There are probably better ways to title this post but the point is to connect with veterans WHO do feel this things, and who have SAID these very things, to themselves or to others.
The word "compassion," as we've talked about before on here, is from the Latin, meaning "to suffer with" (another). Here's a full definition: "Deep awareness of the suffering of another coupled with the wish to relieve it."
You can't, or shouldn't, get to know much about combat veterans without developing some of this. And you might need to, because -- while they hold this for each other -- they often distinctly DON'T have it for themselves. "Why did I deserve to live when others died?" "I don't deserve to be happy." "I should go back..." All these phrases, and thoughts, are common among combat veterans with PTSD.
As we've talked about before here, the goal is going to be...find some way to achieve catharsis with these feelings. Don't invalidate them ... they're real, they're true, and they DESERVE to be there. They're a very "natural" reaction to a very abnormal situation (combat). But what also needs to happen, while acknowledging these feelings, is somehow to bleed the toxins out, to be at peace, or reconciled, or achieve some "normalcy" with these powerful emotions, but without letting them control your life, or dictate your decisions. That's a pretty tall order, it would seem, depending on how badly things are going, on a given day: but let's hold that hope out there, it's still real.
As one hardened combat vet told me the other day, there really is a severe dichotomy -- the academic world would call it -- or a "split" -- the rest of the world would call it -- in the mind and behavior of a vet with PTSD. On the one hand, he (or she), deeply wants to believe they can overcome, and see a brighter day -- somehow be reconnected to the self they dimly remember, but have functionally lost (and who they mourn, as beyond being able to be accessed anymore, except in memory). At the same time, breaking away from who they've become with PTSD can be exceptionally hard. Not necessarily by anyone's ever wishing it to be so, the shell, or the mask, of PTSD has started to feel like a part of who they are. It's both "not me" and "me." Or maybe, a very undesirable outcome, who has nevertheless become me, without wanting this to happen. And it can be very, very hard to contemplate breaking away from this person you've become...because the shell has somehow gotten comfortable. Or manages to keep people away -- or the demons at bay -- or whatever it is. There is some payoff here, as grotesque as the experience can be. And considering breaking free of this, and leaving this mask or this shell behind, as no longer serving you? Tough, very tough. Because it's become familiar...and in familiarity, there is a certain amount of safety.
Odd that there would be such a struggle here, but it's true. "I want to get well..." or "I want to get better" -- and "I desperately want to believe that I can" -- versus, "I wonder what the world is like beyond this wall I've erected..." "I wonder if I can handle it..." "I wonder if I'm safer not even trying."
Heavy questions. Very hard, very difficult, very real. But even when you're struggling with this, you're still acknowledging that there is some tiny shred of belief here that things can get better. On some level, find a way to give yourself credit for that. And keep the hope, however miniscule, unlikely, or fakey it seems, alive. Because it just might be the eternal flame (old reference to JFK's grave...look it up) that never goes out...and ends up lighting the way to something that DOES help you. Let's hope.
