Pastor with PTSD

I awoke this morning from another night of war.

Last night, in my dreams, I fought hand to hand with the enemy; I got blown up by an IED; and I had to take command of a hopelessly scattered and confused unit while under fire. Such dreams for me are both exhilarating and terrifying. Though I came home from Iraq in December of 2008, the hauntings of my stay there still ambush me every now and again.

God has placed a huge burden on my heart to reach out to combat veterans, and their loved ones. Reintegrating into society can be confusing and difficult, and occasionally overwhelming.

I’m a combat veteran. I’m a pastor. I went from Captain Palmer, to Reverend Palmer. I’m not an expert on the psychological effects of war, just a survivor who lives with them. I am also a trained pastoral counselor, and a firm believer in the power of Jesus. I hope this post will be helpful to everyone who wants to know a bit more about what PTSD is like, and how (I have found) to live with it.

Be assured, no matter our war experience, we can find peace with God; and ourselves. I’ll break it into six easy parts.

1. The Causes of PTSD are Different for Each Person

PTSD is caused by trauma. Everyone has their own threshold for what their mind can tolerate. I saw no less than 3 soldiers, in my unit, go legit crazy before deployment. For them, the terror of the unknown deployment was just too much to handle. For some, it’s the 12-15 months of knowing you could die at any moment. Others have an actual event; like seeing a friend die violently, getting blown up, getting shot, shooting someone, or other harrowing events.

For me, one event that has never left the old brain pan was a night when we got rocket/mortar attacked. I can still remember hearing the explosions just a few seconds apart, and realizing that the shells were coming in on the Forward Operating Base. I sprang off the bed, snatched my rifle off the wall, screamed, “Let’s go Gunny!” (My roommate) and shot out the door into a bunker.

Fast as lightning.

I was the first to the bunker and so screamed, “INCOMING!” So that everyone would know to get into a bunker quick. The hair on the back of my neck was raised, I was breathing hard, and started helping yank other soldiers into that dark bunker. I was waiting for the inevitable explosion that would end my life.

I well remember my platoon sergeant scolding another platoon sergeant for using a flashlight to check for her troops. I laughed so hard when I found out he wasn’t worried so much about light discipline, it was because he had his pants off when the rockets came screaming in. He was in the bunker, using the darkness to cover his tighty-whiteys.

Thing is, nobody knows what their threshold is until they get past it. Nobody picks the way their body and mind will react to the trauma.  

2. PTSD Manifests Differently for each Person

When all is said and done, PTSD is the inappropriate application of emotion. Some people feel numbness when they know they should be deeply moved. Some people intensely weep for no apparent reason. Some feel an uncontainable rage. Some are triggered into fight mode. Some, flight mode.  There seems to be only one unifying emotion for us: shame.

Imagine with me for a moment.

During all those days of deployment you take hope in that magical moment of being reunited with your family. You have a sort of Disney picture in your mind. When it actually happens, you can imagine why you would feel shame—as you hold your kids for the first time in a long time; and can’t feel anything. You look into your wife’s eyes, as she weeps for joy at seeing you. You don’t feel anything for her.

Imagine driving your family to church. You hit a little gridlock, and start a stream of angry profanity because you feel an intense sense of danger. You can’t help this onslaught of feelings, it is totally overwhelming. The look of disappointment on your wife’s face, the fearful glances of your kids in the back seat; it makes you feel ashamed.

Imagine being in a fancy restaurant on a big date with your wife. You’re all dressed up, and so is she. Outside, the exhaust of a passing car backfires. The sound makes you dive onto the floor, dishes clattering after you. Your wife is embarrassed, everyone is looking in shock. Shame.

Perhaps most importantly, is that many combat veterans do not recognize the manifestations of PTSD. They believe that something is wrong with them. The belief is they have something to be ashamed of. PTSD is their fault.

3. There Seem to be a lot of Fakers

Don’t get me started. I can’t tell you how many people I have met who love to throw around the PTSD label to excuse crazy behavior. The behavior that’s crazy isn’t the stuff I’ve just discussed.

They won’t get a job because they have PTSD. They won’t take a bath because they have PTSD.  They love to tell wild lies about their war experience (if they even had any) to gullible kids because they have PTSD. They can’t be held accountable for anything in their life because they have PTSD.

I can’t stand those people. God help me.

I really don’t want to be crazy. I don’t want people to think I’m crazy. I just want to have a normal life. Most combat veterans I know, the ones who really went through hell, do their best to be well-adjusted, responsible people. They certainly don’t want to be identified with the Fakers. Neither do most veterans. They’d rather just be left alone.

4. Making Sense of What Once was Good Soldiering

Ever heard from your loved one, “You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there!”

The comment is designed to push you out. Believe me. I’ve had these conversations, and I reply, “Yes. Yes I have.” The very next move of my conversation partner is usually to compare notes with me, and find some way in which his (or her) experience was different from mine. Then repeat, “You wouldn’t understand.”

