The Living Death

I started feeling it again Saturday evening. I woke up and something was off. My post sleep medication haze seemed to pull harder than usual. I felt permanently off-kilter and mentally slow. After a few hours of waiting for it to go away and nothing changing, I knew it was the beginning of another bout of the living death. Depression, lows, or the living death as I call it can range from just tired to unable to leave bed, maybe even speak. The real exciting part for me is I don't know how long it will last. A few days, up to even weeks, are the normal range for me.


Trust me, I don't want this portion of bipolar, I hate it. While the excitement and joy of mania is fun before it fully blooms; this is what becomes of me after the mania leaves. I'm not really into crying and generally the living death holds very few tears-it becomes to hard to cry. Right now, as I'm typing, I am struggling to finish the sentence and hopefully it makes sense. My mood isn't really sad even, it's just bleh. Sadness requires feelings and again I don't have the energy for it. As for now I am still able to function well enough, I can get to work and home again. Those might be the only things I can do but since I want to keep my job that'll be enough for now.


Maybe this time won't be too bad. Maybe I'll just feel exhausted and emotionally drained for a few days and then bounce back up. Since my medications have been pretty stable lately maybe this will be a quick episode. Although at the moment the thought of taking my meds is replaced by a picture of me progressively getting older, always taking those damn things and nothing ever getting better. It's enough to almost make me feel anguished.


But I know it will get better, I have had these before and they have always ended. But I still worry that someday I won't remember that this ends. It could be later today or 2 decades from now, but I might not remember. Because when the living death pays a visit, my mind gets sometimes very cloudy. I sometimes forget simple things and all I can seem  to remember is every bad thing I've ever done. Right before I sleep, I'll see all the bad things, when I wake up they are there too, even when I sleep. I may even become too weak to talk or walk but I will hold on the hope that it will get better again. 


I hate the living death, it's not pretty. It's not what depression is depicted in a movie or TV show. Depression doesn't necessarily make a person sad, it makes them unable to feel even. It's not always crying episodes. Sometimes it's not showering for days, because you just don't have the strength. It's not connecting with people because the mental work of being there is overwhelming. Sometimes beating it as simple as breathing from one day to the next until you can finally work up the strength to smile again. Because like I said before, it will end and I will smile again.

Thanksgiving!

I just want to do a short message today. Happy Thanksgiving!!! Whether your gathering with family, friends, or even alone, have a wonderful day! If this is a great time of year for you, count your blessings and enjoy your day. If this is a difficult time of year for you, I pray you feel  the love and peace of friends and family to get you through your difficult time. I just want to say a quick shout out to a few people in particular:


My parents- I love you and am proud to be called your daughter. You are the first people I am grateful for. You taught me how to be a woman with strong convictions. Dad- you taught me how to stand up for what's right. Mom- you showed me that caring for others is not weak but a sign of true strength. I am honored to call you my parents.


My brothers! Where would I be without you?! Thanks for throwing my only child world for a loop! Seriously, thanks for changing that, I'm so blessed to have you in my life! Thanks for forgiving all the mean stuff I did as a teenager and not bringing it up. But especially thanks for being you! Levi, you're such a nice guy and you're so awesome to have deep discussions with! Luke, we both have a similar sense of humor and you allow me to share some of my more "interesting" ideas! Even though you're both younger than me, I learned and still learn so much from you!


My girlfriend-  Thank you for putting up with all my craziness. You came into my life at a very difficult time and never shied away from all the issues I have. You are tower of strength in my ever shifting world. I love you.


My tribe! What is there to say?! You're my fun tribe and you put up with my work wackiness! Thanks for hanging, texting, and many dinners! You girls make going to work a delight (well most days). Plus you care, the texts to check up when things aren't going ok are more appreciated than you know. Love you girls!


Like I said, I don't want to do a long blog today, just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving. I could go on and on with a huge list of people but I would drive you guys insane! Have a wonderful holiday season and may you all not just enjoy the blessing of the holiday season, but be a blessing to someone as well!

Recovering!

I had a conversation with a co-worker earlier, nothing big just chatting about the holidays and he asked me if I was going to a Christmas party that a mutual friend is hosting. I said yes and he started joking about how people were going to be getting a little tipsy and how funny it was to watch some people get drunk. I laughed and said yeah it's always a fun way to see people who are normally pretty professional and strict at work. He laughed and asked me if I planned on getting a little drunk myself, I simply said no I don't drink. At all? He didn't seem to believe me. I replied, "No I'm a recovering alcoholic so I don't drink even a little. Cue the awkward silence! Poor guy, he kind of stuttered and said, "Well I'm sorry." I just laughed and said "I'm not."


That conversation revealed something to me that I hadn't realized. I'm not ashamed of considering myself a recovering alcoholic. Because the key word is the first word, recovering. I'm aware that there is something in my body and brain that is sick. And if I don't monitor it that sickness will control me. In fact it did control me for many years.


I had my first drink when I was 16. I can actually remember what I drank, Amaretto and Coke. Funny, I can't remember what I had for dinner two days ago, but I can remember what I drank 16 years ago! It's amazing what an addicted brain can recall. I had a few of those and then some Aftershock (God awful cinnamon flavored syrup!). Obviously at 16 I couldn't drink too often but when I did I never just had a couple drinks, I always ended up pretty sloshed. I say that just to point out that I never gradually increased my drinking to drunkenness, I started there and increased to other levels later.


I knew some people in my family had had drinking issues, I knew that it is genetic, but I was young! Only older people had drinking problems! You know like homeless people, people who drank before work, or when they got the shakes, not people like me who started a career and never showed up to work drunk.


In the Air Force, especially at my first base, everyone drank! I mean come on, we lived in dorms and were barely adults! It was here that I started to notice something weird though, not everyone drank to get drunk. My brain couldn't wrap itself around that concept, I mean why else would you drink?! Also other people didn't blackout or get alcohol poisoning, I did both on more than one occasion. These were the signs that I didn't drink like normal people. Instead of questioning myself, I simply hung out with people who drank like me. It wasn't until I was stationed in Minot that someone said something to me. She was a good friend who noticed that once we were off work, I could rarely hang out because I would be too intoxicated to drive. Also after being out in the field for 4 days, I could tell when it was time to be relieved to go home because now I got the shakes after 31/2 days of sobriety. Another sign, one I refused to acknowledge.


