Why I Walked Away

So here goes to the most difficult blog I've ever had to write. 

I'm sitting here right now on my bed trying to find any excuse to NOT write this. 

But whether I write it or not; it doesn't change anything.

I tossed and turned all night last night and finally just flipped open the laptop at 4 a.m. to finish what I finally titled "The Monster in my Marriage" and if you haven't already read that.... you need to do that first. Just click the link and it will open up in a separate window. 

Where that post left off was me first meeting PTSD and what it was capable of.

But that was just the beginning and only the tip of what it could do.

The following three years were filled with so much and I could honestly write a book on it.

In fact sitting here the past couple of days thinking of everything that's happened to me over the past 7 years (having an unplanned pregnancy at age 19....and everything there after) I could EASILY fill 250 pages. I am seriously contemplating taking my week off while my mom has my boys this summer, finding a nice quiet place up north, and just writing a book.  Would anyone even read it?  I suppose that doesn't matter. Anyways. 

Things continued on.  They would get worse, stabilize, get better, and get worse again.  It was like being stuck on a horrible roller-coaster ride from your worst nightmare.  But I held on because those precious days and moments that we experienced together as a real, happy family were worth it.  

So I suppose when people found out that I had left - or maybe you hadn't even realized it until now - it came as a shocker. My lack of "pity-posting" on facebook about "feeling sad" or "feeling overwhelmed" or "feeling defeated" led everyone to think that things were fine; I didn't know what else to do. Probably because of my incessant nature to always "BE POSITIVE!" (yes I have a cheerleader attitude.  I cannot help it: you show me a storm cloud and I give you a rainbow.)  They saw the photos I posted and videos I uploaded where we were smiling and laughing.  Mostly because it's THOSE moments that I wanted to focus on.  My YouTube channel     is not and was never about the number of subscribers (I could care less if anyone actually watches my random ramblings!)  it was about saving my life's moments so I could share them with my kids later on.  The photos were about capturing those precious, happy moments that were the ray of light shining through in the dark tunnel that seemed to be our lives at the tme. 

I didn't share with anyone about what was actually going on (& while I have shared the basics with some.... there isnobody who truly knows what happened.  I'm not sure I'll ever fully share; but maybe if I write that book it'd be a better insight into those couple of years)  I think only those who really knew me suspected something: I wasn't myself anymore.  I didn't call friends.  I barely talked to anyone.  How do you tell people, "Hey by the way: here's what's REALLY going on?"  The one time I did try to tell the mildest version of what was happening I got a shocked, "leave his ass!" reaction. Of course they thought that. Nobody could understand. 

Leaving was out of the question and I decided to no longer seek relationship advice from peers.

I felt like I was alone; like nobody understood.

 Not my friends from high school.

Not my "civilian" friends who had no idea what military life was like: I felt like we could barely relate to anything anymore.

Not the military wives or couples because they only knew my husband as the level-headed man they saw at company outings.

 I felt completely and utterly alone.

The next couple years went on with my husband denying PTSD or any problems while things continued to get worse.  At a couple times it got to the point where things had gotten so bad that I was actually afraid for myself and my kids; and involving outside persons or counselors only seemed to agitate him which escalated the situation...so reluctantly I saw no other way than to leave to keep myself and the boys safe.  Can you imagine being so torn as to know that while you love that person and you want to help them and they don't understand why you're leaving;  you also HAVE to leave them?  

You have to hurt them to keep yourself safe?

 It's honestly one of the cruelest forms of torture.

 I remember the phone calls after I would leave.... he couldn't understand why I was leaving.  

He was hurt.  He thought I was just "running away".

 He didn't know what had happened that made me want to leave because he had blacked out and couldn't even remember...

Did you know, like the incident in "The Monster in My Marriage", PTSD can literally present itself to make people "black out" to where they don't even know what they're doing?  Imagine having to watch the person you love go into the bedroom and come out 5 minutes later a completely different person.  I can close my eyes and remember it all: how his entire demeanor would change.  His shoulders would square, his brow would furrow, and his eyes would have this 'lost' look in them..... it's like the Rob I knew wasn't even there anymore.  I felt like I was living with a ticking time-bomb because I never knew what was going to set it off. 

I got wore down.

I was mentally exhausted. 

I functioned on autopilot.

I didn't even know who I was anymore.

The social person I used to be?  The one that longed to host parties, gatherings, cookouts? .... she was long gone.  When we lived in Florida we had a couple over and their three kids:  it was too much for Rob and he just shut down.  He didn't mean to; but he acted so rude.

  I was so embarassed.  I didn't know how to explain it to them.  I didn't even know if I could explain it to myself.  

So I just gave up.  I didn't try to invite anyone over anymore.

I didn't know which was up or what day of the week it was.  

I smiled when I could.  I stayed strong for my kids - the only reason I got up in the morning.

 I was DETERMINED to make the most of any happy memory for their sake.

I prayed for the strength to make it through one more day; every single morning.

.....and I got it. 

"Keep going.  Stay strong.  This is temporary.  Believe." 

.....so I did.

and trust me: I made my own handful of mistakes. LOTS OF MISTAKES.  BIG MISTAKES.

