When my husband came home from his first deployment I noticed he had changed. Due to the exposure of sarin gas and oil burning in the Gulf during chemical warfare, he developed physical and mental illness. His internal bleeding, muscle pain, terror, suspicion, jealousy, and delusions gradually increased during the ‘90’s to become almost unmanageable. After hospitalization with a dangerously low hematocrit, he received blood transfusions, and many tests, but the doctors sent us home with no answers. Over the next several years we sought medical help and the VA turned my husband down twice, in spite of plenty of available documentation about Gulf War Illness. We were sure our lives had gone terribly wrong, our marriage wouldn’t last, and our kids didn’t deserve the home environment of frequent arguing, screaming, and paranoid reactivity. Our three boys became caregivers to their own parents from the ages of six, four, and newborn. 

It’s a miracle we were sent these loving and capable children who are now grown men. They still call me right away when I text them to let them know I’m struggling. My husband is delusional every day, and I often don’t handle situations very well. I’ve learned a lot, and I’m grateful for the things we’ve discovered about ourselves, each other, and being human. We realize that nothing went “wrong,” things simply turned out differently than we expected. Our marriage is precious and I honor and admire my husband for the sacrifices he makes every day to stay with us, like resisting self-medicating, violence, reckless behavior, or suicide. Schizophrenia and PTSD are overwhelming at times and he talks about wishing he could “just die already” and “put us out of his misery.” He’s truly a hero, and our boys respect him and are proud of his service. He lived through one war to come home and fight the secondary battles. Every day we fight together as he willingly makes the other ultimate sacrifice, of living for the freedom and protection of his family and his country.