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By Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D.

Once upon a time there was a very young boy who lived an incredibly difficult childhood. He was the oldest son of a family of five children – two younger sisters, one brother and a step brother. At eleven years old he became homeless, kicked out of his family by an abusive father. Drinking and beatings by his dad were endured on a regular basis.  For five years he lived on the streets until he was old enough to join the army (1956-1965).  Being of Navaho Indian decent, Vince the Prince was a fledgling warrior, and warriors always fight with perseverance and courage.

However, the trauma of his early childhood experiences followed him into the military. He was always in trouble, and believed he would get shot, knifed, or killed in prison. Life was pretty hopeless. Anger often consumed him, a normal coping mechanism many children of abuse use to mask their pain and unpredictable daily circumstances. But, Vince the Prince was a survivor, often called a “smart ass”. Being tough kept him alive, and being enraged kept him “feeling”.

How does a person ever survive such a life? According to Vince the Prince in 1970 he found faith in the spirit of the Lord, and this discovery saved him. Talking with him was pretty amazing as he could quote scriptures from the Bible better than most clergy. His personal commitment to the Lord handed him the hope that he lacked in his younger years and offered him a purpose in how he would live the rest of his life. In 1973 Vince was ordained as a street Evangelist.  His parishioners were those confined to the jails and prisons in Chicago. He worked with the street people offering kindness, optimism, and faith. Having this new mission made him think of others before himself. He was no longer in the survivor mode, but in a vocation of serving those who, like him in his early years, were crushed by life experiences far beyond the control of a young boy. In 1983 he even completed his GED after having only a fifth grade education.  Yep, pretty darn remarkable.

I asked him at the end of one of our conversations “What has been your greatest lesson?”  His response, “No matter who or what you are, in God’s eyes you are precious.” And, ‘When all else fails turn to Jesus.”

Vince the Prince continues to work with young teens, many who are homeless like he was in his early years. Who better to understand their struggles, their fears, and their despair? Who better to provide a sense that no matter how dire your circumstances may seem there is always hope and that hope can lead to a miraculous future. Living life with purpose and a wicked sense of humor make Vince the Prince a very special human, indeed.

(I recently spent a week with Vince at a remote fishing camp in Canada called Rushing Wind. Tony and I were invited to work with veterans who have experienced the effects of combat and are finding ways to heal from the wounds of war.)

 

 

Listen peacefully to the wild call of the Loon.

 

 

 

 

By Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 TED (Technology, Entertainment, Design) is a global set of conferences run by the private non-profit Sapling Foundation, under the slogan “Ideas Worth Spreading”.

 

It continues to be an overly busy few months.  We are waiting for things to slow down a bit, yet, as soon as we are done with one “To Do List” another pops up with an even bigger task sheet.  It begs the question as to whether we are really that harried, or if we are more easily exhausted because we aren’t all that youthful any more.  OK, don’t go to that disheartening place.

 

A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to do a TED Talk at Colorado State University where I’m a professor in the Education College. Of course my topic was Post Traumatic Stress. After months of putting together the talk and multiple practice sessions, the day finally arrived. Truthfully, when I was first accepted as a speaker I was quite excited. As the day for the TED event grew closer I became more anxious.  It wasn’t the fear of talking in front of large groups of people – we do that often.  It was trying to fit twenty years of research and essential information into a fifteen minute timeframe that drove me to panic. This was more like the old television show, Name That Tune, in which the contestant was given only the first three or four notes of a song and expected to know its name; a seemingly impossible task for discussing Post Traumatic Stress and its effects on the brain, body, and spirit.

 

As I entered the stage area I felt like Katniss from the Hunger Games, going into a life and death battle without the proper equipment. You will have to listen to the talk (the information is in this blog), to see the results.  Be sure to go to watch the very end for a surprise appearance of our service dog, Bailey.  Tony, unbeknownst to me, brought him to the event and sent him up on stage at the very end of my talk.  OMG!!!!

 

Ted Talk: 15 minutes worth hearing!

Understanding PTSD’s Effects on Brain, Body, and Emotions | Janet Seahorn | TEDxCSU – YouTube

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=BEHDQeIRTgs

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

It is January 2016 – another New Year. Where I live in Colorado and Wyoming the ground is covered by a layer of fresh snow. The brilliant white blankets the landscape with cleanness, somewhat like an artist’s blank pallet before she begins to paint. The idea that I can begin this year with a clean slate – that I can create whatever I choose brings a sense of hope and optimism for the coming year.

