Over the last few years, one of my close friends did a tour in the Middle East with the Army. We met through a buddy that we both knew, and our friendship just seemed to click. Although we weren’t attached at the hip, there were a lot of activities we did together.
But during his deployment, we lost touch for a while. And when he returned, something seemed to have changed. He was home, but he wasn’t.
Before he left, he was a stocky, average military-looking guy; someone I could always bring by my house. My father was in the Air Force, and my friend was based in the Army camp, and although they fought under the same flag, they were constantly squabbling about all types of military related subjects.
This type of banter was quite humorous and from time to time, you’d hear a quick remark about the Air Force, and vice versa. He was one of those people who made you laugh, and always pointed out something funny, regardless if it had to do with the situation or not. After his deployment, the most noticeable and alarming change I noticed was his physical stature.
He seemed skinnier, malnourished, almost, and methodical about the choice of words he used. It was if one of my closest friends, although home, seemed removed, as if he was miles away.
Activities we would share together were distant and brisk. Someone I cared about now reminded me of someone guarded, not willing to embrace moments that were unfolding in front of us.
I wondered if he could be suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). I’d never experienced PTSD firsthand, and I’m not a doctor. I come from a military family, and none of my close relatives seemed to show signs of hopelessness or any type of detachment. When I decided to find out more about PTSD indicators and triggers, it started to become clear to me. I wondered if my friend knew something was off, after all, he had even asked me once if my father ever struggled with PTSD.
I could really see the extent of his emotional state when we sat down to play video games – something we always enjoyed doing together. He seemed to be detached from what we were doing; although it was fun enjoying a game together again, he just didn’t seem the same.
As the year passed, we tried to keep in touch as much as possible. Every once in a while, we’d spend time catching up, but there was one night where the flood gates opened. He shared his war stories with me, and some of the things he told me filled me with profound sorrow. Hearing him briefly reflect on what it was like to take a man’s life, a life that was someone’s brother, father, or husband, really resonated with me. I felt a deep sadness for my friend.
I wish I could have helped him more with the struggle he was going through. It wasn’t until recently, while looking at an article I found by a clinical practitioner at the University of New England, that I started to understand some of the things that he was going through. Although the subject matter was a little different, I could finally begin to understand what PTSD does to a person.
I wanted to reach out and help him as much as I could, and I attempted to reach out on multiple occasions. Though we never really talked about his recovery, I know it was his own volition and determination to get better that inevitably saw him through these troubling times. I am proud to have a friend who defended the country I love. Today, he has determination and the support of family and friends, and is, once again, the friend I knew.
The importance of noticing and recognizing the signs and symptoms of PTSD is immeasurable. PTSD can be a silent killer, and our service members deserve the chance to conquer the battles in their mind, just like the battles fought during their service to our country.
Today, I can proudly say my friend is finally home.