Kacy Revord - Love Can Conquer PTSD

My name is Kacy Revord and I’m a caregiver to my husband. I have been married to my veteran Charles, for almost 13 years now. I have loved him for 18 years. He is my high school sweetheart. We have 5 children together. Four daughters and one son.

My husband joined the Marine Corps in Jan. 2001. He had no idea, that when he joined, that Sept. 11^th would happen and make such a huge change in his life.

I was not with him at the time. We decided six month’s prior to put “us” on hold. He joined the service, I went and found a job and started living my own life.

Aug. 2003, after he got home from his first tour to Iraq, he called me out of the blue. “Hey you, how are you?”.  Hearing his voice, like always, melted my heart. We talked a little bit. Then he asked me to marry him. I said, YES! Four months later. We said, I do!

I had no idea what PTSD was, no idea what war did to people. I do know that I loved him just the same as our high school days. I guess, I thought…I’m so happy, I got the man of my dreams. I did, I love him so much. The reality of his tour to Iraq came when I got my first calls from him. (I was in Michigan and he was in CA, stationed at Camp Pendleton). He was drunk! He was drinking Jack Daniels, drink of choice by Marine’s. He was saying things that broke my heart. He told me, I need you here. So I moved out to CA.

It wasn’t all roses and champagne. It was more heart break and tears. I didn’t leave because I loved him. I didn’t leave, because I believed in the words we said to each other on our wedding day, “for better or worse.”

He left for Iraq, his second tour 2004. I was pregnant. I was very emotional, I wrote almost every day, and awaited those few and far between phone calls.

When he came back early 2005. He got to meet his daughter for the first time.

He seemed very humbled when he got back but there were times when he wasn’t. I still didn’t understand PTSD. I just thought, what a jerk.

We moved back home to Michigan.

Present day.

My husband has severe PTSD. He is in counseling. Life is not perfect here. It would be nice if it was, but it’s not. You can read about PTSD and watch programs on how to help. But each person is different. I don’t ask my husband about war, I let him talk to me when he wants to talk.

I reread his awards from time to time. When I read the words, “He courageously charged across an open field into the hostile position, exposing himself to enemy fire and fatally wounded the remaining insurgent”. I am thankful to have him home with me. Although I try to understand that he has pain, I will never know the depth of it.  

With the pain that he carries. He tends to push me away.

There are times, I feel I am defeated. Broken down to nothing. I wonder, is this it. I love him yes, but why, if he loves me, does he make me feel like nothing. Here is this man who never in our youth, ever, hurt my feelings. He protected me and made me feel loved. Now, his words cut me to my core.

I have sat with him and talked it out. We could have a great day at home. But it never failings, before he goes to bed, he has to say something, anything really to hurt me.

Two months ago, our two older girls told him, “Dad you’re mean to mom, why do you try so hard to hurt her”. I guess it got him thinking. A few days later, he came out and said, I verbally abuse you honey. It’s not okay, it was never okay. I don’t know why, but I know it has to stop. We started going to counseling and we are working on “us” together. It isn’t and hasn’t been an easy road. It’s hard and sometimes I want to grab my kid’s and run. But to be honest. I really don’t want to run. I love this man. War has hurt him and I pray that in time love will rebuild him, us, our family!

I am thankful for my husband. No matter how hard the struggles, we have five amazing kids and love that “we” want to last.

I have noticed with all the stress that he goes through, his triggers, have become my triggers. I have been consumed with the stress of who, where, what will lead to him being overwhelmed. I stopped doing things for me and along the way, I lost my identity. I work from home, which I’m thankful for my job with the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes. With the support I get from the whole team, I have started believing in myself again. I want to feel whole. Then guilt starts to sink in, because he does not feel whole. I’m learning that it’s fine to want to do things without him. Its fine to want to smile and laugh with other’s. One day, he may want to do the fun things, smile and laugh and just be happy again. I started writing poems again. Here is one, I hope you like it! Thank you for taking the time to read this.

