This is why Stiggy’s Dogs is so important. PTSD is personal, and trying to explain this to other people is difficult. Here, are the honest words from one Marine (who we paired with a Stiggy’s Dog)….

It’s about time that I let people know what is going on with me. Aside from my wife, who knows all too well, my psychiatrist, and my therapist… not too many people know exactly what goes on inside my head and why I have the “problems” I have. I’ve finally reached the point where I am angry about my condition, tired of feeling the way that I do, and not ashamed of letting people know. I’ve been ridiculed for having the problems that I have and have done nothing in the past, but no more. Because my problems have gone on for so long, I am tired of caring who thinks what about them. I’m doing everything I can to get better. They are VERY real and I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy. As to some insight for everyone, here goes nothing…

In late fall of 2008 my mother, Carolyn, died from a long and drawn out battle with cancer. It had started out in her breast and over time (through different treatments, some working and some not) it ended up in her pelvic region where it eventually took her life. This crushed me. Roughly nine months after her death, I deployed for the first time to Afghanistan (May – November 2009). Over this time period, I was mentally broken down both by possibly still mourning my mother’s death, dealing with my father getting remarried, and the stressors of combat… we lost Marines and Sailors, IED’s getting hit, mortar fire, rocket fire, the shittiest conditions imaginable at times. Then towards the end of the deployment, my father, James, became gravely ill. Upon returning home from deployment, I felt relief at first. Then the nervousness and anger set in, but only at a minimal level. It began to increase more and more as time went on. Around February of 2010 is when I was living in my own hell. A few months later, my father passed away from complications due to chronic obstructive pulmonary disorder. Now I was absolutely crushed and a shell of a man… weighing in at under 200lbs (being 6’3’’), I hadn’t been that light since the 8th grade. I couldn’t go into stores without being overwhelmed with paranoia and anxiety. The paranoia and anxiety would later lead to anger and rage and vice-versa. It seems as if it is a never ending loop. I had sought help as soon as I noticed symptoms upon returning from deployment… I knew I was in a bad place. I had been having homicidal ideologies about random people that would piss me off… absolutely evil ideas; such things are not normal for me. Since then, I have been through therapist after therapist, psychiatrist after psychiatrist, and medication combination after medication combination… and I still have good days (which are not completely bad) and bad days, and extremely bad days (nightmarish). The good days are usually spent not going anywhere. I have officially been diagnosed with PTSD and Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder. The PTSD is so bad at times that the fear of what is out there keeps me inside. Bad panic attacks in stores or anywhere can shut my body down. It starts with a light-headed feeling and a fast heartbeat… leading to seeing stars then the heartbeat pounds into my neck then to my eyes and out to my finger tips and I cannot move. I feel as if the whole world knows how I feel and they are looking at me… even if nobody is around. I feel like I am dying. It feels like time is standing still, but the panic attack really only lasts for around 5 minutes or so. The after-effects are shakiness and being a complete nervous wreck, usually for the rest of the day. If it weren’t for my Service Dog, Tiger, going out to stores would be a thing of the past. Even still, it takes me a good bit of time and his helpful stare to build up the courage to go out. Once we’re in the parking lot, I just feed off his energy and eagerness to go in. He actually wants and needs to go into those stores. Once in, he guides me through. If I get overwhelmed and need to stop, I just stop and squat down to pet him… and it calms me down (but to everyone else, it looks as if it calms him down). No matter the case, it takes the imaginary target (and spotlight) off of me and puts it on him… and he loves it.

I’ve never missed a therapy session or a psych appointment and I have tried so hard to apply what I’ve learned in my cognitive processing therapy (CPT). I know the stores are safe… YES, I would let my wife and child go in there alone, and still yet, I have a very hard time not losing it sometimes. In heavy traffic is another place… when someone is tailgating and there is nowhere to go left or right; anywhere where I do not have control over my situation. When my son crawls behind my back on the couch, I get very nervous and angry. Also, when I’m left alone with my thoughts for too long… or after tense situations, the nervousness can be very intense. The chair that I sit in at work has to be tightened-up every week because my legs shake the nuts loose. My mind speeds up and slows down so often that it literally wears me out by the end of the day. My family (to include Tiger and Abby), friends, some of my meds, and lifting weights are about the only things keeping me sane these days. I still have panic attacks, I have far less homicidal ideologies, but the day-to-day nervousness remains the same. My psychiatrist has one medication permanently in place and that’s about it… the rest he “doesn’t see me on 6 months after I get out”. Speaking of which, I am going through the Medical Board/ Physical Evaluation Board process… getting medically separated or medically retired for PTSD. That isn’t a for sure thing… and it’s up to a panel of doctors in D.C. to decide. That’s another thing to worry about. I will be looking at two different disability ratings: one from the DoD just for my PTSD (the reason I am getting separated) and one from the VA (for my PTSD and every other problem that is “service-connected”). If my disability isn’t at a certain percentage, then I will not be able to continue to get free treatment for myself… which is VERY important… along with other, well-deserved financial reimbursements for my family.
Speaking of which, sandwiched in the middle and in-between all this, I married my beautiful wife Shawna in the spring of 2007… nearly nine months later came our beautiful baby boy Cooper. They are the center of my universe and the light at the end of the PTSD tunnel. My psychiatrist tells me there is a beginning, a middle, and an end to PTSD. So far, I’ve only seen a beginning and middle; the middle has been battle with varying degrees of difficulty… often making me believe that the end is near. My wife and son let me know that no matter how far away the end is… I will not be alone in my journey and that is supremely important.

That, in a nutshell… is my life, as of now.