a different leap

Yes, I'm getting married. Yes, I'm getting married to Wolf, who has been my closest confidant since all of the craziness started. Yes, the wedding is in a few months. No, sorry, you're not invited.

He proposed shortly after Valentine's Day. It was actually something we had talked about, but neither of us thought it would happen so fast so soon. In a way, it almost has to be. Wolf is deploying again in the not so distant future, and actually living together beforehand is something we both think would be beneficial.

Only now everyone's obsessing about where I'm going to live during the deployment. Which, for now, is overshadowed by the obsessing over the wedding.

But, it's still a *little* scary. Moving away from home is not all that appealing right now.

I don't think it will ever be.

(Have I mentioned how much I hate snow?)

Retired at 23

My PEBLO called last week and informed me that I've been offered 30% disability and temporary disability retirement pay. It's exactly what I wanted, so of course I accepted. Now I hurry up and wait again for my discharge and my retirement pay to kick in. Only a little over a month more until that happens. In case you were wondering, it's the same thing Red received. Only he fought much longer than I did -- he really did want to stay in and return to his unit in the worst way. Considering I was MEDEVAC'd in August, it's taken nearly a year to get discharged. Although, I must admit, if I had said in Germany or Walter Reed that I wanted out of the Army I wouldn't have stayed on active duty this long.

It is a little weird to think of both Red and myself as medically unfit to serve, even if it is the truth. If you were to talk about it with my mom, she would tell you that I was never medically fit to join the Army in the first place and if I had stayed in the band, everything would have been just fine. I wouldn't be screwed up. I wouldn't be hiding in the house and avoiding people. Yes, I made the decision to learn another job and deploy -- but it's not my fault that I came back like this.

And really, who wouldn't expect change from a person who's been away from home, in a completely different environment, in a completely different culture (both military and host country), and a completely different daily routine? I didn't just come back with PTSD. I have new friends, a fiance, new interests and hobbies, and more insight and understanding of that part of the world. That's the short list. I don't regret choosing to deploy. I just wish things had turned out better.

it's been awhile

It wasn't until I logged in that I really realized how long it's been since I've written much of anything. Internet at my jobsite is filtered -- more than what it was in the desert -- and I don't really have a workstation to myself anyways. And there's all of that regular life stuff.

In a nutshell:

• Red is out of Walter Reed and on temporary retirement. (He's only 20.)
• I have been officially declared unfit for duty.
• My packet is at the med board, where they will decide how much disability and what separation benefits I'll get.
• Wolf and I have spent a lot of time together -- in fact, there's a rock on my finger. Technically, thirteen of them.
• The date is July 22. There's no rhyme or reason for picking that day, either.
• Someone has dragged me into the world of computer games. It's only contributing to the agoraphobia.
• I'm moving to upstate New York. Have I mentioned how much I hate snow?

Really, I do live.

bad start to the new year

Christmas may have been wonderful, but the New Year ended up being a disaster.

Red came to visit -- we were practically inseparable while at Walter Reed -- and for the most part it was one stupid argument or another. One was over dog training. There was more than one night that he slept on the couch and there was definitely days that I wanted him to drive back to DC. I wish I was joking.

That's not to say it was all bad. He tried to surprise me New Year's Eve by bringing me my Ativan and stayed for two shows. (Weeks later, I wished he stayed until I left.) We went out and did a few fun things -- which is a big deal for both of us.

But when your ex-boss tries to kiss you, your friend gets smashed and cries on your mom's shoulder, and you go to bed before the ball drops? Not such a good holiday.

And yes, I have a feeling that I'm going to report another incident of sexual harassment. I don't think I'll go back into the planetarium for a long time, if ever. I don't think I'll be involved in their big projects. And I don't think that I'll even register for classes next semester.

After everything that's happened, I just can't put myself in that kind of situation.

at least I had a good holiday

Switching meds is not fun. The nurse wanted to try SSRIs again, which have been nothing but unpleasant in the past. I may or may not be allergic. We've started low and slow on one that isn't so nasty. It will be awhile before I'm up at an effective dose again.