In feeling pushed away and rejected by everything PTSD left in it's wake; I found myself seeking relief in the wrong places.

But we were working through everything together.

So why did I finally leave then? 

I'm getting to it...

It wasn't because I disliked my husband or blamed him. 

I loved him more than anything and wanted to do anything to help him.

In December of 2012 things had taken a turn for the worst and while I was in Wisconsin (again; one of the few times I felt like I had to leave) I was afraid of how unstable he was and I was afraid that he was going to try to take his life.  He had threatened it before and this time I wasn't going to take any chances.  I could tell he had hit an ultimate low.  PTSD was breaking him. He just wanted the boys and I to come home.  He wanted to have us there for Christmas.  He said he had a surprise for us.  

But we couldn't go home. 

I decided to bypass his unit and the military in general because I knew how he was at work: upstanding, hard-working, respected.  He woud be able to convince anyone that he was fine; & it's not that he was trying to be deceitful.  That respectful, well-mannered man is who he really is.  They didn't know that inside - behind closed doors - he was breaking...  but I knew better.  I wasn't going to get dismissed again as an over-reacting spouse.  I wasn't going to play chicken with my husband's life.  So I frantically searched online for a phone number to call and found one.  It was the mental health line at the base.

With a pounding heart and shaking hands I dialed the number.

There was no turning back now.

I told them everything.

Little did I know this would set off a cascade of events. (If / when I write that book - I'll share the entirety of what happened in there. It's far too long and emotional to write here.)

 The long story short: people got involved.

I was assigned a spouse advocate because they believed I had been physically and emotionally abused.

I was in shock.  Everything they were saying.... it couldn't be true: could it?

I didn't want to hurt my husband with those accusations.  I didn't want him to be labeled as an abuser.

Because HE wasn't the problem: the PTSD was.

HE wasn't punching me in the night while he was sleeping becuase he did it intentionally.... he was just so tormented even in his subconscious moments....

I didn't want him to get in trouble.

Yes I was scared for myself and my kids and for my husband.

Did that mean I wanted help leaving him? No.... I just wanted HELP.

Nonetheless, I wasn't even allowed to speak with Rob and had NO IDEA what was going on.  All I knew was that Rob had broken down and (at the time) his commanding officer was a little upset with me for not calling the unit first so the matter could be handled privately without involving anyone else.  But I didn't give a damn what he thought at that point.  I know in my heart what would've happened had it been handled privately: my husband wouldn't be here right now.

Naturally I was the one to blame for his breakdown.  "Of course he broke down: his wife left him and took his children and only a couple weeks before Christmas, too?".... but nobody really knew why and I wasn't about to taint my husband's reputation.  So I zipped my lip and took the brunt as the cliche bad "military wife".  At that point I didn't even care: he was getting help and that's all that mattered.

Anxious days passed by until I finally found out he had been taken to San Antonio, TX for treatment at an in-patient treatment facility for patients with severe PTSD.  I was in shock.  I was supposed to have been kept informed by the advocate about how he was and what was going on; but nobody bothered to  tell me he was leaving... much less that he was already in Texas! Then I found out that nobody else knew: everyone in the unit thought he was on assignment somewhere. I was instructed to let as few people know as possible.

Again - like I said before - it's like PTSD was some big thing we had to cover-up and hide.

And I understand: telling people he was in therapy should be his choice to reveal.

To me it just made it seem like the whole thing had to be kept quiet;  as if it was some sort of weakness to actually seek treatment or help.

But you know what?  I have NEVER in my entire life been more proud of him.

He was there for over a month: intense treatment sessions every day, therapy, medication.  He went at it with everything he had; tackling issues from his childhood and deployment. We only got to talk for a little while a day but it was the best thing that could've ever happened to our marriage.  It was a big turning point.  The tone of his voice was light, he had hope, he was a completely different person.  It was a miracle!

We could finally move forward because instead of ignoring any problems: we were able to face them.  I was filled with hope for our future for the first time in our marriage.

Then in February of 2013 he was able to come home.  I was ecstatic.  It was like living in a dream! 

He cuddled and hugged.  He played with the boys.  

He smiled.  He laughed. He kissed.  He held. He listened. 

I have never been so happy as during that time. 

Little did I know everything was about to be shattered.

I was about to find out just how sneaky and resilient PTSD is; how it tiptoes back in if you leave the door cracked open even the tiniest amount.

I found out that when they dismissed him from treatment he was given NO FOLLOW-UP PLAN.

As I type this I completely burn with anger. All of that time and effort put into getting better.

All of the resources and money they used to treat him and then what did they do?

Turned him out on his own.

What's that quote....
"If you fail to plan; then plan to fail"? Yeah. Exactly. 

No checklist of things to do.

No markers to continue with treatment and seeking help.

No checking back in to see how progress was going.

No goals for us as a couple.

....nothing.

Can you believe that?

And the short teleconference we did with his counselor prior to his release did NOT prepare us for what could happen in the upcoming months.

"Make a calendar and plan family events... Follow up with the primary care provider on base."

