Healing Combat Trauma

Instructions for Making Your Own Fatigues Clothesline Shirt

If you're intrigued -- as many veterans who've suffered Military Sexual Trauma (MST) are -- with Regina Vasquez' great project, "Fatigues Clothesline," which we wrote about, here -- and you're considering making your own shirt to send to the collection, here are Vasquez' instructions on how to do it: 

 My uniform...

I will use my uniform blouse as an example of what to use for the Fatigues Clothesline. You can use any uniform blouse as long as it is military-related.

Vasquez says, "This is the most important part of the project. Our veterans need to do this because a simple T-shirt won't do." Using a uniform shirt makes a much bigger impact -- "a huge statement that this (military sexual trauma) is not right, and creates a whole new level of awareness. No longer a battle of the branches but more of a sense of, "let's help each other heal."

Step 1

Start with a uniform blouse. If you want to use a dress blouse do so; you can use whatever uniform blouse you want. Make sure your name is not on the blouse you decided to use. I will take mine off when I am finished. Remember, we do not want to use any names on our uniform blouse. Our goal is to voice in a discreet manner what had happened to us while serving at the same time educate others. This is a strong tool if we use this wisely. This cause does not merit discrimination against sex, gender, or the branch of service you served. It affects everyone.

Step 2 

Turn your uniform blouse inside out. The reasons why I ask you to turn your uniform blouse inside out: We as Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, and Marines at one point took pride or are still taking pride in serving our Country. We do so by wearing our uniform, by turning it inside out we are allowing others into our world by reading what affects us today. I cannot stress what a great opportunity it is to voice it in a discreet way by allowing others to read your story.

Step 3 

Write, draw, do whatever you want in order to tell people what happened to you.  

Reminder...

(Vasquez' advice):

It is taking me some time to finish, but I am doing it. Writing my story on a uniform blouse is so much different than on a regular white T-shirt. Just the texture and color alone gives me memories of what happened. Remember when you start, prepare yourself to stop when you start to feel like you can't take it anymore. Take some time out, listen to your favorite music, go for a walk, or simply talk to a friend. When you are finished calming down and you feel ready, start again. The rewards of finally being heard feels amazing. I am here with you 110% spiritually. If you are not able to finish, it is OK. I don't blame you. I blame the person who did this to you. You are not the one at fault. You are a remarkable individual and sometimes it takes more time to talk. It took me 12 years to reach this place I am at. You are not alone.

Editor's note: Send your completed shirt to Vasquez at the following address. The project is open to both male and female veterans.

Fatigues Clothesline

c/o Regina Vasquez

P.O. Box 194

San Marcos, TX 78667-0194

The Fatigues Clothesline Project: One Former Marine Making a Difference on Military Sexual Trauma

In true Margaret Mead spirit -- "“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has" -- meet Regina Vasquez.

Vasquez is a remarkable wife, mother of five(!), college student, and former Marine, with a great project underway that deserves widespread support. (The project is for both men and women veterans.) She writes:

"I am a Marine disabled vet who experienced Military Sexual Trauma along with gender discrimination.

One day while getting ready for college I had an epiphany and now I know what I need to do. For the longest time, for about 12 years I lived with the vision in my head of the two men raping me. About a year ago I got tired of it and decided to get help. I went through group counseling along with individual counseling only to find out that yes I needed to talk to someone and now I'm ready to make it public so I am able to help those who suffered like me move past it all.

I participated in a Clothesline Project for sexual trauma survivors. For this clothesline project we got to write or make art on our T-shirts by telling our story. When we were done we all got to hang it in front our town's courthouse on a clothesline, hence The Clothesline Project's name. 

I didn't mean to take a lot of attention away from the other gals because I felt they need the validation as well but my T-shirt gained so much attention. While standing behind them acting like an observer I heard complete strangers say "I can't believe this kind of things happen in our military" and such. 

This is where my epiphany came from: Why not bring the public in by making a "Fatigues" Clothesline Project for all the women and men who did serve and are still serving our great Nation? It will be discreet, meaning no names, but still be able to have some validation and justice for our souls. I named it "Fatigues" because one fellow veteran pointed out, it is what we were wearing while going through it all and after suffering for so long we feel fatigued. 

What I'm asking from you is to take time and I know how painful it is but well worth it in the end   because for some of us, we were denied our justice due to circumstances. For some of us we may not want to tell people what happened to us. This is a good tool in helping with the process. You will be able to tell your story and no one will know who it came from and still gain the satisfaction of knowing your story is being told and heard. I want you to do this for me, please take a uniform shirt and turn it inside out. Reason for turning it inside out, it's because even though we were raped, harassed, any kind of abuse whether it be verbal abuse or physical we still take pride in serving our nation but what we go through is what we cover up with that pride for our Nation by wearing the uniform. Freedom isn’t free, this is another way of telling the public what we endured for their freedom.

