Notes around town while we are out and about…*IF* we are out and about. I really want to be able to share the positive and the happy and give someone a smile. The more people who see kindness, maybe it will spread and the rudeness will diminish?

I honestly believe in karma and “what goes around comes around”. I just have to be patient. And patience is not my best quality.

One can only hope, though.

So I am going to ask you to do the same. Maybe it might help you too. Be kind to everyone. You never know what their story is.

Be kind. Smile often. And spread the happiness.

LadyJai

If you’re willing, I would love to hear your stories as well. Let us all feel not so alone, especially during this holiday season so we can have a little bit of light in the PTSD darkness. Love you all.

Related Articles you may like:
Holidays
Christmas 2014
The Secret to Marriage
Finding the Positives

No Longer Supporting the Bully Supporter

NEVER BE BULLIED

I wrote a guest post on one of the Support Group blogs that went live on July 22nd. I am now wishing that I never wrote it. Or at the very least, never agreed to having them post it, because really, that whole love and loyalty to my support group that I spoke about in it, the whole finding light in the darkness and a home, has been shattered beyond repair.

It all started coming to a head on July 26th when one of the moderators was let go from the parent company (PC), without warning, without any notice. PC turned our little group completely upside down. It was handled very badly in my opinion. A person who never participates in the group, is not part of our family, swoops in and basically says “trust us it’s for the best” but fails to give any explanation or even forewarning. Trust is not automatic. It’s earned. And for someone to come in and say that, how can you expect us to just say “ok” and go on with our lives? Really? In a caregiver support group, where change is really NOT ok. We have to plan. Our whole lives get upset when change, especially drastic change, upsets the balance we so carefully curate.

We, the group members, spent the remainder of the day and night trying to process it all and get PC to understand that how they handled this situation was incredibly bad. While our words to them seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, and probably nothing will be done to get our mod back, SHE KNOWS we love her and fought for her. SHE KNOWS the truth of it all and SHE KNOWS that we can see through the tip-toeing around, the changing stories, and the excuses.

That incident tore my loyalty in two. While I loved my support group family and those who started it, how can I remain loyal to the parent company who disrupted our family and refuses to speak the truth or acknowledge the fact that they handled the situation very, very wrong?

There have been other incidents prior to this that the majority overlooked. A particular individual would be nice one minute and rage and lash out at someone the next. I have been on the receiving end of that rage several times. While I do my best to remain calm and nice in my replies, the line was crossed several times. I eventually stopped responding. But sometimes the moderator had to step in because I am trying to change my self-image. I am trying to stand up for myself and not let people walk all over me. I am trying to face my fear of confrontation. I do remember one time, though, she crossed the line so far that I ended up stooping to her level and I regret that. After that incident, I blocked her for a while. It was nice and peaceful. But being the type of person I am, who thrives on helping other people, I unblocked her and just watched. I watched her go from nice to snapping people’s heads off in a matter of seconds and nothing ever got done about it.

We were a support group to help others deal with caring for their veterans. When this individual first started her seemingly random attacks at people in our group, I asked the moderator if anything could be done. They said they handled it behind the scenes. But she was allowed to remain. Her attacks still came. One day, one moment, she would be nice and sweet and generally want the help or give help. The next day or moment she’d flip. I get that she may have her own issues. I get that the loudest, most cruel person, could very possibly need the most help. But to attack the people who are trying to support you is NOT the way to go about it.

The moderators always asked for tolerance and acceptance. Well, Tolerance and acceptance works both ways. But apparently not many people see it that way. We ALL have done our best. All of the people who I have spoken with about this individual. We have all TRIED to be nice, accept her, offer a shoulder but what do we get in return? Snapped at, bullied, and abused. And from our perspective, the moderators continually took her side. In essence, they spit in the rest of the group’s face.

I stood up for myself and others in the group. I spoke what everyone else was thinking. I gave my honest opinion. MY PERSPECTIVE. And what do I get in return? For voicing my opinion on a subject, for voicing my perspective where the moderator asked and stated that there will be no judgement, no criticism, I felt both of those. I will not back down on my stance, nor will I give in. I will not stop fighting for MY FAMILY. To allow this toxicity to continue in the group, has made it unsafe for me, for anyone. I will no longer support the support group or the PC. I cannot tolerate bullies, in any form.

