My Story – Tim DeWolf

I served in the United States Marine Corps from 1966 through 1969.  I served in Vietnam with the 2^nd Battalion 9^th Marine Regiment 3^rd Marine Division from October 1967 through December 1968.

I spent my time in Vietnam in Quang Tri Province and although my MOS was radio-telegraph I was assigned to the Tactical Air Control Party as a Forward Air Controller.  In simple English I carried a radio and was tasked with running med-evacs (with corpsmen), resupply, ground control for air strikes and most often and most importantly worked with the small fixed wing aircraft used as spotters.  These often flew over and around us while in the field on operations outside of fixed bases.  We called them Bird Dogs.

I was issued a Purple Heart for being wounded and had malaria while deployed.  The incidents and experiences of my tour were not exceptional when compared to others who served in the times and places where I served.

I returned home with mixed feelings – wanting to go back to RVN and wanting to get out of the USMC.  During my tour there had been a sexual revolution, a music revolution and a cultural revolution that had left me behind but made me want to catch up.

I didn’t speak of my service in the USMC.  I went to work for the company I had worked for before enlisting.  I was restless so I took the test to become a Police Officer.  I needed excitement or challenges and this seem to fill the bill.

I found that sought out risky assignments or calls and often was in fights during arrests.  I was injured and forced to medical retirement.  I became a respiratory therapist and quickly advanced to management, then sales and finally owning my own small company.

I changed jobs often because despite a solid performance I didn’t like being around people.  More than that I seemed to resent having to be around them.  I sensed I was different and my values didn’t mesh with my perception of the values of those around me.

I became very judgmental of others and held myself to an extreme set of ethics.  The progression (in retrospect) was slow but persistent and eventually depression and ideas of suicide became my obsession.

Most people would have found me outgoing and energetic – unless they had to spend extended periods of time with me.  It was then that I couldn’t put on the public face and my stamina for maintaining the look of normalcy would begin to fail.

I never used drugs or alcohol to escape.  I read and I wrote and in the last years before diagnosis I looked up friends from the Marines and went to reunions.  This seemed to hold me in place for awhile – it was comforting to meet so many comrades that read the same books, thought the way I did and had similar experiences.  I began to say that we were all on the same highway and it was only the mileposts that were different.

My fall through the rabbit hole of PTSD was about 2001.  I was no longer in control of my emotions or moods.  I had changed jobs so many times I started my own company but eventually went back to work for a regular paycheck.

Flashbacks and visions of things I knew couldn’t be there became a part of my life.  I had thoughts I couldn’t control (the VAMC calls them intrusive thoughts) and small inconveniences were treated like major crisis.  Losing a set of car keys or a receipt would ruin not only a morning but a day or a week.  I might destroy furniture or anything in my anger while looking for something.  I began to isolate and became reclusive.  I began to seriously plan my death and seldom went more than a few hours without considering how to die and make it look an accident.

My wife came home one day to find me standing in the garage and incapable of speech.  I was admitted to the VA Hospital and signed a contract not to hurt myself while in their care.  I spent about 6 weeks as an inpatient and began drug therapy and group and individual counseling.

I was eventualy released to the day hospital and spent 8 hours a day 5 days a week in kind of a graduate program for PTSD.  This lasted a little over a month and then I was on my own.  I lost my job while in the hospital and applied for VA benefits and Social Security benefits – it was a hard thing to do.

Very slowly I returned to my life but not to work.  I was provided a VA pension and some benefits but they were not as important as regaining my health.  It took more than a year to become active in my family and community but I realize I will never be able to work in my field again.

I have stayed in counseling and I have been admitted one more time for a brief period.  I have made charities my work now and I am quite successful.  The only thing my past life has in common with my life now is that most people who meet me would never know I have PTSD and struggle with ideations of suicide.

My family stuck with me and we are happier now than before.  I doubt that life has been fair to my wife or children but they stuck by me and the most I can say for them is that I provided physical comforts including a home and education for them.

Why do I consider myself a success – because I know that no matter how bad today may seem it is largely an illusion created by the way a person with PTSD processes information.  If I can wait but a few hours or a single day longer things will have changed.  I have made a positive impact on others with my charitable work and have guided others to seek treatment.

Why do I think I developed PTSD?  It isn’t because my experiences were unique or extremely violent.  It is only my belief but in my encounters with veterans with combat PTSD I believe the difference is that they accepted some responsibility for the outcomes of those incidents.  If they had done things a little different, been a little quicker, a little smarter or made a different decision – then the outcome would have changed.

Each day I have a chance to make the world a better place to be for myself and for others.  Each day I can do something I want to do – so if you see me on my motorcycle give me a big wave and know for now I have this licked.