So I’m asking again, no names, your story on a uniform shirt turned inside out about what you experienced while serving our country’s freedom and in return earn validation, justice for your soul and a chance to be heard. 

My goal is to hang all the uniform shirts up in a year or a year and a half in front of our Nation’s White House so that everyone will see what we go through by serving for their freedom. I want to hang them up on a national holiday, Veteran’s Day, by next year or if not, the following year. 

This is a safe way of being heard for all of us. No command getting involved, no anyone but our freedom of speech through our uniform shirts. By doing this it will allow civilians a chance to better understand us and to educate them on the matter. 

Please send your completed shirts to:

Fatigues Clothesline
c/o Regina Vasquez
P.O. Box 194
San Marcos, TX 78667-0194

Says Vasquez, about the shirts: "I will take them, protect them, will not share who they came from and guard them with my heart till it’s time to hang them."

Editor's note: Please share this post (article) with anyone you know who may have experienced military sexual trauma. Not everyone will want to participate in the project, but many will. The outpouring of support from other veterans for this project has been impressive indeed. Said another MST survivor, "(MST) is painful, powerful and more common than people realize. Thank you for being our voice."

Instructions on making the shirts will follow in another blog post, but for more information, see this graphic, which clearly shows the applicability to men and women veterans.  

From the Canadian Side of the Street: A Military Author's Take on Veterans Suffering from War and PTSD

One of the many blessings of the new media -- social media like Facebook -- are the interesting, talented people one meets within that. One such person is Bonnie Toews, a Canadian former journalist and novelist with a longtime background in writing about the military. I forwarded her an article from the Montreal Gazette last week about social workers quitting because of burnout in Canada, meaning that fewer will be available to serve returning veterans with PTSD, and this is what she wrote on her website in response:

Outrageous failure of government assistance to returning Afghanistan vets

"It is wonderful that we celebrate the lives and courage of fallen soldiers when they are repatriated to CFB Trenton and paraded down the Highway of Heroes, but the question that is never answered: who looks out for the returning vets? Especially those whose minds, bodies and spirits have been shattered on a continual rotation of tours through the past eight years.

It is disgusting and absolutely unacceptable to hear that Canada's Veterans Affairs is cutting back on social workers because WWI and WWII vets are dying off. 

Excuse me, but Canada has a whole new generation of vets who have served in Afghanistan for eight years. By next year it will be nine years. The war in Afghanistan has lasted longer than either world war in the 20th Century and soldiers have been repeatedly rotated through three and four tours because our forces aren't large enough to handle a deployment this long and this demanding. These vets and their families need help to mend their lives back together. 

Kevin Dougherty in Montreal's newspaper, The Gazette, writes that soldiers suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder can wait up to four months before seeing a social worker, a necessary step to integrate them back into society and return them to the labor market. 

Why? Because federal social workers each have a caseload of 40 clients to their provincial counterparts, who carry a caseload of 20 clients each. There are not enough social workers to contend with the need, and under such strained resources, these caregivers burn out, depleting veterans' social services even further. 

People forget that soldiers returning home are not the only victims of the wars they've fought. So are their loved ones, families and friends. They need as much social assistance as the soldiers themselves. Those coming home are forever changed. They have experienced things the rest of us can't imagine. They carry this psychological burden for the rest of their lives. 

In 1994, in Rwanda, I was briefly introduced to that world of theirs. I was one of the few North American journalists covering the massive humanitarian effort following the genocide against the Tutsis and moderate Hutus in Rwanda. One peacekeeper after another told me what they saw, incomprehensible mass slaughter with no human respect whatsoever and they were forced to observe because the UN didn't give them the mandate or size of force to quell the madness. Soldiers trained to fight and defend forced to stand down. Can you imagine the helpless rage they experienced? Yet, when I came home, I faced the same apathy from friends, co-workers and the public as they did. My husband proudly explained that I had been in Rwanda and time and time again I was asked, "Did you go there on holiday?" 

People didn't even know what was going on, and were indifferent when I chose to explain. I, like so many soldiers, learned not to talk about it because no one really cared to listen. 

This time the public must get behind their vets and demand the social services they deserve and need. This is the most important tribute we can give our returning vets for the sacrifices they've made on behalf of our country."

 -- Bonnie Toews. A longtime journalist reporting for logistics and private security magazines and now a novelist, speaks out for the victims of genocide and war, from the peacekeepers and coalition forces trying to save suppressed peoples to the children and innocent civilians caught in the crossfire of opposing powers, ideologies and cultures. Current writing "Trilogy in Treason." Member of Military Writers Society of America, American Authors Association and ACFW. Her website is linked here.

Editor's note: Find us on Facebook, here; follow us on Twitter @HealingPTSD.

Busting Out of the Bunker at Last...Made to Be Social Beings, We Die in Isolation

Following up on the "Bunker" post of the other day, about the protective isolation of the bunker for the combat vet with PTSD, it seemed high time to write "the rest of the story," about what the subject of "Eyewitness to Combat" sees now about the bunker mentality, and how and whether it's possible ever to overcome it. (So here's a picture of his bunker in Vietnam, to illustrate it.)