Skip forward 3 to 4 years and I had successfully become an alcoholic. The shakes were a routine occurrence and I needed at least 4 to 5 shots in order to sleep. But I still lied to myself; my brain still said, "Well you don't drink before work or go to work still drunk from the night before, so you're fine." It wasn't until I overdosed and almost choked on my own vomit, that I realized, "Wow, I might have a problem!" Hey, I'm not saying I'm the smartest cookie, some times things take me a while to get! But I did realize it and I reached out and got help. I was sober for about 5 years, a few drinks here and there but never anything too bad.


After about 5 years, I figured I must be better. So I began to "try" a few drinks here and there, not a lot just a couple. And it was fine! Ha, I beat it! Don't laugh too hard! A couple became 5 and 6 and suddenly I was hiding the drinks from people so they wouldn't know. Loud buzzer sound right there, if I was better why would I need to hide it? Well the progression went pretty rapidly this time from a few drinks to the ER in a little over 5 months. So I reached out for help and started over again, day one, two, and so on.


That was over 2 years ago. This isn't a congrats to me post and don't worry I definitely didn't make my poor co-worker listen to this whole thing! I just realized that I'm not ashamed to be recovering. I don't feel like a defective human being that has a broken part. Recovering alcoholic isn't all of who I am, it's merely a piece of me and it won't become my whole identity. I'm a veteran, daughter, sister, girlfriend, co-worker, and oh yeah, recovering alcoholic. I am still aware that for me there is no friendly drinking but I am proud that I am recovered enough to be around some people who might have a drink without it feeling overwhelming. I'm also proud that I'm aware enough to know that sometimes it will be too overwhelming and it's ok for me to step away. Someday I might remove the word recovering and add former, but for now recovering is the right word and I'm proud I am recovering.


What are the things in your life that you might be recovering from? It might not be a beverage or substance, it could be a person, relationship, bad job, debt, etc. The point is we all have something either now or past that we have/are recovered from. You are not the substance, person, situation that is hurting right now; it is merely a piece of who you are as an individual. Don't hold your head down in shame over the situation; hold it up with pride that you made it through the situation! You are recovering!

Writing thru scars

If you read yesterday morning's post, don't be too alarmed. I know it may look a little nuts but really it's not that bad. I was able to get some sleep, it was very un-restful but it was sleep. My head always goes a little cuckoo when I write or think about Bucca for too long. And coincidentally right after writing about Bucca, I ended up watching a History Channel special on the creation of ISIS, in which Bucca is discussed. Not to go to deeply into it but it kind of cut open some old scars.


All said though, this time I did pretty well. It's actually been really the first time that I could write about some of the things that happened. I have always only been able to talk with other people who had been there. It's an odd thing, I can feel such a kinship with other veterans who have deployed. Not to say anything against other vets, or family, or friends, but it's just something about connecting with someone who has been in a similar situation. Most people coming back from deployments have a hard time explaining what happened on their deployments. Oh they can tell you about the funny things that happened or the friends they made but really talking about their whole experience is extremely difficult.


I've heard some people call this a type of post-deployment "snobbery." And some people do have this "better than thou" attitude, but for most people I think it falls deeper than that. How do you explain that you are not the same person anymore? That you have seen things unbearably cruel or a side of yourself that you never thought existed? What words do you use to tell your family that while you were gone, a fundamental shift occurred in your psyche? It's not that veterans are necessarily snobbish about their experience but that they don't know how to talk about it with people that don't understand the experience.


One difficult thing that many civilians don't understand is that there are no safe zones when deployed. In the last 3 wars, Vietnam is in here too, any base could come under attack at any given moment. In order to be an effective member, a person has to learn how to operate under a state of constant alertness. Whether at work or in the living area, mortars don't care where you are. Most times they are way off base or not close to you, but you never know, at any given time you might just be in the wrong spot. It's exhausting and terrifying if you constantly think about it so you don't. What you worry about when hearing incoming is if it's going to get the chow hall or hit the computer center. You can't always think about it hitting near you because it would eventually render you combat ineffective. How do you explain that to your family once you get home? How do you tell them that you were more worried about missing dinner or using the computer than getting hit by a rocket or mortar. How do you talk about the bets you placed about the distance from you based on the shock wave and sound of the blast? You can't.


How can a parent, spouse, or regular civilian understand the utter brain exhaustion from trying to decide whether or not the Iraqi/Afghan is safe or not? In my deployment, I had guys that worked with us, Iraqi Correction Officers (ICO's), and interpreters, that were genuinely good people. They wanted a better country for their families to live in. I had some that were spies for the local militia and would pass messages from compound to compound. The good guys-they slowly left the camp either because their families were getting murdered or they were whenever they left the camp. We had a way of figuring which people were good or bad by how many times they were able to leave base without being killed. Some of the guys we knew were bad guys, but we had to hang out, laugh, joke with them until they messed up and we could catch them doing something illegal. But how do you bring that up in discussion when you get home? Saying, "Hey Mom, Dad, did I tell you about the terrorist we had chilling in our living area," is not a good conversation starter.


This is how, by writing if speaking is too difficult. By not shying away from the discussion when it comes up. Many Americans feel that there is a great divide between military and civilians, and I can agree it's true to some extent. A lot of Americans want to know what it's like in the military; just look at all the military-themed reality shows! Some veterans have a very difficult time talking about their experiences and that's understandable, but I think we need to open up some scars from time to time and allow civilians to experience our stories. Not because we are better than them but because this is how we heal the division between military and civilians. And we can all agree that our country doesn't need any more division, we need healing.

Alive!

I can feel it. All night I was trying to figure out what to write and suddenly it hit me out of nowhere! I am beginning to feel the start of a little bit of mania. Now I have been taking my meds so this shouldn't last too long or (hopefully) get too bad. But since I have the crazy slipping up on me, I figured this would be the best time to try and describe what's going on. And maybe help settle my brain down in the process.


