I wrote Combat Medic to show how life is like for combat soldiers with PTSD and veteran suicide risks in hopes to help families who are struggling like me. It wasn’t easy sitting down every day for four months to write down my most dreadful memories. The only way I was able to bear it was to keep in mind that writing my story wasn’t just going to help me understand what happened to me, it was going to educate the world so people can start getting the treatment that they need.
I took the time to write about PTSD at the end of my book to draw the reader’s attention back into the main focus of my story. If you would like more information on PTSD you can find it on wikipedia.
COMBAT MEDIC: A soldier’s story of the Iraq war and PTSD (Excerpt)
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder develops in people that have seen or lived through a scary or dangerous events. It causes people to isolate themselves from things that remind them of the experience.
It makes a person feel numb and void, forcing them to be less interested in things they used to enjoy.
People hear and see things that aren’t around in the form of a flashback making it feel as real as the first time.
Recurring nightmares won’t allow a person to forget what happened. It’s a tough fight to go through on your own.
Do you know someone who’s currently struggling with PTSD? Be there for them no matter what. Even if they push you away because they think you won’t understand, be there with open arms to catch them when they fall, even if you don’t understand, because no one else will.
Well over22 veterans commit suicide each day in America, proof that war never ends; even after you’re safe at home. I almost became a statistic, but by the grace of God I was given the strength to fight and go after a better life.
In time I’ve found that talking to counselors has helped with sorting through the pain and darkness I’m feeling. It also helped that I had a loving girlfriend who was willing to listen and try to make things work as best as possible. I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have her.
If you’re a veteran and need help, go talk to someone. If you can be seen at the Veterans Hospital, talk to a counselor. Find out if they can get you help. When that doesn’t work, try talking to family or friends, anyone you can to get whatever you have trapped inside, out. Find God as well. Try to build a strong relationship with Him because with His help you can make it through the impossible.
Need to talk to someone because you’re in a crisis, do what I did and call the Veterans Crisis line: 1-800-273-8255″
When I first joined the military the one saying that I hated the most was, “Sleep is overrated.”
Well you know what, it’s not!
Since my tour of duty in Iraq in 2004 I’ve had problems with sleeping. I wake up from nightmares most nights drenched in cold sweat. So much adrenaline is rushing through my body it takes hours for me to fall back to sleep.
Sometimes I never do.
I’ve learned over the past few years that taking certain medications helps. Sometimes I have to make myself fall asleep because I’m easily triggered when my mind is hazy from sleep deprivation. I get bad flashbacks and that makes me angry and edgy when I can’t focus on reality.
The Struggle
The doctors in the military diagnosed me with Bi-polar disorder months after I got back from Iraq because I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking heavily, and my fits of anger and rage usually lead me into suicidal thinking. I was medically discharged in 2006.
That’s when stories of the war, the ones I’ve drank away and tucked back deep inside my mind, came rushing back to my mind like an untamed fire.
It wasn’t until four years, ten medications and three doctors later that I was diagnosed with PTSD.
I couldn’t stop seeing dead people, hearing blood curdling screams for a medic, thinking that people surrounding me in public wanted to kill me. I felt like I was seriously crazy and couldn’t stop thinking of the “What if’s…” in life.
“What if I don’t ever fall asleep and die?”
“What if I tell someone what I’m seeing and they throw me in a padded room?”
“What if this is all a dream and I’m still fighting on the front lines?”
Breaking Point
I would go days without leaving the house believing that I would die if I did.
Everything I though was about death, so naturally I thought of ending it all.
One bullet through my skull and I could rest… I wouldn’t have to think again.
I bought into the idea that things would never get better because no one could understand, I didn’t understand what was happening.
I had a feeling my actions and current emotional state were leading up to consequences that would have an immeasurable impact on lives of people I love the most. That part of me cried out in exhaustion and brought me face to face God.
Hope
From that moment forward I put all my efforts into finding a path in life that I could walk down happily without worrying about my past. I’ve made it my mission to find ways to live with PTSD and to share what I learn with the world to hopefully save lives.
I’ve been through a lot in my life. So much so that I’m worn out mentally and physically. I’ve had long talks with God about why bad thing happen to me and he’s taught me a few things that I want to share.
