A brief history...

[CloverFella]

Throughout high school I was always a bit of a geek. Though I had friends. The friends were geeks too, but we had fun. Surprisingly, as far as the 'geek' stereotype (which I'm proud of and have embraced at this stage in my life), went, I still had plenty of luck with getting dates in high school.

Almost immediately after high school I was swept off to Fort Knox, KY. for Basic Training within the U.S. Army. This of course was one of many on the fly decisions I've made in my life. In fact, this particular decision was made while stuck at a red light at an intersection near the recruiters office. Thus started the first few steps to where I am today.

Made it through basic training as one of the most hated recruits the Army had ever seen. When your a geek, the alpha male 'kill em' all' of the Cavalry Scouts, isn't the ideal place for you. Much of my time in basic, and throughout the rest of my Army career, is much a blur as I think I blocked most of it out.

Never before had I faced such adversity then the two years following basic, stuck with those around me. Although not the apex of my military blues, my time in Iraq proved to bring on the most intense suicidal thoughts I had ever had. Returning from even the quietest of missions began to prove too much for me to bare. I would return to the tent after a 72 hour long mission, with almost no sleep mind you, to finally enjoy some down time. The guys in my platoon, with their brand new TV and DVD player, were about to pop in a movie to wind down to. I sat down somewhere in the back. Evidently, I didn't sit back far enough. I was told to get out in very colorful language, and then teased for who knows how long. I was destined to my cot, staring at the side of the tent.

I wish I could say this was the only example. Unfortunately, it is but one of hundreds. But things only got worse. Mid-Tour leave came around, six months into the deployment. One of the Sergeants decided to trade leave slots with me. At the time I thought it a kind gesture, only to later find out when reading my first line supervisors report on me, was that they didn't trust my stability on an up coming, important mission. Much of which was based on my "Inability to engage the enemy, allowing them to get away." (in reality, by the time I got down to my sites on the Bradley, the target was long gone).

So, during Mid-Tour leave. Two weeks at home with the family and my friends. I surprised them all with my method of return. It was a great time. In fact, it was so great, the more I thought about the unit I would return to for the next six months, the more my innards twisted and turned. There was a slight confusion on my return itinerary to go back to Iraq. I subconsciously used this as the opportunity to create ideas of not going back.

At only a couple days before my flight was to leave, I developed such a level of stress and anxiety, that my mother drove me to the hospital. I was admitted. My flight date was missed and my unit notified. The U.S. Military pack machine began. I was the weakest link, and they were going to make sure I knew it.

After a week in the hospital I was released to my unit. I was to report to the rear detachment with those who were wounded or injured. A mix of real hero's, true incidents, and a few malingerers. I had to develop a new persona if I was going to survive here. Fortunately for me, the local hospital (who has seen few veterans) easily chalked up my issues to PTSD, misdiagnosing it completely. This facade would work for awhile, at least until my unit I deployed with returned to the states.

While I awaited my inevitable hell, the military, to cover their own rears, threw me to the government employed shrinks. There, instead of treating my real issues and offering valuable therapy and council, the resorted trying out all the drugs they could on me. At one point in this history, I was on 40mg Prozac, 300mg Welbutrin, and 800mg Seroquel every day. Since it didn't work at the lower doses and with less meds, the answer was to obviously pump me full of more. At least until I become a zombie, which they called progress.

One night, while hanging out with a mechanic with a bum knee that I met in the rear detachment, we went out for drinks. Upon my return to Ft. Carson from the bar, my out taillight alerted the MP's. I was pulled over and quickly given a DUI. My 1st Sergeant (who already thought me scum despite his extremely bad alcoholism and gambling addiction, and repeat offenses of adultery, picked me up from the drunk tank. He took away my keys and sent me to my barracks room.

The next day for formation, I was late. It was hard enough combating the pills they had me on when I wanted to wake up, but to make matters worse, our typical mustering area was moved a few miles down the road due to construction. I didn't have my keys because they were taken from me, so I ran as fast as I could to formation. I made it there, but just as they were calling everyone to attention.

After physical training, but before breakfast, I caught wind they were trying to give me a 14-12C (an other then honorable discharge) due to my DUI. In a dazed state, without putting much thought into it, I gathered the few belongings I could think of and retrieved my keys from the detail downstairs. I was off... I would be considered AWOL in 24 hours.

30 some odd days later (now considered a deserter [which is still punishable by death at the maximum level]) I was pulled over for that same out taillight that landed me the DUI (I procrastinate alot, I'm aware of this). A quick run of my ID and BAM! Silver bracelets were slapped on me. I spent nearly the next month (the first six days in the drunk tank until a bunk opened) sitting in 'K Block' in the Bay County Jail. There I received more braising as some of the inmates found out I was a deserter, which despite the fact that not a one of them even served, was still enough to get my ass beat (pardon my language). Here, the jail wouldn't even give me my pills to dull my senses.