Have you ever felt suddenly so alive? Like an entire endorphin rush through your body and every part of you feels electric? I can literally feel the blood pumping into my fingertips. When I inhale it's like I'm breathing the most freeing and beautiful air. Have you ever took a breath of crisp fall air or inhaled right before it began to rain? It's that type of air where you feel utterly alive and in touch with everything! I feel like I can't hold in all the life inside. I want to laugh, shout, or talk about everything. My poor work partner just got an earful of the last dreams I had, when I may go home to visit again, how I've been sleeping. All in one long joyful sentence! I accidently shouted some of it and only realized it when I saw him jump back a little.


I started pacing up and down but stopped because I think I made him a little nervous, so then I decided to start doing the trash and getting ready for shift change which is still an hour and a half away. I went outside to calm myself with some "fresh" air and caught myself singing about three different songs at once. I would tell you what they where but I already can't remember them. Right now I'm reciting what I need to get at the grocery store over and over in my head. It's just the rest of my Thanksgiving meal list, potatoes, pumpkin pie, and something else. Don't worry I got it written down in my phone! Plus I can peruse the coffee and creamers, but I don't think they have anything new yet.


Hopefully, I can get to sleep today when I get home. Usually when I start feeling like this I have a difficult time sleeping, even when I take my medications. What I really hope is that this feeling doesn't morph into a more difficult mood swing. If I could keep myself right here, right in this feeling I would love it! But here is where things get difficult, because my brain won't stay here, but every time I trick myself into believing it will. I might stay in this euphoric brain space for a day, or maybe a couple weeks, but it always ends. Right now I'm clear-minded enough to realize it. And maybe this time I'll stay that way. Maybe this time my brain will let me down easy and I will fall right back into a normal rhythm. Maybe I won't devolve into paranoia or slip into depression, but the reality is I probably will.


The holidays are always an up, up, and away time for me. The excitement, the happy mood, enjoying time with family and friends, it's great and almost always makes me a little manic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. It's one of the few times where I feel like my craziness is just on par with everyone's happiness. I just dislike the ugly downfall that almost always comes with it, but maybe this time it will be different. 

A Tale of Two Deployments (Iraq)

As promised here is my blog on Camp Bucca. Before we go too far forward I feel the need to set a disclaimer out, this was a point in my life where a lot of dark, difficult stuff happened. I apologize for any graphic language, I will look over the post and hopefully get rid of most of it. You know how people remember life before an altering event and then life afterwards and how they are never the same? That was Bucca for me. So many things happened and I became a person that was totally unrecognizable to the person I was before. To help you get into the mindset let me give you a scenario. Imagine you are in a prison, now take away the walls and replace it with chain link fencing and concertina wire. There are about 25 of you, guarding anywhere from 750-1,000 inmates. This is replicated not once but 18 times, 18 other compounds. Now let's add the language barrier, you don't speak Arabic, and unlike Spanish, you can't even really pick out words to understand. All you know is that these people hate you, they show it by giving everything from glares to death signals. They will kill you or any American they can get their hands on. Now you're ready to enter Bucca.


I left for training at the end of 2006, a little over 450 of us all did 3 1/2 weeks of detainee operation training before getting to Bucca. The course is supposed to be 6 weeks long but we didn't have that much time so it was shortened. Once we arrived in Kuwait we were given our compound assignments, each compound had a different type of inmate or a different religious variation of Islam. One compound held the elderly, sick, and children. That's right, children from the age of 10-16 were grouped together. They couldn't be placed with the adults because of safety issues, but they were far from innocent. Anyways, our squadron posted multiple lists of all the compound assignments and on each one I couldn't find my name. After looking for about 30 minutes, my squad leader told me to go see the Master Sergeant in charge of the rosters. When I spoke to him, he told me I had been assigned to the Quick Response Force (QRF). I was so excited! QRF was responsible for conducting searches, extractions, intakes, releases, and my absolute favorite, riot response. In short they were the badasses  of the prison.


On my first day in the Theater Internment Facility (TIF), fancy word for prison, one of the compounds had a riot. Us new guys, just grabbed some gear and jumped on the back of the nearest truck. I remember being nervous and excited. One of the older guys, who was leaving soon, asked me if I was excited. I said, yes, and I'll never forget the look he gave me, just devoid of any emotion and he said, "Don't worry, you'll get over it." During that first riot I got a nice little taste of what was to be my life for the next few months, I got hit with everything the male body can produce (yes, everything!), I got gassed because someone grabbed the wrong grenade and threw a mace one near my position, and I almost got set on fire. My group had gone into one of the small compounds and while trying to round up the last of the rioters, another one set fire to the tent we were in. For the next few months, riots happened almost daily, some huge, others a little smaller. Every so often we would have multiple compounds riot at once, and occasionally the entire prison would riot. The older guy was right, I did get over it after a while, it got to where they no longer excited me or made me nervous.


We had a saying at Bucca, "Don't let the monsters out." It's a simple enough saying, don't let the bad guys get away, right? Wrong. It was a reminder to us. "Don't let the monsters out" meant don't let your demons out, don't become someone you can't recognize. Sadly, I failed. I decided that showing any emotion other than anger was weakness. The inmates will use your weakness to kill you. So I shut down my emotions. At one point, right after our deployment was extended a second time (it was extended 3 times), I just told myself, "Heather, you're never going to leave here. Just accept that the rest of your life will be spent here." It was easier to deal with the constant craziness and cruelty by just not caring. But it set me up for failure when I returned home. I was completely emotionally cut off, I didn't know how to connect with people. I had always drank a lot, but it was after Bucca where I began to drink not for fun but to try and help me feel.


Remember when I said Pakistan had a lot of firsts for me? Well Bucca did too! It was the first place, where I smoked a hookah and made friends with refugees (they worked in stores around the base). I was also the first place where I got to hunt for escaped inmates in our living quarters, watch inmates kill somebody for fun, and shoot someone in the face with a riot gun. The inmates were an interesting group, they hated us; I understood that. But what I couldn't fathom was how much they hated each other at times. I've heard and seen them kill each other for being a different denomination of Islam, or for being too nice to the guards, and my personal favorite, using what the Americans gave them. I saw a guy get his ass whooped because he used toilet paper. Yup, toilet paper! By that point I didn't even care, I figured as long as he was beating the other guy, he wasn't bothering me. No emotions, no empathy to another's pain; at the time it was just easier that way. Inmates beating each other inside the compounds were normal, and we had no good way to stop them; not enough people, gear, or  supplies meant we stayed outside the fence and just simply kept them inside; whatever they did in the fence was their business.