Chronic pain has always been a major thorn in my side since coming home from the Iraq war in 2005. Over the past thirteen years the pain has only gotten worse, not better. It started out with the occasional pain in my mid- back and then my knees. Over time it’s progressed and after extensive tests the VA Hospital diagnosed me with deteriorating disc disease with mild scoliosis in my lower spin as well as osteoarthritis in my knees.
For the past few months my knees have hurt so bad that I can only take the stairs one at a time because of the crunching pain that shoots through my knees when I bend them.
I’m thirty-four with the knees of a 60 year old.
I can’t run or work out anymore. The less I move throughout the day, the less burning I have to deal with inside my knee. It feels like an itchy, burning scab over a wound. I can barely walk. I wear knee braces every time I leave the house or I’ll end up having to take baby steps from the agonizing pain.
Last night, after a very active day, I had to crawl up and down the stairs. After doing this twice I started to feel depressed. I gave in to the pain and sat down on the stair in defeat. I started having memories of me at my best running and lifting weights. I used to be able to march, jump and bound while carrying 100+ pounds of gear easily.
“How did I get here?” I asked silently, tears from defeat and pain swelled up within my eyes.
After a few minutes of being in darkness, a scripture from the old testament in The Bible came to mind that helped snap me back to reality. In Genesis 32 verses 22-29 after Jacob wrestles with God all night, God touched Jacobs hip, permanently crippling him.
That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two female servants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok.23 After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions.24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak.25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man.26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”
But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
27 The man asked him, “What is your name?”
“Jacob,” he answered.
28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”
29 Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.”
But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.
Even after all his fighting with God, God still blessed him because Jacob had all faith in God even after he crippled him. God even gave Jacob the name Israel because he was an overcomer of Gods and humans.
I began to realize that the pain I have came from my unwillingness to give up on what I wanted in life and not doing what I was created to do. I’ve fought God my whole life, the enemy has constantly attacked me since I was born.
“Maybe going into the military wasn’t what God wanted for me and my fight with him was being on the front line. All of my ailments stem from the war in Iraq.”
I still have faith in God that life will get better. Even through all the pain, he has systematically surrounded me with love so that I won’t lose my faith in him and that love pushes me to be my best at all times just as he did for Jacob.
I might not be able to walk right because of painful knees, but I know that God has blessed me because of the calm in my life. He is literally polishing me, making me better so that I can shine to be a guiding light for others.
You don’t understand the change that happens inside a soldier after war.
Everyone comes back changed, whether they admit it or not, some worst than others.
I was the worst.
Not a day goes by in the past 13 years I haven’t thought about Iraq, the Fuck’d up things I saw and did.
I’ve just recently started moving on with my life with the intent to show civilians what it’s like to be on the battle front, fighting for our country and our lives, only to come home to a never-ending battle.
This scene from my book Combat Medic takes place at the precipice of my PTSD, the worst moment of my life.
Preface
” Slamming the door, I locked it and rested my head against the wood frame, trying to regain my thoughts. You’re home…you’re safe.
Sunlight is beaming in through the blinds, making it hard to see. Leaning against the marble counter in the kitchen, I set my keys down before wiping the sweat that wasn’t there from my brow. I wondered, Does it ever stop? My angst was making me feel cold. No…it never will. I stared at the floor. What if I was dead? Would anybody really care? I wouldn’t have to deal with this pain anymore. The thoughts; the nightmares…
My lower back throbbed. I pushed myself up on my hands, thrusting my hips back and forth, waiting for the pain to go away. I closed my eyes, put my head down, and started taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
Standing up I grabbed a glass of water when a loud bang shook the room. My heart started racing; a chill ran through my body. The hearing in my right ear fell out, leaving a high-pitched ringing in the background. My heart jumped then started beating faster. I closed my eyes and saw flashing lights and heard gunfire – echoes and bangs.
I squatted to the ground behind the counter with my eyes wide open staring at the door. A chill ran through my back, into my heart. My jaw started shaking; teeth chattering like I was stark naked in a blizzard.
Someone kicked down the door dressed in battered, torn clothes with dirty rags covering his face. He ran towards me with an AK-47 rifle pointed at my face, shouting gibberish. I felt a rifle in my hand, the weight of the barrel upon my fingers; but it wasn’t there. I felt naked without a weapon, cold and unsafe.
