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"Once you realize that that stuff's normal, then you can identify the problem and you can work on fixing it," he said. One of the common symptoms voiced in these meetings was the sense that while soldiers were trained to keep cool in dire situations, life's minor hiccups often made them blow a fuse. "If the house were burning down, we'd be OK. But if my wife went and moved my papers somewhere and I'd been searching for 20 minutes, I'd lose my top," Bartlett said. "That's a common thing. "It's like something that really shouldn't bother you will really bother you, and something that freaks everybody else out is like normal for us," he added. "It's combat: People shooting at you is normal, bombs going off is normal. It's a different world." Group therapy gave Bartlett a comfortable venue for discussing his escalated feeling of vigilance, the nightmares and night sweats that visited him after hours, his lack of sleep and his issues with anger. And as he participated in group sessions, Bartlett also listened to himself. He realized that avoiding crowds was proving a major obstacle that was preventing him from living life normally. Though this type of withdrawal from society is a hallmark of PTSD, Bartlett's emotional challenge was exacerbated by extensive facial injuries. "You've just got to challenge yourself," he said of his decision to push himself into public. "I didn't like crowds, so I started going out into public. And, of course, with a face injury I can't wear a mask to cover up my face to hide my injuries. "I've never known a stranger," he said. "I could talk to anybody -- I've always been that way. And if this injury took away who I am, then I could no longer be me. I didn't want PTSD to beat me, because that means the guy who blew me up wins. I will not let Bartlett developed a source of motivation that might seem macabre to an outsider, but it reinforced for him the importance of using the experience as fodder to soldier on. "I have a picture of me dead on the table. I have pictures of me when I first got blown up," he said. "I look at those and remind myself where I've come from. And I look at them often." MENTORINGBartlett has since moved far beyond unburdening himself of the emotional and behavioral changes he had developed to blunt the effects of his trauma. Like his father did for him, the sergeant has reached out to fellow soldiers and steered them toward help. At Walter Reed, where he returned recently to undergo the lengthy medical board evaluation process, Bartlett is once again able to put his scout sniper skills to use. But instead of picking off insurgents in Baghdad, the sergeant has fixed his sight on wounded troops who he suspects are suffering from PTSD. He keeps his eye out for red flags: evidence of troops who are self-medicating, shutting themselves off from society, suffering from depression and those whose relationships are on the verge of dissolving. Bartlett describes to soldiers showing classic warning signs the symptoms he once had, and often they reveal that their experiences are mirroring his own. "I tell them, 'You know what, I had those [symptoms] too, and I had PTSD, bro. You should go and talk to somebody. It might be a little bit easier on you,'" said Bartlett, who is due to receive a promotion to staff sergeant this month. "I try to snipe 'em up every time," he added. "I just sniped a soldier up today." Bartlett dispels the stereotype some soldiers have of "psychiatrists in white coats tying your sleeves together." He counters their notion that visiting a counselor labels a person 'crazy,' explaining that policemen and firemen often seek mental health care following a traumatic experience in their "I hope that they do receive help and realize that they've got the amazing opportunities that were presented to me," he said. "It was definitely in my best interest to take care of my head so that I could succeed in life. |
"You can get control of PTSD, in my opinion. And life's going to go on, no matter what. You can make a positive thing out of this situation or a negative, and you get to choose which one it will become." BACK HOME AT THE PUBAs Bartlett battled through physical and emotional injuries, the bars where he worked before his Army career called on the soldier's Arizona community to help him recover. "They had a big fundraiser for me at the two Irish pubs I used to bartend at before I joined the military," he recalled. "They raised $38,000 for my family to come take care of me. I was in pretty bad shape and needed a lot of help. "That's America right there in a nutshell. In times of need, we pull together." The donations made it possible for family members to care for Bartlett and be with him during the more than 40 reconstructive surgeries he received over the following 18 months. After his first procedure, Bartlett was allowed convalescent leave to return home. At the pub, he was greeted by familiar faces, even if his own appeared different from before he left for Baghdad. "I went home and I was just thanking everybody and very overwhelmed with emotion and things like that," he said. "These are blue-collar people who don't have a lot of money, and they raised $38,000 in One person in the crowd that night was a woman Bartlett had met briefly before enlisting.
"My buddy came over to me and said, 'Hey, do you remember Jordan?'" Bartlett recalled. "I said, 'Yes,' and went over to her and told her she didn't know it yet, but I was going to kiss her in three months when the swelling in my face went down. "The next day, we went on a date," said Bartlett, who proposed marriage to Jordan shortly after their first date. "We've been together ever since. I knew after the first week that I wanted to marry her. She's just the most incredible person. She's got a heart of gold, and she's the most sensitive and caring person I've ever met in my life. She makes me such a better man." Three years later, Bartlett says his battle with PTSD has been reduced to "little bouts here and there." He points out that he no longer needs medication "I still white-knuckle a little bit when I go through those things," he said, referring to driving under bridges and overpasses, and when other motorists ride his bumper. "Now, instead of getting mad at them," he said, "I say a prayer for them and hope they get The sergeant has made such remarkable progress overcoming his obstacles, in fact, that his wife has a harder time dealing with him being in crowds then "She has a hard time. She cries every time I get on the plane," he said. "People stare at me and she gets really angry at them when they stare at me. But I'm used to it." Despite the unsettling reactions his appearance sometimes elicits, Bartlett said, he is able once again to see strangers not as enemies, but as regular people. His only request is that they see him the "If you're going to stare, that's fine. It's OK if you're working out in your head what has happened to me and why I look this way, but smile at me," he said. "There's still a human in here." (Samantha L. Quigley of American Forces Press Service contributed to this report.) |
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