What follows are direct remarks from the vet, from a few weeks ago, about this exact topic. I'll add a few words where I have to, to keep the flow going, but the thoughts and the wording are his:

On the problem of the bunker:

"We are made to be social beings. We die in isolation. And that’s why when we withdraw into a hole, we are withdrawing into a grave -– just one that isn’t covered up yet.

With me I wanted to get out and I wanted to be with people. I wanted to enjoy my surroundings. I wanted to go to parties. I really did. I wanted to do that. But I had this deep ingrained fear that if I was around too many people, too long I would talk too much, say too much, and they would figure out who I really was, and not like me. And every place I went, it seemed that I was always pissing somebody off. Making somebody angry at me, and that rejection was more than I could handle. So it was easier for me to decide that I just hate everybody, and don’t want anybody around me but animals. And crawl back in my bunker, and hide. But then I would die there. Because what I really wanted to do was go back and be with people who cared about me, somebody who would love and accept me and who I could have fun with. Every time that something would draw me out of the bunker, I would do something stupid, have my PTSD moment, and have everyone around me direct me back to my hole.

We are supposed to be social; we are supposed to belong. For those of us who are Marines, we belong to one another, we belong to the Corps, we belong to the men who came before us, and the men who will come after us. We belong to something bigger than ourselves, and that’s what makes us Marines for life. This is not unique to the Marine Corps however; for we all have an innate, ingrained need to belong to something bigger than ourselves; to something that accepts our faults, that builds upon our good deeds, good qualities, that involves people. Be it religion, be it Indian culture, be it motorcycle clubs, be it national associations. We all have a need to belong. The problem arises in our isolation creating a void that is filled with the wrong associations/influences. For we WILL belong to something, good or bad; harmful or helpful. Churches prey on that need to belong. (We've both had bad experiences with churches, so we give the secret fist-bump to each other at this point.)  

Now, all veterans belong to one another. Their bond is in their service, that transcends the specific branches and time.

People go back in the bunker to heal, to hide from being hurt; or to hide from hurting others. They stay there and depression sets in; and they cannot get out by themselves. Someone has to physically go in and bring them out, just like (my guy friend, a Navy seal) did with me; just like you did with me.

He encouraged me; he listened to me; he understood me; he had been where I was. He said, "I don’t know how to help you; I love you; I care for you. But I know if you don’t want to do something, you wouldn’t do it. So what I want to do is share a dream with you that I’ve had since I got out of the Navy. Reasonable or not. But I need your help to do this. And when you feel like you can come out, call me. And he left a stack of papers about a foot high. I spent a week staring at them, and it interrupted my depression! And he'd put one of the most interesting articles on the very top. He had made me a part of what he was doing. I just wanted to be and do something that people wouldn’t hate me for; wouldn’t criticize me for. Because the aftereffect of ‘Nam was so bad, because we gave so much; and received so little. And we had done MORE than we could do over there. I just wanted to do something where people didn’t hate me."

(That Navy Seal friend is someone he'd previously helped himself; stood up for him so he wouldn't go to prison for his third arrest.) "I’m the one who walked in there and walked him out of his depression. Blood brothers, combat vets. He was a friend."

I mention the name of another friend of his, who he served with in Vietnam, who was injured on his same kill day/alive day, and who used to call him up to see if they could go be mercenaries in South America together. It all sounded like an elaborate, not so cleverly-disguised death wish. Very Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. When I first knew him, there was a real pull to that. Now, further down the healing path, not so much. I ask him about that guy. A lot more reasonable now, he reflects, though he knows the allure, "That’s not the way to go; it’s not the way to make you happy. It’s just another way to get yourself killed. Problem is, sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t."

How much time has he spent in his bunker over the years?

"Years. Probably spent 20% of my life in a bunker, hiding, wanting to die, not having the nerve to shoot myself; hoping that the diseases and the meds would finally do me in.

I just didn’t know how to be happy. There was no joy in my life. There’s no reason to live. My family used to ask me, 'How can you look at what you’ve done, and tell me that you have no purpose in life? You don’t understand.' Problem was, I didn’t understand. I did not know why I didn’t have the capacity to have joy, to love anyone or to have fun. I just know I’d tried religion, I’d tried everything the VA could throw at me, in-house therapy, group therapy, self-help, medication, I tried working myself to death, I tried getting rich, I tried doing stupid things to harm myself (go back into combat situations), where maybe if I revisited it; I tried going to The Wall; and something would just not allow to want to live, or be happy, or enjoy being in my life. I couldn’t look around and see the flowers, let alone smell them. All the roses in my life were wilted; not because they were, but because of my vision of them was wilted."