My heart felt like it was being pulled in four different directions. It thumped, pumping me full of cold blood and adrenaline. My mind raced. What should I do? I smelled gunfire and smoke, but I could see that I was in my apartment. Is this real? The back of my throat was sore; there was a bad, acidic taste in my mouth.
I took in a couple of shallow breaths then jumped up and ran over to the kitchen. I grabbed the handle of my 8-inch chef knife and pulled it from the drawer figuring it would be better to have a weapon in case it wasn’t my imagination. I turned toward the door crouched down, waiting for anything that came through.
A minute slowly passed. “This isn’t real.” I thought out loud, “What am I doing? This is crazy.” At that moment excruciating pain shot from my mid-back down to my left foot. It was like someone had sliced my back in half with a searing hot knife. I tried taking a deep breath in, but stopped short when pain wrapped around my lung.
I dropped the knife. Feeling dizzy and nauseated, I slowly walked over to the bathroom, flipped the light on, and stood over the toilet, holding my stomach and head. I was sweating hard now. The room started spinning as an overwhelming smell of gunpowder filled it.
Images from war started shooting through my mind. In one, I was holding pressure on a wound, trying to stop the bleeding from a severed leg. In another, blood was splattered all over a sand-covered ground. Specialist B pointed to the blood, then over to a building. I raised my weapon as we went in for the kill. The last image was of eyes. A pair of glazed over, hauntingly sky blue eyes. They were staring directly into mine. I stared blankly into the toilet, engulfed in those eyes. The sight of death captivated me. I wanted it; it wanted me. It almost had me.
My focus shifted from his eyes to his head. I started to see blood running down his face as it came into focus. A green aid bandage was wrapped around it, attempting to hold his severed skull together. I looked down and saw blood covering my hands. I knew it wasn’t really there, but it all felt so real.
At that moment I felt numb, emptiness grew inside; my chest slowly became cold. Icy blood pumped through my veins. It felt like I was dying; like life was being drained out of me. I started shaking as a chill crept through me. Death enveloped me, clutching my soul with a wanton lust. My spirit quaked as my heart blackened.
Tears started falling down my cheeks as the visions slowly faded away. I felt like a hollow shell, void of any substance of life. Shaking my head I wiped the tears, but kept crying; unable to stop myself.
I walked to my bedroom, empty except for a small dresser. It’s been 7 months since I moved and still no furniture. Saddened, I closed the door and opened the window. A cool breeze blew through. The sun was bright, warm, and comforting. I took in a couple deep breaths; my jaw still jittered from the flashback as I let it out. My shirt was drenched in sweat.
I opened the drawer of the dresser and grabbed my pipe and weed. I ground some up, put it in the pipe and took a couple of long, slow hits. After about 15 minutes I was fully medicated, seeing everything in a haze. I stared out of the window and looked down at the courtyard. A young couple sat at a table drinking wine; talking… they looked happy. I could see smoke rising from the grill next to them and smelled the scent of barbeque.
Everything I was worrying about started to fade away. The pain in my back turned into a slight annoyance. I smiled a grin ear-to-ear and started beat boxing and singing; doing anything and everything to stop thinking about things – the nightmares from hell that still haunt me.
I poured a glass of cold water from the tap. After slamming a couple, the blue eyes started haunting me again. I felt myself sliding back into the other place when my phone snapped me out of the fall.
I looked at the screen and saw that it was Jessica; I answered annoyingly, “Hello.”
“Hi, what are you doing?”
“Just got home from work,” I said sharply. “Why, what’s up?”
“I don’t know; just seeing what you’re doing. You never call me just to talk,” she said, waiting silently for an answer.
I didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Working. You know my hours at work.” I got upset. “Is there something you want?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you would like to come over and eat dinner with me and Aleah tonight and this weekend? You know… have some family time.”
I was torn, feeling deep in my heart like I wanted to. But then I start thinking about what had just happened. The pain, the flashbacks, I was afraid to leave the house. I missed my daughter so much but I couldn’t drive like this. I lied, “I can’t, I have an appointment later today and I have to work this weekend.”
“Really? You told me you were off,” she said angrily.
“Well Mick asked me to work a couple extra shifts and I said yes.” I got upset again. “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t just say ‘No’ now; it’s work.”
“You never want to spend time with us. Aleah is always asking about you. What should I tell her?”
I felt awful. My heart started to burn.