I was told that “Perspective isn’t truth.” I don’t see it that way. Perspective is truth to the one who perceives it. Truth is always relative. You have to be willing to see things from multiple angles. And I believe that this is what is wrong with today’s society. No one is willing to budge in their views on anything. Because I voiced my perspective, and it didn’t mesh with hers, then I was belittled, judged, and criticized. There was no compromise.

I WILL NOT BACK DOWN! That woman’s anger, her rage, and her cruelty poisoned our community, our family. And they allowed it to happen. Over. And. Over. And. Over. Again. We tolerated enough. I was not going to allow it any more. I wanted to save our community. To save our family and make it safe again. How can it be safe when someone bullies you in the group? When someone verbally abuses someone else in the group. I can’t stand by and watch that happen anymore. The group is no longer SAFE.

All I know is that I’m done. I’ve said everything I can say and they will not budge. They’ve hurt me to my core. My heart breaks because I really loved this group. Before I found this support group, I was utterly alone in the world. I did not think anyone would understand me and I went to a very dark place. When I found this group, I found Beth, I started understanding and things were getting better. I started helping people understand that what they were going through, living, and feeling, that they weren’t alone. No one should ever feel like I felt before this group.

I haven’t felt this hurt since right after my son was born and Iost yet another friend to some random reason. And I haven’t had a friend since. When I open my heart up again, this is what happens. Always. It has hurt my soul and trusting anyone new is going to be so hard again. I know I will come back to it. I always do. But right now I am grieving.

I am honest. I am true. I am loyal. And my greatest weakness is that I believe every one should be, too. I am thankful for the support group and the PC, to allow me to meet new people and connect, with people who truly understood me. I am thankful for that. But it has changed. for me at least. And I have to stand up for myself and not get walked all over any more.

I need a new home. If you can recommend one, please let me know. I cannot go this caregiver path alone again.I'm enoughLadyJai

Related Articles you may like:

You Are Not Alone!

My Greatest Fear

whatareyouafraidof

I’m a writer. It’s what I do. It’s how I process. It’s not always about my stories.

Recently, I happened across an article that talked about the fears that motivate our characters. Now we’re not talking about the fear of spiders or heights. I wrote about fear, once. It didn’t go deep enough. We’re talking about fundamental fears, the things that scare us the most, that shape our personalities and our decisions. It has given me insight into my own character – Me. But can I change it? That is a huge question. Well, maybe not change it, but at a minimum try to combat how I react to certain things.

This past week has put me back in my darkness, where I can no longer see hope. But I keep trying to reach out and find something, anything to grasp. Just when I thought I was learning how to better communicate, my whole world is turned upside down and I am forced back into a place where I can no longer get that communication across, either because I failed to say the right thing or because the other side has blocked me out. Either way, I’m lost. Without communication, we cannot progress, we cannot grow, we cannot change, and we cannot expect to have any type of relationship, with anyone.

My heart breaks.

So what is it I fear most?

I am afraid, oh so afraid, of being unloved.

According to David Wisehart, those characters whose greatest fear is of being unloved are called The Helper. He goes on to say,

These characters want most of all to be loved. To achieve this, they give love to others, expecting others to give love back. But no other type is as giving as they are. These generous characters may be disappointed by what they get in return. At times they may be manipulative and vindictive.

Helpers want most of all to be loved. They are people-pleasers. In an effort to get love, they give it first, fully expecting love in return. This bargain remains assumed and unacknowledged until the issue is forced to the surface by the Helper’s growing resentment. No one but another Helper can match their giving nature, so they often feel used, surrounded by a world of heartless takers. This is when their personality can pivot toward vindictiveness.

At their worst, Helpers are possessive, manipulative victims.

At their best, Helpers are generous, caring, and insightful.

I’m still trying to process the why of this fear. Where did it come from? Both my parents love me. I was never neglected. No, so far from that it was just the opposite. So that’s not it. But maybe it has to do with being an only child? Moving around every 4 years and losing touch with every friend I ever made? I think both of those play a major role in the development of this fear.

