Why Even Bother?

So, I started my appointment at the V.A. yesterday, with the nurse calling me back almost 20 minutes late. She said that she did not receive my check-in info. She then asked me if I had checked in, and I said that OF COURSE I had. Not a good start.

My husband and I had made a nickle wager about my weight, and whoever came closer, without going over, won. Disappointment number two. I was sure that I weighed about 130 pounds. My husband said 123 pounds. I am 5’9″, and had gotten down to 108 pounds at one point. Anyway, I only weighed 122.7 pounds. The nurses never understand that I am ill, and always make some comment, or give me a nasty look, after they take my weight.

I know tha V.A. has given me a new level, or new kind of PTSD; however that works. It is different than the flashbacks I have from my MST, and is a little hard to explain. Of course, my blood pressure goes through the roof, my chest hurts, and I have a hard time controlling my emotions. I remember what it felt like to be on my death bed; and how crappy that felt. I was prepared to die, and not afraid, but it was still a crappy feeling.

When I tried to tell this doctor, whose name I don’t even remember, that the hospital is doing the gastric emptying studies incorrectly. He BARELY let me finish, then just said that he was not a radiologist. Oh my God, he IS a doctor, I thought, he does not care about his own patients. This ass has been there 3 MONTHS, and is already acting like this. He did not even aknowledge my diagnosis from the civilians. He listened to NOTHING. Did not even mention the chronic illness, nothing. I gave up, and just told him that I wanted a consult to a neurologist, some blood work, and a new muscle relaxer. I also got a flu and pneumonia shots.

My husband and I got in an argument in the exam room, and he ended up leaving, and going to sit in the car. I was so angry. I thought that I had every right to be angry, and not a fucking person cared. I felt abandonded and betrayed, once again. I have had to be my own advocate, so maybe they figured since I had no one in my life that gave a shit, why should they?

For the rest of the afternoon and evening, my husband ignored me, and I felt like, what is the point? I cannot even get people who are PAID to care, to act like they care. Why should I care about myself? I was struggling with this all night. I have spent many, many years alone, with not one single soul that cared about me. I am good being alone, but it would be nice to know that I mattered to another human.

Today, I feel weak and a bit ill. Yesterday took a lot out of me. For my own sanity, I am not going to care about what happens to me. This does not mean that I am giving up on being alive, I just cannot care– not when I have been the only one for so long. I am tired…

To be clear, I am not suicidal, so nobody worry about that. I am sure that eventually, I will snap out of it; I always do. Thanks for your time and God bless.


A Bit Nervous

I have my first appointment since I got my diagnosis from civilians, at the V.A. today. I am doing breathing excercises, but can already feel my anxiety going through the roof. I am afraid that I will not be able to control my temper. I want to tell ALL OF THEM that they should be ashamed of how they have treated us; those who keep them free. I want to SCREAM at the top of my lung that WE MATTER!!! 

Nothing that I have done, or said has made one bit of difference. Elected officials will not help- even in an election year. The patient advocate is a JOKE. They are doing LIFE SAVING, DIAGNOSTIC TESTS INCORRECTLY, and do not care. It makes me angry to think about how many veterans have lost their lives, just at my V.A. NOBODY CARES!

If this offends, too bad… If you work at a V.A., and are sitting idly by: you should be ashamed of yourself, AND I hope there is a special place in hell for you. 

I am just a little bit pissed, and PLEASE, do NOT tell me to get over it. I WILL get over it, but I have every right to vent!!!

I have spent the past 6 years trying to survive, while the V.A. was telling me I was fucking crazy. They ALMOST succeeded, I was very close to just killing myself. They made me believe that I was crazy, and ALL of this was in my head, even when all the medical evidence showed otherwise.

So, today, I have to deal with the gastroparesis, as well as find out what they are going to do about all the ovarian cycts I know apparently have. The V.A. did give me a dx of ischemia, which is when your intestines telescope back into iteself. It hurts, and can cause the intistine to die. Do you think they care about that? Nope. They just told me that it would keep happening, and hopefully, keep correcting itself. 

I think I am done venting. I am going to do some more breathing and play with my dogs. Have a good day. God bless. 🙂

I will let you know what happens…

This is me…

I have spent a lifetime feeling what others push away; all their crap. All.Of.It. 

My parents used to tell me that I was too sensitive. I wanted to be a psychologist when I was in high school. My mom told me that I would not be able to do that, because I took things too personally. It was the only time she said I could NOT do something.

