Whew... thanks Sabby and Jennie... thanks for thinking through this and letting me see your perspective.

I was thinking of not hitting submit after I keyed in that post, but then decided to go ahead. In a way, I'm sorry I put it up, because it shows more and more of the way my mind works, but on the other hand, I'm glad it is posted because you guys could give me your feedback.

You're right. The shrink doesn't have to have combat experience. But we vets will still resist telling what we know. You probably already know that we have one way of telling a story to other vets and a cleaned up, sanitized, everything explained version to tell other ppl. You probably noticed that I had to drop in the (Line of Departure) in the post, explaining to those who don't know the military. That's just a mild example and a technical thing, not part of the real story.

It's probably the same with anyone that we resist telling when the person doesn't have the experience. Not unique to soldiers.

Here's a question for Jennie ... If I should be cautious about telling the "whole story" to non-combat ppl, what does that say about the stories I'm posting here? Are they too graphic? And if they are, just where can I go to tell these stories.

The combat ptsd forum mentioned in the post criticized someone for telling the story. Said they were looking for sympathy. As though a rape victim came here and just posted the story. The guy said that sympathy had no place in the ptsd arena and went on and on about it. As a newbie reading his notes, I felt like both he and I are jerks. I must be a jerk for telling the stories, and he must be a jerk for telling me that that would be a form of looking for sympathy.

That's the kind of response I would expect from a T. -- "You get no sympathy here, bub." .... WE'RE NOT LOOKING FOR SYMPATHY! We don't even want to tell these stories. We don't even want to remember the stories. We wish ...

[You can probably tell that I've deleted content here]

The only shrink I ever encountered tried to put me on a psych ward when all I needed was a little understanding, just a little.
It was all about an unqualified aide insisting that he would change my bandages, having to ask me what he should do first, what stuff he needed, and he didn't even wash his hands before reaching for my wounds ... and I refused to let him work on me. Does that sound like psych ward material to you? It was that simple.

How can we enter a forum like this and be always vigilant that we'll say the wrong thing, that we'll be politically incorrect, that what we say might sound like we're looking for sympathy? I've been silent so long that I can't even voice these things. The memory resides in my body and comes out through my finger tips as they range across the keyboard.

I don't want to hurt anyone with these stories. I already feel like a creep spilling the beans about things of honor (or dishonor - I don't know anymore).

You don't have to answer any of the questions posed here. They just had to come out. Actually, I'm on the verge of deleting all of these posts. It's way out there for me, and the permanence of it all is making me way too nervous. It often seems like it would be easier to keep the memories buried and not tell anyone, ever.