Silently I’m broken, you cannot see my pain. I will hide it, while out in the open. The words that you say, echo in my brain, feeling like I’m nothing. Well…it left a stain. Sometimes I feel ashamed. I cannot see or know your pain. But I am only human and want what we used to be. –Kacy Revord

Joan Cadena - The “Not So Simple” Things

As I scramble around frantically packing for our family vacation to South Carolina, my husband is laying down because he is tired from studying all day and he is in so much pain, even as he relaxes he is unable to rest because he is unable to find a comfortable position.  I find myself frustrated.  I take a deep breath. I begin to mentally walk myself through this as I have done many times before. I am not the one in pain, physically have no idea what he is feeling and tell myself it’s not that he doesn’t want to help, but better that he just rests and takes the time he needs; it’s better this way for everyone. We have learned this the hard way.  Phew, we made it through that without a huge melt down.  Sometimes it is hard to decipher “normal” family problems and those that come along with the injuries that have forever changed the dynamics of our young family. 

I was not married to my husband at the time he was injured, however, was the one to receive that dreadful phone call that forever changed our future.  I remember telling an older lady familiar with military life and everything that comes along with it that we were getting married just 3 short months after his injury and “ you are one brave woman,” is what she said to me.  I was taken back and thought to myself “why,” “whatever comes our way we will overcome.”  At the time I did not realize how optimistically naive I was. As time went on, the reality of those simple words began to set in. Not because I thought I was brave, those words were all the sudden everything but simple.  I began to think I bit off more than I could chew. I began to believe I was not equipped to deal with a lifetime of everything that comes along with being married to an injured war veteran, and the unwritten expectations of managing a family with one.  On top of that, it seems nobody that is not directly exposed to someone injured at war, can comprehend the “little picture,” the day to day obstacles.  They may understand the big picture, and at first everyone seems to be on board, but as time goes on, that fades.  I was and still am guilty of this too.  As time goes on and we have more and more, good days, the bad days seems so distant, until we would have one. Boom…we worked so hard to put our marriage back together piece by piece to then be shattered by something so minuscule. Enough was enough and we turned to the God we believe in, when we put him first in our marriage everything seems to fall into place and we are unstoppable.  We are not perfect, and still fail each other at times, but when we realize that, instead of things shattering, it’s almost just a little scratch on the surface. 

I bring this up because we took a trip and that is what helped me get through packing, and the frustrations of others having expectations for my husband that I know are a bit unrealistic. Because my husband’s scars can be covered with a shirt and a smile, people think that time is healing everything.  In certain aspects they are right, but in others they could not be more dead wrong.  With me realizing this and being compassionate to that, this was one of the better vacations we have had.  If he wanted to stay back in the condo because he didn’t want to do something I was okay with that, I took pictures and brought them back to show him. Because there was a lot of physical activity involved in the vacation when he didn’t feel up to doing it I did not pressure him into it, and so that I wasn’t missing out I would just go with someone else at a time that he felt like vegging out and having his alone time.  When I was making sure everyone had enough underwear packed, and his concern was that his weapon was packed, many people would not understand that.   But I’m sure every veteran or wife of a veteran reading this is laughing a little to themselves because they can relate.  Although with time some of the wounds may begin to heal in our veterans, they still leave behind scars that are very much alive.

Donny Daughenbaugh - The America I know and love is better than this

The America I proudly served as a United States Marine to protect its liberties is much more than this.

As a veteran of the Iraq war and proud supporter of America’s combat-wounded veteran population, the pain I feel from the recent rash of police shootings in Dallas and Baton Rouge by two veterans eclipses the daily pain from the bullet still lodge in my skull. It cuts deep. Very deep. Not just because the shootings are plain wrong. The pain flows from the fact two of my fellow veterans are at the center of the hatred.

It breaks my heart they are a part of something I hold dear -- the distinction of being a US Veteran. They don't fit the mold of the millions of honorable Veterans that reject their hatred.

