ABOVE: The 'King's Palace' at Kabul, Afghanistan. It'll be nice once it's finished I suspect
Hi Guys
Some of you may have noticed I'd not posted to my blog between June and November. It would have been only fair if someone had assumed I've been Missing In Action!
Well the reason is pretty simple.
I as diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder earlier this year. One of the symptoms is a lack of interest in things that use to give you pleasure, (my hobby being a casualty).
ABOVE: Me as a recruit, October 1982.
I enlisted in 1982 as a 17yr old and was allocated to the Royal Regiment of Australian Artillery. Moved through the enlisted ranks rather quickly being a Sergeant within six years and being posted to what was at the time the Army's only Medium Artillery Battery (103rd MDM BTY) equipped with 5.5inch Guns and then M198 155mm Gun Howitzers. Soon after I was posted to our only Airborne Battery, 'A' FD Battery (PARA).
BELOW: Exercise Far Canopy or Diamond Dollar in the late 80s. I can't remember which.
ABOVE: As a young Sergeant awaiting a jump with my mates.
ABOVE: Laying a M777 as RSM School of Artillery. CO firing, (as is his prerogative)For any Artilleryman this would be considered the principal of their career, and certainly not one that would be attained by a 'weak' individual. My wife noticed a change in my demeanour when I returned from Afghanistan. I'd always been a difficult man to live with, demanding high standards from all around me including my family but upon my return I now took those standards to ridiculous heights. My wife and children were reduced to walking on eggshells. My four year old daughter Mathilda in particular was weary of me. My two year old son, (who was only 10 days old when I deployed to Afghanistan) stayed close to his mum. What I considered important, even life saving, was considered by my family as simply irrational. I was reduced to only 3 hours sleep a night from the time I returned from Afghanistan, which after 18months had done nothing to help with my attitude.
My 'tolerance' levels had been shot to pieces and I wasn't suffering fools in the slightest.
Ultimately my unit doctor intervened and I was admitted to the repat hospital at Epping for 6 weeks and then placed on a 12 week outpatient PTSD program. In itself this was not an easy feat for me and was initially impossible to accept. I was a man who had only ever had approx three or four months off for sick leave over a 31 year career, and most of that was convalescing after knee surgeries. Being away from my place of work and those who depended upon me for such an extensive time was one of the hardest parts. I felt 'jack' at times and I refused to accept there was anything wrong with me and that it was all in my head. I was having my own personal struggle about it. Yet as much as I felt bad about not being at work, the thought of returning made me sick to the pit of my stomach. Luckily, I've had excellent support from my Commanding Officer and unit in general. Most critically I've had fantastic loving support from my wife and children. I'm a long way from better, but I'm getting there.
ABOVE: In Afghanistan with my mates
BELOW: Coming home from Afghanistan late 2011.
ABOVE: Why we fight. So little girls in Afghanistan can go to school. Its a good enough reason for me.