The trouble isn’t that friends and family can’t make sense of what happened to the combat vet. The trouble is that the combat vet can’t make sense of what happened. PTSD is an emotional misapplication, not a logical one. It doesn’t make sense. So the veteran assumes that the real problem is outward, and not inward.

If everyone in the world understood exactly what the veteran went through, PTSD would still be disorienting to the veteran; because they can’t make sense of it themselves. If you are a loved one, just be patient with your veteran. Keep gently trying. Don’t expect your veteran will just open up once, have a good cry, and then be over it. It takes a lifetime of support, but it does get better.

And if you’re the veteran: talk. Talk about good and bad experiences as much as you can, and when you can. It really doesn’t matter if someone else experienced what you did. Talk.

What we call PTSD in civilian life, we called “Being a Damn Good Soldier” in military life. Each of the above “over reactions” in #2 of this blog, would have saved lives and gotten the mission completed.

The inability to feel is an amazing gift from God on the battlefield. Hollywood gets it wrong on all those war movies; nobody is sitting in a corner crying about their friend being shot. Not till later. A Good Soldier doesn’t let personal feelings get in the way of getting the job done.

You’re muting out that junk and trying to do your job. Good Soldier.

You noticed the blocked route and started communicating with all the other members of your team. You were loud and forceful about it. Had it been in war, and not the route to church, your commanding officer would have had the time necessary to get an alternate route. Good Soldier.

While everyone else is craning their neck around, looking for the source of the backfire, you were on the ground. Good Soldier. You would be alive, they would be dead, had that been the start of an ambush. You would have had time to react while bullets were flying above your head. Good Soldier.

Being a good Soldier doesn’t go away overnight. It takes a while to allow your emotional ability to grow back into Father, Husband, Co-worker mode. Don’t worry.

5. Trigger Happy

I’ll give you the top two things I discovered that revolutionized the way I handle PTSD.

First, I learned what my triggers are. For instance: someone jumping from around the corner and yelling “BOO!” isn’t fun for me. It also isn’t fun for the person getting punched in the face, either. I don’t do haunted houses, or stuff like that. Being unbearably hot is not good for me. It makes me feel like I’m trapped in my Kevlar kit, SAPPI plates and all, just waiting to get shot. Summer months are indoors, in the AC, or at the river. I don’t watch much UFC anymore; it tends to give me violent dreams. Staying away from triggers, or at least knowing what they are, and then mitigating them; is the first step.

Second, I realized that caffeine and alcohol are big contributors to sensitizing me to those triggers. Many veterans actually try to use these substances to help them. Caffeine amps up feeling something when feelings are numb, and alcohol numbs feelings when they’re overwhelming.

I don’t think there is anything wrong with coffee or beer. In fact, they are some of the more delicious treats in my life. But, it turns out that medication, at best, helps to cover up symptoms. It can’t solve the problem. Understanding when PTSD is manifesting, and using self-control is the only way (I have found) towards mastery. Caffeine and alcohol actually lower self-control.

6. The Terror of War can Lead to Peace with God

You’ve gotten my perspective as a former Soldier. Now get my perspective as a pastor:

When dealing with the disorientation and embarrassment of PTSD, we can anchor our souls into the love and truth of God. We are assured that God understands. He is the designer of our bodies and minds, God knows what we need.

Mostly, we need a mental shelter; a home for our souls. I take great refuge being lost in worship music, music that praises and adores God for being God. When my own reality is warped, twisted, full of anger or fear, or awash in shame; I can always look to God and be lost in His steady and unchanging grace. Most people don’t even know that I struggle with PTSD. Worship lets me cope.

What a medicine! God doesn’t need me to be whole in order to be God. He doesn’t need me to have all my wounds healed to love me. God’s grace has been poured out, and I can let go of terror, even when I’m triggered, and trust in Him.

My message to fellow veterans, friends, and family alike, is that the love of Christ is not fake. It is not a crutch. There is real healing for those who want it. There is redemption for those filled with shame. God’s love through the person of Jesus Christ actually walks us through the darkest time. If you are lost, or in addiction, and need to mend the wounds of war: I invite you to taste the true Medicine.

For we who are left without a guiding presence in our lives, without an anchor in the storm, without a covered place in the dust storm: God is the only real answer.

Consider this passage of Scripture, if you will:

“The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures.

He leads me beside still waters.

He restores my soul.

He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

You anoint my head with oil;

My cup overflows.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

                                -Psalm 23

Prayer turns something on. It changes something. Talking with God about the stuff in our hearts, in our past, and in our future actually changes who we are. Prayer itself is effective for us, but we are assured that our prayers are actually heard by God. He listens, and our prayers cause Him to respond with care and grace towards us. This is perhaps the very best, and most sure-fire way a family can be supportive of their veteran.

God’s peace on you and your families,

Reverend Palmer

Rocky Path to Christian Maturity

Challenges of Life

Occasionally I find myself challenged by something in life. The Bible calls such challenges, “trials.” On such occasions, I like to think of myself as the kind of guy who rises to the challenge, overcoming adversity and problems by strength of character and will.

