PTSD — Does It Ever Go Away?

Summary

A military veteran's wife reflects on her husband's transition from service to civilian life, detailing his experiences with PTSD following his return from war.

Abstract

The article narrates the story of a woman whose husband served in the military, protecting "other people's liberty." Despite his safe return with only physical scars, the husband's post-service life is marred by PTSD, which manifests in violent nightmares. The wife describes the stark contrast between his successful daytime adaptation to civilian life and the terrifying nightmares that haunt him, questioning the true cost of war and advocating for an end to senseless conflicts.

Opinions

The author suggests that the mental health toll of military service, particularly PTSD, is a significant and often overlooked cost of war.
The husband's lack of discussion about his wartime experiences in his letters home may imply a sense of duty to protect loved ones from the harsh realities of war.
The wife expresses gratitude for her husband's physical safety but also a deep concern for his mental well-being post-service.
The article conveys a strong sentiment that the hidden psychological wounds of war are as devastating as physical injuries, if not more.
The author believes that the price of protecting others' freedom should not include the lifelong suffering of veterans due to PTSD.
There is an underlying frustration and a call to action to stop wars, as the author feels that the negative impact on veterans' mental health is not worth the purported benefits of military intervention.

I’ll end these senseless wars if up to me!

Once upon a time — My husband served Queen and country He said it was his duty To protect other people’s liberty. Nothing wrong in that — Safeguarding civilians from terror Unleashed by terroristic behavior He’s the protectorate’s selfless protector. And off he went with mates — To the land of camels, sand and sun Patrolling towns, seeking terror groups as one No doubt, heavy encounters were no fun. As once upon a time — No Internet, no Skype, no FaceTime or FB Connecting to home was through military So receiving letters to and fro merited a crikey.

My husband’s letters were few — Writing mostly about gap time in the garrison Playing footie, rugby, whatever with troop mates in the station It made me wonder, why no anecdote about the action?

When at last he came home for good — I was thankful, no body parts were missing Just a few scars all over him from bullets grazing He was lucky, I was told, his ducks were perfect timing. Reverting head-on to civilian life — His further business training was a breeze Immersion in corporate work showed him to be a whiz Life was mostly euphoric, moving up and up was a bliss. My tale from once upon a time — Is not an enchantment, nor a trapping veil On what follows after years on the military trail Rather, to shine a light on an aspect that was a fail. The after-life of this protector — Was awash with ordinariness during most of the day Could be hectic, could be boring but there was love and play Yet when deep darkness fell, something compelling was at bay. My husband’s dreams were infrequent — Sporadic they might be but they were nightmarish He screeched and yelled, his ferocious voice brutish He kicked, punched, head-butted in a manner so fiendish. PTSD — does it, will it, ever end? — Is protecting other people’s safety Worth suffering this hidden illness, honestly? I’ll stop these senseless wars in a jiffy, if up to me!

Thank you for reading.