America's law enforcement and the scores of individuals that comprise our nation's 'Blue' protectors, keeps order, prevents anarchy and secure our daily safety, deserve much better. But the scorching racial fires -- the very root cause of these two shootings -- are fueled by ignorance, fanned by the flames of social media, and a body politic run amuck.

Instead of bridging gaps we daily experience a deepening racial divide. Now that divide has crept into utter disregard for the men and women in 'Blue'. And a disregard for the very liberties we cherish.

Let me assure you, some of the most commanding and effective leaders in today’s American military are black, Hispanic and white. In the ranks of the military, there are no special rules or regulations that dictate service members be treated differently based on their race. We're simply colorblind.

This mentality needs to carry over when a person exits the military and becomes a veteran. As a veteran of the American military we’re given tools to strengthen a team. As a veteran of the American military we develop skill-sets to solve problems (often not our own) as a team, sometimes at great sacrifice of both time and quality of life. As a veteran of the American military we have the ability to serve our communities proudly, using the tools from the military to remove boundaries, overcome adversity and show how todays troops apply justice, judgement, bearing, unselfishness and loyalty to life after the military.

Those two veterans that killed the police officers failed us; miserably.

We, as a nation and a brother/sisterhood ARE better than this. Don’t let the actions of these recent veteran attackers contaminate the deep-rooted sense of pride an America feels when they serve in the military, and how we view our veterans. We really are better than that. We really are colorblind. Let's pray our nation one day soon adopts that view.

Expectations

Expectations.  Right or wrong, I had expectations of how war might impact my family.  I was and naïve, having only a vague understanding of the horror of war, and its impact on the family.  

My husband was active duty before the war started, and at the start of the current conflicts was deployed to Eastern Europe, training a foreign military, in a relatively “safe” position.  While he was away I saw other service members coming back to where we were stationed, injured, but what appeared (in my mind) to be “okay”.  They were walking, talking, getting prosthetics, and seemed to be moving on with life quite well.  I expected that if such things happened to my husband, our family would do the same.  I imagined that if he were wounded, he would either be killed, or be like one of those I had seen, quietly moving on with life.

What I did not see was those who were coming back with injuries, that 20 years ago were not considered “survivable”.  I did not see those who were so severely wounded that they would require a lifetime of care.  I am sure that I heard about one, or two severe cases where the wounded were not expected to wake from a coma, but those seemed extremely distant and rare.

The first real combat deployment wasn’t bad.  In fact, it was relatively easy.  Where he was at, the enemy was ill-equipped and had little military training, so the threat was not that big.  Other than the routine hardship of his seventh deployment in a few years, it did not have a huge impact the family.  Our oldest child was born after he got home, and when she was two weeks old, he deployed again.

This time was different.  Losses were heavy and immediate.  On the inside of my front door, the command had asked us to tape up a neon green form, listing the numbers of friends or neighbors that the chaplain should call to sit with us in the event of a death notification.  We were told to have passports ready in case we needed to be at bedside in Germany.  It was all unsettling, but it seemed like there was a functioning process and a good support network in place in the event of injury. 

I was wrong.  So horribly wrong.

The day my husband was labeled “severely wounded”, every process, every plan, every support system seemed pointless.  I had no idea how we were going to survive it.  The type and combination of injuries he sustained hadn’t been seen before in Navy medicine (and only a handful of civilian doctors world-wide had seen it).  No one could give a prognosis, or even an accurate diagnosis.  We went head first into a whole new life.

It’s been a decade since that day.  We’ve worked hard to make a new life, to keep moving forward.  Treatment has advanced in the last ten years, and he’s had improvement in some areas.  I have adjusted to becoming a caregiver and learned that a life I didn’t expect is not necessarily a bad one, just different.  We’ve met a lot of inspiring and amazing people, both warriors and those who care for them. - Elizabeth S.

The English Language is an Interesting Language...

But, but, but!

