PTSD and the Trail

My back was bothering me again today, and I knew the 42-pound pack wouldn't help. I went back and forth whether to just hike a shorter day, but then someone started a big fire in the pit here, and all of the crowd that was here last night moved on. The peace and quiet that remained convinced me to just stay put and dry my clothes and gear over the fire. Just birds, and a light wind and the sound of Forest snoring. This is the first time I've really relaxed in a long time. I think I will catch up on some sleep.

I've been thinking a lot about how to explain why I am here, and why the Trail and hiking in general are so important to me, and why I choose to reveal myself only under a trail name, with no photographs of myself. I don't often like to talk about myself or my service-connected disability. It's never the goal of a soldier to be in the spotlight. I am doing this now because being able to write it down without fearing judging or pitying looks makes it easier.

I have a severe case of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), brought on by bad stuff that happened to me during the war in Iraq. I won't go into any details regarding exactly what happened to me (only a very small circle of individuals that I love and trust know), but suffice it to say that I have suffered from haunting nightmares, severe anxiety attacks and debilitating paranoia ever since that time in 2003. I stuffed it down for years; I've been to the very bottom depths of depression that almost ended my life not once, but twice; and I've been addicted to pain medications thrown at my condition by the VA, without any attempt to heal what was broken. I don't want your pity; it's just a fact, and whether you believe in PTSD or not is nothing to me. This is just my story.

I credit my wife and two very important organizations for my even being able to consider that a more healthy future is possible:

• Project Healing Waters Fly Fishing for reminding me of the peace and relaxation that comes with fly fishing and being outdoors in general on a day like today. The men and women who run and volunteer for this organization gave me and other veterans a nonjudgmental sanctuary, where we could find camaraderie with like-minded individuals in a nonthreatening environment.

• Canines for Service for giving me the gift of a service dog that has been specially trained to mitigate PTSD and help me when I am in pain, whether it be physical or emotional. This organization rescues dogs thrown away at shelters, and then uses them to rescue damaged people like me.

(Information on both of these organizations is available via the links provided at the top of the right navigation bar for this blog. I encourage you to give generously to these causes.)

Forest. How do I do this animal justice? When I first went to Wilmington, NC, to be trained to work with him (because it is 100% a team effort, and I had to be up to the challenge as much as he was), I had high hopes, but really didn't understand what to expect as far as PTSD support. He helped me get up from the floor, helped me take my jacket off, got bottles of water out of the refrigerator for me, loaded the laundry and unloaded the dryer, and retrieved items as small as dimes and as heavy as 10 pounds. Cool, right? What I really didn't immediately get the impact of were the softer skills. How he would rise up on my lap and just be held for as long as I needed him. How he would curl into me and press himself into my body if I sat on the floor, or laid on the bed. How he would circle me to gently push people out of my personal space. How he would eventually be so in tune with me that he would recognize that my nightmares were not normal, and would slam himself into me to wake me up (subtlety has never been his strong suit...LOL). How he realized I was upset on the phone one day, and took the phone out of my hand and buried it under a rug. He is an old soul, a bit of a clown, and I am grateful for him every day.

I tell you about all of this not to make you pity me or hear you say, "What a good boy!" I tell you this because it is so important for you, and everyone in the world we live in, to understand fully why it is so critical that no one distracts Forest (or any legitimate, trained service dog) while he is working. You may not notice the faraway blank look in my eyes when a loud explosion or shout takes me back to Iraq and makes me want cover. You may not be aware that anger is building under my calm exterior and about to blow. You may not see the anxiety start to build and threaten to send me screaming out of a building. But you can see me petting Forest, you can see Forest leaning on me, you can see Forest suddenly get up and lead me toward the nearest exit. This is the easiest way for you to understand how important he is to my life and how critical it is that he remains focused on me and only me.

I posted a video recently where I spoke about me working when we are on the Trail, and Forest working when we are in towns. If it were not for Forest, I would not be able to speak to strangers easily. If it were not for Forest, I would not be able to walk into restaurants and order food. If it were not for Forest, I would not be able to go into a store and speak with salespeople about hiking gear. If it were not for Forest, I would never ever be able to go into a Walmart (well...maybe no loss there). If it were not for Forest, I would not be able to lie down in our tent, surrounded by 20 to 30 other tents. If it were not for Forest, I would not be able to lie down in a bunk, listening to the snores of strangers. Forest earns his keep and his place forever in my heart every moment that we are in town. I am so lucky that he is with me on this journey and that he has taken to hiking like a fish to water. This dog has a huge heart.

People have wondered why I am on the Trail. Many thought I was going simply to run away...to hide from civilization and just be alone. Most don't realize that there are thousands of people on the Trail right now; if I wanted solitude, it's the last place I would look at the moment. I needed to hike this hike because the hardest thing for me to do is still to be surrounded by strangers, in strange places, separate from my family that I love and at the same time do not want to forever be a crutch for me. I needed to hike this hike to be a better husband, to be a better father, to be a better person and, maybe just maybe, to begin to heal at least a little.