May 6, 2007-This day will always be engraved on my heart. It was the first of what I never wanted, the first time a friend was killed in action. He wasn't at my base, he was a childhood friend. I found out via a message from my mom on Facebook, it's not like she could call me. After finding this out, I had to go to work and inprocess about 150 more inmates from Bagdad. I was able to take a few minutes; a good friend of mine stayed with me until I had to go to work. That day during the inprocessing, I was so angry- all I could think of was the person who placed that roadside bomb might be in my inprocessing group. I won't go too into it, let's just say I was relieved for the day.


May 14, 2007- I got my next awful first. I was notified that a Security Forces member from my base had been killed up north. Our leadership was telling us to call our families and let them know we were ok, since the news in Little Rock would be reporting a person's death but no name. Furthermore, we weren't allowed to tell our families who had died just that we were ok. As one of the NCO's from Little Rock, I also was tasked with telling my Airmen who it was that had been killed. It was my first time telling a man that one of his bests friends was dead.


June 9, 2007- It was the first time a mortar almost killed us! The day actually started off kind of funny, I slept through the first few mortars. My roommate woke me up by saying, "Heather, get off your bed and get on the floor." I was so confused I thought I was still asleep, then BLAM! My whole pod shook and suddenly I was on the floor! We responded to the prison, there weren't enough trucks for some reason, so we had to walk. The heat was incredible! 135+ degrees and add a helmet and vest. When we got to the prison we could see why there weren't any extra vehicles. They were being used to cart injured and dead inmates to the hospital. That day was the first time I saw a human brain and part of a skull, they were hanging from some of the fence. Thankfully, no Americans were injured or killed. Although on CNN (I can't stand them!) they were reporting several Americans were dead and dozens injured; my poor grandmother caught the news and freaked out.


I figure here should be a good stopping point. There is plenty more I could write about but I fear that in doing so I might open the monster's cage. I have successfully wrestled many of them back into their cages, but at times they still get restless. After almost a decade I have begun to allow my emotions to show a little. It's amazing to me that a decision made long ago will affect me so much today. I thought as soon as I was home I would just "relax" my emotions and everything would be fine. It's a sick lie. To this day I can't really cry. Oh I can tear up at a funeral or when I hear bad news but it literally almost takes a physical effort for me to shed tears. All because I thought I could kill my emotions 10 years ago.

One positive thing about Bucca and I will always be grateful for- I met some amazing people. I still have friends from there that are very close. I met my girlfriend there, although it wasn't until much later that we got together. But we were friends in Bucca and I was/am honored that she was one of my promoting Technical Sergeants for my promotion to Staff Sergeant. Two of my closest friends I met in Bucca, one of them I see every time I visit my family. She lives kind of close to them so we always have a lunch or dinner and chat. The other one, she helped me when I got out of the Air Force. She flew up to Arkansas, just to turn around and drive with me down to Phoenix. She helped set me up with a job and let me crash at her place until I found my own apartment. I also had the honor of being in her wedding last year. These are the memories that I remember when the monster's begin to get loose in my head. Bucca had a lot of terrible parts but hidden in those areas are gems- the people I met and the stuff we did accomplish. And we did accomplish things! Everyone on our rotation made it back home, some a little more damaged than others, but we made it.

* This is one of the more G-rated videos of Bucca.

A Tale of Two Deployments (Pakistan)

This time of year is always a special one for me. I love the holidays. Not the craziness of it, but the simplicity of just being around family and friends. But during this season I get an overwhelming nostalgia for my deployments. I began training for Camp Bucca in December and my deployment to Shabaz Air Base where I spent both Thanksgiving and Christmas really helped me develop my love for the simplicity of the holidays. So without further ado, I give you stories from the sandbox! Tonight I'll write mostly about Pakistan and (hopefully) tomorrow, I'll write about Bucca. I thought about doing one post about them but I figured I should do one each to make sure the posts aren't too long.


We weren't originally supposed to go to Pakistan, our first set of orders was for Tikrit, Iraq. I was finally going to be able to go to Iraq- watch out, terrorists, Heather has arrived! A week or so before we left, our orders changed and simply said Operation Enduring Freedom. It wasn't until we were almost leaving that we found out it was Pakistan. What the hell were we going to be doing there?! Of course we found out later Osama Bin Laden was there, well at least when he was caught. I find that hilarious because we used to joke that he was hiding in some of the mountains around our base! Now I wonder if maybe he was! So we finished up the last of our jungle (yes that's right, jungle!) deployment training and headed to a weird definitely non-jungle desert. Our base (which is gone now) had maybe 300+ people on it at any given time. Some SOF (Special Operations guys) would fly in and out randomly nobody asked them where they went to, the base was commanded by a Colonel in the National Guard. Our base was less than two miles long and wide, it was tiny! 


I was still a teenager, 19, I actually turned 20 on the deployment. My tent mates were cool and bought my a near-beer (a nonalcoholic beer) because technically in Okinawa where we were from I could legally drink at 20. It wasn't refrigerated and tasted like hot carbonated cat piss but it was the thought that counted. I remember we would take turns sneaking into the chapel and stealing (I know stealing from a church!) this chocolate and peanut butter ice cream from the chaplain. We would sneak it back to our tent and take turns eating it! That's right I said tent, we lived in tents the whole time we were there. Nothing was built living wise because the base was only supposed to be a temporary one. At night we would have to walk carefully because we had jackals, wild and mostly rabid dogs, all over the base. I remember laying in bed and hearing a few of them sniff and scratch at the side of the tent. Later on a few good old boys took care of the issue, with some shotguns and a couple rounds of  night hunting. Speaking of which, once our Pakistani counterparts took to hunting the suckers with a .50 cal (big gun!) mounted on the back of a rusty Nissan truck. They literally drove around base blasting away at the damn creatures, and it scared the snot out of us! They just Bam! Bam! Bam! around whatever, tents, the chow hall, airplanes, whatever and wherever! We had no advance notice of this and almost shot them!