In the meantime, life sucks. I am back to that "please let me be, I don't want to do anything" mode.

I wish the Army would hurry up and fire me.

not rock bottom

For all the writing I haven't been doing, you'd think I would be out and about in this world. There are four places I go to on a semi-regular basis: work, the pet store, the VA, and the Physics Department -- in that order. I'm beginning to wonder if my home has become more of a self-inflicted prison rather than a safe place.

I didn't think that going out into the world after Walter Reed would be a big deal. Sitting in the doctor's office is anxiety-inducing, and my Primary Care Manager looks at my knee bouncing up and down with a very concerned look. She has a hard time accepting that it isn't her that's making me anxious. The grocery store and most other retail places are outright uncomfortable. I go numb. I know where I am, I can talk to you, but I don't exactly feel "there". I move slow and feel weak, worrying that I will collapse. Without the dog, it's very difficult to be "there". My parents took me to a concert just last week. Dad checked at least twice to make sure my knee wasn't hitting the back of the seat in front of me. I don't go out with friends -- I haven't even met up with my civilian friends yet. Life is lived in "safe" places: home, work and the VA. And I hate it. I want my life back.

Wolf is incredibly patient, constantly telling me that I'm getting better. My definition of better is not being tweaked out and anxious about stupid stuff. His definition of better is how often I smile, how long I can stand to be in a store, how I interact with people, how much stamina I have -- not things like my current dosage of meds or how much a jump at a noise.

On several occasions, Wolf and I have had conversations about how bad it's been. He left the desert in March and he could tell that I wasn't doing too good then. Aramis left for another base in July. Before he left, he asked if I would be okay. I knew I wouldn't. I'm pretty sure he knew as well. We've never talked about it. Rock bottom was late July-early August. And I really do mean rock bottom. It was a very slow and painful downward spiral that was drawn out over several months, and we all knew it.

This is not rock bottom. I am not crying myself to sleep. I am not wishing to disappear. I am not keeping it all to myself anymore. Most importantly, I am not lying to the doctors.

This is not rock bottom.

Mental Health PostSecret

I did actually have both a Chaplain and a nurse tell me something very similar to that. They only made me cry harder.

changes, for better or worse

The things I wished had never changed:
-the ability to go out alone without worrying about my well-being
-thinking that it was impossible to jump at the sight of my own shadow
-trusting male senior NCOs soldiers, regardless of rank, without question
-the possibility of obtaining a pilot's license for myself

The things I'm glad I did change:
-ditching MeuExAmor
-going no-contact with several men that were once in my life
-my opinion about psych medication
-learning to stand up for myself

The things I want to change:
-having any kind of feelings for my nephew
-my fear and trust issues with relationships
-not jumping at every single thing that startles me
-convincing my brain that the world isn't all that bad out there

home at last

I've been home for nearly two weeks now. It's been a bit of an adjustment.

Until I'm done with the military or treatment, whichever comes first, I'm still active duty. My primary place of duty is the VA clinic in town for appointments. If I'm not there, I'm at the job site. No outside employment. Not allowed to go back to school full time. I call my platoon sergeant every single day, my case manager multiple times a week, and I'll probably be talking to the social worker about once a week. There was no more than a day off of working and appointments when I first got home. No travel outside of a 200 mile radius without putting in leave. And don't dare ask for a pass -- it's probably not going to be approved anyways.

I know that I shouldn't complain. I'm home, I'm still getting paid, and I am not spending a cent on medical treatment. It's just not the idea of home that I'm used to.

My family -- well, most of them -- have been awesome. There was a problem when my brother came to visit and our parents stepped in and dealt with it. The holidays are going to be a bit interesting, and not in the good way.

Going back to campus was easier than expected. Bossman was so happy to see me. Someone had mentioned that he probably was lonely, with most of the gang graduated or otherwise busy. One of the professors assured me that I was no different in the eyes of the department and that as far as most were concerned I did my time and came back. Which is always reassuring.

Even though I know it's not possible, part of me wishes that it was like how it was before I left. Life moves on. And that's okay.

The goal is to get better, not to roll back the clock.