Suicide

[babylonsister]

Suicide
by: kayla.williams
Sun Feb 08, 2009 at 15:04:57 PM EST

(From the diaries - promoted by Brandon Friedman)


Desperation

The gun is heavy in my hand, cold, solid. I sit on the edge of my bathtub and stare at it. The door is shut and I am alone. I can hear my own breathing, uneven.

This I can control.

It feels like the only thing I can control. I can't control my anger, which flares up unexpectedly, making me lash out at those closest to me. I can't control the moments when my boyfriend, who sustained a TBI in Iraq and has severe PTSD, will suddenly turn cold. His face goes blank and there is suddenly no reaching him, he is lost in his own rage and isolation. I can't control whether or not the Army will stop-loss me, or let me out and then call me back on IRR, and send me back to Iraq - back to another year with no control over where I sleep, what I eat, if rockets will fall on me while I shit, if an IED will blow off my limbs.

I can't control the memories that suddenly, with no warning, invade my consciousness: images of men screaming, thrashing, bleeding on the ground. I can't control that the smell of diesel makes me feel like I'm in Iraq again. I can't control my physical reactions, swerving to avoid trash in the road, flinching at sudden noises.

I couldn't control myself when I was driving on a back country road, heard a shot, drove off the road, and suddenly burst into tears. I can't control my dreams, can't even remember them, but I know they must be bad because I awaken drenched in sweat, heart pounding.

I can barely control myself in public, dealing with civilians who can never understand. Can barely bite my tongue when they ask, "What was it really like?"- can barely keep from telling them and watching them cringe.

But this, this I could control. This gun, this choice. It offers me a way out, and freedom from the fear that nothing will change.

I can't get help. Can't imagine going to my Chain of Command - to what? To be put on public, humiliating suicide watch, sleeping in front of the CQ with no shoelaces or belt? I can't admit these feelings of weakness in front of my leaders or - worse - my soldiers. Can't own up to the shame of not knowing if I can do it, take it, keep going at all. Can't talk to my friends from before - can't even conceive of explaining the war to them; I'm not who they used to know. I can't burden my family with this, they already walk on eggshells around me, maybe already think I'm crazy. I can't let everyone down and look them in the eyes after.

I tried getting help already. I went to a civilian psychologist who told me I didn't have PTSD, I had OCD and maybe bipolar disorder. She sent me to the Army psychiatrist - the single psychiatrist for the entire division - to get antidepressants, because how I reacted to them would confirm her diagnosis. I sat in the waiting room, painfully aware of my uniform and visible rank, feeling my cheeks burn as I listened to the specialists behind the counter crack jokes about the last patient. Went into this Major's office and tried to explain my fears - that I would never readjust, never make it in the civilian world. Shoulders stiff, tears leaked down my face. He snorted derisively, "Well, you'll definitely never make it in the civilian world if you start crying all the time." I never went back. The pills made my mouth so dry, I felt like I would pass out on long runs, so I quit taking them.

I sit and stare at the gun. This is mine, my choice, my way out, my freedom, my escape from fear and hopelessness and desperation.

Brian knocks on the door. "Kayla, are you ok in there?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute." My voice cracks.

I imagine what they will go through, Brian and my roommate, dealing with blood and brains and death on my bathroom floor. Imagine my father - I'm his only surviving child. The only time I saw him cry as a child was when my aunt killed herself. Fuck. FUCK.

I can't do this. Not now, not today. But the option is there. If it gets worse. If nothing gets better. I could control my end, if nothing else.

It was 2004.

I only deployed once.

We don't own a gun anymore.

more...

http://www.vetvoice.com/showDiary.do?diaryId=2443

[jwirr]

1. Heart breaking. And we do not have a VA program in place to help

them and we continue to send them over and over again while we use drugs to keep them going. Make no mistake about this I said "WE".

[babylonsister]

2. I have a lot of faith in Shinseki, but it's going to take more time we can't

afford. My heart hurts for everyone going through this. :(

[barbtries]

3. oops i tried to rec it twice

one of those articles that should be read by every citizen of this country.

[bertman]

4. For every vet who has ever dealt with anything even remotely like this, I thank you for

posting it, babylonsister.

So few of us understand the pain many of our vets are enduring. And many of us who do, lose awareness of it because of the daily demands of our lives.