Pakistan is where I learned to love the night and country music! I had the good fortune to work from 1800-0600 shifts, with some days off occasionally. Don't be surprised, 12 hour shifts were normal rotations deployed and at home base for years. Prior to this deployment, I couldn't stand country music, it was just warbly crooning, too redneck for me! But there is something magical about sitting huddled in a cold, wet shack on post in the middle of a violent storm and listening to The Thunder Rolls, or hearing Traveling Soldier while watching a night sky alive with a full moon, and the absolute best, hearing those damn jackals yelping to The Devil Went Down To Georgia!


The guys I worked with were awesome. We would have these fun and sometimes serious conversations while working for so long each shift. We had this particular post that inside the shack had a portable gas heater, well me and my buddy had no idea how to use it! But it would get down to freezing at night and so we just decided to "figure" out how to work it. Turns out that letting the gas stay on high for two minutes and then lighting a matchstick will light it; however it will also shoot flames up to the roof of the shack, catch it on fire, almost set your hair ablaze and singe your eyebrows! Oh plus the smoke with burn the shit out of your throat and for days you will sound like you ate lit Lucky Strikes. Plus your whole shift will laugh at you and tell you to do it again cause your eyebrows are still too thick!


It was deployment of many firsts. It was the first time I was ever mortared. The first time, I was "accidentally" shot at. The big city near us had many tribes who would attack each other at night, some nights our observation posts would fall in between the two warring factions, so technically they weren't attacking us and as such we weren't allowed to shoot back. Usually we could hear it getting closer so we just would hunker down in an area until it was done. We used to name one side Red team and the other Blue team and guess who was going to win. We thought it was funny until one night we heard what sounded like a man scream and die. After that Red/Blue team was done for a bit. It was also the first and last time I took malaria medication. That crap was so bad, I think I would almost rather risk malaria. We were not allowed to take it before work, it had to be taken right before bed every Monday. Side effects included hallucinations, intense dreams, and suicidal/homicidal ideation; of course, this must be ideal to give to young adults with weapons and ammunition! I had a friend who thought he saw a black panther near our Humvee. I once talked to a Staff Sergeant who was coming up to our post, until my partner told me that nobody was there. But the absolute worst one, I had a dream that I watched my brothers get burned alive in lava, it was so real I could smell the burning flesh. One of my bunk-mates woke me up as I was sobbing in my sleep, I didn't even try to sleep for two days.


One last nice story before I end it for the night. On my way back home for leave after our deployment ended, I saw this guy waiting for his flight and he looked really familiar. I couldn't seem to place him but I didn't want to be weird so I tried not to stare at him. I noticed he kept looking at my backpack though, which was a simple thing just black with our base name and a scorpion. Finally after about 20 minutes of awkward looks on both sides, he walks over and asks me where I had been deployed to. I told him, and as I did I realized how I knew him, he was one of my Vice Commanders in Pakistan! Right around that same second, he recognized me too. So we started talking a bit about different changes at the base (he had a 4 month rotation, ours was about double that), and where we were both traveling to. Turns out he was going to St. Louis that day as well. We shook hands and went on our way, after we landed in St. Louis, he made it a point to find me at the luggage  claim, tell me good luck, and even meet my parents briefly. I can't remember his name now, but that incident has always impressed me. Hope wherever he is, he and his family are doing well.


Well! This was a little longer than I intended but it felt good to get the memories out and on paper. I will always think of my Pakistan deployment as fun with a little bit of growing up added in there. I couldn't have asked for a better team, supervisor, and flight chief to deploy with. As the lowest ranking member on the squad, they allowed me to make some mistakes, fall a little, and get up on my own two feet. I was allowed to mess up and shown how to fix it when I did. Alright you guys, I could go on but I won't! Til tomorrow!

Brain twists!

 Today I'm going to expound a little more on what begins to occur with me when I start to have an episode. Now again, this is what I feel and do, not necessarily how others are, everyone is different especially when it comes to mental health. But I thought I might explain a little more since yesterday I wrote about medication compliance. Today I thought maybe I would write about brain twists and how (so far) my head reacts to new issues.


My first issue is almost always weird compulsions. When my mood goes off I start feeling the need to spend money. Suddenly I need a whole new wardrobe or oddly a bunch of coffee. Now the coffee is totally explainable, I love it. I have had a beautiful love affair with coffee since I was around 8 years old. I almost always have 4 to 5 different coffees and creamers available at my house. When I start getting manic, I'll buy more, a lot more, like 10+ different flavors. It's a bit much, but also a good indicator to my girlfriend that I'm not doing alright anymore. I will begin to feel panicky about food. I have never run out of food in my life, never been starving, but when the crazy begins, I suddenly need as much food in the house as I can get. Now this wouldn't be a bad thing, but even after buying it I will want to eat out, that way as my brain tells me, we can save the food at home for later. Wacky I know.


Other people will begin to feel so slow to me! Driving, talking, walking, whatever they do it's too slow! My poor girlfriend, friends, and co-workers bear the brunt of this, I get really snappish because I don't understand why they can't keep up.  I don't understand why people can't talk about 4 to 5 topics at once! Why can't everyone understand I've changed conversation topics? Keep up! I'm also a little too blunt when I do talk, whatever is in my head just pops out, it even surprises me at times. I get very critical and a "well that's real life, suck it up" attitude. Sad story, I told a young girl that the Easter Bunny and Santa didn't exist. Like I went out of my way to explain how rabbits don't lay eggs and how it's physically impossible for Santa to make it everywhere in one night. Yeah. It was real jackass move and later I felt so bad, but at the time I told my friends, "Well she was going to find out sometime, better now than later." Total bitch right there. Again, I don't understand why everyone doesn't think the same way too. Driving, I may sometimes start screaming at other drivers or worse, I've run red lights. In other words, the longer my crazy goes, the more of a bitch I become. Part of the explanation is that I'm irritated by my own head and how fast it's spinning.


The worst part starts right before stuff really gets out of hand, I begin to get the urge to start drinking. Not so much of an issue except almost all of my medications interact with alcohol, and, whoops, I'm a recovering alcoholic. Now I don't know how many of you readers have an addiction problem, but when those urges hit it can become almost physically painful. I will dream about it, smell it, and worst, I can taste it. I will find myself desperately doing the stuff my AA program told me to do, don't go into aisles with alcohol, avoid places that sell it, and for God sakes no bars! If by this  point I still can't tell the crazy is about to come out, this is it, this is when I know for certain.  It's normally at this point I know it's time to call the doctor. Sometimes this will actually sneak up on me with no other warnings. Once I went to a gas station to grab a few things. At the register, the cashier asked me if I wanted a certain 6 pack that was on sale. I automatically bought it! It wasn't a certain brand I liked or even knew, but I paid for it before my brain even caught up to what I did! I still have no rational explanation for what happened, I just got rid of it at home. Weird.


