Reading all of these encouraging and caring remarks brings tears, some choking, and low level panic. Being so emotional about kindness and caring makes me feel totally out of control and crazy.

Yesterday i was required by law to be in this group that had to wait and wait for inane leaders to make decisions. The key person actually went to sleep as things progressed. I felt like I was in a cage. Except for the extreme consequences, I would have told them how stupid these proceedings are and how incompetent they appeared. i would have walked out.

then I was in another group voluntarily and as conversation continued, I just wanted to escape. It truly felt like I was captive. I was ready to explode. But the "nice guy" buried the rage and waited out the clock to prevent embarrassing others and creating a situation I didn't know how to deal with either. years of practice give me a blank look with smiles at appropriate times. I just cannot participate in that group discussion, no matter how important the topic or how strong my opinions. i clam up and want to escape. I don't know if this is a symptom of ptsd, but it is very strong.

I have no allegiance to people in the first group. I will have to return for more of the same idiotic process, but it is for only a short duration. I will not be selected for any of the decision making process nor would I want to be included. After so many experiences of determining the fate of others, I refuse to be a part of the system that is so fickle in its judgments. And I know I have done worse than those being judged.

the second group ... these people all express warmth and kindness toward me. They don't know me, probably never will, but their efforts to include me in their "friendship" is very threatening to me. As they get to know a little of my past, the questions are very predictable and their remarks are very predictable.

i get so frustrated because I just don't care about who they know with these same experiences. i don't care about which of their relatives or friends was also in the service. and their curiosity always leads them to ask about my own injuries ... i can see the questions bulging in their eyes when I give only vague replies, answering their questions with a single word - "combat." But experience shows that if I give more information than that, the predictable string of comments follows. And i just don't care.

The very bold even persist with opposing questions to draw me out. I've told my story many times, but when the curiosity of these rude people persists, I lock up my stories and continue with vague replies. Can't they see that I'm trying to change the subject? Is fulfilling their curiosity worth the emotional wounds they open?

Not long ago someone asked the dreaded question ... "did you kill anyone?" Of course, it isn't the first time I've heard the question. And as before, they don't know what danger they are in when they do this, not so much physical danger, but they would get a touch of the emotional conflict if I opened the door to my rage at their ignorance. do they think I'd really want to befriend someone who asks such stupid questions?

My apologies for this long rambling reply. Maybe I say these things to avoid the real decision that I must face about telling the doc I need help. Your ideas about how to approach this are very helpful. i'll probably have to tell it through tears, but it makes sense to explain that I've been learning more about PTSD and think that my control of these things isn't working as well as it used to. I don't even know if ptsd is the right diagnosis, but it seems like it.

Your remark about truly being the good guy that others see feels good. I know that combat is an extraordinary environment. I know the things done in combat can be the opposite of what sane people would choose to do. I'd kind of lost sight of all of that. Recognizing this is valuable, but I don't know if it helps remove the other symptoms that recur.

Just a few days remain before this opportunity to speak with the doc. Oh, i could do it at any time before or after, but this is a scheduled appointment and it kind of gives me a deadline. Thank you for your encouragement. The fall out from such a decision could be even worse than the darkness that I keep buried. I'm unsure as to whether cleaning up my mind is worth the damage it could do to others on the way through.

I wonder sometimes whether others do see these symptoms and whether they wish i would address them. After hiding the symptoms for so long I think my seeking counseling would come as a huge surprise along with questions, attitude shifts, and suspicions that will change things forever. I still find my head shaking no, no, no as I consider whether I have the courage to open the door on all of this.

Thank you for listening. When I opened this reply my fingers wanted to type only one thing ... a long scream. Wandering through these thoughts has calmed that feeling. I'll hit post and step back into my world of masks and acting.