Did you know that it can be one step forward, two steps back if you don't stay on top of treatment?  

The counselors in Texas dug up a bunch of issues from his past and from deployment: burst them WIDE OPEN over a span of a month and a half, then released him.

So without continual follow-up, what do you think happened?  Things not only went back to how they had been: they got worse.  A "relapse". 

The lack of a follow-up plan coupled with the military care (or lack thereof) at Fort Leonard Wood was a recipe for disaster. However, I highly doubt this is just a problem only at that base.  I get the feeling this is happening all over military bases to more families than you can imagine.  I think this a problem that so many military hospitals have and if you're familiar with military hospitals you know EXACTLY what I am talking about.  If you aren't: then you can't even imagine so let me give you an idea of what to expect from military treatment facilities:

- rude staff and / or receptionists who often don't even bother to look up from their work when you check in. 

- getting treated like you're just a number.  With the number of people moving on and off base there's no way to really develop a personal relationship with your provider (my provider changed 4 times in 1 year)

- care that's focused more on getting you in and out than on actually trying to HELP you.

Take the worst hospital experience you've ever had and multiply that by 10.  THAT'S an army hospital.

...and the above mentioned faults are exactly what happened.  Don't get me wrong: I am SO grateful that Rob had the opportunity to actually get treated at the facility in San Antonio.  It was an absolute blessing and answer to prayer.  But it should NOT have been the last stop on the treatment plan: it SHOULD HAVE been just the beginning.  And THAT'S what I'm most frustrated about: how the military and those doctors completely failed him. They failed us.

I saw the aftermath of this; disappointment, discouragement, and depression.  I watched as it started to creep back onto him when time after time he would seek help only to show up to an appointment to find that the provider had canceled without telling him or that his counselor had left and he would be seeing a new person that he wasn't comfortable with.  (Would you be?  Imagine having to go over all of these big, personal things with somebody new each time.)  Then we ran into problems with Tricare - the military insurance - and couldn't find a "qualifying" provider that was less than 45 minutes away which meant either we drove that far to a run-of-the-mill military affiliated person who never even bothered to call back or we paid out-of-pocket to get counseling.  My husband got so frustrated and soon didn't even want to go anymore.

He was pissed off and angry at them: and he had every right to be. 

How they DIDN'T help him absolutely makes me furious.

It's what makes me want to share this: that there are people out there suffering who need help and there is a SERIOUS FLAW in the way that PTSD is handled in the military system. 

Looking back: I wish I would've sold everything we had, moved somewhere cheaper to save money, and found a way to pay out of pocket for weekly or even bi-weekly sessions together.  I wish I wish I wish I would've.  But I didn't.  I wasn't strong enough to fight anymore and the more time went by the more things started going back and the more heartbroken and dejected I became.  I felt completely helpless. 

It was like having everything I wanted and watching it slip right through my fingers like sand; I felt powerless to stop it. 

And things continued to get worse.

It cascaded.  There were several incidents over the span of a couple weeks; the least of which I witnessed and ended in  our boys hiding in their closet crying silently because they were so afraid.

The neighbor slipped a note underneath of the door to ask me if I needed help and to see if the boys and I were ok...

And that's when I knew. 

Yes he felt awful about it: but it didn't change the fact that it happened.

I didn't want to leave. 

I didn't want to give up.  I didn't want to fail.  

I didn't want to leave my husband behind.  I didn't want to hurt him. 

But I had prayed for strength everyday for over two years and then one day: 

I didn't get it.

Instead of that voice telling me to "Keep going. Stay strong"; it urged, "Protect".

I cried.  and I cried.  and I cried more because I knew what that meant. 

I knew I had to protect my children.

I had to protect them from the hostility and tension that they were old enough to start feeling. 

I knew I had to protect them from the family cycle.

I knew I had to keep myself safe.

I knew even though he wasn't intentionally acting out or doing these things; didn't change the fact that it was hurting me and the boys.

I wanted to protect him from himself.  I watched the guilt eat away at him; which only made things worse. 

He felt like a bad father and a bad husband and even though I re-assured him he wasn't - that we were just struggling - it didn't matter.

 Then he would drink and be "drunk happy" for a little bit but when that wore off things were worse than before.

I knew I had to go.

I couldn't handle it anymore.  

I was afraid, though.

Afraid of what my husband would think.

Afraid of what our friends would think.

Afraid of what my family would think....of what his family would think.

Afraid of what everyone else would think.

I wanted to stand up for myself and my feelings; but that also meant hurting his.

Even as I write this; it doesn't matter how many months have passed since that day.

I still feel it just as fresh as ever. I still remember the moment I realized that I had to leave.

It still breaks my heart just as much as it did then.

and I knew he wasn't going to understand.  He was going to think I was just "running away" again.... like it was something that I wanted to do.  

And maybe he was right.

 Maybe I was running away.  

But I didn't know what else to do.

I was exhausted. I couldn't fight. I wanted to just break the cycle. 