But, no, because there are reasons for all of those seemingly weird English bits.

Like “eggplant” is called “eggplant” because the white-skinned variety (to which the name originally applied) looks very egg-like.

The “hamburger” is named after the city of Hamburg.

The name “pineapple” originally (in Middle English) applied to pine cones (ie. the fruit of pines - the word “apple” at the time often being used more generically than it is now), and because the tropical pineapple bears a strong resemblance to pine cones, the name transferred.

The “English” muffin was not invented in England, no, but it was invented by an Englishman, Samuel Bath Thomas, in New York in 1894. The name differentiates the “English-style” savoury muffin from “American” muffins which are commonly sweet.

“French fries” are not named for their country of origin (also the United States), but for their preparation. They are French-cut fried potatoes - ie. French fries.

“Sweetmeats” originally referred to candied fruits or nuts, and given that we still use the term “nutmeat” to describe the edible part of a nut and “flesh” to describe the edible part of a fruit, that makes sense.

“Sweetbread” has nothing whatsoever to do with bread, but comes from the Middle English “brede”, meaning “roasted meat”. “Sweet” refers not to being sugary, but to being rich in flavour.

Similarly, “quicksand” means not “fast sand”, but “living sand” (from the Old English “cwicu” - “alive”).

The term boxing “ring” is a holdover from the time when the “ring” would have been just that - a circle marked on the ground. The first square boxing ring did not appear until 1838. In the rules of the sport itself, there is also a ring - real or imagined - drawn within the now square arena in which the boxers meet at the beginning of each round.

The etymology of “guinea pig” is disputed, but one suggestion has been that the sounds the animals makes are similar to the grunting of a pig. Also, as with the “apple” that caused confusion in “pineapple”, “Guinea” used to be the catch-all name for any unspecified far away place. Another suggestion is that the animal was named after the sailors - the “Guinea-men” - who first brought it to England from its native South America.

As for the discrepancies between verb and noun forms, between plurals, and conjugations, these are always the result of differing word derivation.

Writers write because the meaning of the word “writer” is “one who writes”, but fingers never fing because “finger” is not a noun derived from a verb. Hammers don’t ham because the noun “hammer”, derived from the Old Norse “hamarr”, meaning “stone” and/or “tool with a stone head”, is how we derive the verb “to hammer” - ie. to use such a tool. But grocers, in a certain sense, DO “groce”, given that the word “grocer” means “one who buys and sells in gross” (from the Latin “grossarius”, meaning “wholesaler”).

“Tooth” and “teeth” is the legacy of the Old English “toð” and “teð”, whereas “booth” comes from the Old Danish “boþ”. “Goose” and “geese”, from the Old English “gōs” and “gēs”, follow the same pattern, but “moose” is an Algonquian word (Abenaki: “moz”, Ojibwe: “mooz”, Delaware: “mo:s”). “Index” is a Latin loanword, and forms its plural quite predictably by the Latin model (ex: matrix -> matrices, vertex -> vertices, helix -> helices).

One can “make amends” - which is to say, to amend what needs amending - and, case by case, can “amend” or “make an amendment”. No conflict there.

“Odds and ends” is not word, but a phrase. It is, necessarily, by its very meaning, plural, given that it refers to a collection of miscellany. A single object can’t be described in the same terms as a group.

“Teach” and “taught” go back to Old English “tæcan” and “tæhte”, but “preach” comes from Latin “predician” (“præ” + “dicare” - “to proclaim”).

“Vegetarian” comes of “vegetable” and “agrarian” - put into common use in 1847 by the Vegetarian Society in Britain.

“Humanitarian”, on the other hand, is a portmanteau of “humanity” and “Unitarian”, coined in 1794 to described a Christian philosophical position - “One who affirms the humanity of Christ but denies his pre-existence and divinity”. It didn’t take on its current meaning of “ethical benevolence” until 1838. The meaning of “philanthropist” or “one who advocates or practices human action to solve social problems” didn’t come into use until 1842.

