ptsd Ptsd

[Guest tinchord]

Hello!

With good intention, my DAV counselor strongly suggested I submit a claim for PTSD. When she breached certain topics, I could not hide my hands shaking and tears. She then directed me to a counselor for PTSD and that counselor directed me to a place for official diagnoses. Now, the VA has requested information and I literally, cannot find the strength to go to the psychologist the VA mental health counselor referred me to, write the letter to the VA explaining the events, and can't find the strength to step aside and do this without horrific embarrassment and pain. I am horrified to tell anyone, let alone, send it to VA-land. I did however reply on one of their forms, that I apologize for their inconvenience, but request the claim be dropped because I am not willing to do what is needed for treatment or diagnoses or to deal with this. Though I have had countless nightmares and acquired a taste for alcohol on regular occassion in hopes to deal without anyone knowing, I already submitted the claim. I am familiar with PTSD and it does seem I am contending with it, but I can't progress via the VA. Will they allow me to just drop it since I stated I was not prepared to deal with these problems?

Lastly, I submitted this claim at the same time I appealed asthma. I did this in April 2007 and have not gotten any confirmation but continual requests for information regarding my PTSD claim despite my request. Could this be what is holdong up their reply for both claim and appeal?

Any suggestions would be appreciated.

Sincerely,

mac/tinchord

[Guest tinchord]

PTSD MIA -Navy Hospital Corpsman

It's never alive in the moment mooring itself, neutered with shaking hands.

Pocketed imposed finds plethora of wealth, protected with memory bands.

It's never a single moment shattered that horrifies your eyes.

It boils to the moment you became terrorized.

Shanked and shackled in tidy working whites, it is unfound under the guise of BDU's.

Surrounded by polished brass and bug juice, tend the wounded sandbox, bandaged through.

Incoming, duty to the damaged and decorated. Yet moments before they're the glorified news,

he grasps your wrist in detest you were not there. His sister seethes and spits on your shoes.

Obligated and humbled, you wheel him to the Quarterdeck. An officer in dress whites, dismisses you,

not even looking at your face. "Go the to Head, and wipe off your shoe."

Stateside, too many miles from your family, protected and safe at a National Naval Command.

You nothing to say about being punched in the eye, "when they're under duress, no one is to reprimand."

"Medevac, medecav...all available hands to the quarterdeck!" Here come the heroes, welcome them home & bring them in.

Eyes wide open and too many bags to hang, he looks at me and laughs, says, "thanks" with a grin.

Stairwell raped where the President had recently walked. The whitest working whites still feel stained.

Fractured shoulder. Clumsy Corpsman fell down those stairs. Questioned, shaking, you never complained.

Never alive in the mooring moment again. Smile. It is over for you. Hide your shame.

You silly weekend warrior with barely two ribbon rows. Get out before again, they call your name.

Abort! Abort! Abort! Sorry Lord for shedding it's tiny blood.

The horror that grew within, could not come home in Whites with crud.

It's never a single moment shattered that horrifies your eyes.

It boils to the moment you became terrorized.

Iraqi Freedom orders in a non-combabtant zone? Yes sir. That's me.

How we in tidy working whites at a National Naval Command, are all, but never free.

[free_spirit_etc]

That's totally powerful!

Free

PTSD MIA -Navy Hospital Corpsman

It's never alive in the moment mooring itself, neutered with shaking hands.

Pocketed imposed finds plethora of wealth, protected with memory bands.

It's never a single moment shattered that horrifies your eyes.

It boils to the moment you became terrorized.

Shanked and shackled in tidy working whites, it is unfound under the guise of BDU's.

Surrounded by polished brass and bug juice, tend the wounded sandbox, bandaged through.

Incoming, duty to the damaged and decorated. Yet moments before they're the glorified news,

he grasps your wrist in detest you were not there. His sister seethes and spits on your shoes.

Obligated and humbled, you wheel him to the Quarterdeck. An officer in dress whites, dismisses you,

not even looking at your face. "Go the to Head, and wipe off your shoe."

Stateside, too many miles from your family, protected and safe at a National Naval Command.

You nothing to say about being punched in the eye, "when they're under duress, no one is to reprimand."

"Medevac, medecav...all available hands to the quarterdeck!" Here come the heroes, welcome them home & bring them in.

Eyes wide open and too many bags to hang, he looks at me and laughs, says, "thanks" with a grin.

Stairwell raped where the President had recently walked. The whitest working whites still feel stained.

Fractured shoulder. Clumsy Corpsman fell down those stairs. Questioned, shaking, you never complained.

Never alive in the mooring moment again. Smile. It is over for you. Hide your shame.

You silly weekend warrior with barely two ribbon rows. Get out before again, they call your name.

Abort! Abort! Abort! Sorry Lord for shedding it's tiny blood.

The horror that grew within, could not come home in Whites with crud.

It's never a single moment shattered that horrifies your eyes.

It boils to the moment you became terrorized.

Iraqi Freedom orders in a non-combabtant zone? Yes sir. That's me.

How we in tidy working whites at a National Naval Command, are all, but never free.

[mountain tyme]

Dear tinchord: very few things in this life can move me to tears...I can hear your pain in the poem you posted...and teardrops fall for a life that has been shattered...it will take time to heal...and heal you will...just one step at a time...

May God Keep you safe until then...

MT

[iraqx2]

Tinchard,

Please get some help and do not anything that you know deep down is wrong. You are hearing concerning and loving thoughts from fellow veterans, people that share your pain and can better understand.

May God aide you on the path to recovery.

[Josephine]

Tinchard,

You have me in tears, please go and get some help. We are here for

you.

As Pete said, stay on line and we will all talk to you.

We don't know who you are and you don't know us.

I came to this Board and shared with this group things that I never

wanted to tell anyone.

I have met with the best friends that anyone could have.

Send any of us a personal message at any time and we will help you.

If you are still on line, expect my message to you.

Always,

Betty

[Guest tinchord]

Greetings ALL!

I am floored, your replies. I didn't think anyone would really even notice my post, let alone, offer such support and hope and met compassion.

Thank you so very much.

My apologies for causing any sad emotions. I neglected to consider that anyone else might read and interpret a pain seeming consolidated within my own. I hope I might have the opportunity to return your empathy and offer encouragement.

It's "difficult to see the forest through the trees", indeed. Thank you for you perspective. It's an unusual experience when you have a revelation where you thought none were. ...your replies, be it personal or posted have offered me this. Thank you.

I don't know how to convey the emotion of simply being heard, but you have given me that within a safe network in a time when I'm not even sure if what I'm going through is worth expressing. Thank you for not invalidating what I'm going through. I seem to have done enough of that to myself and this is the revelation your compassion has shown me. Rather, you listened and didn't judge me. That means more than anything I know how to articulate and has given me some ground to begin to stand.

Thank you.

Sincerely,

mac