“I’m sorry, Jessica, but I have to work.” I gave in a little, “I can come over after my shift is done. We can eat and play games. You can tell her I have to work and I’ll see her later.”
“Ok. Whatever,” she said.
Then it went silent for a minute.
“How come you don’t love me?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because we argue too much.”
“We argue because you don’t even try to listen to anything I have to say and you yell,” she said.
“You do too!” I quickly chimed in. “All you do is yell and I can’t take it. I don’t need people around me yelling all the time. I can’t handle it.”
“If you loved me you would try.”
My gut started hurting. “I do love you, Jessica; I just don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to me.”
Silence fell again, I felt so bad that we couldn’t get along. I do love her, but the arguments and fights, yelling in front of Aleah… it was too much. I don’t want her to think that is how relationships are. She should have a happy life.
“Ok, Sam! Bye!”
“Tell Aleah I’ll call her tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, bye.” She hung up, her tone saying all she needed to say.
The room fell quiet. I looked down at the phone and thought of all the good times I’ve had with them. The times I’ve curled over laughing when playing with Aleah. Hearing her laughs echoing throughout the house when I tickled her, I loved it… missed it.
How did I get here in this empty apartment, feeling sad and numb inside? I’ve tried my whole life to feel alive; to feel wanted, to be someone special. I joined the Army because it was where I belonged. Fighting for America, saving lives and making a difference, proving to myself that I could do anything, go anywhere.
Now I’m lost, stuck; sealed away in a cave at the center of a deserted world. I want to feel normal again; feel alive, not numb. My past keeps taking over my mind, flooding it with blood and explosions. I want it to end. I want everything to end.
How did I get here?
It was because of the war. Why did I ever sign up to go in? I don’t want to feel like this anymore; alone, struggling to hold onto reality day in and day out. I want a life worth living.”
I remember how messed up I was back in 2011, living day by day thinking death was right around the corner. Seven years after war and it felt like I was stuck in hell. One moment I’d be fighting in a cemetery taking mortar rounds, the next moment I’m driving to work with chronic back pain speeding through traffic having flashbacks. Some days I just called into work because I was, quite frankly, scared to open the door because it might blow up.
In those dark moments my mind led me to believe that nothing in life was real. For some reason I believed that I had died back in Iraq and that I was in hell. That’s the reason that suicide was constantly running through my head.
“You’re never getting better, just let go of the steering wheel and it’ll all be over.”
I hated the military for making me this way. I hated my parents for how I was raised. I wanted to seriously hurt my ex-step-father for the years of abuse he put me through. He once beat me so hard, an ink pen somehow got stabbed through my ankle. I had this overwhelming urge to kill because of the random flashbacks I was pushed and pulled from.
I wouldn’t sleep for days at a time. I was used to it you know, from the 24-48 hours duties in the Army. I wished I was back in the Army in Iraq fighting on the front line again so I could feel normal, Someone important again.
My anger turned into bitterness which always led me back to suicidal thoughts, descending down a dark path.
I’m lucky that I found Jesus Christ or I would have followed through with something I could never come back from. I was saved by the scriptures I read day in and day out. The subject of bitterness is all throughout the bible and the answer to finding peace is so simple, but so hard to grasp.
Forgivness
“For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.” Matthew 6: 14-15 ESV
As soon as I softened my heart to the people that hurt me the most and tried my best to move on, life started getting better. I started talking to loved ones again and I served in my church as much as I could. I started slowly remembering the person I was before the war.
Things didn’t miraculously change in a week or even a month. I had to learn how to live with my pain as well as my PTSD symptoms. Since I started actively working on re-building my life in 2014, I’ve become happier with the fact that I’m alive and I have a loving family that gives me support and things to look forward to every day.
When I first joined the military the one saying that I hated the most was, “Sleep is overrated.” Well you know what, it’s not. I’ve had trouble sleeping since my 14 month tour of duty in Iraq back in 2004. Thirteen years I’ve struggled to stay asleep because of nightmares and cold sweats. When I wake up my body has so much adrenaline running through it that it takes a few hours to get back to sleep. That’s why I have to be drugged up to sleep or I would lose my mind thinking I’m trapped in a nightmare or worse, dead and living in purgatory for the thinks I had to do to survive.