I felt like leaving was the only way to make sure myself and my kids were safe.  I knew during the healing process there was a possibility of relapse; but I felt even though I wanted to be there for my husband it also wasn't fair to have the kids around it.  I felt like the stress of being a parent (which - let's be honest.... IS HUGE!) was interfering with him being able to continue to work on things on his own.   I knew if we were ever going to get better that I had to leave.  My heart was torn in two.

It broke my heart to see my kids be afraid of him when he was having a mood swing.

Imagine seeing the look on their little faces when they started to come up to me and innocently asked, "is daddy going to be angry today?"  

So nonchalant and so heartbreaking.

They didn't understand what was going on.  They didn't understand that he was dealing with PTSD: something you can't explain to a child.  

All they knew was that daddy wasn't happy and he was angry.  

They knew if they did certain things it would make him stressed or upset.

(yelling and loud noises were triggers for his PTSD)

Christopher had started to become resentful and had started to act out towards Ryan.

I knew Rob had to get better.

I also knew that I had to get better, too.  

If you talked to my husband he'd tell you that I was cranky, "no fun", or that I didn't even seem like I wanted to be around him anymore.  He'd tell you that I was moody or that I couldn't make up my mind and he didn't know how to make me happy.

.... and he would be right. 

I WAS cranky, edgy, and moody.  I was so physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted that I could barely function anymore. It's not that I didn't want to be around him....this is so hard to explain and contradictory so I can absolutely see why he felt like I couldn't make up my mind.

I DID want to be around him. OF COURSE I DID!  I just had such a hard time because when he was the amazing father and husband that I knew in my heart he was: it was so hard for me to quiet the images that played through my head of the ...."other times".  All of the ugly appearances of PTSD that came through.  They hurt.  And it's hard to get close to someone when you've experienced so much pain.  Then it got to the point where I was just plain sad in the moments when he was happy because I knew it wouldn't last and I didn't know when or what would change it.  I didn't want him to go back to shutting us all out. It was too much for me.  I was broken inside and fragile now.  So instead of enjoying and cherishing those moments together; I started to detach emotionally. 

I literally shut down.

and I knew it wasn't fair to myself, to our kids, or to him.

It was time to go. 

The ornery, emotional, cranky, argumentative person I had become was NOT who I naturally was. I felt like I didn't even know what it meant to be myself anymore and I needed to figure that out.  I wanted to get myself healthy because my kids deserved it. They deserved to have the best from me; from both of us.  Not the stressed out mom that had to take two baths a day to stave off panic attacks.  It wasn't fair for them.  They were the ones bearing the burden of our marriage and it wasn't right.. 

The morning I decided to leave; I was a panicking mess.  It had been three weeks since I had started praying for strength and three weeks since I stopped getting it.

I had started sleeping out in the living room on an airbed because the hostility was too much and in his sleep he had started punching me & shoving me out of bed.  Mind you: this wasn't intentional.  But the PTSD had come back with such a vengeance like before that it manifested itself and was there even in his subconscious.  Even when he was sleeping.

He didn't / doesn't remember doing any of those things and it didn't pay to tell him because I didn't want to make him feel worse.  So I was barely sleeping anymore.

I woke up that morning and tried not to cry as I watched him walk out the front door knowing that it was going to be the last time I ever saw my husband leave our home to go to work.  

I watched him drive off and couldn't let the tears stream for too long because I had a lot to do.  I had already thought it through and packed two bags the day before that were ready to go.

I had questioned whether or not to tell him I was leaving?  

No: I was actually scared of his reaction and what he might say or do.  I also didn't tell him because I didn't want him to convince me to stay because I knew - at that point - that it wasn't the right decision.  I knew it in my heart. I knew in my heart we could work and overcome this together; it just wouldn't be going about it the same way we had been.  Something had to change.

So I had settled on the idea of leaving him a letter that I had written.

Then after he left for PT it was a matter of scrambling around trying to get every other essential we might need because I had no idea how things would go.  I knew that there was always the possibility that he would get so angry that he would sell everything or throw it away; either that or he would detach and try not to let it bother him at all. I honestly didn't know what to expect.

I couldn't stop shaking and felt like I had drank WAY too much espresso.

My adrenaline was pumping.

My heart was breaking. 

I was gathering up the last few things and hurrying to leave before he got back from PT (which was usually only an hour long) and leaving the letter on the table when my "exit strategy" backfired.

We all know things don't go according to plan.

He came home in the midst of me leaving; packing up our things and taking his children.

I shook like a leaf. 

He was upset and angry with me and he had every right to be.

But is there any "right" way to leave?  Is there anything that could've made it easier on everyone?

I don't think so.  

I just trembled and sobbed silently from the bedroom as I listened to him hug the boys in the other room and tell them that they weren't going to see daddy for awhile.  That part right there was a knife to heart. So hard. If my heart was breaking before it had shattered at this point. I don't even know if I can finish typing this sentence right now. Hearing that. It was.... it was awful. I just wanted to run in the room and hug him and have him tell me that everything would be ok.  That we would be fine....

But that didn't happen.

Because things weren't fine. 

.... Oh my gosh.  I don't even know if I can finish this. 

Yes. I have to do this. I can do this. 

Then he left.  

