Page 799 - Total War on PTSD

When I was in Portsmouth, I was supposed to be able to get the help I needed so I could get better but all it really seemed like was that I was on hold and not making any progress. All I felt was that I was no longer good enough...that I was a disappointment...and why should I deserve to be around...especially when so many more didn’t get to return home after their tours at all...at least not alive. Still more were exposed to roadside bombs, IEDs, accidents, rollovers, firefights and so much more and received traumatic brain injuries, loss of sight, loss of limbs, and even suffered the loss of those who served alongside them, their brothers and sisters-in-arms. And I am still down there in that dirt pit, trying to figure out why my chest feels like I am holding a bowling ball on it...why I can’t claw my way out, why there is no one up there at the opening who understands or believes what I am dealing with.
I know I am smart enough to avoid talking about my ‘real’ problems..and know how to wait out panic attacks whenever they happen...and how to 'be okay' even when I am not.
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