I need alone time quite often, because of everone’s drama. Every single person is pushing SOME kind of crappy feeling away— and it all comes to me. 

I do get to feel some of the good stuff, but most keep that to themselves. Some may say that I sound crazy; and I am, but not because of this(haha).

I was explaining this to a therapist a couple of years ago, and she told me that I am empathic. That expalined a lot, I suppose. 

I have a hard time in public; the feelings get overwhelming, and for some reason, people feel the need to TOUCH me, which I have HUGE issues with.

I have learned to compartmentalize rather well, but I stIll get overwhelmed, at times. I am very sensitive and being able to compartmentalize has been vital to my survial. To others, it may seem like I am stoic, or I have no issues. There are times that I just want to scream that I have feelings and they fucking MATTER. 

Since that therapist told me about being empathic, other things in my life seem to make a little more sense. I LOVED sports, lettered in 3 sports all three years of high school. They were NOT team sports. I ran track and cross-country, and played tennis(singles), and danced tap, jazz and ballet. Girls are balls of emotion to begin with, and when I had to feel all the bad stuff, I was better off on my own.

I was voted “best shoulder to cry on”, in school; and have always been a good listener. The only problem was, if I needed a shoulder, nobody was there. They all ASSUMED that my life was awesome.

I am not sure how this is going to be received, but here goes… My husband said something one day that kind of surprised me. he said that he figured that my life was very easy and that I could get whatever I want; because of the way I look. I told him that my looks are one of the reasons my life has NOT been easy. One fucking woman even tried to run me over with her car; even told the cop! Not a THING happened to her, either. I went to the hospital. 

I will no longer be suicidal. I should have died three times, and God kept me alive. I am still struggling with WHY He kept me here, but I am working on it.

Thank for reading. God bless.

My husband sent this to me from Facebook.

Feeling Out-Of-Sorts

Yesterday was my dad’s birthday, and tomorrow is my brother’s. I have not seen either of them for years. My father even lives in the same town as I do.

I “reconnected” with my brother on Facebook a couple of years ago, and his friends had no idea he even HAD a sister. OUCH. I had no idea what to do with that, so I got off Facebook, and doubt I will ever get back on.

The history between my and my father is very complicated, but essentially ended when my mom died. It was unexpected and one of us needed to decide to take her off of life support. I was 24, my older brother was 24, and my younger brother was 22. They walked out of the room, and I had to make the decision to kill my mom.

He had not gotten along with my mom’s sister for over 30 years; yet they were sleeping together before my mom’s body was even cold. I cannot tell you how devastating that was to his children.

I was in the Navy, and had to go back , three weeks after she died. My brothers would call me, complaining about my father and aunt’s relationship. They, of course, were too fucking scared to say anything, so I did. I told my father that it was not right, and he said that he did not care what I thought. THAT was the beginning of the end.

Both my brothers have deserted me. I sent my brothers Christmas cards about 10 years ago, and they called me. My little brother ACTED like he gave a shit(After of course, he said, “but you are the smart one”), talking all kinds of crap about my dad. He said that my dad said he did not know where I was—LIE. My dad had told me, many times, that my brothers hate me. 

I envy those whose families stick by them. I lost every bit of support I ever had, when I was 24; I am now 48.

Thank you for taking the time to read my blog, I appreciate it. Have a great day. 🙂

This would be an example of my “happy place”. I need to picture that a lot today!

Why I blog

It has been a very long time since I wrote my thoughts or feelings down; even for myself. I was in therapy for 8 years at the V.A.; twice a week for the first 4 years. I had the same therapist for 7 of those years.

My first therapist held me captive in her house, which made me suicidal. I called to hospital many times for help. FINALLY, the VA told me that they gave her a choice: retire, or be fired. Thankfully, I also found someone who gave a shit enough to help me get out of her house. How that all happened is another story.

I was the first patient with MST at my clinic; and the only one for quite awhile. The VA sent me to a 7 week inpatient MST program in Temple, TX. It was ridiculous on so many levels. I will share some of my experiences there, some other time. Let’s just say that I left with an entirely NEW set of traumas. I am extremely proud of myself for making it out of that place alive, and with some of my sanity still intact. 

We had to do an amazing amount writing, which I did. We took all kinds of psychological tests, too many to mention. Anyway, we were each assigned a doctor. Mine would tell me over and over again that I was stoic- like that was a bad thing:). She broke me once, and was very proud of herself. 