My self-esteem, my sense of self-worth, my self-pity, and sense of total uselessness overwhelmed everything else. No matter how hard I tried, everything I touched was going to turn to shit. I heard it from my dad, and then I began to believe it was a generational curse. A curse is only a curse if you decide it’s going to be a curse. I understand the Universe. I understand me and the necessity of believing in yourself and believing in others. Politically the world may seem like a shitty place; but it’s always seemed like a shitty place. World’s always been a bad place, and it’s always been full of good people, and bad ones. And we have the right to choose the ones that we’re with. And we have the right to choose whether we’re going to be happy or sad, or doing something that’s worthwhile or not. Money is essential but money’s not the end. Money is only the means to an end, and yet we lose that perspective.

I’m no longer willing to let other people and their misery dictate whether I’m happy or sad. It’s up to them to walk through that door. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, that they’d rather die than continue on. Then they’ll walk through that door and want help and accept it. As long as they have one ability to resist, they will."

We talk about two guys we know, combat vets from different eras -- Gulf War and Vietnam. Neither one seems to really "get" where they need to go with this recovery stuff. When they're doing well, they're broadcasting their healing to the world; when they're down, they're completely off the grid, hospitalized for suicidal ideation and attempts. My mind reels from this. I wish when they were doing better they'd put more time into actually finding a way out; not just broadcasting it, so their lows wouldn't have to be so low, since their highs seem...unnaturally, or at least unsustainably high. It reminds me of a friend who says, about people who complain but do not attempt to solve, "It must not be bad enough for them yet." 

He weighs in: "They haven’t lost ALL their resistance. One of two things happen when people reach that level: they either commit suicide, or they get help. What makes the difference? A friend. A friend who can walk in under that and take them by the hand and walk them out. Just like in combat, if you get wounded, you can’t walk yourself out. Someone to grab you by the nape of your neck and drag your ass out of there. You can’t do it by yourself."

He continues: "If vets who have been healed don’t go and get vets who haven’t, then no one else will. In this situation the Marine Corps phrase of “we take care of our own” is literal; if we don’t, no one else will: not the vet’s family, not his relatives; no one. Only a vet can walk out a vet."

But yet, I helped you...and I'm not a vet. But you came looking for the help, too. He replies, "But you were a friend, a sincere, concerned friend. A friend like that, another vet; not the government...."

Editor's note: The photo above is of the "Eyewitness to Combat" Marine with two of his buddies, very Three Musketeer-y, circa 1966 or 1967.

Quotable Quotes -- The Dalai Lama on Life Purpose and Satisfaction

That Dalai Lama -- he's amazing! If "personal outlook" were a software package, I'd ask for the Dalai Lama upgrade: because I like how he thinks. So compassionate and kind and reasonable, but not afraid of science. A fascinating, compelling combination. 

Some of his great quotes lately:

"We can't be useful to ourselves unless we're useful to others. Whether we like it or not, we're all connected, and it is unthinkable to be happy all by oneself. Anyone concerned only with his own well-being will suffer eventually. Anyone concerned with the well-being of others takes care of himself without even thinking about it. Even if we decide to remain selfish, let us be intelligently selfish -- let us help others." -- The Dalai Lama.

And another:

"Once you shift your focus from yourself to others and extend your concern to others, this will have the immediate effect of opening up your life and helping you to reach out. The practice of cultivating altruism has a beneficial effect not only from a religious point of view but also from a mundane point of view; not only for long-term spiritual development but even in terms of immediate rewards."

And another:

"The world's major religious traditions all give the development of compassion a key role. Because it is both the source and the result of patience, tolerance, forgiveness and all good qualities, its importance is felt to extend from the beginning to the end of spiritual practice. Even without a religious perspective, love and compassion are clearly of fundamental importance to us all."

And another:

"Satisfaction is characterized by inner peace. It arises from generosity, honesty and what I call ethical conduct, a way of behaving that respects others' rights to be happy."

---

Bringing this all back around to veterans with combat-based PTSD and their families, think how crucial what he's expressing are. Eighteen veterans a day kill themselves -- a shocking statistic -- and we seem to be at the beginning, not the middle or the end -- of that particular trend. Army and Marine suicides -- they see the bulk of the action, after all, in these wars -- are both up, despite the "best of intentions" on the part of the services to bring down the numbers. Pep talks on prevention and more prescriptions aren't solving the problem, nor are they likely to. Because, as one combat vet with PTSD said, "pep talks are hard to take seriously because that is for the normal life of a normal person, not for a veteran contemplating suicide because of combat trauma." True, that.

It's coming up on two years, shortly, of my first phone conversation with the combat vet, a Vietnam vet, Marine, with 40 years(!) of severe, chronic PTSD, which plagued his life, despite "all the best" of what the VA threw at him (his words, not mine), including an inpatient, residential PTSD program that was cutting-edge at the time. (Would it surprise you to know that most of his classmates in that program, according to him, are now dead, also from suicide?) After our first conversation, which seemed relatively pleasant and positive, he followed up with an email about wanting to drink and put a gun in his mouth to end it all, because he was sure God hated him; after all, he himself did. Sparkly stuff. Lots of unicorns and rainbows and fluffy clouds there...not one bit.

