We are the forgotten. I admit I feel some solidarity of the Vietnam Veterans who have been presumed by society to be, "crazy." That is what it feels like when trying to talk to someone on the phone, begging for help, begging for answers. As much as our parents tried to find some manageable outcome as a result of the war...we are the bastard children of this mess. Combat trauma has made considerable gains in recent years. Most sites dedicated to healing children of combat veterans are made towards just that, children. We aren't children, anymore. Grown adults left untreated by a man made disaster that manifested itself in our lives. To rid the torment of childhood? To not remember the physical, emotional, and sometimes sexual abuse in the home. There is no pill for that. The glossy pretty websites dedicated to helping the "kids troops" is a constant reminder that our country will continue not to really see post traumatic stress as what it really is. When the news gives us pictures of the "welcome reunion", we know the fear. The alcoholism, drug abuse, hiding in your closet, walking on eggshells, your Mom being thrown down the stairs....the unwelcome sexual advances of a predator that doesn't remember you as a daughter.
Post traumatic stress can not be felt in textbooks or in your diagnostic statistical manual. It's felt in homes all over this country. We know the horror and we feel the war all over again, the war at home. We are skipping an entire generation of grown adults that can tell you all what it really means to grow up with post traumatic stress, the illness runs deep...as deep as the blade cuts into your skin trying to purge the demons out.
We need help. We are not children, anymore,