Wow.  Three little words.  Three little words with such a huge impact.  Just sitting here staring at that on the screen is just.... it's overwhelming.  Honestly.  I think for so long I've been used to being "ok".  People ask, "Hey how are you?"  "Oh I'm alright.  I'm fine" .... no.  I'm not fine.  For so long I functioned on autopilot and pushed all of my emotions aside to deal with them a different day and they're here now. Staring me in the face.  But as much as I want to just quit right now and run away: I know there is nothing in the world that could help me escape from this.  There's no place far enough I could run to get away from the pain.  Sometimes you just have to buckle down and move forward.  So that's exactly what I'm going to do....

I don't even remember that morning much.  It's all a blur. I got the kids in the car, called my dad to let him know I was coming back, then I just I sat in the car for a little bit staring at our home. 

I stared at the "Welcome" sign with a fish on it that hung next to our door; thinking how ironic it was.

I stared at the Christmas tree through the window: all lit up and decorated although it would see no happy celebration or the joy on Christmas morning this year.

Time stood still and I can picture it all: the bags just mosh-piled onto my frontseat where I had literally thrown them into the car.  The look on the kids faces as they horsed around in the backseat; blissfully unaware that we were not just taking another roadtrip.  Their lives - our lives -  weren't going to be the same anymore.

I stared at the heart keychain dangling from the ignition.

I stared at my bracelet, "Love is patient, Love is kind, Love never ends... "

Then I turned the key, started the car, and drove away from it all.

Away from my home.

Away from my life.

Away from the pain.

Away from the PTSD.

Away from my husband. 

Not knowing when (or if) he'd ever speak to me again.

Not knowing if he would ever understand.

I can't explain it; but, I know I made the right decision because as soon as I got past the front gates of the military base, I felt a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time. I'd equate the feeling to one I had when I first got my drivers license and I was able to drive alone with the windows down and the radio blaring.  I felt like a weight had been lifted.

 I felt free.  

I didn't have to pretend anymore.

A burden was lifted. 

Things weren't ok....

I wasn't ok.....

and I was 'ok' with that.

I knew I was going to be the "bad guy" in the scenario: after all I was the wife that left and took the kids away from their father.

I gave up on him after he had sought treatment. 

.... I know because (surprisingly enough)  no less than a handful of people have actually had the gall to say that to my face.  

Yeah - can you imagine that? The nerve of those small-minded, self-centered, gossiping people who had NO IDEA what they're talking about.... the ones who think my life - MY FAMILY - is up for opinions or discussions over the checkout lines at the store.

Ohhh you had better believe it took all I had to not punch those people right in the teeth; heaven knows I wanted to.  But I just smiled and said, "yes it's an unfortunate situation for everyone involved". 

Which is the absolute truth.

And then there's always the fact that you find out that it's members of your own family who are gossiping about you and spreading rumors.

They're saying you're "delusional" for thinking that he could ever change.

Yeah. Heaven forbid I believed the best in my husband, right?

I don't give a shit what people thought or think.

To hell with what everyone else thinks. 

I don't care anymore. It doesn't matter. I'm not delusional.  I STILL believe that.

I knew it would be so much easier to just chalk it up to him being a jerk: but that's not the truth and there's more to it.  Sure from the outside the things he did were not ok.  He was acting in a way that wasn't good.... but that doesn't mean he was a bad person.  

In fact I commend him so ridiculously much for coming through everything he did.  When he was in therapy in Texas he had to write an autobiography; it covered everything from his childhood, to adolescence, to deployment, to feelings he dealt with alone during our marriage.  Let me tell you: that man's story could bring you to your knees.  It would humble you beyond belief.  I sobbed when I read it.  I couldn't understand how anyone could make it through as much as he did.  Let me tell you: a lesser person wouldn't have.  They would've succumbed and became a P.O.S. lazy deadbeat or they wouldn't be here right now.  But, he knew what it took to change his life path and he did it.

As much as I wish everyone could read his story; it's not my place to share.  I hope someday he gets to share it because it would inspire so many people.  It would give hope to disadvantaged and troubled youth. Until then: you'll just have to take my word that it's a truly amazing story of how he overcame the odds.

No I didn't want to leave because I wanted my marriage to end in divorce or failure.

I didn't leave because I was disappointed in my husband.

I left because I thought it would be best for everyone.

I thought that if there was EVER a chance that it could ever work out (and I completely believe that God can do anything!) that this was the only way it was going to happen.

We'd both have to figure ourselves out.  We'd both have to get healthy.  And then maybe we'd both be able to work it out: IN THE FUTURE. I also knew it wouldn't happen overnight, in a few weeks, or even in a few months.  I knew it was going to take time & work and had to come from BOTH people involved. 

Yes I left fully knowing that it may never happen; but it's a risk I was willing to take and one that I felt I had to take.  Either way, I knew I needed to take time away to work on myself and my own healing.

 I wanted to find out who I was again. 

Because when you lose yourself?  You do no good to the other person in the relationship.  

You cannot have a healthy relationship if YOU yourself are not healthy. 

It won't work. You won't be able to provide the support they need.

Then after we had separated: I found out I was pregnant.