Of course, the end of his story is quite a bit more positive, mostly because it didn't end. He's made the transition from bleak, grim and grisly to mostly inspirational and awesome. And it took a while, a solid footing, a hand reaching across the abyss and pulling him up and out -- a hand which he importantly grabbed (it doesn't work if you don't ;-). It took some specific therapeutic treatments to help remove trauma from the body. We tried a few, intentionally, and they worked; there are others that might as well. And it took a huge motivation on his part to reach out -- however ugly his mess at the time -- to get some help and be real about where he was really at. For years, decades really, he'd been the one other vets' wives called to take the gun out of the mouths of their husbands. Now he finally had some hope to offer others. But it took commitment on his part, believing that the hope was out there, and going after it with all he had. Not always pretty, but effective :-)

(He's the veteran in the "Eyewitness to Combat" series on the site. Here are two items about his turnaround, linked here and here. The second is in his own words.)

Anyway, the upshot of the whole experience is wanting to build a program to bring other combat veterans with PTSD through, and help their families as well, who are often left holding the bag (of misery) but not really getting the help they need either. Combat veterans with PTSD have often lost their life purpose completely, and as we've been talking about lately, purpose is key.

The "eyewitness to combat" veteran, described above -- he and I share a purpose. It's helping others overcome. It's possible. And as the Dalai Lama says, that's being intelligently selfish -- taking care of those 18 vets a day who'll be killing themselves, BEFORE it happens. So it doesn't HAVE to happen. That's the best use that you and I could put our time and energy and compassion to. Please join in helping others so that they don't have to suffer so intensely, when there is a way out.

Editor's Note: A California-based psychology grad student is doing a Ph.D. thesis on Iraq vets with PTSD and life purpose. If you qualify based on the above criteria, he'd like to talk to you, and will pay you $50 for your efforts if you participate. Here's the link to his study. His brother is a combat vet. 

Additionally, you can "follow" the Dalai Lama on Twitter -- @DalaiLama -- and you can follow us on Twitter as well @HealingPTSD.

Going to the Bunker: A Combat Veteran with PTSD on the Purpose of Protective Isolation

Every combat veteran with PTSD knows what is meant by their "bunker," or what "going to their bunker" means. It's a walled-off, isolated situation that allows them to get some space to themselves, away from other people (including family and friends), when they feel particularly triggered, and they need to stay in there for, well, as long as they're going to. They come out when they're ready, and not a moment before. Obviously this situation can be very frustrating to others in the vet's life, but for the vet it affords him or her some very necessary, protective isolation.

The rest of us who aren't combat vets with PTSD I suppose could think of it as the vet putting himself or herself in a time-out from the world, by taking themselves out of the mix, and away from people and stimulation, both bad and good. And the time-out will be over when it's over, because they decide when it's up.

The recent Fourth of July with its fireworks that remind many vets of combat was a classic bunker situation. Many, many vets were making plans before the Fourth for how to protect and insulate themselves from being triggered by the fireworks (noise, smoke, crowds). One Gulf War vet with PTSD who had already isolated himself, wrote of putting a pillow over his head and just wanting it to be over, so that he didn't have to experience it. The next day, fireworks all exploded, he was better. But during, he had to be in the bunker. Another combat vet with PTSD, from the Iraq war this time, talked about staying in her bunker for days, making brief provision runs, every fourth day or so, to the grocery store and then...back to her bunker. When she needed to be in her bunker...

The bunker concept/construct is so typical to combat vets with PTSD that I thought I'd ask one who I know fairly well how he'd describe it. He has decades of PTSD "experience" under his belt, and I've also seen him retreat to his bunker at various times. A month one time, a week another time, the last time, a day. Sometimes even a few hours. But however long the episode lasts, during that time: totally unreachable. And realistically, you better not even try...because it just makes the situation worse. 

The more chances I've had to experience this with him, the more certain I can be that, short time or long, he'll emerge from his bunker, when he's good and ready, and with a new and improved outlook on why he went in the bunker in the first place. (For those who don't know, the bunker can be anywhere...a shed, a garage, a spot in the woods, a room in a house, even a chair. But it's sacred, inviolate, untouchable space...and the vet goes there in retreat, partly to spare those around him, but also strongly to get control over what he's feeling. (He or she, obviously.) So I figured he'd be able to offer his personal/expert advice on this.

Here's how the conversation went.

Me: "What typically sends vets to their bunkers?"

Him: "Any situation -– losing a job, losing their cool, a fight with their kid -- that makes them lose control sends them back to their bunker, so they can regain control. It may not be much, but while they're there, at least they have control over that little room they're in."

Me: "What's the longest time you've ever spent in your bunker?"

Him: "A year."

Me:  "!!!"

