So, on Dec 4th, I had my appointment for the C&P. My friends J and D came to take me since K was out of town and I know I can't go to these things alone. It was also decided that D would stay the night in case things went sideways. One never knows how its going to go.
So I was fine until we got there. What is it about those places that trigger the hell out of me???? Knowing I'm gonna have to tell the whole ugly story from beginning to now. We sat down, and the tears just started falling as I felt the past sweep up and over me. I could feel D holding my hand, and J, rubbing my shoulder. Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to be sitting in a Dr.'s office weeping uncontrollably??? There were only a few folks in the office, but one of them a man, sat across from us, and stared at me. I wanted to fall through the floor. The tears got worse, and since we had gotten there plenty early, I sat and wept for about 45 min. The man looked sympathetic and said "They ought to give you a pain killer for that".... well. I looked up, smiled wryly I think and said "Well, this is from PTSD, no painkiller for it" He blanched and nodded and looked sad. Sigh.
Finally I got called in. The doctor said she would give me a diagnosis before I left. Okay.. I've had a series of those before for the same thing, by the VA themselves, but I guess they feel they have to pay someone outside the system to verify what they say inside the system. Seems like a waste of money to me, but, I suppose I can see the point.
So, yes. I had to tell it all. From childhood though that morning. It was... as hard as it always is. My Veterans advocate Wendi had told me to feel that day as if it was my worst. I didn't have to do anything for that to happen. In the blink of an eye, a good day can send me hiding under my covers, doing my best not to cave and drink myself oblivious like I used to. I try to hang on through it. So. I told her all. Answered all her questions. I could tell I had shocked her a few times. Yes, the barbarianism of our own troops to their own brethren. She told me that I do indeed have severe PTSD and depression. Ya think???? She was very nice and kind and that was helpful. These things I never even told my family or closest friends, I now have to recount to a complete stranger. Sighs. Well, now it's done thank goodness. She did have some good things to day. She told me that I should continue getting therapy, and working to move from victim to survivor to advocate. She felt strongly that the advocacy for myself and other veterans would go a long way to helping me heal. And I agree.
So right now, the Military Justice Improvement Act will come up for a vote in January. I spent time yesterday composing a letter, and looking up my local Representatives to ask them to support it. I tell an abbreviated version of my story with a link to this blog. I hope that if they do see fit to look into the true story of one survivor, it will lead them to help others by supporting this act.
Other then that.. I've had a harder time lately with emotions being out of control. I lost it during Hunger Games 2. Donald Sutherland's character was such an asshat, lying and changing rules, that he reminded me of the Petty Officers and Chief's that I knew while I was in who did the exact same shit to me. And my life was threatened. I was told numerous times that I could easily get lost on a base that had hundred of acres of woods to disappear or be lost on. So it all really trigged me. Poor K, he felt so bad, but it wasn't his fault of course. The first movie didn't affect me that way at all. But I was crying so bad we had to go home after the movie as I wasn't up to having dinner out and being stared at.