Talk about a curveball from life.

Once I do the blog on that I'll post the link here ----> ________

After finding out I was pregnant he badly wanted me to just move back.  He sent me a video of a beautiful home on post.  It was gorgeous. Had I considered moving back after finding out I was pregnant? Absolutely!  We had gotten on the housing list when I visited in March after I had found out I was pregnant and stopped in Missouri on the way back from Florida.  We were put on the list for a house on post to have it as an option just in case: but I had expected that we wouldn't be offered a home until July or August (and by then I would be able to know more about whether or not we could do this). I was NOT expecting him to get offered a home 2 weeks after we got on the list.  He had purchased a plane ticket to come up and move me.  But it just didn't feel right.  My whole stomach was in knots about the idea of it.  I hated having to let him down.... having to hurt his feelings.... AGAIN: but nothing had changed.  

 This little baby in there needed me to be at my strongest and at that point I was too weak to handle any more stress.  Physically I couldn't.  My body was shutting itself off.  I was having precursors to a heart attack at the age of 24 and wound up in the ER twice in two weeks.  There was no explanation for what was going on other than: stress.  

I couldn't get out of my current lease. I asked him to cancel the house.  

There's nothing I would've wanted more than to just wave my magic wand over everything, move back, and have it be ok: but it doesn't work like that.  He became upset and frustrated with me: and I get it.  But what seemed like me "flip flopping" and just "changing my mind again" was me being completely torn. Torn between what I wanted to do and what I felt like I had two do: two completely different things.

I asked him if he could re-arrange or cancel his plane tickets.  He was so hurt. He didn't understand and I just couldn't explain to him that I couldn't see him right then.  I tried but it was pointless. He didn't understand.  I needed time.... I still had to heal.  My heart would've broke having to see him - knowing I was pregnant - and then watching him leave again.  It would've been like going through it all over again and I couldn't do it.  He was so hurt. I could hear it in his voice..... but I just.... what do you do?  There was nothing.  I couldn't make things better.  I couldn't make the situation be ok.  I asked him to change his plane tickets for June instead when I was going to have my gender reveal ultrasound.  But he was so upset.  I know it hurt him and he was going to shut me out; but for once I NEEDED to watch out for myself.... to put my needs first.  I had to.... especially now that there was another little life that was depending on me.  He got upset and I was getting shut out. : ( 

  That's when I got an ultimatum via a phone call and I had to make the decision: If I wasn't going to move back & if he wasn't coming up then it was over for good. Forever.  I was so upset.  I cried. I yelled at him: how could he do this?  How could he say that?  I had literally lost it.  I broke.  I felt like he didn't understand at ALL why I had left.  I felt like he was quitting.  It was like he didn't understand. I wasn't trying to blame him.  I knew he was struggling with PTSD; I didn't think he was a bad father or bad husband..... we just needed help.  But me saying that just meant that I wasn't proud of him or how far he'd come.  He took it as me saying that he would never be good enough: which couldn't be further from the truth.

That wasn't true.  Just because I wanted to continue getting help.... to work on things together.... to move forward.... didn't mean I wasn't proud of how far he had already come.

He had been seeking help on his own after I left.

He had purchased self-help CD's and had started listening to them.

He had given up drinking all on his own: a HUGE step.

 But with one argument or disagreement with me he became frustrated and felt like they weren't working.  He gave up. I wished I could've just made him understand that you can't listen to a CD once and become an expert.  There is no easy fix. We couldn't simply put a bandaid on our marriage.  We needed to start over.    He was burnt out, too.  Any disagreement threw him off the edge and discouraged him. But having a healthy marriage isn't about having no arguments: it's about being able to disagree but still having the respect to honor the other person and their point of view.  I think he was just tired, too.  He said he was sick of trying to get better when he felt like all I did was get disappointed in him.  

But that wasn't it....

I had seen the cycles.  I had lived them. 

Something would be new or interesting and then it was short-lived.

Given up as easily as they were started until the next thing was found.

They were temporary highs.

I couldn't bear to get down there.... to try again before I'd had time to heal.  

I couldn't handle the pain or heartache of it all again if things started to get bad. 

I just couldn't. I was too fragile. I was broken.  

No matter how much I wanted to go back then..... I couldn't.

I knew he was struggling; but did that also mean that the boys and I had to suffer?

Did that mean the boys had to watch as he struggled with anger and depression?

Was it fair that they had to be scared or felt sad?

Was there a right way to do this so nobody got hurt?  No.

......... the whole situation sucked. It sucks. End of story. 

After I got the ultimatum I got so upset and I said something that came out wrong.  SO wrong. And I wish I could take it back; but I can't.

I told him we made a mistake and we shouldn't have gotten married. I KNOW.  Please do not even tell me what a horrible thing that was to say: I KNOW!  I DID NOT MEAN THAT IT WAS A MISTAKE TO MARRY HIM or that I regretted it. But as soon as those words left my mouth it was like... ugh. That did NOT come out right. What I meant was that it was a mistake to have gotten married like that out of practicality: the lack of romance and planning is what had contributed greatly to some of the problems that arose in our early marriage.  He married me to take care of me.  I just wish we would've done the proposal and the wedding.  Maybe then there would've been more time to prepare.  Or maybe not.... maybe you could never prepare for encountering something like PTSD.