These are just a few of the problems that are good indicators for me to check when evaluating my mood. Sometimes it's easy and I can totally see it. Other times, I rely on trusted friends to help me out (and they do, so much more than they know). I may not notice my attitude getting crappy or maybe I will just blame it on work (that happens to everyone), but they can tell when it's a bad day or maybe time to tweak the meds. And that happens, every so often I need a tune up, or a good checkup with my therapist. I've been told that sometimes I may need a short hospital stay although so far with the exception of once a couple years ago, that hasn't happened again. But it could, it's always a possibility.  But I choose not worry about it, I have enough to think about every day as it is!


I'm not whining or crying about this stuff, I realize everyone has some type of demon to face. If you don't, then apparently you haven't been living! This is just to promote a little more awareness into Heather's weird brain, not to excuse any asshole actions or words I may have done or said. I'm truly sorry for those and I hope that I can make up for it. Maybe you might find some similarities as well, and you might realize crazy heads and "normal" heads aren't so different after all!

Compliance

Woo, I finally got some good sleep! After about 2 weeks of weird, interrupted sleep, I finally crashed after work yesterday and slept a good 8 hours. Now why is this such a good thing? I'm sure all of us have had crappy sleep nights. But for the bipolar brain, bad sleep equals usually the beginning of mania or depression. It's important to understand and know these signs because if I don't then I can easily cause havoc in my daily life.


The first thing that normally goes once the brain is off kilter is medication compliance. Now I know that this seems like a no brainer, take your meds, stay on schedule. Duh. But here is an idea for you. When you have a headache or pain somewhere you take an aspirin, Tylenol, Motrin, whatever to help alleviate the pain. But once the pain goes away do you still take it? Of course not! Why would a person take a medication if they aren't feeling any symptoms? Well if you have a mental illness you're expected to still take medication even when you feel better. I find it difficult to take my medications once I'm feeling better because, well, I feel better! My head starts whispering, "hey, it's all good now, you don't need any pills. You aren't sick anymore." Now as an adult, I know that I need my medications consistently but it's easy to listen and think that that's the truth. Add lack of sleep to the mix and it's just that much easier to forget them.


So all that to say I forgot my meds for about two days, I think, to be honest I'm not really sure of the days. Well the first day or so, it felt great! I woke up and didn't feel all hazy and out of it, everything was clear. I didn't have the shakes and my balance was good. I was able to talk normal and carry on (what I thought was) a regular conversation. I was able to get housework and chores done with minimal tired spells. It was awesome! Suddenly I realized I didn't really "need" as much sleep to feel refreshed. My brain wasn't spinning or tired, it just hummed along quite nicely. *Now a quick disclaimer, some people with bipolar can spend days, weeks, even months feeling this way before they or others notice something is wrong. I am not one of those people, once my meds wear off, it's a quick fast track to mania or depression.*


Day two, I woke up extra early (for absolutely no reason) and I still felt good. Who needs a lot of sleep anyways?! By early afternoon, I knew something was weird. I was jittery, yet couldn't make up my mind on anything. I was tired but couldn't sleep. Weird stuff began to irritate me, like how papers were stacked on the desktop or the feeling of the furniture texture. I started feeling so anxious but I didn't know why. This odd buzzing noise started in my head, like the hum of a conversation but I couldn't quite hear the words. We were trying to decide on what to eat for dinner and I had to tell my girlfriend to decide because I couldn't handle making a decision. I was really worried about what was going on because I honestly couldn't think of anything I was doing different to set off an episode. I still hadn't realized I missed a day or two of medication. A few times my girlfriend would shush me because apparently I was almost shouting when we were talking. Finally while at work last night, I realized, whoops I forgot my meds! Maybe that's why I was so odd lately!


Luckily, I realized what I had messed up before it got too bad. This time, there was no crazy money spending, no weird obsessive compulsions (I get oddly completely obsessed by different coffee and creamer flavors all the time, but as I get manic it gets really out of hand), minimal paranoia, and only a slight overwhelming anxiety. I made it through another sneak attack of the brain. Sometimes it occurs when I miss a medication; other times the brain just switches gears and leaves me defenseless to a new attack. But this time I made it through with minimal damage; I caught it before I really messed up. So instead of being angry at myself, I'm actually kind of proud. I screwed up, but I didn't go all in this time. Next time, who knows? I know there will be a next time but I'll worry about it when it happens not before it does. Today I'm just happy to have caught it and I'll be moving forward not backward from here.

Storytime!

So since today is officially Veteran's Day, I wanted to share some stories from my time in the service. Just a little info for you, I was in the Air Force from 2002 to 2009 (wow, that seems like a long time ago!). My AFSC or job specialty was Security Forces, fancy way for saying police officer. The job encompassed more than just police work though, from checking ID's at the gate to standing in front of planes. My first duty station was Kadena Air Force Base located in Okinawa, Japan. That's right, I lived in a tropical island very similar to Hawaii. While I was stationed there, I was deployed to Shabaz Air Base, in Jacobabad, Pakistan for 8 months. After my tour in Japan was done, I was assigned to Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota. Yep, from lush tropics to frozen prairie lands! After a little less than two years, I ended up in Little Rock Air Base in Arkansas. While I was there I again deployed, this time to lovely (horrid) Camp Bucca, Iraq for almost 10 months. After my deployment I went back to Arkansas and that is where I ended up separating. So all that information get confusing yet? I hope not, I just wanted to give you some info so these little tidbits of military life make some sense.


When I arrived at Kadena I was 18 and had never really been far from home. Suddenly I was about 14,000 miles away and dropped into a culture I knew absolutely nothing about. I arrived in October, so all the holidays were just coming up. On Thanksgiving, I worked and as a "special" treat I was stationed at the gate leading into family housing. Well that gate is never busy, so I had plenty of time to get homesick and think about past holidays. Right as I was really feeling bad, people started showing up from houses around the gate, they brought turkey, stuffing, potatoes, whole pies, cookies, enchiladas, tamales, cake etc.! Apparently they did this every year and so as an unspoken rule, our flight leadership would make sure the newest troops were put out there. It was so nice, even though it wasn't home, it was amazing to not be forgotten.