Being an only child meant I was alone most of my life. I had to learn to play by myself. I had to learn to rely only on me. Most of my friends lived inside books. The ones in real life, well, they came and went. Some friendships lasted 6 months, some a year, and then if I got really lucky, some would last through two duty stations, which meant about 6 years. I’ve never had the luxury of a childhood friend, a best friend, someone who would always be there for me.

So maybe I built defense mechanisms? Since I knew the only one I could count on, ever, is me, I only listened to me. Decisions, problem solving, directions, all were made by me, and me alone. It could very easily be the reason why some friendships didn’t last as long as they could. Because I expected them not to last.

Expectation is not the norm in the issues that have arisen of late. I mean, come on, 25 years and he’s still here. So why can’t I get it through my thick head he isn’t going to leave me? Well, that’s because those mechanisms seem to still be hanging around. That fear is my rock, my foundation. I guess I always knew it; but putting a name to it, validating it with proof, well that’s another thing.

These last two years have been a journey of discovering what makes me tick, as well as what makes him tick. I thought this was all progress. I truly thought we were working better at this whole communication thing. But I guess, he’s been holding so much back about me, letting me make all the decisions, for so long, for whatever fear he has, that he couldn’t take it anymore.

I’m selfish. I’m stupid. I’m inconsiderate. I never think about anyone else but myself.

As for being inconsiderate and never thinking about anyone other than myself. Well, that is so far from the truth. Everything I do is to please everyone else. That’s my downfall. Logically, I know you can please some of the people some of the time but you can never please all the people all the time. Still, my heart tries so hard to do the latter. Everything I do, I do out of love. Some of these decisions may be centered around me and I’m blinded to that fact, but in the end I don’t do it thinking solely of me. Yes, I’m stubborn. If I get an idea in my head I run head strong with it. I’m bull-headed. Always been told so. When something ticks me off, say a car that has broken down over and over and over again that we put so much money into I get fed up and just go out and buy a new car. I ask for input. I guess over the years with these major decisions, he’s given me less and less input. I get so frustrated at the “whatever” responses I get. So I just do. And that probably gets me in trouble, too.

I have told myself I am stupid countless times since I was young. Now, though, I know this is not true. I am doing my best to stop thinking this way about myself. Sometimes it’s hard when consequences of my actions, or words, rear up and show themselves. Yes, I’ve made some stupid decisions. Yes, I’ve said some stupid things. Haven’t we all? It doesn’t make us entirely stupid. Right?

As for selfish? That’s a whole lot harder to push down. I wrote about only some of the things I feel selfish about, before. Only child syndrome, I guess. I can’t recognize it when I’m doing it, so I wish someone would point it out to me. Yes, I might get upset, at first. But I need it. I need to know in order to change.

So why did he bottle it all up and never confront me? Maybe he didn’t want to upset me. But how will I know what needs to change? How can we compromise? How can I learn to recognize these behaviors and work on changing them? First off, acknowledging them, even here on the blog, helps. They become tangible, real. Rather than something fleeting in my mind. They always say, admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery, right? So I hope I can change for the better.

What is his greatest fear?

What’s yours?

Related Articles you may like:
Fear
Selfish
Guilt
9 Character Types That Will Improve Your Story

LadyJai

PS: In light of this weeks issues, I am foregoing a post dedicated to Celebrate the Small Things. Please forgive me. It’s been a very, VERY rough week. I’m processing and recovering. However, I will say that I am celebrating peace returning. But there is a new challenge that we must deal with. We will get through it, together!

Holidays

Yesterday was Mother’s Day.

I don’t understand. After 40 some years, I still hope that someone would surprise me, go out of their way to do something, anything, extra special for me, wait on me hand and foot, pamper me, just for one day make me the priority. I am feeling that selfish twinge again.

When I was little, I always had dreams of surprise birthday parties, or surprise trips, or anything that would be grand and exciting for my birthday. But, alas, my birthday was smack dab in the middle of summer. And living in a military community, my friends were either on vacation, or living off base and we couldn’t get together. I was always left to have a very small birthday with my mom and dad. Eventually, my birthday became just another day.