And then he clarified. (Remember, this is just his opinion, but it's worth sharing, because of the number of vets he knows and has observed, as well as what he knows about himself.) "Each time a vet goes into their bunker, they go in for a longer period of time. Until one time they go in and they don’t come out." (He does know an awful lot of other vets who have sadly killed themselves. That happens in bunkers, too. No wonder families and friends are justifiably concerned.)

The progression he just mentioned...vets spending longer and longer times each time in their bunkers...is actually the opposite of what he's been doing, since I've known him (which coincides with his getting better). Each time he goes to his bunker, it's both less frequent, and for shorter and shorter times each time, to the point that the last "bunker" episode I observed him in was actually only about half an hour.

In the middle of a frustrating conversation, not quite an argument, but one where emotions were high and we weren't communicating smoothly, he "withdrew" to his bunker of self-enclosed, protective space -- without moving from the couch he'd been sitting on. I saw him cross his arms, very agitated, close his eyes, and start doing something that looked like huffing and puffing. Even on an animal instinct level I knew, give this person his space. All the body language was daggers. I stepped away, and a short while later, he bounced back, and resumed where things left off, able to manage the conflict without any undue strain. Turns out what he'd been doing during the huffing and puffing phase was actually deep breathing, to calm himself down and regain control. Very smart. On the outside, he looked furious. On the inside, he was doing what he could to get back under control. As a result, he was able to "emerge" from his bunker in record time -- which speaks to the tremendous benefits of learning coping skills and stress-reduction techniques, as he has.

When I first knew this vet, he talked about what he'd learned at an inpatient PTSD program at the VA years ago. It was the cutting-edge program at the time, and he speaks of it with great appreciation, even though many of the guys he went through the program with sadly did not make it. ("Did not make it" is euphemistic code for "sadly, later killed themselves.") One of the biggest things he learned in the program, according to him, was about "red flags" and "triggers," and how to get away before you make things worse. Heading for the bunker, just like in the description of the vet with the pillow over his head,  is one way to keep things from getting worse. For the vet, that is -- for the family or loved ones, it's very difficult to experience, and hard to ignore, though one of the secrets seems to be, going on with your own life, while maintaining a compassionate (but not nagging) concern for how they're doing.

One of the distinctions he likes to make, though, between what he learned from the behavioral modification skills, above, in the VA program, and what he's learned since then, following more of a healing path, is that now he has some ability to not just "avoid" triggers but also "deal with" situations as they come up. The red flags still show that the problem is coming, but instead of being ONLY triggered, there are now new ways to deal with it that don't only involve avoiding or isolating.

The situation above, of being in conflict but being able to "be" with it, and breathe through it, meant that the conflict didn't have to explode into a multi-day saga or a physical exit to an actual bunker, which could last for weeks or months -- or even a year(!) Ahhh, progress is a beautiful thing...

Editor's note: For Part II, "Busting Out of the Bunker at Last," go here.

Anatomy of a Suicide: OEF Veteran Orrin McClellan, RIP from PTSD

The Seattle Times has an article in yesterday's paper about a young Whidbey Island OEF veteran who unfortunately killed himself in May of this year. Orrin Gorman McClellan served with the 173rd Airborne Brigade Combat Team in Afghanistan in 2005-2006. He took a lot of photos of his experience in Afghanistan, and he also wrote, poignantly, about his experiences as a soldier in an online journal, where he wrote every day. (The article doesn't reveal the location of that journal.) In what's known in the journalism biz as a "package," the article also has two multimedia presentations included with it: a video of his parents leafing through a book they're putting together of poems Orrin wrote, linked here, and a video narrated by his parents of some of his photography from Afghanistan, linked here. "I've become numb," McClellan writes, "but not comfortably so."

It's wrenching watching his parents in the videos sit side-by-side on the couch, in a tableau no doubt repeated across America, as the parents of the approximately 18 veterans a day who kill themselves must do, trying to make sense of why Orrin had to go, and still actively grieving, trying to come to terms with their own loss. In Orrin's case, his mother is a social worker, who the article says specializes "in the treatment of traumatized individuals." Of course, not even a mother with this background can necessarily save her son, which only adds to the tragedy. It says his mother even "took a counseling job with the Whidbey Island NAS and helped her son navigate through the VA system." He was retired with a 100% disability due to PTSD. The article quotes the mom as saying that as a community, we all need to listen better to our vets. And practice "deep listening" to their stories of what they've gone through.

What makes the article good, from this reader's perspective, is that it positions Orrin McClellan's death against the backdrop of the statistics of veterans suicides across the country, and then projects how those statistics affect Washington state, where the Seattle Times is based, and where Orrin lived. Eighteen deaths of veterans a day, the number of suicides approximating deaths in combat this year -- these are shocking statistics, but like so many others, we become numb to them over time. Bringing it closer to home, those same statistics mean of the almost 36,000 OIF and OEF veterans from Washington state, a dozen would be lost to suicide. In 2010, Orrin McClellan was sadly one of that number.

