What now?

This will be quick.

I know that the reality is that President Elect Trump will not be able to make many large legislative changes to our countries laws.  Congress has proven for the past 6 years that they are more than capable of completely shutting down the legislative process, and I do not doubt that the moderate and level headed members of our House and Senate will insure that he does not do long term damage to the majority of our legacy laws and policies.  Our checks and balances will work.

There are those in our country that have now been given permission to openly voice their hatred and their bigotry for anyone that does not fit their ideas of what an American is.  Our policies may not change, but the day to day lives of women, people of color, LGBTQA, Muslims and Jews are now changed.  We now live in a country who voted for a man that has talked repeatedly about how little he thinks of these groups.  Whether or not he personally believes these things, and I think we can all agree how much he hates women at a minimum, he has created an environment where this is acceptable in the public sphere.  Policies may not change, but the atmosphere in our country will, and that takes significantly longer to change.

I think that might be my greatest frustration with some of those people who speak like there would have been no great difference between Hillary and Trump, because there is a huge difference between a Clinton and a Trump presidency.  It is the tone, it is how we are perceived in the world, it is how we deal with those around us, and it is how the next four years of the lives of the minority are affected.

I have fears as to what this means for me, as a women in uniform, as a service member generally.  “He will surround himself with qualified advisors” is not comforting to me.  We have become more involved in conflicts around the world with a President that promised to end our involvement in the two wars we were in when he entered office, we are still in both countries, and we have expanded.

Will I wallow in despair?  Fuck no!  I will continue to do my job, live my life, and do everything in my power to improve my community and country.  I will focus on protecting the rights of my fellow human beings, and using what privilege I have to make sure they are as safe as I can make them.

But please don’t sit there and pretend that this election, and these results mean the same as if we had elected a highly qualified, incredibly competent women, that was a career politician.  That some how our country is slightly better off than if Clinton was elected, that this result will inspire our country to get off their asses and fight for change (it very might do that, but how long will it take to heal the damage done from four years of Trump).  And for fucks sake, don’t tell me to calm down, that it won’t be that bad, that I am over reacting.

Do speak to those who are scared, and discount their fear.  You are not providing them comfort, even if you feel that is what your are trying to do, you are telling them that their concerns are not important.  You are telling us, those of us that are scared and terrified about how these next four years will shape our lives, how these next four years will permanently change who we are, that these fears are not real.  That is not helpful.  Offering us a shoulder, an ear, and unlimited support is what we need.  Promising to be there with us, and for us, through whatever may come, that is helpful.

So, for all those POC, LGBTQA, Muslims, Jewish, Service members and Veterans, sexual assault victims and survivors, and all of those other groups or individuals who are unsure of, and or scared of what is to come next.  I am with you, I love you, I support you, and we will endure this together.  We will continue to fight for a country where all are accepted, loved and protected.  Some of us while in uniform, and with our lives, and some of us in many other ways.

 

I am not strong, but my mask is.

I haven’t written in a while.  I have been very busy, in both a good way and a bad way.  Running around with friends, weekends full of adventures, running and training for several upcoming road races (I am not fast, I am stubborn.)  New group therapy through the VA, which is proving helpful in some spots, but not so helpful for others.  Basically, I have been living my life.

The problem with living ones life though is that often times it is not what we want.

I love meeting new people, I love learning about them, talking to them, figuring them out.  I am a very extroverted introvert sometimes.  My “public” persona however is much different from how I feel a good chunk of the time.  I always try to smile, be upbeat, positive and welcoming.  Who knows how well I actually do while attempting this.  This is the persona that people get to know, and slowly if we stay in each others lives, I let them see the smaller, weaker me.

This can backfire however in the dating world I have noticed.  I present myself as confident, strong, self assured, and certain of where I am proceeding in my life.  For some people this is an instant attraction or a repellant.  I have been described by some as bad ass, amazing, awesome (not trying to brag, just repeating) and I then feel like I have to constantly live up to their descriptions.

On average these compliments, while oftentimes making me uncomfortable, are welcome because I see them for what they are.  Lately however I have been feeling anything but strong. I have been feeling like I am broken, and the glue I have been using to keep myself together for the past several months has stopped working.

Constantly presenting myself as my ideal, what I want the world to see, means that when I fail at maintaining this facade it devastates me, and makes me spiral down into a pit.  When I attempt to do things that people see as easy, normal, and expected of someone like me (socially that is) and I fail at it, I feel farther and farther away from my generation.

Friday I went to a Minnesota Twins game with some friends to celebrate a birthday.  Large crowds and noises cause me some anxiety, but in a controlled environment like a professional sporting event I can ease myself down, knowing that there are hundreds of people around to keep us safe and happy.  I had a couple of drinks, ate some overpriced ball field food, and enjoyed myself with these friends.

My anxiety was under control.  Friday night home games they have fireworks after the game, and since the Twins won I think it was more spectacular.  The fireworks, so close to mortars and explosions, started to ramp my anxiety back up.  We went to a packed bar, where I went to look for another friend.  We met up, hung out for a bit, and I left with him and his friends to hit the next bar.

Now I haven’t been bar hopping since college, I am that awesome.  For those interested, I am 31.  But I was enjoying myself, these new friends I had met were nice, we got along, and I felt safe.  So despite the early warning signs that I was putting myself in a position that I found stressful and dangerous for myself, I kept drinking and enjoying the company of nice people.

