The PTSD Monster Part 1: Initial Onset

This blog is not going to be going in any particular order. That's too taxing, and allows for the you to skip right to the end. Rather, E5E is going to be a hodgepodge of posts. I will post things that come to me as I remember them. This post, this one I have been holding off of for a long time. I hope it provides some insight to those who don't understand PTSD. I'll be chopping it into parts as to not have one long post, allowing you time to go to the lobby and grab yourself a snack. **WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS**

July 4th, 2003. I had been home from Iraq a month. Thank God me and my guys made it back all in one piece. I told them "Once I get all of you guys home safe and sound then I'm done." It was be a little while longer until my EAS (End of Active Service) in December, so I just need to ride these few months out, then I'm outta here. I wasn't included on any of the upcoming field ops, so that was a good thing, but, since I was in the rear (with the gear) I got my fair share of barracks duty.
Nothing to heavy, split times with the A-Duty, get some rest when you can, and ALWAYS keep the duty binder with you. Not gonna get my ass reamed and screwed over cause some asshole wants to take the duty binder when the I step away from the desk to take a leak. No, the binder stays with me. Somehow they got a t.v. with cable up and running in the lounge. One of those things to boost morale. We weren't too happy when we were uprooted back in the end of 2000 from the barracks up on the hill. They were the ones with the two man rooms and the shared bathroom. Apparently the grunts deserved them more than we did, so we ended up taking their dilapidated shithole of a barracks down by the company office. Four non-nco's to a room, two to a room for nco's (thank goodmess for the two up on my collars), and a fucking community restroom and shower. Paint peeling, furniture in disrepair, this was some serious bullshit. We made the best of it. Shit, I mean THEY made the best of it, once I hit sergeant I was outta there! Moved on in to the sergeant barracks two building over. It was like a bachelor pad. I remember walking down the hallway in just boxer, smoking a cigarette, on my way to the laundry room. It was sweet.
Anyway though, I was on duty, there was a t.v. to watch, everyone else except for a few bodies was out in the field, and not even the staff-duty or officer-of-the-day were gonna come through.  Hell, they're probably in the regiment watching t.v. too.  Smoke, make rounds, eat snacks from vending machine, watch some t.v., rinse, repeat.

July 4th, 2003. I had been home from Iraq a month. I felt fine. I was living off-base with my girlfriend in Carlsbad. We had a nice little one bedroom place we were renting. $1400 a month. Only now can I look back and see how ridiculously high that price is, but hey it's California, and it's off-base, giving me that bit of freedom that I felt I needed.
We had just purchased a new computer earlier that day and I was setting it up in the bedroom, right by the window. All those wires and disks seemed complicated then. Now I can do that shit with my eyes closed. I'm down on the floor hooking this thing up when all of a sudden, softly, but still loud at the same time I hear, "pop...pop....p-pop..." The hair on the back of my neck and arms stood straight up. My skin was covered in goosebumps. I'm sure I resembled one of those scared black cats that hang out on the Halloween witch's broom. Everything went into slow motion... as the carpet of the room became the harsh dirt and sands of Iraq,...then stopped.
I was standing by the sliding glass doors, my back to the wall. The vertical blinds were closed. I very carefully peeked between the slats, not touching them, and not in a position where I would be able to cast a silhouette of my location. Through the blinds I saw a ball of light explode into a hundred smaller ones, then another. Reds, yellows, blues, greens, purples, whites illuminating the night sky. I breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn't followed me home.

Everything in my mind in regards to this comes and goes. Some days I can remember a lot, other days I don't want to remember. It seems like a dream. I try to convince myself that it all was a dream. That shit never really happened. It seems so distant from where I am now. Yet, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach as my mind takes me back there. Screaming in my face "THIS IS YOU! THIS IS VERY REAL! HERE... YOU... WILL... DIE!"