My deployment to J-bad (short for Jacobabad), was probably the most fun I had in the AF. From sleeping in tents to accidently leaving the base and driving through downtown Pakistan, the craziness never ended. This is the only place where we threw water and Tinactin (foot powder) on an NCO, TP'd another NCO's room (I got caught), and fake wrestled so realistically that my buddy and I scared our tent MSgt!  I was chased around a guard shack once for about 10 minutes by a rabid jackal, it finally left me alone when a Humvee patrol responded to my yells over the radio, poor guys, they thought my post was under attack! Man, did they laugh at me when I breathlessly explained what had happened! I lived through my first mortar attacks there, even getting stuck in a port-a-potty during one incident.

When I was deployed to Camp Bucca, I got incredibly sick there. Whenever people arrive at a deployed location they almost always get what's known as the Newcomers Crud. It's a combination of exposure to dust, other people, and the burn pits. Well, my Newcomers Crud was coupled with bronchitis that I already had. So Heather was a sick puppy. One night I was walking with a buddy and I suddenly just keeled over unconscious. The only hospital that was open was the one in the prison...Imagine regaining consciousness and looking at inmates all around you! Not fun, but funny now. Right before we left, I mean like we are literally standing in line and waiting for the helicopter to land, my same friend, turns around and starts screaming "Freedom!" like in Braveheart...Within seconds, the helicopter turns around, flies off, and we are told they can't take anybody else for the time being. We ended up staying for almost 10 more days. I was so angry at my buddy!! I don't think I talked to her for the rest of the night and most of the next day. But it's ok, we're good friends now, in fact she is the one who helped me drive down to Phoenix when I moved here.


Well like I said I just wanted to give a few nice and some humorous stories about my time in the military. Hope you liked them. Just wanted to remind the public that not everything in the military is serious and grim. Enjoy your holiday weekend!

Veteran's Day

Sorry I haven't posted anything in a few days; I kind of got a little caught up in some things happening in the country. That's it...That's all I'm going to say about politics. Anyways today's blog might be a little difficult to read because I'm feeling a little ramble-ish. You've been warned!


First off, it is officially November 10 so happy birthday devil-dogs!! If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then that greeting wasn't for you! Now on to my thoughts of the day...I was surprised when a lady at the VA asked me where I was going to eat at on Friday. Granted I had just rolled out of bed and barely made my appointment on time, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why a clerk would need to know where I was eating two days from now! Hell, I didn't even know what/where I was going to eat that day! I must have looked pretty clueless or she thought my meds were in overdrive because she leaned in and repeated the question again, more loudly and much slower. I could only answer, "Umm, I have no idea?" while wondering who the crazy person actually was. She sighed pointed to a flier right on the counter top and said, "For Veteran's Day. Any particular restaurant you want to eat at?" Aha! Now I understood! Veteran's Day, somehow, recently it has come to symbolize free food for veterans.


Don't get me wrong, I think it's very nice that restaurant's and business are willing give free goods and services on Veteran's Day. But is that really what the holiday is about? Veteran's Day and Memorial Day (don't get me started on the commercialism of that holiday! I will post about that later!) are two holidays that I normally cringe when they get close. One reason is people seem to mix the two up, and I keep getting "Thanks for your service" on Memorial Day. Now for clarification, Veteran's Day is the day set aside to remember veteran's of the military, living ones. Memorial Day is the day set aside to remember and honor those who have died in service to our country. I'm not trying to sound like an ass, a lot of people really don't know there is a difference. I cringe around Veteran's Day because it has somehow become this all-consuming idea of getting free drinks, coffees, food, tire changes, etc. I can't understand that, I love that people are trying to show gratitude but can't it be done another way?


While on the subject of gratitude, I never know what to say when someone says, "Thank you for your service." Saying "you're welcome," sounds dickish but saying nothing is even more weird. So I usually end up mumbling some awkward gibberish. I what I really should say is, "Thank you for allowing me to be your ambassador to other countries, and for trusting and believing in me and thousands of others to keep this country free. You are the reason we fight." But again that would make things awkward!


Well I'll finish with this, have a good rest of the week, enjoy your Veteran's Day- if you see a vet, thank them even if they get awkward and mumble gibberish back. Who knows, it could be the meds! More importantly, it was and always will be an honor to have served in the defense of this amazing nation! This Veteran's Day, I want to thank you, the American people, you made a vow to never forget your military veteran's, and you're keeping that vow every day. Your thanks is seen everyday, not just once a year.

Loss

The last couple of days have been difficult ones. I found that a good family friend had passed on. While my heart breaks, I also know that she is no longer in the pain she was in. For that I am grateful. I had a dream years ago that helped change my idea of when people pass. I am going to share it, however there are a couple disclaimers. I will not be stating the name of the person I shared it with or the person who it was about. It is not my place to give the details of another person's life and death, I just found the dream to be so vivid that it completely gave me a new outlook. Also I might clean up the email a little, I was younger and my typing wasn't as good nor was my spelling. That's really all I'll change. Here goes:

