Dear Diary,
As I sit here, reflecting on my experiences at the domiciliary, I can't help but feel a surge of frustration and injustice. While my fellow veterans seem to effortlessly navigate the process of establishing their benefits, my claim remains stuck in a seemingly endless cycle of assessments, evaluations, and appeals.
It's been four years, four agonizing years of waiting, hoping, and dreading. Four years of carrying the weight of witnessing a young soldier's suicide, a memory that has haunted me since I was a mere 18-year-old soldier myself.
The VA's reluctance to acknowledge my struggles is a constant reminder of the stigma that surrounds mental health issues, especially among veterans. I've been told to "man up" and move on, as if my pain is insignificant, as if my struggles are a figment of my imagination.
But I know better. I know that the loud noises, the constant fear, and the overwhelming need to please everyone are not just normal reactions to life. These are symptoms, symptoms of a trauma that has been deeply embedded in my psyche for decades.
I deserve better. I deserve to be heard, to be validated, and to receive the help that I so desperately need. I deserve to have my claim processed fairly and expeditiously, not subjected to this endless limbo of uncertainty.
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