I had the same therapist for 7 of those 8 years, and she was great. It was like, if I was not her patient, we could have been friends. It was really nice, and I healed A LOT. I was out of town for 6 weeks, so my husband could undergo some therapy for his TBI’s. I was having a hard time, called her, and she told me that I was healthy enough to take care of everything alone. I felt betrayed to the core. Needless-to-say, I do not see a therapist any longer. I know they are not all bad, but I think I have had enough damage DONE by therapist to last me awhile.

I have always enjoyed writing, so I thought that doing this, reasonably anonmyously, might be good for me– we shall see. 

I have been through a lot in my years, the different kinds of trauma is kind of funny, but more on that as this blog progresses. 

I am not sure of a format for this blog, I just plan on writing my thoughts and or feelings. Thanks for your time.

One of my favorite places. Garden of the Gods city park

He hates the word hero

This is about my husband, my hero. I have his permission to write these things about him.

He spent 22 years in the Army, and has been to combat many times from Panama, to Bosnia, to Iraq, and many others in between. He has earned two Purple Hearts and a Bronze Star.

In his contract, when he joined the Army, was Airborne and Ranger school. HELPFUL HINT: Get it ALL in writing when you join, or you may NEVER get it!

Back when one had to EARN the beret!!

His first duty station was in Germany, and he was attatched to the 69th Chem. Division. They were known as the 69th criminals, just for a bit of background. They did nothing illegal, really, just little Hooligans.

The 69th was RECON, and was the best. Because of this, they were invited on a “Spur Run”, by the Cavalry. It is a big long competition, where you earn your “spurs”, if you complete. It is very difficult. He was an E-3, and one usually had to be an E-5 to be invited.He earned his spurs, and was invited to become Cavalry, and he became a Scout.

Undercover in Bosnia. Second deployment 2002

All the soldiers brought matchbox cars and candy to give all the kids in Bosnia. He was constantly surrounded by children, AND they guarded his vehicle when he was away!

First deployment to Iraq in 2003.

My husband was first boots on the ground in Iraq- in the shit. He was kicking down doors and close quarter combat.

When they and all their equipment got to Kuwait, they welded all kinds of crap onto thier vehicles. They looked like Mad Max going through the desert.Of course, the Army made them take it all off!

Right before he left, the Army doctors told him that he had Lukemia, but they were sending him into combat anyway. He tried to tell the doctor that he thought his blood was messed up, because of all the shots he had to get before deploying. The doctor said no way, no how, could that be.

He goes into combat, thinking he is going to die ANYWAY, and starts acting like an idiot Rambo. IN combat standing up, shooting from each hip, not taking cover, etc. He was being such an idiot, that he got shot TWICE. That was his first Purple Heart. 

The soldiers were not supposed to bring thier cell phones, but they did. My husband was IN combat, and the Army doctor called. he said oops, you are not dying, you do not have Lukemia, and you were correct all along.; your blood was messed up from all the shots you received. IT HAPPENED!! Needless to say, he IMMEDIATLEY took cover and quit acting like an idiot.

During his first deployment, Geraldo Rivera was reporting in the immediate area. He gave a position away of some of our soldiers, and 13 Army Rangers died in an ambush.

That jackass was walking by my husband and his men, and said something wholly inappropriate. My husband honestly does not remember what Rivera said, but it pissed him off. He went after that ass, and Geraldo ran away. Lucky for him my husband’s men held him back.

Second deployment to Iraq, 2005, he ran a prison
  • Skip with some of his prisoners.

In Russian prisons, the guard that is in charge, is the one who beat the shit out of all the other guards. As you can see, Skip is not huge, but he was the one in charge. They were TERRIFIED of him at first. As they stayed there longer, they gave him the name, Abu Shagra; it means the fair one. I am VERY proud of him for this.

The prisoners ate MRE’s. They were allowed to eat all, except the #22. It was pork, and they did not eat it, due to thier religious beliefs. By pure accident, one of the prisoners was given a #22. HE LOVED IT!! All the soldiers tried to explain to him that it was pork. They even drew a picture of a pig. That did it; for all of about half a second. He did not care. They even had the Iraqi interpreter explain what he was asking for. All he would say is, “Mista, mista, number two two”! They were not going to starve the guy, so he ate  pork.

A reporter came out to his prison to do a story, and my husband was talking with the camera man. The guy said that he did not really like his boss, but it was a job. My husband did not know who the reporter was…

Can anyone guess who that reporter was? 

