by Sheena Brown

Originally published in the Chillicothe Gazette on June 14, 2024

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, or PTSD, is not something easy to talk about. It’s not even that easy to identify. I’ve lived shoulder to shoulder with PTSD in my home for two decades andit is still a stranger. Sometimes, it makes the man I love a stranger, too. Not only to me, but to himself. 

In the spring of my 20^th year, 2002, a good friend introduced me to the most attractive boy I’d ever seen. The following summer was fit for an Emily Henry novel. However, just seven short months after our first kiss, I was kissing him goodbye. His green fatigues stark against the snowy morning. He deployed with the 1001^st Quarter Master Company Army Reserve Unit and spent fourteen months away. Twelve in the deserts of Iraq.  

While I attended parties and classes, he dodged mortar attacks and manned mounted guns on convoys. We were so young and naive, it never occurred to either of us that when he came home, he might not fully come home. 

I first noticed his aversion to crowds. His changing lanes when there was something on the side of the road. Then came the numbness, the distance, the nightmares.  

Even though I could finally hold him, there was still a part of him I could not touch.  

In the early 2000’s we were not ready to talk about mental health. Even now there is a stigma that bears more weight than necessary. No matter how mysterious, PTSD is common. According to the National Center for PTSD 6 out of every 100 American’s will experience it at some point in their lifetime and for Veterans of Operation Iraqi and Enduring Freedom, that number climbs to 29 out of every 100.  

Though he was diagnosed not long after his return in 2004 it has taken twenty years to even begin seeing the impact on our daily life and our marriage. It continues to show up in ways we could never expect. He tried counseling (multiple times), then found himself chasing fruitless ways to numb and self-medicate, to no avail.  

Time has put priceless distance between him and the sand-covered memories of those endless days. He is still learning what he left in the desert and what he brought back without knowing. 

Thankfully, he finally found support and dedicated PTSD Therapy. Though, it took a long time for any of it to help. It was not instantaneous, like an epiphany that fits neatly into a narrative. Instead, it took rock bottom and shadowed moments and still, there are times it takes more effort and energy than feels fair. But he keeps seeking. That is courage. PTSD, and many other Mental Health issues, are fed by shame. Forcing you to believe you are the only one. You are not the only one. He is not the only one. We are not the only ones.  

June is PTSD awareness month. If you or someone you know are struggling visit the National Center for PTSD at www.ptsd.va.gov, call the Ohio CareLine at 1-800-720-9616, or find more information on what it is and things that help at your local library. 

It is absolutely okay to admit when you’re not okay. In fact, your life may depend on it. 

Sheena Brown is a work in progress and an Enrichment Clerk at the Main and Northside Libraries.