Madisgram ... you've seen this ptsd thing from many perspectives. Thanks for your heroism as a family member. I've long said that families "suffer" as much or even more than combat vets.

Just this morning, before reading your post, I was thinking about the toll combat took on my parents. They were much younger than I am now when I came back from war. I'm sure they never understood the distance I put between us, the changes in my personality, or my remote attitude and bearing.

My wife helped me survive the physical and emotional wounds and put up with me over the years through all the anger, the drinking, the crazy impulses and reactions. I have been blessed with a good, supportive family in spite of any of this ptsd stuff. More than 20 years passed before I mentioned the first thing about combat, and even then, none of the stuff that I've shared here or could tell to those who can understand it.

I pray that your son will be able to overcome these things and remain close in his relationship to you and others who matter. I'd bet that somewhere in the lower consciousness if not on the front of his mind, there is the thought that "if they know, they will hate me." I don't know what can be done about this phenomenon. I don't know whether there is anything you or your son can do about it. The words make sense to me, but back in the back of my mind, it registers as "this is what I'm supposed to say" or "I'll agree just get off the subject."

It seems that our actions would betray us, that we couldn't hide our thoughts about others hating us, but after awhile it's really pretty easy to "play the role" to "put on the right face" ... not that it feels good or that the pressure won't be released in some other way, but we know how to put on the smile and say the right things and on the inside keep thinking --

How can I get out of this conversation?
How can I get out of this group?
If they only knew how inane their remarks sound?
If they only knew how insignificant are their concerns?
If they only knew what I'm thinking about while they chatter away?
People are dying while they talk about potatoe salad?
People are dying while they complain about the weather?
People are dying while they choose ice cream flavors?

Sometimes I feel like I'm actually crazy, like I've gone over the edge, like it would be easier to embrace the craziness than to play the role. And then the thoughts of family return and my awareness that I cannot disappoint them.

The thoughts that reval themselves through the keyboard are amazing. Thanks for letting me ramble about this stuff. And thanks again for not hating the warriors.