I’ve been in therapy continuously for almost 4 years straight. It will be 4 years in January. I did some therapy online and with a military therapist on base prior to starting for real in January 2021. For me, I wanted to change things once I was retired because I could. I no longer had to worry about flying status and staying in the Air Force. I was able to share anything and everything without it impacting my job. And that’s what I needed for years.
I have been going every two for over a year now with the first therapist I found in January 2021. Or I guess I was assigned to her. We connected at the first appointment, where I didn’t understand that she was actually getting supervised clinical hours to finish her certification. We didn’t have anyone else sitting in there with us, but I know she had to go over her notes with the clinical director. Once she complered that training, she moved on to a new place that originally didn’t take my insurance.
After being there for 6 months, she left counseling altogether. She had burned herself out and needed a break. I was devastated. Thankfully she was able to recommend someone who would be awesome for me at this location. I was able to see the new therapist and bond with her for a year before she moved out of the area. Again I was devastated. But right before she told me she was moving, I found that the original therapist was back doing counseling. I was afraid to ask her if I could come back, but with the second one also leaving, it was the only option I was willing to consider. She took me back eagerly and we’ve been working hard since then!
One of the first things we worked on was boundaries with people. I had none. I did whatever anyone wanted me to do, as soon as they needed it. I did not take care of myself at all. I was always the last thing I took care of, regardless of whether someone actually needed me. Sometimes I just gave myself freely and I was continuing to hurt myself the way I had been hurt all of my life. Learning to say no was hard. Learning to not say anything, but calmly putting up boundaries to protect myself was even more difficult.
Looking back I can see the full development of me happening. I was learning to honor myself and actually give myself what I needed instead of everyone around me just taking and taking with no regard for what I might need. As far as they could see, I didn’t need anything. I always felt disappointed and unloved. Every adult who was important to me did not consider my wellbeing as much as I considered theirs. An example-my parents were extremely upset and concerned that I had a flying job in the Air Force. My father actually cried about it because he was so worried about my safety. (Now there’s a bunch of reasons this is laughable like the fact that I was severely bullied and sexually harassed as child, which he didn’t care about it at the time.)
So I never told them anything about flying on deployments. They never knew when I was flying or anything that ever happened to me as a result of flying. I protected them from the realities of what I was dealing with to keep them happy and not overly worried. My father used to give me lectures about Afghanistan and Iraq like he had been the one in the Air Force. Most of what he said came from my brother’s point of view. My stupid father had the nerve to tell me that my brother had been in more danger on his one deployment than I was in my 8 deployments. He said “You were never shot at, you never dealt with any huge threats.” I reacted poorly by yelling back at him-how the hell do YOU know what I have been through? How the hell do you have any idea of what I saw, what I did, the danger that I was in at any given time? My brother is also retired and gets VA disability. He is at 70 or 80%. I am over 100%. My father was shocked and asked me why. BECAUSE I HAVE DONE AND SEEN MORE THAN YOU COULD EVER HANDLE. I am 100% for PTSD alone.
But my point is that by me protecting them and not offering up anything about the dangers I faced on deployments, he automatically assumed that meant I had nothing to say, not that I was withholding things to protect them. Talk about disrespect. He never even asked me. Also, I knew a lot more about the big picture than my brother ever did. He was mobility his entire career, so he’s fixing tankers and handling airlift stuff. Not actual operations. Sure, he was flying around a combat zone, same as me. But I flew 149 combat missions, totaling almost 1700 hours. He never had the same amount of knowledge of what was going on as I did. He had so much less responsibility as well. But none of that ever made my father realize that I might be in situations presenting danger. He has no idea why I don’t work, or how much medication I take to thrive and not just survive life.
The growth I am seeing in myself now is huge though. I am so much positive on a daily basis than I used to be. I was so beaten down and negative that I could never think positive about anything or anyone. Everything was an attack and everyone hated me. It was a mental program I could not get out of, no matter how hard I tried. I was just surviving. I couldn’t see the way out.
And then recently I noticed that I don’t feel like that at all anymore and I can’t remember the last time I did feel that bad. Even my worst days now feel better than my best days back then. I could only find joy for short bursts of time back then. Now I find joy almost every day. Not necessarily all day every day, but definitely every day. And it’s real joy, not just me pretending that everything is ok. I am genuinely ok with a few blips of sadness or panic.
And that is growth. So much growth.
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