We recite a play because the word comes from the Latin “recitare” - “to read aloud, to repeat from memory”. “Recital” is “the act of reciting”. Even this usage makes sense if you consider that the Latin “cite” comes from the Greek “cieo” - “to move, to stir, to rouse , to excite, to call upon, to summon”. Music “rouses” an emotional response. One plays at a recital for an audience one has “called upon” to listen.

The verb “to ship” is obviously a holdover from when the primary means of moving goods was by ship, but “cargo” comes from the Spanish “cargar”, meaning “to load, to burden, to impose taxes”, via the Latin “carricare” - “to load on a cart”.

“Run” (moving fast) and “run” (flowing) are homonyms with different roots in Old English: “ærnan” - “to ride, to reach, to run to, to gain by running”, and “rinnan” - “to flow, to run together”. Noses flow in the second sense, while feet run in the first. Simillarly, “to smell” has both the meaning “to emit” or “to perceive” odor. Feet, naturally, may do the former, but not the latter.

“Fat chance” is an intentionally sarcastic expression of the sentiment “slim chance” in the same way that “Yeah, right” expresses doubt - by saying the opposite.

“Wise guy” vs. “wise man” is a result of two different uses of the word “wise”. Originally, from Old English “wis”, it meant “to know, to see”. It is closely related to Old English “wit” - “knowledge, understanding, intelligence, mind”. From German, we get “Witz”, meaning “joke, witticism”. So, a wise man knows, sees, and understands. A wise guy cracks jokes.

The seemingly contradictory “burn up” and “burn down” aren’t really contradictory at all, but relative. A thing which burns up is consumed by fire. A house burns down because, as it burns, it collapses.

“Fill in” and “fill out” are phrasal verbs with a difference of meaning so slight as to be largely interchangeable, but there is a difference of meaning. To use the example in the post, you fill OUT a form by filling it IN, not the other way around. That is because “fill in” means “to supply what is missing” - in the example, that would be information, but by the same token, one can “fill in” an outline to make a solid shape, and one can “fill in” for a missing person by taking his/her place. “Fill out”, on the other hand, means “to complete by supplying what is missing”, so that form we mentioned will not be filled OUT until we fill IN all the missing information.

An alarm may “go off” and it may be turned on (ie. armed), but it does not “go on”. That is because the verb “to go off” means “to become active suddenly, to trigger” (which is why bombs and guns also go off, but do not go on).

The poetic description of our language is meh for me. The extensive research and thorough explanations for all of it is TRIPLEYES!!!

“Let’s be realistic is this  English  a crazy language or not  . Because as far as I know There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple. English muffins weren’t invented in England or French fries in France. Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren’t sweet, are meat.

I believe that We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig. And why is it that writers write but fingers don’t fing, grocers don’t groce and hammers don’t ham? If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth?

I may be getting crazy but if One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices? Doesn’t it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it? If teachers taught, why didn’t preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetable, what does a humanitarian eat? In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital? It keeps going on , and on … Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on. English was invented by people, not computers, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn’t a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.”

Hugo Gonzalez - Winds of Sorrow

Winds of sorrow spells from the Mediterranean Sea all over the English Walkway. Yes, I am talking about the celebration of Bastille Day in Nice, France. France could not have been attacked on a more symbolic day. Each and every year on July 14^th France observes “The Storming of the French Bastille’s”  every year since 1789.

The medieval fortress and prison known as the Bastille is what represented the royal authority in the center of Paris. The prison contained only seven inmates at the time of its invasion, but the prison was a symbol of the abuse of the Monarchy. It’s falling was the flash-point of the French Revolution. The French Revolution can be seen as the rise of a new era. And consequently the rise of a new being. That is why it is considered as one of the most important events in time. There is so much importance on this day for France as it represents the Modern France from the old. It renounced power from the elite rulers of the country and established a democratic leadership representing the French citizens. Much like the American Revolution that shortly preceded it, the French Revolution was focused on diminishing imperial control.  

