We get a tiny bit of clouds and drizzle and everyone here throws on thier coats, hats, umbrellas even, and call it rain. I call it a little bit of home as I wear a short sleeve t-shirt and stand out in the chilly air soaking it up. Who'd have ever thought I'd miss the rain so much?
I am ready to begin work at the hospital. I've been asked more than once if I have been there yet and seen what there is to see? I knew they meant the burned, tore up soldiers from Iraq. The soldiers who are missing parts of thier bodies, skin, face. The guys in wheelchairs without arms and legs, or with bandages around thier burned faces, or what is left of a once beautiful face. Of course I have seen it. And I am going there to do what ever I can to help out.
Home life is okay. Fine, even. I rarely walk on eggshells anymore, ever since I found this excellant article on co-dependency, and it woke me up a bit. While self-medication through alcohol and 'shutting down' are still regular occurances for my soldier, he understands that I don't like them very much. We have somehow managed a twisted compromise involving alcohol and family and army and religion. To try and prioritize that list just isn't possible right now. It depends on the moment, really. I'd like to say that Iraq was the only cause of PTSD and a messed up life, but I believe the infantry unit he was in began the hell years before he ever deployed. He was low-crawling and 'killing the enemy' in his sleep way before he ever left for war.
Fortunately I am relearning that I must take care of me, and not just by going to ballet or school or work. My children are becoming more of my focus-as they should be, as well as myself, and not just him. I am beginning to remember that my opinions matter, and they matter alot. I am also learning to be fair and patient, less judgemental, more compassionate. Everyday seems to be a learning experience around here, for some reason. If I dare to hope for a better place, it's okay. I'm not disillusioned. Hope, kind words, and willpower really do make a difference. I've witnessed it many times over.
There is still hope here.