It’s a conversation that has to be had. And it’s probably one of the most important conversations in this whole thing, whatever it turns out to be. Right now, this “thing” is a folder of documents on my Google Drive account. It’s sitting here and accumulating and I’m getting excited about the prospect of publishing it at the encouragement of some wonderful friends of mine. Who are also going through this deployment with me.

Yes, I’m writing to you real emotions, real thoughts, real reflections on the ghosts of deployments past and the very real monster of a deployment with which our family is currently grappling. I’m sure by the time you read any of it, it’ll be polished and not as rough as some of the pieces are looking right now, but the core is raw emotion.

But these are simply that: thoughts and reflections on certain aspects of deployment. I cannot speak to everyone’s experience. I can only put my own into words and send them out into the world. I can only say what has worked for me, what’s not worked for me, what’s succeeded, and what’s blown up in my face.

And sometimes, the biggest thing that has blown up in my face is my PTSD. I am a veteran with PTSD, and it is a daily struggle sometimes. Especially right after my husband leaves on a deployment.

I regularly have nightmares. Flashbacks. Panic attacks are more intermittent. If we have guests in the house, it tends to calm down. I’ve yet (please Gd) to embarrass myself or seriously hurt anyone else.

I also mostly self manage. A lot of the things I talk about in regards to self care are what help me self manage. But it can also flare up and explode, like a volcano. When I enter into one of those periods, I reach out for help. For professional help.

Asking for help has not been my strong suit. Going to therapy and going to counseling weren’t really big “things” when I was growing up. In the area where I grew up, if you were going to a psychiatrist, something was wrong, and that was never an “okay” thing. It was something to be ashamed of.

Attitudes toward mental health services are changing, but the change is happening so slowly, it’s painful. People still eschew getting counseling/therapy for a wide variety of reasons. Maybe they think it makes them look weak. Or that they’ve never needed it before, why now? I had a normal childhood, why would I need therapy? It’s just “not done” in my family. It makes me look like I’m not a good (insert religious identification here). I have (insert unhealthy coping mechanism here), so I’m good.

It took me much longer than it should have to seek out a counselor. I tried to hide what I was going through. I tried to downplay it. Because, I mean, I’m stronger than that, right?

Well, let me tell you. I am stronger than that. But sometimes I need help with the tools to properly utilize my strengths. The therapist, in the end, is a facilitator. The work is all done on my part. And it’s not easy work.

But I have two gorgeous daughters depending on me. I don’t want my husband worrying about me when he’s gone. Some days? That’s the only motivator to get me to keep an appointment. And some days? That’s more than enough.

I still only go intermittently, and admit it’s not as often as I should. Dealing with the things that caused my PTSD is some serious and heavy stuff, and I tend to back off when things are getting to be “too much.” But the point is that I do go. I recognize when I can’t get by on my own power, when I need new tools, or help staying afloat mentally.

Reaching out for help isn’t weakness. It’s realizing you’re drowning and grabbing a life preserver. It’s self preservation at its finest. Going with the water analogy, it takes strength to reach out and grab on to that life preserver. Maybe someone else had to throw it to you, but it’s up to you to grab it and hang on.
So I want you to know, that if you ever, ever feel like you need help beyond what you’re already doing for yourself: ask for it. I beg you to reach out. I implore you that, when you are feeling like you are drowning, ask for a life preserver. Ask for the help that you need. Please. If things ever get to be too much. Hang on. Hold fast, as the Navy saying goes. Reach out for that life preserver.