When I got into high  school and started getting interested in boys, Valentine’s Day was special. The schools would sell flowers that the guys could buy for their girlfriend or secret love. There were so many girls that got at least one flower. Me, usually I had none. My boyfriends were either short-lived, or non-existent. I wasn’t popular, nor exceptionally beautiful. And most guys were not very “creatively romantic.” The older I got, the more I saw that it was really nothing more than the retailers trying to guilt everyone into buying some overpriced thing for their love and if they didn’t get the biggest, most expensive thing then they really didn’t love that person. I resolved myself to the fact that Valentine’s Day was just another day. And I was OK with this because, really, you should be loved and cherished all the days of the year without being made to feel guilty.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter, again being a military family involved a lot of distant friends and family. They’ve  always been a tight-knit holiday celebrated between me, my mom, and dad. We lived so far from their family that travel was way too expensive. I can only remember one Christmas with my Mom’s Aunt and Uncle in Washington state. The only time we got to see my mom and dad’s parents and siblings were when we were on our way overseas. Every 4 years doesn’t really make you close. So our holidays were always just the three of us. But it was always about the family being together.

Maybe it was living in England. Maybe it was being a close-knit family. Somehow, I developed my ideal image of Christmas, the kind you see in a Thomas Kinkade painting. A quaint little neighborhood. A blanket of virgin snow. A single trail down the center of the road that leads to the horse-drawn carriage. Christmas lights and decorations lining the streets and warm the houses. Everyone smiling and wishing passersby a Merry Christmas, helping those who needed help, and giving a small gift of friendship in any form. Friends and family circling round the fireplace drinking hot apple cider, singing Christmas carols, and sharing in the warmth of the love.

TKholidaygathering2

My heart and soul must live in a different time period because with each passing Christmas, I realize there’s no more magic in it. It makes me incredibly sad and frustrated. I want the magic. I want the love and warmth.

Because of the issues my husband faces daily. The pain, the depression, the forgetfulness, and everything else that comes along with my wounded warrior, my ideal Christmas never unfolds. Most of the time we don’t put up decorations. And if we do, it’s what I can put up myself, or with the help of my son. There’s no desire in my husband anymore. Every day is just about getting through the pain.

There have been so many family holidays and get-togethers that he’s missed because of the pain. I know it tears him apart. Now. But there was a time that those auto-thoughts kicked in and I wondered if he disliked my family, or he hated doing anything with me, or he just hated going outside. It took several years, and a lot of communication with him, to kick those auto-thoughts to the curb. Even now, I still have to tell them who’s really boss in my head. Some days are better than others.

So, yesterday was Mother’s Day.

The one day everyone raves about what their husbands and children do for them. Breakfast in bed. Homemade cards and crafts. Surprise visits. Dinner out or at the very least, cooked by anyone other than the Mom. Now that I’m in a community with other Veteran Caregivers, I see a different side of Mother’s Day. Many feel the same as I do. Left out. Just another day. Wishing that someone would make them the priority, or even an effort. But there were so many other posts out there where their veteran was blowing up, arguing, ignoring, leaving. These ladies were feeling that they weren’t important or loved or even recognized. Their day seemed so much worse than mine.

It made me take a step back and look at my day. Yes, sure I woke up like every other day. I laid in bed until TheBoy got up. TheHubs was already awake, downstairs watching TV after a night of insomnia. Yes, sure I had to remind both my son and my husband to wish me happy MomMom’s Day. But, hey, I got hugs and kisses. Yes, I made breakfast. And yes, hubs went to bed soon after we woke up. I managed to wake him up around noon and asked if he wanted to go with us to get groceries and TheBoy a new set of swim trunks. His pain level was pretty bad and I gave him two hours to see if it would calm down. Nope. As per usual, it remained high. So TheBoy and I went out by ourselves.

I had those bad thoughts, those selfish thoughts again. But I didn’t let them get to me. The guilt tried to creep in, too. But I pushed it aside and did what I needed to do. I did do something bad, though. I bought some cookies, some donuts, and also the items to make strawberry shortcake. I also bought Subway for dinner. Hey, it was Me Day, right?! 😛  I wanted to go to the salon and cut off all my hair but decided I wouldn’t put the boy through that. I also wanted to look for a new swimsuit for me too. That whole ordeal, for both of us, was a disaster. But we did have a little fun with hats (in which I bought him one).

