Why I give back to veterans

The reason I do what I do has been attacked recently so I thought it was a good time to clarify why I do what I do. I've been there. I know what it's like for the families to feel lost and alone, struggling to make sense out of what is happening in their lives, but above all, what it is like to watch someone you love suffer.

When Vietnam veterans came home, no one was talking about PTSD. There were no news reports other than when they were arrested and the headline made sure to include the words "Vietnam Veteran" supporting the image of "yet another crazy Nam Vet" jeopardizing polite society. VV wives knew better and we learned by living. Each day was a challenge to hang onto hope when each day we watched them die a little bit more inside. Everyday we never knew if it would be a good day when we saw more of the husband we loved smile again, or if it would be a day of having to get out of the house with our kids because Dad was having a bad day.

We learned that when the nightmares came, they were not really there in the bed, if they slept in the bed at all instead of on the sofa. We learned you do not yell to wake them up or touch them in striking distance because we could end up with a black eye or bloody nose. We learned sudden moves, like walking up behind them too quietly could cause yet another bad reaction from them. A broken glass, a kid crying because they got hurt playing, all could cause an over reaction from them, adding to the event, and our reaction could either ease it or make it worse. We also learned how to help our kids understand it was not their fault.

We learned how to go shopping alone; parent virtually alone; make decisions; go to movies with friends instead of our husbands; adjust to the fact when we did manage to get them to go to a restaurant, we would have to wait until there was a booth open instead of sitting at a perfectly good table in the center of the room. We also learned how to deal with our own families refusing to understand what we were trying to tell them because they were too busy talking, telling us to get divorced because "you don't deserve to live this way" never once able to understand our husband didn't deserve to live "this" way either.

We learned how to deal with the financial problems because they were spending money we didn't have so they could self-medicate. We dealt with the fact it was easier for them to be considered a drunk or druggie instead of crazy. Yes, crazy. Most of them said they didn't want to go for help because the VA would end up locking them up and tossing away the key if they knew what was going on inside of their minds because they managed somehow to decide they had turned evil. We dealt with the bad decisions they made on a whim buying a motorcycle when the car was falling apart, buying lobsters when the kids needed new shoes, the stack of bills that couldn't be paid because they couldn't hold onto a job very long and refused to go to the VA.

Even when we could get them to finally understand they needed help and we needed hope given back, the VA was "out to get them" in their own minds and it was a daily struggle to get them to keep trying. Each denial letter came in the mail and we watched the knife dig deeper into their backs as we also saw shreds of hope evaporate before our eyes. We held it all together, and then someone managed to take on the VA, fighting with doctors that wouldn't talk to us or include us in on the way they treated our husbands. We knew when they were not telling the doctors the truth about what was going on because they tried to hide it instead of being honest, again, with the fear hanging over their heads that they would be locked up, and we'd be able to help the doctors discover the truth. Why? Because we knew the sooner the doctors knew exactly what was going on, the sooner we'd be able to get our husband's back in our lives again. At least we hoped that would be the case.

Some of us just couldn't do it anymore and some of us reached the point where the world crashed so hard on our shoulders, we just kept giving up until the day came when they were having a good day again and we'd remember we loved them. My husband and I separated several times, but we never stopped talking to each other. I had the luxury of understanding why he was the way he was and even with that, there were times when it was just too much, too long for me to stay strong.

In all the years I managed somehow to get other veterans to listen to me more than my own husband did. I knew what it was like to be inside their head and for most, they hated the fact I could get in there. Stunned was replaced by hope because some got what they were trying to hide and why they tried to hide it. I still had to hold down a job, so I did accounting, worked as assistant manager of an ice cream shop at night so I could be home with our daughter during the day and did whatever I could to help make ends meet. I also had to hang onto some hope.

First it was a battle to get him to go for help. Then the diagnosis. Then to the Vet's Center. Then to the VA. Then to the DAV because his claim was turned down at the same time experts were telling us he needed the VA experts so that he could begin to heal. Then it was a six year battle to have his claim approved and each denial dug the knife deeper into his soul. They were billing us for his treatment. The insurance we had because he managed to keep his job wouldn't pay, because they said it was the responsibility of the government. The PTSD was linked to Vietnam by VA doctors leaving the private insurance off the hook but the VA wouldn't honor his claim. The media didn't give a crap and told me reporting the story on what was happening to our veterans was just "sour grapes" instead of opening their ears and hearing what was happening, not just to my husband, but to veterans all over the country. The net was filled with veterans screaming for help but the reporters were oblivious to all of them.