So a month passed, AWOL Apprehension delivered me back to my unit. Only this time, it was my unit I deployed with. They had returned from Iraq, and they were not happy with me. They caught wind the military considered me as suffering from PTSD. My unit knew the diagnosis was complete junk because I (albeit some) hadn't seen all that intense of combat. This is the part where most of it is a blur. All's I remember is eventually standing in front of the Colonel, getting papers signed releasing me of my obligations to the military with an Honorable Discharge. Chiefly because I did deploy to Iraq and never had a blemish on my record during that service. Also, when I returned to my unit I was reprimanded under a Field Grade Article 15 (45 days of extra duty, about 6AM to midnight seven days a week with no pay and confinement to the barracks outside of work. Most of which the work was backbreaking labor [painting rocks, sweeping the dirt up in parking lots, the most degrading things they could come up with that also hurt]).

After the Army things were smooth sailing for long time. Didn't need the antidepressants anymore. Was back with my friends. Though I was terribly lonely as I had been single for quite some time. That is, up until almost four months ago.

About four months ago I starting dating Amy. Great gal, was into scratching on vinyl, took the same recreational hallucinogens I took, was into alot of the same music as me. We went to a ton of raves and concerts together. We had the stupidest level of things in common, all the way down to how we set our alarm clocks. Things were great.

She was older then me, I 23, her 32, but nothing noticeable. She did have three kids already, so a bit of a life jump on me, but I had my own life maturing moments as well. We really hit it off.

About a month ago, I found out she is pregnant. Shes a little over two months along now. Although this was in no way planned, a part of me is a bit excited about it. I don't currently have any children of my own. I do however wish the circumstances were better.

Amy on the other hand, is extremely upset at the idea. She was in the process of arranging to have her tubes tied. Mostly because it isn't healthy for her to have anymore children. She only has one kidney and it isn't very strong. She also isn't in much of a position to support another child. She is raising three, collecting from the state, lost her job (as low paying as it was), and is only recently divorced (though separated for years).

Lately she has had numerous problems from morning sickness that lasts all day, everyday to a hairline fracture in her foot and now something wrong with her chest and shoulder which doesn't let her get more then maybe a couple hours of sleep a night, spaced out throughout the night. This has put a great deal of stress on her the past month. She has been snapping at her kids, and now me. To an outsider, she looks as though she hates me.

This has put a great strain on our relationship. To the point now where she acts disgusted at the sight of me. No matter what I do to try to make things easier for her, I'm always doing it wrong. It has gotten to the point that I feel she is being extremely disrespectful to me and hasn't a shred of love left in her heart for me. I don't remember the last time she has tried to kiss me, hug me, or tell me that she loves me (I know we have only been dating for about 4 months, but we have been friends for a couple years).

I've done a good job at biting my tongue, because I know the factors in her life. She has good reason to be short tempered right now. But recently she has gotten to the point of talking down to me and insulting me. Mostly because she thinks I'm too immature to raise a child. The only reason I figure she says this is because she only says it when I'm being optimistic about things and not as bitter or cynical about our situation as she is. I just figure I won't help anyone by getting bent out of shape.

So this is where I am today... This IS the apex of my stress. I don't know how much longer I can keep it together...

[xn728]

hey CloverFella i think after reading all this ,your a good guy ,whos been
dealt a crap hand ,but the way you have explained it all tells me that you
will ,one day find what it is your looking for ,the army trouble was not
your fault ,it was the illness, nothing more ,the bullying you took in jail
and the army ,ive seen a little of that ,not on that scale ,it takes a man to
talk about it ,ive made mistakes in my life big style ,dont keep them inside and keep them cooking ,let them go ,,,i cant really say a lot more
but i think theres better times ahead for you ,and i hope they find you soon, the forum is a great place for letting this stuff go ,dont stop being
a soldier,you will need that strengh for the battle with deppression ,dont
ever give in ,reach out and we will catch your fall you have to fight to keep it together ,,,stay safe,,,xn728

[CloverFella]

Thanks XN, I know that was a lengthy read. For the most part I've learned to let go of what I did in the military. I'm no longer covering up the fact that I went AWOL. I have nothing to hide anymore. I survived that rough part of my life.. Even if only barely. There were some close moments where I almost lost to myself.

I was living a fairly decent life afterwards, still had the guilt, was still lonely too. But I was getting by. My world didn't start to fall apart again until this most recent stuff with my girlfriend. I'm confident that I won't ever get as bad as I was in the military, and if that is the case, I beat it then, so I shouldn't have any trouble now. But I still need this place to be able to express myself and have ears or eyeballs rather, to listen.