The attack on this year’s celebration was an attack on the belief the centers the values of our great nation, and most of the modern world. In today’s reality it seems that random attacks on innocent citizens is becoming more and more frequent, but that doesn’t make the any less devastating. The terror and fear it creates is horrifying. We are all basically at war. The battleground is around us. We are all soldiers, we can say we that we were alive and able to be fight back in the moments of need. We need to come together to stop the destruction of our civilization and loved ones.

It is so insulting that these terrorist keep hitting our world below the best. We have to either fight back or accept that his is happening, acknowledge that this is our new reality, and be sorry and pity ourselves. Hopefully we as humanity can come together and be prepared for another attack.

Today, in the aftermath of Friday night’s terror attack in Paris that left at least 120 dead and even more injured, the world needs to support the colors of Frances’ flag to represent our solidarity with the grieving country. The blood in our hearts should turn red, white, and blue, not only for our country but for the country of France as well. We cannot sit back and observe the ruins at a distance like sitting ducks, we need to get involved as best we can and feel the pain and sorrow of the loss with France. We are across from them, but we as a nation have experienced the same heartbreak in the recent months. 

Jennifer Urbany - PTSD Affects The Whole Family

Anger, anxiety, rage, depression, fear, alcohol, substance abuse, and panic attacks are all symptoms of one of the most common invisible injuries our OIF/OEF/OND veterans experience, PTSD. This injury can not only affect the veteran but their family too. For the family member who decides to be strong and take on the burden, and yes it is a burden, of a spouse, brother, sister, friend, who has PTSD is quite the warrior. PTSD can also show up by-proxy, so not only is the wounded veteran experiencing a plethora of emotions in their head, so is their wife, their children, their entire family. The fear of not knowing what will set off rage, the anxiety after a rage spell, and depression during the calm after the storm. Did you set them off? Did the kids set them off? The dog barking? The unexpected sound of something dropping? The baby crying?  Even a video game.

I met my husband after his injury, I didn’t realize the extent of his invisible injuries. I was young, 18, and had issues of my own. I saw him throw chairs, put holes in the walls, take prescription pills, and stay drunk 24/7. But something was tugging at my heart strings to stay. I can’t explain it. He didn’t really have anyone, his family was in Michigan and not one of them came to visit him. He was alone, so I was all he had. A year after we met he asked me to marry him. I said “yes”. We moved to North Carolina and bought a house. We’ve been together now for 12 years, long years it seems, and have had 4 children together. In the beginning of our married life, there were holes in the walls after or during a fight, there was self-defense, and police called. I’m pretty sure the vacuum got thrown once. The neighbors referred to us as “the couple who fights a lot”, They were right. Things I thought were silly things would set him off. Things like losing a match on some war game he’s playing, not having the specific pair of socks

or pants he wanted to wear, not knowing where his car keys were. Things that you and I would just deal with or figure out would cause anger, anxiety and rage for him.

In early 2008 I had gotten pregnant with our first baby, I lost that baby in a miscarriage. I didn’t know how to tell him. Would he be mad at me? Would he put a hole in a wall? What would happen? He came home while I was on the phone with the nurse from my OB’s office, tears running down my face, and that moment he knew what had happened. He sat down next to me and cried with me, I was relieved. But then the PTSD kicked in and he left me to go play a war game and was more frustrated with the game than usual. Three months later I became pregnant again and in April I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Bennett. Life was great for a moment.