But my comment was completely taken the wrong way.  I don't blame him. It didn't help that I said it when I was upset, either.

That sentence was a COMPLETE MISTAKE on my part. One I wish with everything that I could take back. 

I just cried.  I told him maybe we would be better off with other people.

See: when you get insecure... you start doubting yourself. A major reason why I needed to focus on myself and get myself better.

I started to think I wasn't good enough.  Like if I would've been better looking I could've made things better.  Like maybe if I didn't have stretch marks I would've been more attractive to him. What if I was a stronger person? Would I have been able to help him then?  Would I have been able to fix things? Would I have been able to keep it together long enough to get help?  What if I could do more: what if I could work and keep up with the whole house and the kids?  I felt like a disappointment to him.  I felt like he wasn't proud of me. I felt like I failed him.  I started to think that maybe if he was with somebody else: THEN he would be happy.  Some girl who was a tough-loving, country girl who wore camo and steel toe boots.  I felt like he would be happier on his own than with a wife who couldn't be there for him.

 But those were just my own insecurities and misconceptions and I know that now.  

After I stuck with my decision to stay in Wisconsin and asked him not to come up at that time.... he pulled away. 

He's finally socializing, making friends, and having hobbies.  I can't tell you how happy that makes me.... it's all the things I wanted him to do when we were there but that I think he felt guilty about.  He felt like time taken for himself was selfish because he "should be" at home with the family.  But even when you're a parent and spouse: you still need to take time out for yourself to make sure you're happy.  I can't stress that enough: IT'S SO IMPORTANT!  He needed to find himself, too.

 I truly do hope he finds happiness and joy.  

(There's a big difference.  Happiness is dependent on outside circumstances: joy is something that comes from within and that you carry with you no matter what and you rely on even when times are tough)    

We pray for him everyday. My kids and I talk about him everyday. We still have his deployent boots, army stuff, pictures, and achievements out on the "daddy shelf" at our house. Even though he is not here: he is still very much a part of my kids' lives and I make sure of that. No matter what: he is ALWAYS their dad. Sure we all make mistakes. I make mistakes. I MADE MISTAKES. I cannot stress that part enough. I AM NOT PERFECT, EITHER!  

Is this incredibly difficult?  Well DUH. 

I never set out in marriage to have it end like this; I still don't believe it does have to end like this.

Imagine knowing you had to leave the person you shared a life with, finding out you're pregnant, and hearing that they no longer have feelings for you.

You might as well have just ripped out the heart that was left and stomped on it.

I never wanted to hear that he thought he would be happier with someone else and I kick myself in the ass for ever letting my own insecurities out.  Because when I did that:  when I wasn't secure with myself and I said those things I didn't necessarily mean? Well they came back to bite me in the butt.  No I didn't want to hear that and certainly not when I'm pregnant.... with his baby.  

I didn't ask to get pregnant.  

It wasn't planned.  Don't get me wrong: a baby is a baby and I love babies but this is so tough.  Going through a pregnancy and a separation at the same time? It's unreal. 

I wish he could've seen the look on the kids faces the other day when they thought they saw him at Dairy Queen.  A man pulled up in this truck that looked remarkably similar to Rob's.   What are the odds of the man getting out and he's in full Army uniform?  click here to watch the video about it.  The look on the boys' faces when I had to convince them it wasn't daddy after they had started shouting  and yelling, "Daddy! Daddy!"  and Christopher said, "I just knew he was going to come up here to stay with us and surprise us" wrenched me to my core.

 But I knew that this was a possibility, though.  I knew there is no middle ground for someone with PTSD: they are subject to extremes. It's either hot or cold. For the first couple of months after I left he was upset and doing everything to get me back; but I stood firm.  I couldn't go back when I knew that (at that point) nothing had changed so what would be different?  Nothing.  We would wind up at the same place.

I needed time.  I had to find myself.  I had to change things in myself. 

I had to regain some strength.  I had to figure out if I could ever get over some of the things I had experienced.

And when he needed one: I didn't have an answer. 

I hope this sheds light on the fact that PTSD is a real thing that families are really struggling with.

It doesn't affect just the person who has it: it affects the spouses, the kids, and everyone else.

It's horrible. It eats away at the person that has it & it has the potential to tear families apart.

But people can also overcome it: there is hope. 

They just need LOTS OF SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.

Lots and lots of it. 

And for the record: just because I left doesn't mean I stopped believing in him.

I do believe in him.  I believe he can continue on the path to getting better:

if that's what he wants to do.

"If" being the key word.

But if he doesn't... if he believes who he is now is who he wants to be and he's ok with that... 

.... if he's ok with walking away from the family that loves him and just wants him to get better...

if he's ok with giving up on his marriage: who am I to tell him how he should live?  That's not fair, either. 

All I know is I didn't leave because I wanted to.

I didn't leave because I hated him.

I wish he knew that.  I wish I could tell him.

