Lost

Families of service members killed in the line of duty have suffered the ultimate loss of their loved ones. Their sons or daughters, husbands or wives, fathers or mothers, will never come home. Their loss and grief are real and tangible.

But many families of service members who do return from active duty also feel that they have “lost” their loved one. To a lesser degree – but still significantly – the service man or woman they knew before deployment has changed beyond their recognition.

Military families understand that the experience of combat changes people. They would be concerned if their loved one returned from deployment exactly as they used to be, as though nothing had happened to them. But many families and loved ones are unprepared for the stranger who at long last walks through the door.

Loved ones expect a time of transition. But when time goes on and on and their veteran doesn’t readjust – or is possibly getting even more troubled – they wonder what to do. They can feel pain for the lost relationship, frustrated over how to get help, and worn out at the burden of care placed on them.

Military personnel are changed by their service . . .

. . . physically – by wounds and injuries, and the lingering disabilities they may produce

. . . emotionally – by anxiety, depression, rage, terror, and shame

. . . mentally – by changed attitudes about the world and the people in it, or by the side effects of psychotropic and pain medications prescribed for visible and “invisible” wounds

. . . spiritually – by a loss of hope and faith, by anger at God, by shame for violating deeply held principles of conduct in a hellish theater of war

The Bernstein Institute for Trauma Treatment, with the support of nonprofit Sonoma Coast Trauma Treatment, is in the process of forming a support group for loved ones of veterans struggling with the traumatic effects of their service. If you or someone you know needs our help at this time, please get in touch.

A PTSD Scenario – and a Support Group

A veteran and his wife sleep side by side in their darkened bedroom. The man moves restlessly under the covers. The woman, long familiar with his insomnia and night terrors, is somewhat conscious of his rising agitation. Something happens. It might be a sound from the external world – a passing car, a gust of wind – or a shift in the internal dream world of the man. Suddenly he is on his feet, dragging his stunned wife out of bed. He grabs the knife on his nightstand and braces his wife forcefully against the wall. She knows him as her husband, the man she loves, a troubled veteran with PTSD. But the veteran doesn’t know his wife. She is the enemy. As she pleads with him, he slowly recognizes where he is, who she is. He releases her, flooded with remorse and shame.

A dramatic scenario, I’m sure you’ll agree. Something you might see in a movie, such as the recently released American Sniper. But it’s also a true scenario, as it happened to me. I was that veteran.

My first wife and I are not alone in experiences of that kind. Many patients and people I’ve met over the years share similar stories. Many veterans and their spouses or partners make the decision to sleep apart – many of them eventually break up – because veterans with PTSD often have great difficulty with relationships and intimacy.

Intimate relationships are characterized by vulnerability. With a loved one, we drop our defenses and expose ourselves and our feelings. For veterans struggling with PTSD and other military-related traumas, vulnerability can be terrifying and intolerable. Their partners, paradoxically because they are beloved, become dangerous threats to be avoided. Veterans can fear losing control and hurting those they love. Sometimes they even sufficiently lose touch with reality to believe their partners really are the enemy. Everyone suffers, including the veteran’s loved one.

That’s why I’m in the process of forming a support group for loved ones of veterans struggling with PTSD. I’m reaching out to spread the word that the Bernstein Institute, in partnership with nonprofit Sonoma Coast Trauma Treatment, has help and hope to offer. If you or someone you know is in need of this kind of group, please contact us at 707-781-3335.