By the third bar I was drunk, not black out, not out of control, I could still make decisions.  This bar was packed, crushing up against each other packed, or that is how it felt.  One of the guys took me onto the dance floor, and about 5 minutes later I finally felt the clawing panic manifest itself.  I dropped my beer and ran outside.

Minneapolis does not have the most happening downtown night life, nothing like Chicago or New York, but we play a decent game.  I found a corner, sat down and the panic swallowed me up.  I was coherent enough to call a friend, one who I knew could calm me down and get me somewhere safe.  She did, she was amazing.  She, along with the help of a stranger who relayed my location to her, got me an Uber to take me home.  There was also another women that knelt down and talked to me, ultimately getting me to the car and making sure I was safe.  I cannot fully convey my gratefulness for the strangers, and of course for my friend Andrea.  There was no judgement in very voice while she talked me through the worst of my panic attack.  Only love and understanding.

Upon my return home I did what any drunk, almost incapacitated person would do, I took my dogs out to pee.

Next, I called my sister and left an unintelligible voicemail.

Then, what all good combat medics do, I started my own IV.  I knew I would be hurting in the morning, and I knew this was my best bet at mitigating it.

Now, I did somethings at this point that I am not proud of.  I called my mom, who luckily was awake, but I hung up on her when my sister called back.  I was so ashamed and embarassed by my behavior and reactions, that I ended up turning my phone off, and lying on the floor crying, precious saline dripping (actually flowing quite quickly) into my veins.  It was only after about 20 minutes that I realized that I had hung up on my mother, and she was probably worried.  I called her back, turns out she was moments away from calling the Minneapolis police so they could do a wellness check on me.  I have to admit, I could have used one if I hadn’t called my mom back.

I wasn’t suicidal, I have been lucky in that I have never felt the urge to take my own life.  I consider that a gift.  I do however often have the urge to inflict pain on myself, something to bring me back to reality.  I want to hurt physically when I cannot handle the emotional pain.  I had the strong desire to punch one of our brick walls, breaking my hand, just to feel something.  I didn’t.

I got off the phone with my mom, exchanged some texts with my sister who wisely advised me to drink some water, cuddle with our dogs, and watch some Supernatural.  This is what I did.

I woke up the next morning feeling not hungover, thank you saline!  I did however have a very nice black eye.  I don’t remember what happened to get that injury, and my best bet is that I caught an elbow running out of the bar.

Everyone experiences shame, and regret, and anger at their actions at some point in their life.  I am incredibly ashamed of how I reacted to the situation.  I am angry that I cannot go out and enjoy drinking with friends without the incredibly real fear of completely freaking out and getting hurt, or hurting others.  I do not feel regret over this though.

Prior to all of this happening the guy friend I specifically went to meet had been singing my praise, about how awesome I was, how I was a combat medic, how cool and hardcore.  This made my episode feel so much worse.  Clearly, I am not the person he sees me as.

It would be very easy for me to have a pity party, and let me tell you, I am having one.  Saturday was pathetic, Sunday and Monday were tolerable, today I lost it at work.

There was an event I was going to go to tonight, discussing an amazing book about women in combat.  There were some people coming though that I could not face with a black eye.  I was so embarrassed, and I just could not remove the thought from my head that they were going to spend the whole time judging who I was, and how I acted.  I left the office in tears, almost hysterical again, when I thought of how pathetic I would appear to these people.

Now, I have very little to no evidence that they would have been anything but concerned and supportive.  The brain is a powerful thing, it can make you believe anything in the face of actual evidence. So I skipped the event, spent an hour crying in a downtown park, and just continued my pathetic streak.

So what have I learned?

Nothing, yet.  Too close to the incident. Still to ashamed of what happened, no matter how bad ass people tell me my black eye is.

I am also incredibly disappointed in myself.  I feel as if I am not sure who the real me is.  The person I project to those around me?  Probably to a degree.  I know I am always confident in my medic skills, skills as a soldier, I am a compassionate and caring person.  I am smart, in shape, surrounded by people who love me.  I am to a degree that person everyone gets to meet right away.

I am also a broken shell of a person.  Someone that wakes up nightly covered in sweat, panting in fear.  I am so petrified of being hurt, physically and emotionally, that I cancel most of the dates I arrange, because it is easier than taking the chance. Loud noises kill me, screaming children will make me shut down for hours, if not a whole day.  I am medicated and have been in therapy on and off for almost 3 years.  The men I am interested in, the men I want to date and get to know, and hopefully one day fall in love, are also the men I don’t talk to or go on dates with because I am 99.95% certain that when they learn about the weaker part of me, will run, or worse pity me.

Now, I know that there are no such things as absolutes, so I know I do not have to be either my super strong mask, or my weaker shattered self.  I know that I am a combination of those two, and many more, aspects of my personality.  I know I am not alone in these feelings, and fears, and emotional pain.  That brings a great comfort to me, because just knowing you are not alone can help get rid of so much despair.

I want to find a partner (romantic, I have a really good number of close friends) who I can be my vulnerable, broken self it.  I am terrified that my mask is all they want to see, and when they see the deeper, more broken me, they run away.  If I am honest with myself I know that this is a burden.  PTSD, depression, anxiety, long term health effects of war, these are not things that should be handled lightly, and I would never want to ask someone to help me take them on.  I would never want to burden another human being with these issues.

And maybe that is the root, and basis of my mask.  It is a protective presentation, not just for me, but its my way of protecting those around me from having to deal with everything I have become saddled with.

To be honest, I am going to protect myself, and those who want to be with me, right into a lifetime of loneliness.  I just wish I had the courage, the skills, and the strength to stop this path.