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CHEYENNE, Wyo. – My first nightmare occurred right before I came
home from Iraq for my mid-tour leave.
As I slept, my dream
sent me out on to the streets of Mosul, Iraq, a place I was very
familiar with after seven months of patrolling there.
In this
inaugural terror, I was doing my job, leading my platoon on a combat
patrol through a neighborhood. After passing a checkpoint manned by
the Iraqi Army, I stopped my truck, and got out to talk to one of
the soldiers. As I exited my vehicle, a man approached me, lifted
his hand to shake mine, smiled, and blew up.
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U.S. Army Capt. Thomas Blackburn with his wife Bethany on July 6,
2014 The couple still work together in counseling to help Tom adapt
to life with his PTSD that is the result of his combat duty in Iraq.
Top right is then 2nd Lt. Tom Blackburn in the turret of his tank
while on a mission in Mosul, Iraq, in 2007. (Image
created by USA Patriotism! from photos courtesy of U.S. Army Capt.
Thomas Blackburn)
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I jolted awake in my bed back on Forward Operating Base
Marez, sweating, shaking, and terrified.
That was the
beginning of a non-stop, multi-round boxing match with my
sleep. I returned home in January 2009, and still suffer
through what many other comrades share: restless sleep,
anger, heightened awareness, and incredible discomfort in
crowds, to name a few.
It's called combat stress,
shell shock, battle fatigue, or post-traumatic stress
disorder.
Whatever the names, it's all the same in
relation to its effect on a combat vet.
And it's
common.
In my family alone, I have two people who
suffer from the disorder. My father, who was present when I
got home from Iraq, told me that he still had nightmares
from his one year tour in Vietnam in 1969. That was 40 years
before my deployment! Even more shocking, he told me he had
a nightmare not more than three days before I got back home.
I also had a brother who participated in the initial
Thunder Run to Baghdad in 2003. He suffers from several
symptoms of PTSD, and we shared war stories over lunch
countless times while I was stationed in Indianapolis, our
hometown. Some of his strongest nightmares that grip him
relate to the United Nations bombing, where his unit was one
of the first on the scene after the explosion.
As for
me, I spent 15 months in a city that had become labeled by
media as the "Last Stronghold of Al-Qaeda in Iraq."
In 2008, Baghdad was becoming safer, so many enemy elements
focused on Mosul, and it was a battle. Within a month of my
company's initial combat operations, I had hit three
improvised explosive devices, one directly, been mortared,
ordered my platoon to fire seven main gun rounds from our
tanks, and been the target of numerous rocket attacks and
small arms fire. This was against an enemy force that
refused to stand still and fight for more than moments at a
time.
Others had much more intense deployments than
me. My brother was in firefights almost every day when he
was there in 2003. My experience was concentrated on
reopening routes the enemy had littered with IED's and work
with Iraqi security forces to retake their city. The enemy
wanted to hide and attack my platoon at their choosing. They
were ghosts. Therefore, every day, I stressed and wondered,
where was the next ghost strike going to be?
Luckily,
I made it through the rest of the deployment. In fact, my
whole platoon returned back to their families safe. However,
my war was not over.
Within a week of lying in my own
bed, with my wife, and sheets that smelled Downy fresh, I
suffered two nightmares. My honeymoon phase lasted through
my first two months until after my return to work from block
leave. Immediately, I became impatient, quick to anger, and
completely emotionless, especially to my family members.
This was the complete opposite of my personality before I
left.
My wife Bethany was pregnant with our first
child, but I felt little excitement or joy. I didn't care
about my son's birth. All I wanted to do was be by myself,
alone. Television shows I loved prior to my deployment no
longer interested me, I quit planning or doing dates with my
wife, and I grew very defensive in discussions. I had little
joy for life, so Bethany worried. My family back home
worried. My dad knew the road I was on and called to check
up on me constantly.
However, prior to me leaving
Iraq, before talking to my dad three days after my return, I
had already made a commitment. Not knowing how I was going
to be when I returned, I already had a premonition that I
was going to have trouble adjusting and therefore sought
counseling immediately.
Others in my unit waved off
the idea of seeing a counselor because they thought they
didn't need it, that there would be an image of weakness, or
that they could handle their personal business on their own.
At in-processing at Fort Hood, when asked if I wanted
counseling help, I blurted yes before the nurse finished
reading her script. That week I was in front of a social
worker. My appointments quickly became twice a week visits.
As a leader, I wanted to prove that seeking help was not
a weakness and so I told everyone what I was doing. My
platoon. My chain of command. Veterans I talked to at
restaurants or at the mall. Everyone. I admitted I wasn't
myself and my family suffered. But I was seeking as much
help as possible.
I have not met an active military
person in my whole career who acknowledged that they were
seeking help. I don't know if they fear others knowing, but
I refused to stay quiet about my troubles. What my leaders
and peers thought of my mental fortitude mattered little to
me; I only cared about sharing my journey. The fact that my
father, who had several troubled marriages and an emotional
exterior like a bulldozer, never sought his own treatment,
made me realize that his past had a lot to do with who he
had become as an older man. That wasn't going to be me.
Looking back on that first year I was back from Iraq, I
can honestly say two things kept me moving in a positive
direction. My wife, who survived my deployment to only go
through a tumultuous time during my adjustment, stood by me,
willing me to help myself. She refused to let me sink into a
dark hole. Then there was my son. It was imperative for me
to maintain my marriage, and therefore heal myself mentally,
so that he wouldn't be raised in a divorced household. I
went through that and didn't want to do it to him.
But the healing process wasn't quick, it's one that can go
on for years.
While I was initially going to my
social worker, I grew frustrated with my work environment. I
was given the opportunity and time to seek my counseling,
but, I quickly felt like no one cared. In fact, during a
10-month assignment to a staff position in 2009, my
supervisors knew of my struggles, but not one person asked
how I was doing until the day I conducted my exit
counseling.
That bothered me, not so much for me,
because I didn't need their assurances that I was doing
well, but it made me worry about the soldiers out there who
had problems and didn't feel like they could address them. I
made it my mission to ask every soldier I knew how they were
doing, especially if they had returned from the deployment
with me. If they did say things weren't going well, I then
offered myself to help them. I drove soldiers to counseling
sessions, I took texts from those seeking advice, and I
provided phone numbers of those who could talk a person down
from a bad night.
Now, I'm five years removed from
Iraq and I've improved. I still don't allow my son to have
balloons at home in case they pop, or remain uneasy when
popcorn pops (sounds like an AK weapon). I still battle my
remorseless attitude, but I feel more tuned to my family's
needs. The time it takes me to get frustrated is still
quick, but Bethany and I work together to keep me calm and
relaxed through talking and awareness.
Even with my
time home, I still face challenges. But, I continue to seek
mental healing, even this far out from my traumatic events.
In total, I have seen five counselors in multiple session
settings since 2009. I will continue to seek more counseling
if I feel that times get tough for me in the future. Hiding
behind a false bravado or afraid to come forward won't work
well in the long run. Look at my dad. He lived the majority
of his life with his demons. I might do the same, but I have
the knowledge and awareness going forward to overcome it.
Now, when my nightmares come, I wake up, remind myself
it's not real, and roll back over and go back to bed.
By U.S. Army Capt. Thomas Blackburn
Wyoming National Guard
Provided
through DVIDS
Copyright 2014
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