They diagnosed me with Bi-polar disorder when I got out of the service because of the episodes I’d have of not sleeping, drinking heavily, and fits of anger and rage. It wasn’t until 10 medications and three doctors later that they started testing me for PTSD. That’s when the stories of war, the ones I’ve drank away and tucked back deep inside my mind, came rushing back like an untamed fire.
I couldn’t stop seeing dead people, hearing blood curdling screams for a medic, thinking that everyone that surrounded me in public was looking to shoot me or stick a knife in my back. It felt like I was seriously crazy and couldn’t stop thinking of the what if’s in life.
“What if I don’t ever fall asleep and die?”
“What if I tell someone what I’m seeing and they throw me in a padded room?”
“What if this is all a dream and I’m still fighting on the front lines?”
In my sleepless, intoxicated state I would go days without leaving the house believing that I would die if I did.
Everything in my mind was about death, so naturally my thought went towards ending it all. With one shot I could get some rest, I would never have to think again. I had bought into the idea that things would never get better because no one could understand, I couldn’t even understand what was happening.
Something inside of me knew that my actions and current state were leading up to consequences that would have an immeasurable impact on the lives of people I loved the most. That part of me cried out in exhaustion and brought me face to face with Jesus and our father God.
From that moment forward I put all of my efforts into finding a path I could walk down happily without worrying about the demons tormenting me about my past. As soon as I gave it all to God my outlook on life has done a total 180 degree turn.
I’m so much for my life and other veterans lives that struggle with the same issues as me that I’ve made it my mission to find ways to live with PTSD so I can share and hopefully save lives. Measure
This week is going extremely well. It was kicked off with a day at my daughters big dance competition on Sunday. She did two great routines and I have to say that I’m extremely pleased with how far she has come in two years.
Aleah loves dancing because it is fun to her. I can see the lively spirit that overtakes her every time she moves to a beat. She reminds me of myself, I’ll break out in a dance just because the song is on point, but I could never do competitive dancing.
Her team got a platinum reward for one of their routines, I’m pretty sure that is second place , I’m so proud of her. I told her that everyone has to practice to become great at what they do, some harder than others but if you practice with all your heart you will get better.
I believe you could use that philosophy for a lot of things in life. The only difference between someone who succeeds and one who falls short is the amount of practice they each put into it.
Picture of Aleah in her dance outfit with my mother-in-law.
When I saw her bright smile and the way she moved, I could tell she practiced hard.
It’s moments like these that makes me glad I stuck around to see where God would take me. Life has finally worked out to my advantage, only because I took the initiative to change it. Living life for Love, Family and Salvation are the one things that holds this chaotic world into place.
I want to take some time to explain a part of scripture in the Holy Bible that’s had a huge impact on what comes out of my mouth when talking to other people and changed how I viewed myself.
In the NIV version Matthew 15:1-16 Jesus teaches about Inner purity:
10 Jesus called the crowd to him and said, “Listen and understand.11 What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them.”
12 Then the disciples came to him and asked, “Do you know that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?”
13 He replied, “Every plant that my heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by the roots.14 Leave them; they are blind guides.d]”>[d] If the blind lead the blind, both will fall into a pit.”
15 Peter said, “Explain the parable to us.”
16 “Are you still so dull?” Jesus asked them.17 “Don’t you see that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then out of the body?18 But the things that come out of a person’s mouth come from the heart, and these defile them.19 For out of the heart come evil thoughts—murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.20 These are what defile a person; but eating with unwashed hands does not defile them.”
What I took away from this scripture was that the foul language that came out of my mouth everyday defiled me. I was forced to view myself through Christ’s eyes and all that I saw was a heart full of anger, regret and resentment.
I never used to be as foul-mouthed growing up. Yeah I said a swear word now and again and talked bad about people, but that was nothing compared to how I was in the military at war. I blindly said Fu**, Sh**, As*, Bit**…. you get the picture almost with every sentence I said. It felt good getting all that stuff off my chest at the moment, everyone in the military has a foul mouth. It became normal to me.
After I thought about how my heart used to be so innocent as a kid and now it’s torn and dark because of my actions, I wanted to change. If I didn’t open up my bible to find answers to the situations in life I would have never been able to wrap my head around why I felt so dark all the time.
The word that you speak comes from the heart. Keep it healthy.