With an approved claim finally, we had a check for some of the years we had to fight. By then I was an expert on PTSD. I read more clinical books than a PHD, talked to more veterans and their families than any therapist but above all, I lived with it everyday. At this point I could have said, "I got mine, screw you" and just got on with my life but I was compelled to help others get to where I was. My own husband said he wished I could just be "normal" and drop all of this. I had to keep reminding him what it was like when no one would help us.

So here I am 27 years later, doing blog posts so that veterans and their families can read about others across the country, PTSD can stay with a huge spotlight on it and no one will suffer feeling alone. I also do it so that the next time some reporter figures out there is a huge secret going on with our veterans suffering, they have most reports all in one place. I do it so that wives like me won't have to do this alone without someone understanding and helping them avoid the same mistakes I made. So that parents and partners of the newer veterans can get to where I am on the fast track. Above all, so that they do not have to watch them die a slow death.

None of what we're seeing has to happen. I used the technology of today and came up with videos because people want to be entertained. I figured if they were ever going to stop being afraid of the words Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, they would have to hear it from someone on their level and someone who made it work. It's why I wrote the book I did but it's a lot easier to get thru a video than over a hundred pages of a book.

Yes, I could have walked away, gave up this extra stress and thought about just me and my family but I couldn't. God wouldn't let me. Every time I wanted to walk away, He pulled me back in by an email begging for help or yet another email telling me I made a difference and then my heart would be broken all over again when an email came from someone finding me too late to save the life of someone they knew, too late to keep a family together, too late to provide a means to forgive.

So I sit here today, ignored by the media unless they want an easy way to find a story to do on a veteran or find easy facts. Ignored by the people with the power to really do something to help the veterans heal and forgotten about when I need help from other organizations using my work. In all of this I also had to figure out how the hell to begin a tax exempt so that I could finally get some donations to cover the huge expense of becoming a chaplain and carrying insurance, plus the training and the travel. I used to pay for the expense of traveling around the country, but when I said I needed trips funded, well, then I wasn't worth it.

We're suffering financially for what I do. No one seems to really care. Each day, I wonder how to pay the bills, suffer with the usual problems every family does and then wonder why I still do it when no matter what I do, people will refuse to help me. One high ranking person actually said that if I were any good at what I did, I wouldn't need to ask for help. Imagine that! He never stopped to consider he never offered to help me either. Then again, he doesn't believe there is such a huge problem with PTSD. The fact is, the veterans I help can't afford to help me. I won't publicize what I do for them or what they say to me because it's a promise I made to them a long time ago. I only post about what is available online from the media. From time to time I tell my own story and put in my two cents coming from tracking all of this and talking to the veterans for all these years, plus living with it.

I offered to help more organizations than I can remember when they first started but when I asked them to help me help veterans more, I was ignored. I sent out videos but never heard back even though I had a huge file from veterans telling me they needed them and they helped their families understand what they were trying to tell them.

Knowing what works in this world doesn't seem to matter unless you have someone helping. Someone to support you and help you do what you know how to do because they know what you don't. I know PTSD. I don't know how to do everything else that they know but they won't share. What goes around comes around and just as I share what I've learned about PTSD to make life easier, they won't share to make my life easier even though I've been proven right sooner or later. I knew PTSD would explode in 2001 and spent my own money to get my book published in 2002. Did this matter? No.

Congress didn't listen, the media didn't listen, service groups didn't listen and now, they are still not listening while I feel like John the Baptist screaming in the wilderness getting my neck ready for the chopping block. If I don't get some financial help soon, I will have to stop because I won't be able to afford the Internet or the roof over my head. I've been out of work for almost two years, in other words, without a paycheck, but working for free doing this work. If you can't afford to donate, believe me, I understand. Most of the charities I used to donate to haven't received donations from me this year either. What you can do is offer a prayer for me and my work. You can pass on my work to others on your email list and spread the word. The more hits I get, the less I am ignored.

There has to be someone out there somewhere able and willing to help me but I have yet to find them. I've been blessed with a few that have reached out to help as much as they can, but "the harvest is plenty and the workers are few" leaving me out here pretty much alone.

If you trust me, believe in an "average person" like you trying to make a difference, then please help me so that I can keep helping them heal.