I wish there was a way he could understand.

I left because as much as I loved him: I also loved my kids.

But I'm always going to love him.  That's not something that just disappears because a judge signs off on a piece of paper.  Because really?  That's all divorce is: a piece of stinkin' paper.

We will always be a family no matter what.

I'm always going to care.  Why?

Because that's what marriage is.

It's believing in the other person when they don't necessarily believe in themselves.

It's being there for them when they're not there for you.

It's forgiving them even if they don't deserve it.

But on the same token: you cannot force someone to change.  

You either can love them as they are or you cannot: and that is your decision.

You also can't force somebody to be with you and I think that's the part that hurts the most. 

Either they want it or they don't. 

Either they're going to want to work for it and fight for you: or they're going to walk away.... and... if they choose to walk away you have to love them enough to let them go.

He has the right to live how he wants and to pursue what makes him happy just like I have the right to stand up for what I feel is right.

What's going to happen next?  I have no idea.  I don't think anyone really knows what's going to happen in the future.  Sure I wish that I didn't have to go through ANOTHER pregnancy.... alone. 

I wish I had a magic solution.

I wish I could just change everything and make it better.

But I can't.  I can only focus on myself and my kids.

I pray that he doesn't just take the easy way out: I pray that he continues to get well and never settles for "ok". 

Do you want to know what you could do?  

Just keep our family in your thoughts and prayers.

If you know my husband: encourage him.

Reach out to him.

Call him.

Tell him you're proud of him. 

Tell him he can do it. 

Encourage.  

Just send a text, give him a call, or chat with him. Show him you care.

Ask him how he's doing....

Oh: and if you happen to be the person in his life that he looks up to so much.... the one that's caused him so much pain and made him feel weak for seeking treatment?  YOU are the weak one.  You have no place in his life unless you're going to be there to encourage instead of impart your pompous, opiniated, asshole views on the world. If you only knew how much good you could've done by simply saying, "I'm proud of you". 

I have nothing more to say to you; because nothing I can ever say or do will ever compare to the consequences you're going to face some day.  You reap what you sow.  Have fun with that shit. 

And if you don't know my husband: just keep this in your mind.  This is real.  People are struggling with this everyday.  If you know somebody who might be: just listen to them. And talk about PTSD.  It's not a word that should be whispered in a dark room.  It's something that everyone should be aware of.

When you think of Veteran's Day or Memorial Day: remember those who have fallen and lost their lives.

But also remember those who have lost their lives while they're still here due to PTSD.  

The families who have had to experience the excruciating pain of a "living death" of their family being ripped apart by the after effects of war.

The only advice I have for people is to cherish the happy times: no matter how fleeting they may be.

I am grateful everyday that I took all of those photos and videos of our good times together.

It helps my kids remember their dad in the way that I believe he really is.

The man I fell in love with. 

It makes me so sad to think that this baby won't know him. That he won't be around to see him / her grow up.  It breaks my heart to think of everything he's going to miss.  Of how much the children miss him and need him in their lives. But he doesn't realize that right now.... I pray someday he does.

I can't do anything about that.... I can't focus on that otherwise I probably won't be able to function.  I can only focus on myself. 

It still.... yeah. It's tough to know that I'm going to go this alone. 

I'm going to go to the appointments alone.

I'm going to share the excitement alone (yes I know others will be excited.... but it's not the same).

I'm going to come home from the hospital and there isn't going to be somebody there to snuggle up next to.

This is something I never wanted to go through....again.

I've tried to keep my mind off of it: distracting it by getting out of the house and going out.

(Although it's not too eventful when you can only drink sprite or water!)  

But even after the socializing - which helps - it doesn't change the fact that I am still going through this.  I'm still by myself.  And there's absolutely nothing in the world that can change that fact right now. 

Nothing.

It's so hard to hear that people tell him how much happier he is now that I'm gone.

That just sucks the breath right out of me. 

But it's also something I knew had to happen.  He HAD to find himself.

He had to find the balance if there was ever going to be hope.

I just hope they realize that I already knew that and THAT is why I left.  But of course they don't. 

He's fun now that he can go out and do things he couldn't do when he had a family.

I just hope that when he has a rough day or hits a bad spot: that these people have his best interest in mind.  That they're actually looking out for him and not just with him because he's fun to hang out with because of how daring and adventurous he is.  (Trust me: I know how much fun he is because it's partially what drew me to him in the beginning!) I hope they realize that just because he may seem ok on the outside: that inside.... there's more to him.

This has been so painful to actually write.  I'm shaking. I'm emotionally drained. I've thrown up everything that I've tried to eat. I think for a couple days I just need to shut down and turn off the phone to process it all. I don't want to deal with it. But no pain should be wasted; rejoice in your sufferings so you can find the beauty in the ashes. So I had to share this. For so long I pretended things were o.k.

but I'm not ok (right now).

I do have hope, though.

And no matter what I have two wonderful children and one on the way who are the best gifts I could've ever asked for.

Even if I only got a couple amazing months with my husband; I will cherish those in my heart. 

Thanks for reading.

Thanks for understanding.

Thanks for the support.