Sadly, the way I like to think of myself is hardly the truth. Truth is, I try to wiggle out of the challenge first and foremost. Show me the problem; and I’ll show you how a true professional escapes the reality of having to deal with it. Denial and busyness help me to avoid most every trial.

If the wiggling doesn't work, I get frustrated by the problem, and perhaps anyone else standing around. Why me? Why now? Not fair! This is all your fault! (And yes, I mean you.) I let myself believe that God isn't letting me go through a trial; He’s trying to tell me that my location isn't ideal. I don’t need to change [cough!], the problem is environmental. I’m not the problem, everything around me is. Perhaps a change of scenery will help me around the actual trial.

If I finally realize, despite my best efforts, that I have to address the problem, and that the problem is in me; I quickly get overwhelmed by the task at hand. I just don’t think that I can do it. It’s too hard. I’m too tired. I got better things to do. You know the drill.

Then I decide to fix it. I face the music. Finally, I come to the end of myself. I make the decision. I’m gonna change.

I don’t actually do anything about it, I just decide that I’m ready to fix this thing, and then go take a metaphorical nap. (Yep, I’m going to start working out again. There, that feels better. Now, to catch up on some Facebook…)

The last stage is to actually fix the problem, address the issue, or grow up. And, instead of waltzing my way through; I find myself grotesquely lurching from pothole to pothole, falling into every pit along the way, and generally making a mess of everything.

Sometimes, I see the thing through; solely on the grace of God.

As I look behind me, I can see the road of my life littered with countless failures. I can see the ruined opportunities, the half-successes, and the occasional still-standing monuments to vain striving. I can see the giant holes in the ground that I have nearly broken my neck falling into, and perhaps pieces of me are still lying around at the bottom. Unfortunately, there are also people I hurt along the way, as I desperately tried to claw my way out.

Trials! Are you Crazy!

You could see why a guy like me would question the sanity of God, when He decides to put me through a trial. God, is my struggling and stumbling just that enjoyable for You?

I commiserate with any reader who grids their teeth a little as James 1:2 is read: “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds...” It feels like most of my testing just makes me look like an idiot. Yipee.

I think we have the right to ask of God, “Why would you put me through something that we all know I’m not very good at?”

Could it be that God’s primary aim is not making me look good?

Changing the Picture

If we read just another verse, a new picture begins to form. “Count it all joy, by brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete lacking in nothing.(James 1:2-4)”

The undisciplined Christian life is not a Christian life at all.

“It is for discipline that you have to endure. God is treating you as sons. For what son is there whom his father does not discipline? If you are left without discipline, in which all have participated, then you are illegitimate children and not sons. (Hebrews 12:7)”

“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him.(James 1:12)” As it turns out, the trials make us people of endurance; steadfast and unmoved by storms.

Trials indeed are a pit. It seems that God has pushed us headlong into them. But, when a pit is filled with His grace, it becomes a bathing place. We are washed over by His Spirit, grace, and unending love and peace. Not a bad place to be. Honestly, I’d rather be in a warm bath than walking around.

Occasionally, God brings someone else along and into the same pit, and we have the opportunity to help them see that it isn't a pit at all, it’s a Grace-bath.

The trials aren't about God getting mad at our behavior, and trying to bring correction; they are about moving through really hard situations with us. Perhaps James 4:7-8 says it best, “Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you.”

I think our trials are less about getting stronger (though certainly they can do that), and more about getting closer to God, and further from evil. I’m only stumbling around from pothole to pothole, pit to pit, because I forget that Jesus is next to me all along. In remembering that; I am able to walk with Him. Perhaps He is lurching alongside me, laughing at how crazy we both must look: me for the wobbly knees, and He for matching me step for step, insisting that I lean on Him. The hard trial is seen through by the extra closeness of Christ.

No trials, no desperate need for Jesus. Simple as that.

If we indeed desire God earnestly, then we find joy in the hard places of life: they give a deeper intimacy with God. God is not a meanie. He is not looking to lay us low out of spite. He is looking to create hard situations that we walk through together. He gives more grace, not less. While my past may be littered with failures, it is also flooded with the grace of God, and the strength of Christ. When I get stuck in a pit of trouble, He is sure to pour in His grace until I am floating in it.

And There’s the Key

The actual maturation process that God calls us to is not something that can be accomplished. It isn't something to check off a list. Wait. Let me repeat.

Christian maturity is not something we can do.

Christian maturity is something that we discover in the process of succeeding and failing, as long as we are doing it with Jesus. Christian maturity isn't so much about how good we are at life; how good we are at not sinning, or how easily we walk along life’s road. It’s more about clinging to Jesus Christ. The trials God puts in our life are not to make us better at doing hard things, they are to make us closer with Him. When we get closer to Him, and rely on Him more; we certainly get better at doing hard things.

Now I think we can come to the same conclusion: failure isn't failure when you do it with God. Success isn't success if you do it without Him. Trials are for needing God more, not needing Him less. So, we consider the discipline of growing up a real pleasure, as it brings us closer to Christ’s grace and peace. And for goodness sake, if you are stuck in a pit of trouble, pray (and have others pray) that God would turn it into a Grace bath.