I would like to share dream I had last night with you.  It was so vivid and real, that when I woke up the first thing I did was call my mom, and tell her about it. In my dream, I actually watched myself fall asleep on my own couch and then begin to dream. In my dreams' dream (If you will) I was sitting at a huge banquet table with people I know from all over, church, New York, the military, my deployments. We were all sitting down to a huge feast, like Thanksgiving or something and dressed in the really old fashioned clothes that you would see on royalty at the turn of the twentieth century. Everyone was sitting and eating and talking, having a great time...I remember thinking it was extremely odd, because not everyone knew each other...I distinctly recall you and your husband sitting near the head of the table, cause it curved like U-shape, and you were right on the center of the curve. Also my parents and brothers were there at the exact ages they are now... I remember turning to a friend of mine (whom I met on this last deployment) and saying I wonder how everyone seems to know each other? She just laughed.  After a while I noticed this court entertainer who was going around various parts of the table, and whispering into people's ears causing them to laugh and making them more at ease with everyone. No one seemed to see him, but it was like they could hear him whispering to them. Now this entertainer's face was hidden, but I knew there was something very familiar about him.  As he was going around the table, it reminded of the court jester's in the old days who would entertain guests and make them comfortable while dining with royalty. As he was rounding one of the corners of the table, I heard him laugh and all of the sudden I knew who is was, I would remember that laugh anywhere! It was Mr. X! (now remember that this is a dream's dream, and I knew it was a dream, I knew that he had passed away) I was so excited and couldn't realize why no one else seemed to notice him. I looked at you, and was saying "Do you see him! I can't believe it!" I was soo excited and a little irritated that no one else seemed as excited. I looked up to where you and your husband were sitting and you smiled and said, "Heather, he isn't really here, it's our memories of him that have continued to live on."  I was quite sad and started to cry, when I suddenly woke up (in the dream) and called my mother and told her about what I had dreamt.  Suddenly then I really woke up and was still actually crying. As I was getting ready to call my mom, I was still wondering why there were so many people there who didn't even know him. It hit suddenly that they know him through us...Because we remember him, they get to know him. Not that we have to tell everyone about him, just our remembering his character, his sense of humor and passing it on to others. I don't know if this makes any sense to you. But I can say it seem to change my perspective of death...

That dream helped me realize that even though people pass, they can live on through us. We who are blessed to carry their memory can pass on their story. So in a way the dead are never really dead, they are merely resting in our hearts. I don't know if this is helpful to any of you, but it does help me. Yes the pain is still there, but I am also able to sift through some of it and remember the good memories and it helps me. To all who are entering this holiday season with grief, I hope you find peace and strength, and maybe just a bit of joy. Love to you all, Heather

"A Past"

When I was younger I wanted to grow up and be the person "a past." You know what I'm talking about, the haunted stranger no one really knows, or the jaded person who nobody truly understands. Well fast forward some number of years and now I officially have "a past." It's not as cool as I thought though, reading about the cool guy/gal with haunting nightmares is much more attractive than being that person. Slipping in and out of reality isn't nearly as romantic as it's shown in movies or TV.

I grew up in a pretty religious household, we went to church routinely and I remember how excited I would get when we had a visiting evangelist, or minister with "a past" come and testify at the church. They would talk about all the terrible things they did or saw. They would regal us with these stories of their sinful lives and how God had changed them in order so they could testify for him. I always thought, "Wow, I can't wait to grow up and make my 'story'."  And so I did, I grew up and created my own "past."

What these cool people, TV/movie characters fail to mention is how painful, emotionally traumatic, and scarring it is to carry the burden of past regrets. They don't explain that it can take years and maybe even the rest of one's life to deal with those regrets. Movies like to show us how quickly our haunted hero steps out of his past and pops right into the present, but life isn't like that. Your "past" can and will pop up anywhere, a day, month, years from now. Learning to let go of the pain won't necessarily make it go away, it will try to find a way to re-attach itself over and over again.

What I wish these preachers, evangelists, speakers would have focused on is how much better would it be to say "I cared too much about myself to go out and focus on making 'a past', instead I focused on creating a future." Instead of glorifying all their mistakes, would it not be more beneficial to explain how they fixed the mistake? Everyone has a past, some are better, some are worse. We all have things we deeply regret, it doesn't matter the badness of it! But the question remains, can you deal with your past in order to enjoy your present?

A Positive Note

Lately, I've posted about the difficulties of having bipolar (notice I said having, not being). It is true that it is difficult at times, especially when I'm trying my hardest to control my emotions and it just doesn't quite seem to be good enough. But there are other times where I'm actually ok with it, maybe even (gasp!) thankful for it. This being the month of Thanksgiving, let me list a few things that bipolar has been good for.

I'm extremely sensitive. No, not like the weepy crying type! My instincts can usually pick up weird vibes or tensions in my immediate surroundings. This is a godsend, working where I do. Being able to notice the subtle changes in atmosphere before a person gets potentially violent really gives just enough time to prepare for it. Now I don't mean I have some odd superpower, it's just I can rely on my gut-feeling to be right a majority  of the time.

My vivid imagination allows me to really emphasize with others. And what my imagination cannot cover, my sense of understanding what it's like to feel different generally covers the rest. For example, I may not truly know how it feels  to lose a family member, nor would I try to act like I do. But I do know what it feels like to explain yourself to others and have them simply stare back at you with no words of comfort, just at a loss. While I understand grief comes in waves sometimes big and sometimes small, so too does mental illness. There are plenty of days where I can just go about my business, easy as pie, and bam! Suddenly I can't barely speak, or all I can see is hopelessness or nothing at all. Grief is similar, one minute you're fine, the next you're not. Now I'm not saying it's the same, nor that I'm the only person who can understand, please don't think that, I'm merely stating that sometimes it's nice to know that other people have similar feelings.

And most importantly, being able to see things with a slightly different perspective has helped me keep a good sense of humor. I can normally find humor in almost any situation (now some of that comes from my mom's side of the family!) from shopping at the grocery store to being mortared, my humor almost always makes an appearance! Being able to make others laugh can help most difficult situations.


Just because I suffer from an illness doesn't mean it's the end of the world. Plenty of well-known people have mental illnesses and they may have had rough patches but they made a mark on the world.  Vivien Leigh was known for sometimes hearing voices and suffering major depressive episodes, yet she still played in a little movie called Gone With the Wind, as Scarlett O'Hara. How about Buzz Aldrin (Depression and alcoholism)? He was that guy who flew in Apollo 11 with another dude called, Neal Armstrong, you know they were the ones who landed and walked on the moon. Or what about Robin Williams? Yes, we all know how it turned out in the end, but almost any person can name at least one movie, TV show, or stand up of his. In fact I believe that due to his illness, he was able to play better characters than most others. The same man who did hilarious hits like Aladdin, Jumanji, and Mork and Mindy, also played deep characters in Good Will Hunting, Patch Adams (actually a blend of both light and dark character), and my two personal favorites, The Dead Poets Society (Oh Captain, my Captain!) and Awakenings. There is absolutely no doubt these people and many more left their mark! If they can live life with a mental illness the maybe I can too.