"Cleaning house"

This term can mean a lot of things...but please allow me to explain what it means to me.

So often I am asked by folks without PTSD, "How do I recognize someone with PTSD?" Now, I realize with all the mass shootings, people want to feel like they can spot crazy in order to keep them from doing crazy. When I hear folks ask me that question though, my thoughts go to someone asking me so that they can support a friend or family member coming home from "over there", where ever they are coming home from. I try not to talk about others or for others, so I will share with you how I feel about it and my experiences.

In the 50's, 60's, and early 70's when a "step ford wife" was going to commit suicide she would first prepare meals for the next few days, then she would actually clean the house top to bottom as to not leave a mess or the family without food. In the 80's and 90's the term took a little different meaning. Corporations would hire a "hatchet man" to come in and "clean house", meaning fire everyone as he tried to help the company reorganize and restructure.

When I got home, I heard the cliche saying, "You're not the same any more." And I wasn't!!! All the friends I had premilitary started telling my I was too angry, too aggressive, too hostile, too jacked up, too on edge, and the list goes on and on. Very quickly I found myself friendless as my mind was spinning out of control. I was "self medicating" with a bottle of vodka everyday and right before everyone started getting home I would switch to beer in hopes that no one could smell the vodka. I just wanted to numb the mental pains I was having. It wasn't until I yelled at an elderly lady for scolding my roomies dog over the fence that I even admitted that I was having a problem. That wasn't how I was raised but it was too late, I had PTSD and there was no turning back. I still had over a year left on my military contract. No friends and that included my brain turning on me as well.

The year passed and I was honorably discharged, but not before the military told me that I was worthless, broken, and the biggest piece of shit that ever joined. Not being told where I could find help or given any sort of road map to reintegrating into the civilian word. AND I WAS ANGRY!!!! The next few years the PTSD got worse and worse...one of my biggest symptoms is nightmares or night terrors, however you want to word it. My bed and sleeping is a torture chamber for me. I was getting 2-3 hours of sleep a night for years. Sleep depravation and depression were getting worse, and what I call "The demons", where all circling taunting me, reminding me of all my failures and how I was no good to anyone. So I started, "Cleaning house".

I made sure that I did "things" that were unforgivable in the eyes of all those around me. They didn't necessarily know that I was doing them, but I was positive that I was going to kill myself. Only I wanted that as all of those who were left loving me at the time start to go through my effects, they would all find something that would guarantee their hatred of me. Making it as easy as possible to let me go, forget about me, and be glad I was gone. I had "Cleaned House", there was no chance of any redemption for me.

So for all of you asking, " How do I spot someone with PTSD?" There is no simple answer but self destruction is definitely a marker. As well as hyper vigilance, depression, suecultion, and anger to name a few more. Another thing that I did very subtly was to never plan for the future. Anytime a buddy said, "Hey, in a couple of months lets do......", I would just smile and say, "Let's see when the time gets closer." I never believed I would make it that far.

If you see a friend or family member start to "clean house", well I don't know how to answer that for you. For me, God kept sending me new missions, some pretty serious ones. T was diagnosed for the second time with stage 4 cancer, came to me and said, "I have no one left in my life, please help me with this. I want to kill myself." I made a deal with T that I would hold her hand (cause no one in my tribe dies alone) the day she wanted to do that, but FIRST, we have to check off some bucket list stuff. We did one a week, until she couldn't go any further, and lucky for both of us the cancer took her before she could take herself. That's just one mission I'm willing to share. This project is another mission. OPERATION: Make baby brother successful