Married to PTSD and other initials.

When I met my husband in 1994 he told me that he had “PTSD” and was a ‘Nam Veteran. I went home after that summer trip and told my sister about this really interesting guy I met on the Wagon Train.

She asked about him and we talked. We were avid horse riders and this guy was a mule rider. I tried to describe him to her. I paused at one point and said, “He told me that he has…he has…”. Damn, I couldn’t remember. “He has PMS or something with PMS and a T in it,” I told my sister.

“What’s that?”

“Crap, I don’t know, some mental crazy thing, I guess.”

“What, you are dating a mental patient?”

Pause. Hmm.

“Well, I don’t think so. I mean he seemed perfectly normal and charming to me.”

“Yeah, well wackos can be that way.”

“He isn’t a wacko.”

Well let’s fast forward to the current time. My husband is a Vietnam Veteran and he does suffer from chronic PTSD, Depression, COPD, has had two strokes, and throat cancer. However he isn’t some wacked out weirdo. He is a fairly quiet man who has some habits that would drive another person up the wall. He likes to ‘collect’ things. Save things, because they may be useful later. Um. Yep. Those two old lawn tractors in the yard could be useful some day.

He is a bit of a perfectionist when he is doing a job and he can get terribly frustrated if it doesn’t go his way.

What is even more amazing, is that we’ve learned to peacefully co-exist with each other. He’s not crazy, although he does have his issues. Our life together has never ever been boring. Sometimes a bit tense and one time pretty scary. But I can say that I met a man that I love and respect.

Even if some days we try and drive each other….well. Crazy.

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