It happens all too often that veterans can get tangled up in war games, it kind of reminds them of what they had to leave in a way. Mom didn't understand it, but if it was therapeutic, then maybe it was ok in small doses. Mom always thought it would change when they had a baby, maybe Dad would be more interested in his little growing family. But, that wasn't the case. Day after day Mom and baby listened to the yelling, the cussing, and the general ugliness that these video games manifested in Dad. It caused a lot of arguments and fighting in the home, there was a lot of tension and sadness, which isn't a good environment for a baby.
As the boy got older, you could tell how smart he was becoming, wise beyond his years. He had a sense of empathy, and he understood feelings that even some adults didn't get. He knew when you needed a hug or some cuddles. He crawled early, walked early, and was talking extremely early. He was developing in leaps and bounds. Mom was so proud, Dad was probably too, but didn't seem to show it much. Maybe he showed what he could, in the only way that he could, and that only he understood.
The boy turned three and Mom was noticing her son was changing. He wasn't always as happy and bubbly as he used to be. Still wanting to be Dad's buddy, and not getting the attention he wanted or needed was taking its toll on the little guy. Why were these war games so important? Why can't he play with me? He was so smart that he was able to pick up on the distance at such a young age. Mom called therapists all over the area where they lived, no one would even consider talking to him. "He's too young", "I don't talk to kids that young", "I don't talk to anyone under the age of 7", were just some of the responses she was given. She pleaded with the various professionals, "Please, you don't understand, talking to this little three year old is like talking to at least a 5-year-old.", "He desperately needs your help.", "I'm BEGGING you, PLEASE!". But still, no one would help.
Fast forward two years, the boy starts Kindergarten. Things started slowly getting worse, the teachers would have conferences with Mom, "Your son did this, this, and this today. We're a little concerned.". In the beginning, a firm talking to would do the trick. He was basically mimicking Dad's behavior and anger. He was always so so angry, he never wanted to go to school, school upset him, he wanted to be shut up alone to just do his own thing, just like dad. Just like a lot of veterans with PTSD and TBI. First grade came, and things got worse. The boy started throwing things in school, banging his head on the cinder block walls, and struggling with his anger and emotions. It was almost anger was the only way he could express anything, that's all he ever saw at home from the person he wanted to be his role model. He was lucky to have a teacher who attached herself to him, she loved him, worked with him, and found ways to get to him in a positive way. They connected through humor, the boy loved telling jokes, and they had their little joke of the day. His classmates loved him too, you think if you had someone in your class that was always so mad and angry you wouldn't want to be that person's friend, but somehow his love and empathy always shined through and the whole class loved him.
Now he's in 2nd grade, and things have just kept getting worse. Dad had made a lot of changes, he stopped playing video games, especially when the boy was around, even during the weekdays. Dad takes the boy to do special things just with each other. But the boy was still struggling emotionally. He was still angry, and sad, and full of so many emotions he just didn't understand and had no idea how to express himself. It was to the point where the boy was being constantly suspended from school, and there wasn't a day that went by that mom wasn't getting a phone call from the school. The school counselor got involved, the principal, the vice-principal, we were all trying to find ways to help the boy control himself. Things were changing at home, but not for the boy. He was stuck in this angry state. He would get so mad, he would hurt himself, throw things, yell and scream, say mean things, and would just show his anger and unhappiness.
Mom again, tried to find someone for the boy to talk to. It was the same old excuses as she had heard before when she tried to get help for her son. FINALLY Mom was able to convince a wonderful lady to talk to him, to give him one session, and if she feels he's too young or doesn't want to see him, we would keep looking. The boy went to his first appointment, and he just blew the therapist away. She asked mom if he was really only 7. She felt like she had been talking to a 13-year-old. Mom assured her that the boy was indeed only 7 and just wise beyond his years. Therapy helped some, but the problem ran deeper so mom had to make some other, more difficult decisions, but they were decisions to help better her son and her family.
PTSD By Proxy (Also known as Secondary PTSD), is a real thing. It affects families with loved ones who have PTSD, children, spouses, caregivers, and people who are family and just not in the immediate family. It's so easy for someone on the outside to judge and say, "Well why don't you just do this?", "Why do you stay?", "How about you try this?". But, you don't know how it is until you live it. This little boy is obviously suffering from a form of Secondary PTSD, and his mom is trying everything she can to help him get better. It's also assuring to know that the dad is slowly taking the steps he can take to get better for his family as well.
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