(Army veteran Chris Loverro, who served with the Stryker brigade from Fort Lewis, Washington, did a poignant video of his own about PTSD and suicide in the life of a veteran. We've shown it in a recent article, linked here.)

McClellan's mother, Judith Gorman, says that her son never really came all the way back home, because of his PTSD. Retired Army General Eric Shinseki, now head of the VA, is also quoted in the article, as ruminating -- perhaps not about McClellan's death in particular but about veterans' suicides in general -- that he often asks himself, "Why do we know so much about suicides, but so little about how to prevent them?" That's a fabulous quote, but it's also quite a profound question.

Edwin Shneidman, the so-called "father of suicidology" -- who ironically got his start leafing through files at the VA, reading suicide notes of veterans -- is someone we've written about a fair amount on this site. He's also known as the originator of the concept of a "psychological autopsy," where someone, reasoning backwards from the fact of the a person's death, tries to reconstruct the extent and timing of the stressors in that person's life, to determine how and why it became too much for them (the "when" having already been determined.)

I'm not sure, but I would hazard a guess that, other than the families of veterans who commit suicide, who are directly involved, there isn't much of an effort made on a larger level to reconstruct what stressors became unbearable in the lives of those who kill themselves, during or after military service. Perhaps a broader study into this, a la Shneidman's methods, would produce important or helpful conclusions.

McClellan's story is in many ways all too typical...except for the social worker mother, and the wonderful legacy he left behind in the poems he wrote and photographs he took. He struggled, as many veterans with PTSD do, with drugs and alcohol, with trying to fit back into his life, with impulse control, with hypervigilance, with nightmares, with combining alcohol with prescription medications, with grief and perhaps blaming himself over the deaths of two close friends. And he struggled with long drives to the VA, which was located quite a distance from his home.

His parents sound like amazing people, who tried so hard. They even established a Veterans Resource Center, on the island where they lived, "to offer referrals, networking and other assistance," to help other veterans in addition to their son. In the wake of his son's death, they may also publish a book of his writings, to raise awareness about PTSD.

Digging around on the Web, especially within social media, it wasn't hard to find some of McClellan's thoughts. He had two journals where he kept his writings, one on MySpace and one on LiveJournal. I've chosen not to link to them, to protect his privacy in case that's an issue. But in one he quotes from T.S. Eliot's famous poem, "The Hollow Men," which closes with the memorable lines about "this is how the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper."

It also contains an entry from September of 2008, while McClellan was actively struggling with PTSD, but a full year and a half before he ended his life. In an entry called "What the hell happened to me?" he writes:

"I read some entries in my journal from two years ago" 

[2006, the end of his Afghanistan deployment and beyond]

I love who I was.

Why did I do this to myself?

Was it war?

Did I implode from all the shit I saw?

Or was it something else?"

Questions really with no answer. He goes on for a bit more, and then concludes with the poignant question:

Why did I let myself

Get so lost?

RIP Orrin McClellan, gone too soon, and comfort to your family and your friends.

Editor's note: The photo is of a point on Whidbey Island, a thoroughly beautiful place in Washington state.

Literary Fireworks! Combat Vets Celebrate the Fourth with 5...7...5...Haiku

War poetry has a long and storied history; combat veterans and haiku, not so much. But that may all be changing, thanks to Susanna Speier's innovative "Politiku" -- the application of the traditional Japanese short-form poem familiar to schoolchildren everywhere, with its three line structure of five, seven and five syllables apiece, which can also be a suitable vehicle for expressing profound and personal reflections on trauma.

Speier has already developed some fans for her Politiku concept -- it appears regularly as a column in the Huffington Post -- but thanks to an introduction by the very kind and genuine Craig Newmark, Speier and Healing Combat Trauma connected this week over Speier's interest in bringing the Politiku work to combat veterans.

Speier has a lovely and appealing presentation she's been working on, but as we discussed it further, one particularly timely theme -- it being July Fourth and all -- leapt into Speier's mind. "Fireworks" would make a perfect theme. To most Americans, celebrating with their families on the Fourth, fireworks represent one gigantic surge of pyrotechnic patriotism, awing small children and grownups alike as they soar into the air and explode with fabulous colors and ear-popping, ground-shaking reverberations. It's America's birthday, after all, but in place of the cake and candles we get...concerts, barbecues, parades and FIREWORKS!

For the combat veteran, however...and only approximately 11% of our population has served in the military...fireworks can remind them a little too much of the sights and sounds of combat. Many combat veterans, especially those with PTSD, find themselves dreading the Fourth and the fireworks in particular; and often find themselves unable to explain this (satisfactorily) to family and friends. Quite a few vets make plans beforehand to "head to their bunkers," and not come out until it's over. Others talk about how their own veteran dads, growing up, spent the holiday every year, in a haze of drugs or alcohol, waiting out the celebration. Some veterans feel bad about not being able to join in the celebration, but they can't; and some families of affected combat veterans wonder whether to leave their veteran home while they go enjoy the show...or miss the celebration themselves while not being able to bridge the gap with what their loved one is experiencing.  