Bennett is now 7, and although my husband has become better in dealing with the emotions that accompany PTSD, Bennett mimics his father’s behavior.  It affects Bennett’s every emotion, every thought, and every action. The smallest thing could make Bennett fly off the handle. His anger and impatience is way greater than any other 7 year-old.  In school, I got a phone call from his teacher telling me Bennett was so mad that another student wouldn’t tell him her middle name that he started banging his head against the cinder block wall. He’s thrown chairs in school, just because he had gotten the answer to a question wrong, and has said some pretty ugly things when things out of his comfort zone had happened. At home he screams and yells at his brothers if they are in his room and touch his stuff, and it’s not a normal frustrated brother yell, it’s a rage filled yell filled with real frustration and hate. This is all learned behavior, he saw how his father reacted to things because of his injury, and he thinks this is how you are supposed to act. He was exposed to this type of behavior almost half of his life.

Finally, something clicked with my husband. Although he still struggles with all the wounds of an invisible injury, and slips up a time or so. He saw what his actions and reactions have hurt our Bennett. By the time our second child was old enough to understand or be affected by the actions of my husband, things had gotten extremely better. We had a few rounds of couple’s therapy, we tried a few new systems that seemed to work, and by our third child we had a system that helped with cooling down from built up anxiety and anger. And before we had our fourth child we found a loving and beautiful church family, who took as we were, by the Grace of the God we believe in because 3 almost 4 boys at the time is a handful! He was baptized, and is now the director of the sound board during service and special events. We both have found our faults, and are working on them through prayer and our church family, and our fourth baby will only know the man his father is trying to be, and not the man he was. 

Denys Wells - Making Memories

Any holiday that involves fireworks are usually a rough day at home. My husband will be edgy and jumpy not knowing when that loud BOOM might come along.  He may struggle on these days more than others. But because we have 2 boys Jaden (8) & Ace (19 months) he still manages to work up the courage to step outside and make memories.  Even though we may look like a “normal” family at this time, blowing up fireworks. But I know how hard it really is for him to be out there. My husband puts his struggles aside just to see that smile on Jaden’s face.

Even though Jaden did not spend all the time he wanted being outside all he knows is that his papa is the “best papa in the world” and I was there to capture a moment for him to always remember.  

David Nunez - I was in Dallas

Yesterday was a crazy day, not only for the city of Dallas, but for my service dog Kona and I.  I had just left from spending time with my one-year-old daughter.  I am so grateful for being able to spend time with her because no one is promised tomorrow. After my visit, I drove to Dallas (downtown area) to get some dinner.  I noticed that there was a big crowd of people protesting about the recent acts of police violence.  After about 30 minutes, I heard gun shots and I immediately reacted.  Although the shots did not seem close to me, I was still anxious about it. So I took cover and my service dog Kona began to bark.  I noticed a police car coming toward us with its lights and sirens on. After a few minutes, it was chaos. From police cars with lights and sirens, to gun shots, and people running in all directions while screaming.  My adrenaline was so high, causing me to have a PTSD attack because of the high anxiety levels that were triggered by the gunshots and screaming.  I thank my GOD for making it home safe, and I Pray for the fallen police officers, the wounded, and their families. 

Heroes Thanking Heroes - Live Auction:

If you follow us on Facebook, you may already know that we are having a live auction to help raise money for the Heroes Thanking Heroes program so we can hire more veterans and/or veteran caregivers. Our items up for bid range from handmade items made with love, to a Super Bowl package! (you really want that one, don’t you? Wink Wink).

There will also be games, giveaways, and door prizes. Please join us July 23 from 9 am to 6 pm EST, and join in on the bidding. And remember while you’re bidding, all money raised is going straight to our veterans & their families. All bids will be final at 6 pm, so if you really want an item we have, you better be watching at 5:59. ;)

This is one of our items you can bid on.

Is riding in a hot air balloon on your bucket list? Well you can bid on this package:

2 night stay at a luxury hotel

American breakfast every morning

Refreshments before your balloon ride

One-hour hot air balloon

Champagne brunch after your balloon ride

And a chauffeured trip through wine country

Doesn’t all of that sound lovely? All you have to do is bid. 

