As Father’s Day passes, I am often reminded of the life my father has lived. He enlisted in the army reserves at the age of 17 and was in boot camp for most of his senior year of high school. He then moved to Georgia to a military college where he was to be a mechanical engineer. However, he was hit by a car for the first time and received such a severe concussion he could no longer remember what he had learned.
My father has had plenty of jobs that have come and gone as well as plenty of accidents, but the army was always a constant. When I was in first grade he served the first of three tours overseas. First, he went to Iraq for a little less than a year. The next time he was deployed, I was in third grade. It lasted slightly over a year and, once again, he was in Iraq.
It wasn't until the third tour that something had seemed different.
He was placed in Afghanistan for almost two years. He left when I was in sixth grade and came back when I was in eighth. A particular moment I remember was when he came home for a week on leave. My mother and I were sitting at the kitchen table laughing about something and my father slammed both of his fists on the table because he did not know what we were laughing at.
It looks us several months to realize what was wrong with our soldier. My mother and I came to the conclusion he had post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. It’s very common for soldiers to have. What we didn't understand was how was this tour different from the last?
PTSD is not always how people imagine it.
It's not always a flashback or blackouts at an alarm clock beeping. It doesn't mean you're so unstable you can’t be around firearms. While these things can happen to victims of PTSD, it isn't always like that. My father loves going shooting with his childhood friend and is also a police officer in two different towns.
Living with someone who has post-traumatic stress disorder is unpredictable. Sometimes, they are perfectly normal and you can ask them things without fear of how they will react. Other times, however, it is fits of rage because their spouse took the wrong hanger for their shirt.
It is also sleeping two hours a night maybe, because you always have racing thoughts. It is not wanting to keep your job or act correctly in the workplace. But most of all, it is always having anger over the little things, not understanding a joke or being irritated when your pet comes too close to you.
It is also refusing to believe that these things are normal.
After a lot of convincing, almost five years later, my father finally agreed to take medication for his disorder. Problem solved, right? Well, life isn't always as simple as that. Like most people, he did not like the side effects of the medication so he stopped taking it. It makes everyone miserable in the long run.
If you know someone who you think is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, reach out to them. Help them get the help they need. While this may be difficult, it is worth it. No one should live in a state of constant fear and anger.