Guerilla Volunteering and Pending PTSD
A Real Story About The Struggles of Living Through War
This is a highly personal post about a personal struggle of overcommitment and signs of PTSD from 2023.
Blaming others for your shortcomings or mistakes is weak. Facing them is Step One. Admitting them is Step Two. Dealing with them is Step Three. Correcting them is Step Four. My spirit was sinking deeper into the darkness, and I thought that my way to climb out was to volunteer more. I had been practicing Guerilla Volunteering since the beginning of the full-scale invasion. Basically, I jumped in and volunteered where needed, when needed. Sometimes this was signing up as an official volunteer with an organization. Other times this was simply stepping in for a task or two whenever anyone asked. I had left a couple well known NGO’s in the first year of war for reasons I don’t want to disclose. This jumping around had helped. The only place where I stayed consistent was with Grizzly and our soldiers. I stayed on because I had deeper personal relationship with him and a direct connection to men and women who were fighting, risking and losing their lives every day.
Black days and nights just followed one after another, yet I continued volunteering. Most of this was done in providing writing and editorial duties for various organizations. Deadlines always seemed to loom over me. A weight lay upon me and was crushing, driving further into a grave. Grizzly and I still spoke regularly. I don’t know when the light in my head went off or what set it off. The realization came that the weight I had was put there by me. Volunteering more only added to the stress of war.
Difficult days lay ahead as now I was faced with having to let people know I just couldn’t help any more. This process was much like triage by combat medics. First, I knew they all could survive without me but who to cut first? Instead of naming the actual organizations, I will just explain how I came to the decision. First, I cut out any organizations or people who were not actually in Ukraine. This was not easy as I really liked one organization and enjoyed the work. However, there were deadlines involved all the time which just added to the already existing war stress. Sliced it off much to their chagrin. I think they thought they really had a hook in me, but they really had no idea of the reality we face in a war zone no matter how much they want to understand. They stopped communicating altogether even when I tried to check in later. Thus, I didn’t really feel bad about it after a few months passed.
Next, I had to go through a deeper assessment of those still in Ukraine. I took a deep look at all individuals and organizations. My criteria came down to only helping those who are actively working towards military victory not information victory, not diplomatic victory. Now, I had signed an agreement with at least one of these organizations but looking through it, I found it really wasn’t legally binding. They took a while to get the message, but it finally seemed to sink in. I only wanted to help the soldiers and veterans. Not with words but with material. A woman I knew and helped had left the country after nearly two years volunteering on the front so that one went easy.
Angst had not left yet but the weight was lifting, and a ray of sunshine found its way through. A sense of guilt lasted for quite some time so that needed to dissipate before I could get back to “normal”. We make fun of that word a lot in Ukraine. There is no normal during war although at times I guess we feel “war normal”, whatever the hell that is. Time heals all wounds? I guess these wounds were not very deep. Natasha was having her own issues, so we worked on her and me together. She went to Warsaw for free trauma training sponsored by Rotary International through a grant for teachers at Pechersk School International. Natasha brought back valuable lessons which she taught me. That’s the plus of having someone you love and trust in the foxhole with you. Cobwebs of dread began to clear and some of the real work would begin later.
Being outside of it all now, this is what I discovered as a non-combatant who once served in the military. There is a code that exists within each of us. No code is still a code. My code is to do everything I can within my means to help those who are fighting or helping those who are fighting. The problem we have as non-combatants is that we must exist within the vagaries of life within a war zone. Distractions come quickly and easily. Doing more often ends up making you do less. Doing what matters must become the key. Jumping around does no one any good in life and war. You’ve got to stick to something in order to gain expertise, discipline and commitment. Guerilla warfare is one thing, guerilla volunteering just causes one to become ineffective. Although some personality types might just thrive in it. I can’t say other than from my own experience. What I can say is that it was the first step in overcoming what seemed to be a major pending case of PTSD which would have rendered me completely useless. But that was only lifting the weight, more work was still ahead.