Jennifer Urbany - How We Celebrated Our Independence

We live in a small little town here in North Carolina. Nothing really goes on around here. But, every year we have a big fireworks show that goes on at the rec center. We have lived here for 9 years now and we have only once been to the big 4th of July celebration.  Last year will probably be the only year we go. My husband, Donald, a wounded veteran, was ok for the early parts of the celebration. There were few people, we had a nice little spot in the back so we could all see the big fireworks, and he was comfortable. This was a good thing.
Then as it got darker people started flooding in. Groups were setting their chairs up around us, smoking, talking loudly, and just being inconsiderate. The main reason we ventured out to this big show was for our children. We wanted them to have the same experiences as other children, and be awed by the bright lights and loud booms that accompany a large fireworks display. The show was set to last for about an hour and around thirty minutes into the show, Donald started getting antsy. He was set off by the unfortunate combination of smoke, loud noises, bright lights and a large crowd.  Donald was injured when a car bomb exploded during his time in Baghdad, so a big “BOOM” was the last thing he had heard before he was knocked unconscious by the explosion. So it’s easy to understand his anxiety, a veteran, severely injured listening to the same sound he heard before he lost his eye and suffered a head injury. These triggers are a sure fire way to cause a manifestation of PTSD. Despite Donald’s anxiety levels rising we decided to try to stick it out for our children who were clearly enjoying the show. Donald would put up with just about anything for our children.
Finally, it was time to leave, Donald, already on edge from the fireworks, agoraphobia and social anxiety was a wreck. Donald’s thin hold on his temper began to give way as people cut him off while we were attempting to leave and the stresses of the night reached a breaking point for him. It was then, in the crowds of people making their way home we decided we would never again attend such a public 4th of July celebration.

This year, so we would be able to control the environment, we decided to buy our own fireworks and celebrate at home with our neighbor. Donald was in his element as he grilled our dinner and it was more food than our family of 6 could have ever hoped to eat! Ribs, burgers, steaks, hotdogs, and corn of the cob. We also had pasta salad and watermelon and a veggie tray. Dinner was so delicious and I was so proud of Donald, I praised him with every bite I took. Then as it got dark we took our cache of fireworks and set them off in the street. My boys and the neighbor’s little boy were all running around with sparklers, watching my husband set off the fireworks. It was an amazing time. Something that I hope will turn into a tradition with my family. There were no unexpected explosions, no anxiety, no anger, or unexpected triggers just a lot of good food, a lot of love, some beautiful fireworks and a very happy family. I could not have asked for a better 4th of July.  I feel like my family really celebrated our independence and our freedoms in the best way possible this year.

Juan Perez - Invisible Injuries

What may seem like a casual Saturday outing with your family to the Renaissance Festival is anything but normal for our family. On April 5th 2005 our lives changed in so many ways. I sustained a closed head trauma that resulted in Traumatic Brain Injury, PTSD, loss of vision in my left eye, cluster headaches, migraines, seizures, injury to both shoulders, just to name a few of my injuries.  My wounds were never as visible even from the beginning as some other Veterans. I have invisible wounds that are harder to understand because there is no visible reminder to the world that I have an injury.

I struggle with crowds and anxiety so a trip to the Renaissance Festival is anything but exciting for myself and my wife. We arrive early so we can be the first in line. I research the entire event ahead of time so I know what security is working the event, all the exits available, all the bathrooms. I park where I won't have an issue exiting in a hurry if necessary. My wife packs anxiety medication, migraine shots, a first aid kit just in case of an emergency to aid in my anxiety. My kids are trained to stay in pairs of 2 and always be in line of sight so that it reduces my anxiety. This has taken years of training and therapy so that my Wife and Children are aware of my needs, and I am aware that I cannot keep everyone locked up at home for safety.

We had a great day because they understand my needs and I know what to do to reduce my anxiety.

My position with the Coalition to Salute Americas Heroes has been a blessing. I have memory issues but I work with an extraordinary group that understands my injury and does not question when I can't remember something, if I have appointments, or if I am just struggling with life that day. If anything this has been the biggest blessing and healing for me because it means more than anything to be understood.