If you guessed the jackass Geraldo Rivera, you win a prize!!

Luckily, my husband’s men saw Geraldo first, and made thier way to my husband, who at that very moment, saw the jackass.

He began running at full speed,  desperately grasping for his pistol. Skip shook off the first four guys, and was going to KILL that idiot. More people piled on Skip and Geraldo ran like a bitch into a building.Needless to say, jackass did NOT get his story.

The Army was supposed to give soldiers at least 12 months inbetween deployments. My husband and his men had 3 MONTHS. My hero brought ALL of his men back, alive, TWICE!! For those of you who may not realise, that is a BIG deal.

I want to thank all of you that hate being called ‘hero’. You are heroes to me, and I will NEVER forget the extreme sacrifices you have made FOR ME. Thank you and I will NEVER FORGET!!

My husband, along with many other heroes have been in more combat, in more countries far away from home than most realize. Please take the time to thank a veteran and active duty personnel whenever you can. They really do appreciate the thought.

She was an angel; and her name was Carolyn

This is a picture of my mom, with her birthday cake. Her birthday was in June(notice no snow). She WAS Christmas– lived it every single day. She kept our tree up year round, with a box of presents, underneath.

I remember stopping kids at the front door, on their first visit, and saying something  like, I know it is August, but the Christmas tree is still up. When you come in, my mom is going to give you a gift. Do not argue, just take it and say thank you.

She took care of newborns as a foster home. One of the adoptive parents even made my mom his GODMOTHER. She was devastated when my mom died.

I had a friend while I was in junior high, that lived up the street. She called one day, crying. Her mom was German, from Germany, and would not let her decorate their tree the way she wanted. She came to my house and helped us. 

I have two brothers, and ALL our friends called her, mom. 

I used to drag abused and neglected kids home from school on the bus, and she would always make sure they were safe, and taken care of. I bet her conversations with the bus driver were interesting.

All she EVER wanted to be, was a mom; and she was the BEST mom! My older brother and I are not quite 9 months apart, and were always in the same grade. In 5th grade, he went to a different school. I asked my brother why(whom I I IDOLIZED), and he said it was because he hated me. OUCH. So, I asked my mom. She told me that my brother was getting lost… He was known as Julie’s brother, not Jim. She changed his entire life for the better.

My very first T-shirt with print said, “A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle”. This was 1979-1980. She wanted me to learn the piano; but I did not like it; so she made me a deal: learn how to play Helen Reddy’s “I am Woman, Hear me Roar”, and I could quit. That was a great deal, and so much fun sitting around the piano with her, BELTING out that tune!

She was the best friend I ever had. The best mom that anyone could ask for, and I am sure that I have disappointed the heck out of her. Maybe not. She used to tell me and my two brothers that all she wanted for us, was for us to be GOOD PEOPLE, and be happy. I think I am a good person; sometimes giving to a fault. I am working on the happy part…

Sorry it’s sideways


I had a very hard time sleeping last night. I am so SICK of the hot weather! When is fall coming? This heat makes me feel worse; I need to temperature to drop. 

When I actually got out of bed, I did not even make it down the hallway, before my legs gave out. What the hell is going on? I am wondering if it is because I may need vitamins. Could it be my spine? Apparently, I only have one disc in my entire spine, that is not herniated, or bulging. L3-4 is my lone standout. 

I am trying hard not to whine. This is very new to me. I just got this diagnosis at the end of June. For the 5 1/2 previous, I was just trying to survive. It is amazing how changing my diet has helped; I am still nauseous 24/7, but only vomit once a day, or so. I am also trying to come to terms with my anger with the V.A. I have not seen a VA doc since I got my diagnosis and am kind of afraid of what I will say to them. I actually have an appointment next month.

The weakness is getting to me the most. I lettered in three sports, every year durng high school, and had been very active. I loved running. Now, sometimes, I can barely make it to the livingroom.

Oh, and the judgement I get from others, when I actually leave my house. They look at me and assume that nothing is wrong. All they see is a tall, thin woman in heels and a dress. Well, if they bothered to ask, I would tell them that ever since my second neck surgery, if I wear any heel UNDER 4 inches, my entire spine hurts. If I wear ANY kind of waistband, I get very ill. So, dresses and heels it must be(my husband LOVES it).

I guess that I am done bitching for now. Have a good day.