Red gets it

A few days ago I had a two hour long phone conversation with Red.  This is what happens when we don't keep in touch.  Which seems strange, since we were nearly inseperable at Walter Reed.  But, I am glad that despite all of the craziness that we've maintained our friendship -- he's the only one I feel totally comfortable talking about PTSD-related issues and know that he really does understand.

We're both on medication and although at seperate points didn't want anything to do with drugs, neither one of us will tolerate someone saying that we'd be better off without the drugs or that our medication just doesn't work.  Neither one of us is employed and we're living on a fixed retirement income.  (It's still strange to think of myself as retired.)  We struggle going out into public and would rather stay in our safe zones.  We are prone to doing strange or "abnormal" things when we're stressed.

And while it sounds terrible, neither one of us feels like we have a purpose.

Red's sense of purpose came from the Army.  Mine was from goals that I don't believe are possible to achieve now.

Our friends and families don't understand.  Our therapists try their hardest to convince us to think otherwise.  They don't get it.

Red does, and I'm grateful for that.