Pen to Paper

Two months ago, I wrote the last chapter of a novel exploring the darkest depths of death and PTSD. I’ve written hundreds of thousand of words, three novels, and countless short stories, but that chapter was the hardest couple of pages I’ve ever written.

It is a work of fiction, but like many of the stories I’ve written, it has some basis in fact. The truth in this tale is one of the two protagonists is coping with life after Iraq. He is based on my husband, Chris.

For me, this was a cathartic journey. But for Chris it was an outlet. It was a way for him to talk to me about what had happened without feeling like he was burdening me with the knowledge. There was a purpose to the sessions. I would ask, he would answer and talk. Not only did I ask about the bad, but I asked about the good, because I knew twisted into the horrors there were also stories of camaraderie, laughter, and momentary happiness.

As I worked, I read him the scenes so he could correct any of the details. It was important to him and I both that the book read realistically to those who’ve ‘been there done that’. Eventually, however, the scenes became too much and I stopped reading it to him. Still, it left us with an open dialog about what had happened. He talks to me.

I get many emails from loved ones about how to get their wounded soldier to talk to them. I can’t give anyone a definitive answer, all I can do is pass on what worked for me and mine and let everyone know that the answer is there but it is an individual one. He or she may never confide in loved one. They may feel the burden is too much. They may worry about judgment coming if others know. Or they may need desperately to unload the thoughts in their heads and are waiting for the right opportunity.

The key is to never give up the search. Dealing with PTSD is like walking a maze. There will be some dead ends, but the way out is there.  Keep looking.