So into this mix comes Speier, Politiku, and the idea of having combat veterans write a haiku, with 5/7/5 syllabication, to express their feelings around fireworks, and what it reminds them of, or what it causes them to miss. We put the post out on Facebook, on the Healing Combat Trauma fan page, as well as my personal page, and got some interesting results. Speier is collecting more over at her site and in the comment section of the Huffington Post article, and assures that the combat veteran/haiku author's anonymity will be protected, if desired.

Here's a sample haiku to get you started, written by, erm, Healing Combat Trauma: 

Blue night red rockets

White sparklers Percussion blasts

Vets feel more than Fourth

And here's a better one, written by Angela Peacock, U.S. Army veteran, who served in Baghdad during the early days of the Iraq war, and who has allowed her name to be used:

Fire lights up the sky

Like old memories burning

Too much for my nerves

If you'd like to be part of this project, go here and read the FAQs on what Politiku is and how to write them; or just dive in and send your Politiku/Haiku in as a "comment" in any of the threads listed above, and we'll make sure to get your poem(s) headed in the right direction. Also add whether you'd like your name on or off the submission, if it's used. (Be wise about whether you want to have your name and PTSD associated in the same subject on future web searches, if you're thinking about employment prospects...)

And, if you'd just like to think more about poetry in general, and war poetry or combat veterans and poetry in particular, there are two sources right here on this site. One is the collection of articles on poetry, linked here; and the other is the list of "war poetry" books, which can be found along the upper right hand side of this website. Enjoy!

Kind Words from a Mentor and Friend about "Healing Combat Trauma"

Unsolicited feedback can be encouraging, especially when it's positive. Had a very nice surprise of that kind this past this past week when I received a lovely and unexpected email from Arthur Egendorf, Ph.D., a dear mentor and friend, whose own work with war veterans recovering from trauma gave me practical hope that good, heartfelt work could be done in this area.

(Egendorf is a Vietnam veteran [Army intelligence] with a Ph.D. in psychology from Harvard, and a lifelong interest in therapeutic healing modalities, beginning with talk therapy and branching out from there. He was one of the originators, in the 1970s, of the "rap groups," that allowed returning Vietnam veterans to have someplace to go and peers to talk with, when they weren't willing to take part in the services offered by the V.A. In any history of the Vietnam era that focuses on PTSD and veterans, such as Gerard Nicosia's encyclopedic "Home to War: A History of the Vietnam Veterans' Movement," Egendorf is one of a handful of experts from the time whose name keeps coming up.) 

I'll write more later in the month, as a certain anniversary date rolls around, about how much his award-winning book "Healing from the War: Trauma and Transformation after Vietnam," (sadly, now out of print) was put to constructive use with one veteran, whose life it helped to change. It's fair to say that my copy of his book is fairly well completely yellow from highlighting key passages, thoughts and inspirations, so it was especially gratifying to receive these unsolicited kind words from him.

Dear Lily,

In dedicating so much of yourself to the men and women who risk and give their lives for duty, honor, country you do all of us, this mostly sleep-walking America, a great service.  As tireless, fearless, noisy (when necessary) and deeply caring witness you give our soldiers and veterans what they deserve from this entire country but get from only very few.  As one who knows a bit of what it takes to love and care for bloodied and pained survivors who've fought for all of us and then have been mostly ignored, I salute and cheer you on to keep waking us up.  Keep shaking us, Lily.  Keeping making us see how much those who've served have given to us, and how much we owe our thanks, respect and unending care.  You go girl.  

Artie Egendorf 

Editor's note: For more of an introduction to Egendorf's work, here are a few posts that mention him, linked here, here, here (this one in particular, called "A Hand Across the Abyss: How Openness Helps Heal"), and here, among others.

More Praise for "Healing Combat Trauma"

Belleruth Naparstek, Ph.D. is a psychotherapist, author, and guided imagery pioneer who is also the author of Invisible Heroes : Survivors of Trauma and How They Heal, and Health Journeys: A Guided Meditation for Healing Trauma (PTSD), two items that have helped many veterans interested in healing to make definite forward progress.

This past year, Naparstek published an important and educational article in the Huffington Post in May called "Note to Colleagues: Please Stop Saying Post Traumatic Stress is Incurable," linked here, as well as one in February called "Returning Troops from Iraq and Afghanistan are Different From Our Vietnam Vets," linked here, both of which are "required reading" for those who want to understand what obstacles face veterans and clinicians alike in treating combat-based post-traumatic stress.

Just the other day I happened to read an article on Naparstek's own HealthJourneys site where she mentioned our very own Healing Combat Trauma as "an excellent site" and referred readers to it. Very gratifying praise indeed from a someone who's a true pioneer in thinking about and working with trauma survivors.