What's Your Super Power?

"Want to know why that's good? Let me tell you about scared. Your heart is beating so hard, I can feel it through your hands. So much blood and oxygen pumping through your brain, it's like rocket fuel. Right now, you can run faster, and you can fight harder, you can jump higher than ever in your life. You are so alert, it's like you can slow down time. What's wrong with scared? Scared is a superpower. It's your superpower. There is a danger in this room, and guess what? It's you! You feel it?" – The 12th Doctor (BBC’s Doctor Who)

11 years, Wow, where did it go? Today marks 11 years since I married my veteran. I often joke and say I didn’t have a choice, he followed me home. But honestly, as I told him this morning, 10 out of 10, would marry again.

Yes, PTSD and all.

Everyone’s experience with PTSD is going to be different, and anything I write is solely my own and my husband’s experience. But I recall some time ago reading an article that referred to PTSD as a monster. I couldn’t help but stop and think to myself about how I view it. Do I see PTSD as a monster in our marriage? I can think of many things that are monstrous. War is a monster. Death is a monster, TBI’s can be monstrous, but is PTSD a monster in our home? Would I ask for it to be taken away with the wave of a magic wand? And I can’t say that I would. I would ask that the events that caused my husband's PTSD to be taken away. But if he had to experience them, then as weird as it might sound, I am glad for his PTSD. I tried to explain it to a friend not so long ago... When I look at my husband, and I see his Post-traumatic Stress, I see proof of his humanity, I see proof of love for his unit, I see proof of his love for God, I see proof of his soul being a little bruised and a little burdened, but I see that it is intact.

My husband was an infantryman, the United States Army worked very hard to make him that. Like all infantrymen, they took him, they broke him down, and rebuilt him as they wanted him because he had a very specific job to do. They needed soldiers who would follow orders, engage enemies, save lives, take lives, defend freedom and not stop to count the cost until the smoke cleared. I don’t begrudge them that fact, he willingly and knowingly signed up to serve his nation, and would again if given a chance, and knowing the outcome.

What his PTSD tells me though, is that while the breaking down and rebuilding did its job, and it saved his life (for which I am eternally grateful), it didn’t make deep roots.  Post-traumatic stress is a natural human response to an experience that you know is abnormal. It might come after combat, the loss of a friend or family member, the loss of a child, a car accident that causes extensive injuries, sexual trauma, a weather event or natural disaster in which you are displaced, and each case is going to come with its own unique set of symptoms and challenges. But it is always going to be in response to an event that the human mind, as intricate and brilliant as it is, can not (and should not have to) comprehend.

We sometimes joke that it’s my husband's superpower. PTSD is frustrating, and maddening, and tiring, but it has some benefits. The first being that it protected my husband when he first returned from war. It built a wall around his mind while he worked through what he had seen and done. It separated him from the events that nearly took his life, and did take the life of several of his brothers. Of course, maintaining this wall is difficult. It's tiring, cracks form, feelings spill out in ways they shouldn’t, tempers are short, attention spans are shorter, good emotions are accidentally shoved behind it too. Sometimes the grief doesn’t care how tall you build the wall, it’ll find a way over it, and try to swallow you whole again. Sometimes the wall tumbles down while you sleep, and everything comes out in your dreams, sometimes the wall gives way entirely, and you are left trying to find your spouse in the middle of a flood, and devastatingly sometimes your veteran gets caught up behind the wall too and is trapped with everything his mind wanted to protect him from or sometimes it doesn’t hold at all. (It’s not a perfect superpower, he would rather be able to fly.)

PTSD also gives my husband heightened senses (The VA, of course, will call this hypervigilance, we like to call it spidey sense, to-may-to to-mah-to.). He is always ready in an emergency – his adrenaline kicks in fast and hard. (Sometimes he’s ready when it’s not an emergency, more often than not but who’s counting.)

He is fiercely protective of our children (which at 5 and 8 is fantastic, ask me again when they’re teenagers). When he displays emotions you know, they were hard-won and that much sweeter. I tell him he has a resting annoyed face - in which the default setting on his face is annoyed, so laughter and sadness are always genuine. He is kind, and generous with his time because he knows that he nearly didn’t have anymore.  He knows what the evils of the world look like, and has no desire to see them again, but would if it meant protecting those he loves. He is far from perfect, and life is far from a stroll in the park, but it's ours, and if I had to do it all over again, I’d still choose him.

-Antoinette B.

Strength That Carries Us Through

Have you ever looked at a picture and everything you felt that day, came rushing back to you?

This picture, this picture is hiding so much. You can see that I’m smiling, my husband is smiling. If you look a little closer, you may be able to see the tears that we just shed. 

What? You were crying in this picture!? 

Yes, I was a wreck.

