We call it a "leave of absence"

Or a sabbatical.  

We don't call it what most people might- a separation.

I've been going back and forth, trying to decide if this is something I want to share with the entire universe, because really, almost a year later, its hard for me to talk about.  But, I want to be honest.  And I want to help other spouses, and other couples, who might be quietly struggling with PTSD and feel like they are all alone.


On February 27, 2010, Randy took a leave of absence.  Because of things that had been building for almost 6 years, he decided that he just couldn't handle me, or our marriage anymore.  So he left.  


I can honestly say that Randy walking out on me- on us- is the worst thing that has happened to me, and that I have ever had to deal with.  It took almost 3 months for him to come back around and realize the things he was blaming me for weren't necessarily my fault.  They weren't anybody's fault.

In that three months we learned a lot about what we as individuals can handle, and what our marriage can handle.  I saw a counselor, who told me that what was happening wasn't my fault.  I cried... a lot.  I leaned on my friends and family harder than I probably ever have before.  

I literally felt like my entire world was crashing down around me and there was nothing I could do to control or to stop any of it.

I also did one of the scariest things I have ever done as a Marine wife.  I went to his command.  First, I spoke with the Chaplain.  When I explained to him everything that Randy was doing and how completely out of character everything was, he suggested that I go to his command-essentially, his bosses- and tell them what was going on.  This of course pushed Randy further away from me for a time, because he felt that I was trying to hurt him and his career.  He now knows that I will do anything and everything in my power to protect him- even if I am protecting him from himself. 

Randy kept telling me he was "fine", and that nothing was wrong with him.  His friends kept telling me that he "seemed fine".  He was fine, and I was overreacting. (I hate that word, and now, neither one of us are allowed to use it.  It's such a nothing word, that can mean so many things.)  

But when I sat down and made a list of all the possible triggers that could be causing this- I realized that him being "fine" was the farthest thing from the truth. 

I could trace this all back to August of 2009- six months before Randy left.  That's when a good friend of his was killed in Afghanistan.  I remember him looking at me after he got the phone call and saying "I should have been there."  After that, there were so many things that, standing alone, were completely innocent.  Piled on top of 6 years of emotions and problems and situations that weren't dealt with, they were the beginning of the end.  That Christmas, I gave him the new Call of Duty game for his Playstation.  He literally did not sleep for 3 days straight because he played that game nonstop.  I don't know if he felt like he was back in Iraq or what, but it struck me as odd at the time, but I brushed it off.  There was a suicide in the battalion, and then an attempted suicide.  Then someone he looked up to when he was younger was arrested and that person also attempted suicide.  Each event on its own would have been managable, but all of those things together, on top of so many things that hadn't been dealt with.... well, who wouldn't fall apart?

I brushed off lots of things, and at the beginning, I held myself responsible.  Why didn't I push more? Why didn't I make him talk to me more? Why wasn't I more understanding.... why, why, why.  There were so many questions swirling through my head.  Eventually though, the thoughts stopped swirling, and I had to focus on me, and taking care of myself, and what I had control over.  I had no control over Randy and his actions.  I only had control over me, and what I did next, even if what was next was as simple as eating the next meal.

I was on complete auto-pilot, and faking it to everyone around me.  There were only a handful of people that I confided in- my parents and my sister, a few friends here at Quantico, and a handful of teachers at school.  I was embarrassed, ashamed, and completely broken down.  I didn't want anyone to know that this was happening to me. 


I fought hard for my marriage last year.  Hard enough for both of us.  Hard enough for Randy to realize that I would NEVER give up on him, and ALWAYS be there for him, no matter what.  He eventually realized that he could talk to me and tell me things that I might not necessarily want to hear, but that he needed to say.  We've learned that it's easier for him to say those things when its completely dark, so he doesn't actually have to look at me.  

We fought off a lot of demons, a lot of rumors, and a lot of people that we didn't really need in our lives.  We are still fighting for that matter- but we are winning.  We've decided that PTSD is not going to beat us and bring us down.  

I don't regret a single thing that happened in that span of time- February 27- May 12, 2010.  It has made us both so much stronger.  It taught us how to communicate again, and we are actually better people because of it.  I love him more now because he eventually admitted to me he needed help- and wanted me to help him.  To me, that is such an amazing sign of strength- not weakness.  I am amazed each and every day at how strong he is, and how much he has overcome.  He could have just run away and hidden, but he chose to come back fighting.

Now, more than a year later, we are apart again.  But it's okay this time.  We are both ready and willing to take on the challenges we might face in this deployment, and after the deployment.  But we will do it together.  Randy and I make a pretty good team- and we can get through anything, as long as we have each other.