When I came home, TheHubs was on the Xbox. I had to bring the groceries in and put them away without his help. I understand that playing the Xbox does tend to allow him to forget his pain temporarily. I’m going to be honest with myself, and with you: I was a little upset when his match was over and he didn’t help out.  I was a little upset that he didn’t take time out to eat with us. I’m not entirely sure why I was exhausted after 3 hours of grocery shopping. So I went upstairs and laid down on the bed to watch some shows since he was downstairs playing his game. Yup, just a typical day for us.

While I was laying there, alone, I went over my day and all the posts I read regarding Mother’s Day. And you know what? I need to let go of those unrealistic expectations, those magical dreams of the perfect holiday, and just enjoy the small things. Count them and watch them pile up. Soon, it will be a HUGE mountain of positive.

My husband’s alive. He loves me. My son is alive. He loves me. He made a card with love  for me. We were together at the store and had fun trying on hats. We were able to enjoy some good food. And we made it through another day. I’d call that a win.

So when another holiday rolls around, I just need to sit back and enjoy what I have, even if hubs can’t participate fully. Because, you know what? I’m loved and cherished every day. Every holiday is just another day. I am thankful for what I have.

LadyJai

Anger

I don’t like feeling angry. Usually, if something makes me mad I’m usually able to brush it off very quickly. However, as I’ve written about my feelings of unworthinessselfishness, and how everything has been overwhelming for me, I’ve managed to work myself into a fit of anger.

It starts out small and kind of sneaks up on me. I don’t realize I’m angry until it’s too late, when I snap at everyone for every little thing. And then, that makes me all the more angry.

What am I angry about? Nothing, Everything. None of it. All of it.

I shouldn’t be angry. There’s nothing I can do about it. And that makes me angry.

I want the pain to go away. I hate it. It’s stolen everything from him. His career. His livelihood. His health. His fatherhood. His desires. His dreams. His self-image. His happiness. His life.

It’s stolen our lives. Holidays, family outings, even regular old chores around the house. I get angry that it’s always up to me to do everything. I get angry that no I have to work. I have to do the chores. Where was the man I married? Why can’t I have a normal life? We can’t even plan a real vacation. Overnight trips are the worst for him. When we do try, it’s like we’re always expecting the pain and anxiety to take him away and cut our outing short. We never go anywhere that is more than an overnight stay.

I get angry that he’s lost all his excitement, his desires. He doesn’t want to do anything anymore. He feels helpless, a burden, and he fears failure so he doesn’t do anything. I know he wants to. But his pain and fear bind him. When I try to find something I know he’d be good at, or I think should excite him, or something that maybe he wouldn’t feel so useless, he pushes back. And I get angry.

But the anger isn’t just mine. It’s his, too.

Before we knew what was going on he was prone to angry outbursts for no reason. And boy could he get angry. Rage was more like it. It scared me.

I, being the non confrontational kind, sat there and said nothing, fearing that if I did I would trigger even more anger. Also, being the person I am, I thought it was always my fault and I didn’t want to make it worse. So I sat in silence waiting for it to pass. Some days he would be fine. But on those days when the wind blew wrong, I held my breath and walked on eggshells.

Years have gone by, I stuck through it. I always held hope that things would get better. While his condition worsened, I still loved him. We found out a lot of things over the years, learned to talk to each other. It wasn’t until he was diagnosed with PTSD that we really understood a lot of it. The chronic pain and the medications didn’t help either. And now, I’m learning that there may be more to it than we realized. After going back through the memories, talking more in-depth about all the accidents he’s had, and me researching, we now think maybe he has been suffering from undiagnosed traumatic brain injury (TBI) all these years (which he is currently undergoing testing–not sure how that will play out since his accident was 15 years ago).

The most important thing, though, is that I am there by his side, through sickness and in health. I give him my support. We learned to communicate, not just talk or yell. We continue to learn how to identify our feelings and reassure each other that it isn’t the other’s fault.

Yes, of course we still get angry. We all do. We are not perfect. But it’s not terminal.

Shakespeare said, “Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, lest thou hasten thy trial.” (All’s Well That Ends Well, Act 2 Scene 3) Anger never creates anything. It is the destroyer of everything that is good. Take a deep breath, count to ten (or a hundred), eat a cookie. Tomorrow is another day.

LadyJai

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