I'm a combat veteran of the early days of Iraq. I suffer PTSD from it and my life after. When I left military service, the real fun began. I was married to someone who was mentally ill and the circling of my life's drain went into full swing. I was painfully broken and survived in a shattered, extremely toxic environment. I went from bad to worse. It paved a clear path to prison for me still struggle with everything. Always. Year after year and event after event. What I did, what I didn't do. Where I failed and keep failing. Those I hurt and what I've lost at my own damn hands. Fast forward fifteen years to today...
Recently I awoke, as I often do, at two thirty in the morning to a racing mind. Frustrated, anxious, fearful, helpless, hopeless.... lost. So much loss. So little connection to society. Depressed, more so than ever before. After years of seeking help for my mental health issues in prison with no positive acknowledgement or appointment, I hit the wall. I can't explain the deepest of those thoughts, but they were the very "final" type of thoughts. Hopeless... So painfully hopeless. The trauma that consumed the majority of my adult life was starting to boil over and I wasn't strong enough to stop it.
I sent one last message with everything in me, to convey to our mental health staff what I was suffering. God listened and so did they. For the first time in over thirteen years, I had a meaningful conversation with a professional who wanted to invest in my healing. I had hope. Hope I haven't had in so long, for so many years. He established a treatment plan, a schedule of visits, an appointment with his colleague for other approaches, and exercises at stopping my mind's trauma through establishing new meditation habits. But most important to me, he wanted to know me. I wasn't a burden to him or a byproduct of a system that needs to throw away people. I wasn't a statistic or a diagnosis. I wasn't a crime and I wasn't forgotten. I was a person sitting with a guy who fixes guys like me. I am a person healing with his help. Finally, I have hope...
by Rory Andes
Being this vulnerable scares me. Be kind....
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Rory Andes 367649
PO Box 888
Monroe, WA 98272