It’s taking some time to eliminate crude remarks from coming out of my mouth, because it takes time to soften a hardened heart. I’m trying my hardest to let my light shine instead of spreading the darkness around. That’s why I say it is extremely important for anyone with PTSD to seek out God as best as you can to figure out how to cope in this world ran by sin.
“But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you seek him with all your heart and with all your soul.” Deuteronomy 4:29 (NIV)
I’ve been fighting with myself for the past couple of months over my use of prescription medications. I’m in constant denial of the fact that they help me. One day they could quite possibly kill me from one of the many side effects.
Being a veteran from the Iraq war, I struggle every single night from nightmares and cold-sweats.
I’ve taken at least 13-18 different medications the past twelve years for sleep, PTSD, anxiety and depression. The other dozens I’ve been on are to treat anxiety and depression. In total I take 5 pills a night and 2 during the day. I’ve been doing this for twelve years with little help.
Suicide was always in the back my mind. I was downing medications and still having problems with my mood and sleep. There were days that I thought I had died in Iraq. My mind was so messed up I believed I was in purgatory.
Acceptance
After accepting the fact that I needed help from medications, I’ve been able to focus and accept the fact that I’ll always be hunted by my past, but I don’t have to let it get in the way of my goals and values.
The only way I’m able to enjoy going to live sports like the Twins and the Timberwolves is if I take Clonazapam. I wouldn’t be able to sleep without medication either. Trust me, I’ve tried everything from herbs to diets and nothing else works.
At the game yesterday! Twins vs. Royals
So if I will have to take medications my whole life, should I expect to die from some sort of side effect?
I believe God will take me when it’s my time, but I also know that he respects our choices so I don’t want to shorten my life on my own accord.
I know I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in my life. Since I started opening up with my doctors, they were able to get me on the right meds to keep me stable, but I still have my days. I know that everyone who has to be on medications the rest of their lives feel the same way as I do.
So I wonder, is there going to be a point that I won’t need medications?
I have to remember to ask my doctors. I think this is a valid question for everyone. The pharmaceutical companies creates thousands of drugs to make us feel as though we need to be dependent on them so they can milk money out of insurers and our pockets.
We should make it a priority to see how these drugs affect our bodies before taking them without question.
For the past couple of months I’ve been fighting with myself over my use of medications. I’m in constant denial of the fact that they help me because I feel that one day I could quite possibly die from one of the many side effects that’s given to me on a 7 page print out every time I pick them up from pharmacy.
Being a veteran from the Iraq war, I struggle every single night from nightmares and cold-sweats.
I’ve been on at least 13-18 different medications just to get something that helps with my sleep. The other dozens I’ve been on are to treat anxiety and depression. In total I take 5 pills a night and 2 during the day. I’ve been doing this since getting back from Iraq in 2005.
So twelve years I’ve been off and on medications with little success. Before I had Tank suicide was always a thought in my mind, I was downing medications and still having problems with sleep.There were days that I thought I had died on the front lines; that time when mortars were landing on the roof above our heads and I blacked out. My mind was so messed up I believed I was in some sort of purgatory.
After accepting the fact that I needed help and the medications, I’ve been able to focus better and accept the fact that I’ll always be hunted by the war of my past, but I don’t have to let it get in the way of my goals and values.
I wouldn’t be able to sleep without medication, trust me I’ve tried everything from herbs to diets and nothing works. Same as the anxiety; Tank helped with it a little, but I wouldn’t be calm in public without medication. The only way I’m able to enjoy going to live sports like the Twins and the Timberwolves is if I take Clonazapam.
At the game yesterday! Twins vs. Royals
So if I will have to take medications my whole life, should I expect to die from some sort of side effect? I believe God will take me when it’s my time, but I also know that he respects our choices so I don’t want to shorten my life on by own accord.
The only thing I do know is I’m at the happiest point in my life than I have ever been. Since I started opening up more with my doctors, they were able to get me on meds to keep me stable, but I still have my days. I know that everyone who has to be on medications the rest of their lives feel the same way as I do.
So I wonder, is there going to be a point that I won’t need medications?
I have to remember to ask my doctors. I think this is a valid question for everyone. The pharmaceutical companies creates thousands of drugs to make us feel as though we need to be dependent on them so they can milk insurance and our pockets.
We should be champions and make it a priority to see how these drugs affect our bodies before taking them without question.
Combat Medic 