Finding His Voice

It took a few weeks, but Chris shared with me another piece he'd written. And graciously he has agreed to allow me to share it with you...
I made some headway today. A small breakthrough towards recovery if you will, if there is such a thing.  Somewhere underneath the layers of shit that has become my mind there remains a spark of the original fire which once burned bright and infinite. Something happened to me today that made me feel as though the real me, the old me is still in there jumping up and down, waving and screaming.  I saw him today. I heard him speak. 

The calm, cool and collected man that once dwelled within these halls came back for a visit.  For as brief as it was, it was still a visit.  It gave me hope that maybe someday he can come back to stay.  I know all too well that a new set of circumstances will emerge that will give rise to the tyrant again.  But for now, right now, the guns are silent and the field is still. I'll take it any way I can get it.

See, I was going to write about how I am no longer able to verbally communicate anymore.

One of the largest issues I struggle with now is a generalized lack of verbal communication.   I was born with the gift of gab and always found it very easy, even from a young age, to fully express myself to others through speech alone.  I was like a fucking pint sized motivational speaker who also sold used cars.  By the time I was entering adulthood, I had created a network of acquaintances from all walks of life and in a small town like mine, I pretty much had Carte Blanche.

Where ever I went I was able to network to get me where I needed to be. From the didactic standpoint it has always been very easy for me to retain knowledge through little more than hearing it in the background.  I swear, honestly all I did throughout my educational career was show up and only half pay attention and was able to pass subjects without studying. Both of these attributes served me very well in college and in the military.  Very well indeed. Speaking in front of large groups, conducting classes and briefings were as natural to me as breathing.

Since my return home, I've slowly turned into little more than a high functioning bowl of snot-flavored Jello.  Early on, I was just angry and emotional.  Now I'm angry, emotional AND retarded and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. I swear to god it's like I'm reverting back to my primordial self.  At this rate, it won't be long before I start clubbing dinosaurs in the nut sack. The only thing I can still do to express myself, aside from the tried and true “middle finger” is setting here, in front of this soul stealing porn box typing away.  And even that gets mucked up sometimes so bad that I have to walk away.

It's almost like there is a bridge out in my head.  Like traffic has to detour around town to get the to expressway to my mouth.  Sometimes there’s a moron in the passing lane texting and they take out the guardrail.  The only real problem with that is that there's so much fog up there that about five or six others plummet off to their demise as well.  Then come the “looky-loos” who rubberneck and back the damn traffic up until the whole damned upper east side gets gridlocked.  At this point what began as a clearly thought out and executed verbal response to normal interacting communication has now turned into a long string of glistening drool hanging from my lip accompanied by the light sounds of crickets in the background.  

Well, today the tension level in the house reach a crescendo.  You see, my twenty-year-old daughter recently moved into our home. We had been estranged for most of her childhood. As with all twenty-somethings I've ever known, her personal level of drama is rivaled only by her incredible sense of self-loathing. Emotionally she's a train wreck and as much as it sucks, in this house, her train not only wrecks but the emotional fuel which fired the train is made by NASA  so when it explodes it takes out two counties. Well, that is to say that's solely because of my inability to cope.  My instability causes seemingly normal issues to become enough of a threat to household security that I go into DEFCON 4.
Today however something inside of me was different.  For the first time in over six years I spoke calmly.  My breathing never elevated, my heart rate was at a normal level and those beads of sweat that form on my hands and face when I have to deal with issues was absent. Gone also was the “puffy” stance the wife says I get when irritated. 

As with everything I've learned from PTSD it never ceases to amaze me how sometimes situations still find a way to dictate.  Today, somewhere in the deep dark reaches of my psyche behind the battlefront, the messenger climbed aboard his motorcycle and took a vital communique to the commander at the front.  Needless to say there was plenty of opposition but he made it through and a temporary armistice was negotiated.   

I can't set here and honestly say to you that I know why.  Maybe it's because she's my little girl and I love her with all my heart.  Maybe it's that I see so much potential in her that to watch her fail and not intervene would be one of the greatest tragedies in my life and hers.  Hell, maybe it's as simple as chemical levels in my brain being freakishly normal for a brief moment.  Who knows?  I don't care.  For the first time in this kid's life I was her Dad.  Not merely a biological interest.  No, a real dad. The kind that uses his life experiences and delivers them in a manner that is not only relevant but can be used to explain the point I was trying to make.  The kind of dad I always wanted. I was able to rationally discuss with her all the issues that needed to be aired.

I have to tell you.  When the realization of this finally sunk in, I was proud, happy, anxious and sad all at the same time.  But all of these feelings paled in comparison to the actual deed.  For the first time since leaving my post I had taken a bad situation and resolved it without punching a wall or banging my fists to the table.  I didn't raise my voice nor did anything get broken.  It was enlightening if only for a moment.  Am I cured?  No.  Even I'm not crazy enough to believe that.  Is it a step in the right direction?  God, I hope so.

It felt really good to be me. And if I spend the rest of my days circling the bowl, well at least I had this brief moment of clarity. And you know what?  Right now, today and on the heels of the stress that is this holiday... It's good enough.