Post Traumatic Stress Disorder; why I never killed myself and what I learned about PTSD

It was May 5th 2005 and I was 28 years old living in the heart of Baghdad as a private security contractor. I had been there for a year protecting executives. With many fire fights and ambushes under my belt I knew that it was not IF I was going to get hurt, it was WHEN. You can't go into a combat zone and not expect to get injured in some way or form.

One of my thoughts on PTSD is that some people have not prepared their mind to what horrors they will see in war. 

The last years have shown that many are coming back with deep psychological issues, namely Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, which in military personnel as been linked to an unfathomable suicide rate.

The morning of May 5th my team did their morning brief. We loaded our weapons into our vehicles, did our communication checks, called for last minute intelligence reports and then headed out. One minute into our mission we were off the predetermined route, an error made by the lead vehicle. Two minutes into mission we were trying to redirect and get back on course. By the third minute we were driving into on coming traffic and headed to a round about. When we got to the edge of the round about the vehicle stopped and anyone who knows anything about conducting missions anywhere, knows you DO NOT STOP! For anyone, nor anything. But we did.

Within a second of stopping I felt the terror knowing we were going against everything we had learned. It is when I turned to the team leader to voice my disdain that I blacked out. Waking up to screams, fire and smoke, I knew what had happened. We had been hit. I cried out for a SITREP and nothing but gibberish came out. It was when I could not understand myself, that I went into shock. My brain trying to grasp why words and thoughts didn't match up.

My buddy dragged me out of the car, before it exploded, saving my life. They got me into the green zone and I ran for my life, holding my bleeding head before collapsing in the hospital.

When I woke up in Germany I knew I was injured bad. My only thoughts were "I'm injured, they will fix me and I will be back with my team in no time." The reality was that I had a traumatic brain injury from metal that had flown through the windshield and into my brain. There are five metal fragments still there. It severed my speech and left me paralyzed on my right side. I would not be returning to my team. I would not be returning to Iraq. My family was told that I had a small chance of living.

I had great doctors and my rehab began immediately. That and having a positive attitude was the difference between fighting or giving up. I never had any doubt I would get better. I was almost ignorant of any other option.

When depression did rear it's head

I never forgot that I was alive when others died.
That I had kids that I loved! At one point in the ambush, when I thought I was going to die, I lifted my head to the sky and prayed to see my kids again, just one more time. I live my life knowing that (in my heart and beliefs) my prayers were answered.

When I thought I knew it all

I decided to learn some more, about myself. Taking a hard look at yourself and realizing you have issues is the first step to dealing with those issues.