With his strong arms around me and the words of strength he said to me, I cried and cried and cried. However, I had to keep it together. I have four daughter’s that came running inside and were super happy that their dad was home. (at the time, he worked out on the road.) So, me being me, I had to dry my eyes and put on a smile. My oldest daughter was so happy to see her dad with his arm around me, said, freeze, don’t move. I want to take your picture. Mom, you look so pretty and dad, I never see you holding mom like that. 

In my mind, I’m telling myself, smile, smile don’t break down.

We both smiled big, and it made our kids so happy. 

What you don’t know, what you can’t tell from this picture is three days before, I was pregnant with our first son. Two days earlier, I found out at my doctor’s appointment, that his heartbeat wasn’t there anymore. Day of this picture, my husband was flown home to be with us. The next day, we went in to deliver our son. Bo Gunner was to be his name. I think about him all the time, it was 7.5 years ago. My heart still aches for him. 

I’m a wife, my husband’s caregiver and a mom. I’m strong for my family. On this day, I fought to be strong. My husband seen me at my worst, he has picked me up and held me, and on this day- he was strong for me. He was my rock. 

My husband has his struggles with PTSD. Some days are good, some are bad. But he keeps trying to have more good days. 

I have my struggles with the loss of our first son. But I remind myself that God had other plans for him. 

We keep reminding each other of what we have and keep fighting to keep it going strong, Together. 

-Kacy R.

Hand-Forged with a Purpose

Accident Prone. That is me.

So, you can imagine my uncertainty building up as I began to see my garage being overtaken by tools like saws, grinders, and sanders.  Not to mention the contraption attached to a propane tank, and the rather large sledgehammers and mallets too.

So many possibilities that something could go wrong.

You see… Before my husband went off and lost three limbs in Afghanistan to an I.E.D., amputations were not familiar to me. I’d seen people with missing digits before and even had a regular customer that would come into my work daily, on crutches because he was missing a leg.  The value of limbs and the daily challenges this man faced may have crossed my mind, but I certainly never expected to live a life in his circumstances.


When a soldier is wounded, the family is wounded. Every aspect of life changes for every member of the household. I dropped everything on a dime to care for my husband, including my home and my job. Things I had never considered became a part of my daily routine. A few examples…
1.) Electronic Limbs- everything in my life would now require a charger. Prosthetics, wheelchairs, medical equipment.
2.) Accessibility- Planning ahead is a must every time we leave the house. Are there wheelchair ramps? Are the doorways wide enough? Steep Inclines? STAIRS. I never realized how many places have stairs and ledges until I had to start finding a way to get my husband over the obstacle.
3.) Our Limbs do NOT grow back. You only have one set. They are precious cargo.

Every time I look at that jigsaw blade, the secondary PTSD I’ve developed over the past kicks into overdrive, and my mind is set on extreme caution. But then I remember, my husband needs me.


I was filled with excitement last year when my husband J.D. informed me he had signed up for a knife making class with the House Brothers, a local family famous for their forging abilities. (Read about them here: http://www.housebrothersproject.com) My husband is very headstrong. If he sets his mind to something, he will figure out a way to accomplish the task, a mindset developed from the catastrophic injuries he endured. Often, he requires my assistance. We’re a team, and his achievements bring me as much happiness as my own. So, I was elated with joy to see how proud he was to show me the work of art he created during his forging class, a beautiful handmade (literally, ONE hand) knife.

As weeks went on, his new hobby became an obsession, and I enjoyed seeing him do something that makes him happy. I watch as he pounds at the steel, wondering what is on his mind as he slams the sledgehammer down making signature indentions with every swing.  Is he taking his frustration of war out on that blade? Are the phantom pains overbearing today causing him grief and pain? Or does he just want to perfect this piece of metal into something that will last a lifetime?

Either way, it’s intriguing to watch. I hold the fire hot blade down flat on the anvil for him and squint my eyes as he pounds away, each ding to the metal with a forming purpose.

After several rounds of fire and then pounding, a blade is formed, and we are ready to move on to the handle. And that jigsaw.

Ever operated a jigsaw one handed?  Yeah, me either. The thought of it causes severe anxiety.  J.D. only has one hand left to lose, so I take one for the team and happily volunteer to cut the wooden handles out. If I’m in control, I can ensure safety right? The theory eases my mind and my shaky hands as I began weaving the wood through the saw in the shape we had traced. Accident-Free.



We carefully attach the handles to the steel with our own unique method, making sure it is secure and will last a lifetime. Next, J.D. sands and sharpens at the knife until it is a beautiful work of art, putting different personal touches on each one.

I never imagined I’d be married to a triple amputee.  I also never believed I’d become a self-taught, husband-trained blacksmith forging knives either. But, here we are, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

This particular knife was made for Cliff. During the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes’ charity golf tournament, a handmade knife by J.D. was auctioned off and Cliff was the lucky winner.  After a practice round and some hard work and dedication, we are pleased with the finished product. Thank you, Cliff, for supporting such a great cause, and we hope you will enjoy your blade forever- the memories we made creating it for you certainly will.

-Ashlee Williams, HTH Representative and Veteran Caregiver