Four Crooked Years

April marks four years for Chris and I being physically together.  For me, it’s four years living with the reality of PTSD and not just morning emails written desperately in the wee hours while I slept and he didn’t.  So many things have changed from then to now, yet some are exactly the same.

Four years ago I experienced being pulled out of bed for incoming for the first time.  Being woken from a dead sleep, yanked to the floor, and covered by someone who not only thinks they’re back in a combat zone but sees, hears, and smells all that’s associated with that place is an eye opening experience.  Lately though, the nightmares are still as frequent but not as violent.  He rarely even wakes me anymore with his moving about.  No more midnight triages or helping him get his gear together for patrol.

I can’t attribute this to him getting better.  I have to be honest with myself.  I don’t think he’s getting better.  I think as a team we’re getting better at coping with the symptoms.  Flashbacks are less frequent, not because he’s free of them but because I’ve been diligent about learning the triggers and heading them off.  He’s learned avoidance in certain situations.  I’ve learned to catch him when that distance look darkens his eyes.  We’re working at coping.

However, I don’t think he’s getting worse.  I think he’s on a level plane but think of it as a glassy ocean that can change in an instant.  Like a storm at sea, his anxiety and pain still rule our life.

Despite this, we managed a couple of years ago to buy a house, build a home, and carve out what we both consider a sanctuary.  Yes, we sometimes spend weeks at home without leaving but that’s our life and we like it.  Then it gets called to my attention and I start to wonder.  Not if I’m happy but if I’m or we’re getting a normal life.  Building it correctly or just slapping together shoddy materials in an effort to fool ourselves.    

I spoke to an old friend from college a couple of weeks ago and she wanted to do some catching up.  As I wrote the email I started to think, My God my life sounds like a disaster zone with so much heartache in the last years.  But I don’t feel like it’s all that bad as crooked as it may seem to outsiders.  We’ve managed to eek out a lot of really wonderful moments.

Maybe my idea of a normal life has shifted but I do consider our life normal.  Just for us, normalcy is a little more… interesting.  Find joy.