Anti-Depressants, a warning for ANYONE with PTSD

I returned from Iraq like any normal homecoming, I was on a plane for a very long time. I stunk, I was dirty and tired. I hadn't shaved or slept since I was in Fallujah, I was on a straight shot home. Being recalled, I was attached to a national guard unit so there was no formal homecoming, but it was nice to be home.

I was fine for a few months. I had a son on the way, I was home, I couldn't find a job. But we had money saved up and I had chores to do.

And then things began to change, I began to change. I started to close doors, and be unable to rest if they were open. I would get up in the middle of the night and check all the doors and locks. Windows had to be closed, blinds drawn. I began to have issues driving, the radio stations that were there before were gone. Builds had been torn down and new ones built.

I had become a man out of time, with odd ticks and weird habits. My wife at the time made it a point to take me to the VA to get checked out.

The VA, after some time and some hassle, prescribed me some pills. And that is when the real adventure began.

I took them faithfully, and the blinds could be open. But other issues arose, darker feelings crept in and planted roots. Thoughts of suicide and death were always with me. I wasn't sleeping, I wasn't happy, and I was watching the distance between my loved ones and myself grow greater. I began to grow cold. Colder by the day, I became angry and frustrated. I was confused all the time, I would cry at random times or when I drank alcohol.

Alcohol made it worse.

I would get so mad that I would have to leave and go for a walk because I knew I was going to lose it. Over silly things like small married couple squabbles. I would shake with rage, as sweat would pour down my face. Thoughts of death and suicide would fill my mind, and it was all I wanted. All I needed.

One time, I found myself standing on a bridge. In the middle, I peered of the edge and watched as the cars zoomed under me. I stood there with tears streaming down my face, through my blurred vision I saw a way out. I saw a way past all the pain, and rage and fear, and confusion. I saw it all, and it made sense. I had to jump, I had to just walk off into the sun.

I reached for the sun as it set over the ocean, I swung a leg over and then the other. I sat on the warm metal railing, tears streaming, a smile on my face, and my last sunset warming my soul for, what I thought, was the last time.

My phone rang and rang, and rang. Slowly it drew me back. In a haze, I answered it and listened. At first I was motionless, resolute and at peace. My mind had given up, my body was willing, but the voice was insistent. It would not go away, it continued to pull me out of my own world.

It was my father, he was checking in on me, seeing how I was doing. I pulled away from the edge of the bridge, and drifted above the fog that had taken me. I stumbled home and went to the ER.

I was later informed that anti-depressants can actually make PTSD symptoms worse for some people. I was not a risk factor when prescribed because I had no prior medical flags.

Please use caution and seek medical advice if anything seems off if you start taking medication for PTSD. Do not become 1 of the 22.