Interesting, my morning meditation topic was “I make a difference”. What a perfect goal for this new year that every day I have the opportunity to make a difference however large or small. Perhaps it is simply a smile to a stranger, a phone call to a friend, a quiet prayer for someone in need. Perhaps it is picking up one piece of trash on a sidewalk, shoveling a neighbor’s sidewalk or bringing a meal to someone who can’t get out to a grocery store.

There are countless ways I can make a difference. The important issue is not to merely THINK about doing a good deed. The essential action is to DO IT! The thought is nice but the ACT is necessary. If I was into tattoos – I’m not…. I hate needles – I would engrave on my wrist the following words, “I can and choose to make a difference”.

Happy New Year – make each day forward count.

 

WELCOME BACK!

by John DiCiacco – Guest Blog  (John is a veteran & brother who helps make a difference)

I can’t speak for every person who reads your blogs, but I can and will say this, I have missed not reading them.  The only thing that ever depressed me was the first paragraph in your latest blog.  You always come up with something that touches someone, whether it be thought provoking or light hearted.

Your words always mean something to someone. Blogs can and should present different topics and when folks consider one to be difficult to read, then they can choose not to read it. But don’t just complain to the author, because life isn’t always a bowl of cherries.

As we all know, you can’t be everything to everyone so don’t try. But please don’t stop writing your blogs. Take it from this Veteran, I have never read a single one of your blogs that made me feel depressed. You write about reality, especially meaningful to veterans and families who suffer from the wounds of war.

I know that some times during any given month you have your own personal traumatic experiences that make life a little difficult and so you do your best to just survive. Just like the Veterans whom read your blogs.  When moments arrive that you can’t seem to come up with something to talk about, I can assure you that I do. Or have a Request Button on Note asking the readers if they have something that they would like to talk about through you.

Oh, by the way, your ticket into Heaven has already been secured. Your Ancestors and Guardian Spirits have made sure of that.

As you know, I spent two tours in the Nam and Holiday’s are still very hard for me. Too many Ghosts and way too much guilt for one man to carry.  The haunting reality for many Combat Veterans is the same unhealthy thought pattern we carry and wear on our chests like a sort of Medal.  That thought is this and I quote:  “Why in the hell am I here and not so and so”, or “I don’t have the right to celebrate or be happy when so many of my Brothers will never be here.”  Most Veteran’s never come right out and say these things but the thoughts are real and they and their fallen Comrades are there as well.

Of course, in my efforts to be jolly I would have to self medicate and numb the pain just to get through the ordeal. Afterword the Guilt followed by the shame for drinking was much worse.

I don’t know how I got on all of this but I better stop.

You can blog me anytime you want.

 

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

It has been several months since I wrote the last blog. Honestly, I chalk it up to lack of motivation and simply feeling I had little else to say that would be worth anyone taking the time to read. Some individuals even commented on how many of the past blogs were a bit depressing. No kidding! Many of these  individuals may have never had the combat experience or served in the military. It is difficult to understand something that has not been experienced. Humor at times can be difficult, especially during the holidays when you live with a person suffering with Post Trauma Stress. The experience is so not funny.

Yelling at those who don’t seem to appreciate or understand this type of suffering would definitely be something I’d have to mention in my next visit to church and confession.  Just hope it might be a different priest who won’t say something like…. “Well, seems like you haven’t made much progress in this area”.

At this point my entry into heaven would be further compromised. At the very least I would be on Santa’s naughty list.

So, why am I writing a new blog now?  Because it is Christmas.  My favorite holiday (along with Easter, Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day…).  Really, I love the smell of the season, the food, the lights in and outside of homes, carols, and the various displays around town. Unfortunately, as much as I love Christmas, I am reminded of how many of our veterans find this particular time of year a huge challenge. Christmas may be an unpleasant reminder of all that was lost – those who never returned home and those still serving in harm’s way far from home. Depression, anger, feeling alone and removed could be emotions that have to be dealt with once again. It is hard to be jolly or even be around those who are jolly when you are fighting to just keep your head above the waters of Merriment.

Tonight Tony was talking on the phone with a friend and veteran who was facing another season of cheer and trying to simply get through it and keeping his emotions/temper in check. During the conversation Tony mentioned that it was this time of year when he was in Vietnam and severely wounded. He lost many of his men during a horrendous battle and later spent months in various military hospitals trying to heal from his injuries. All these decades later it is not the physical wounds that test him the most. It is the emotional aches that make the holiday season taxing. Instead of all the Ho, Ho, Ho,….. I know that certain days he wants to scream, No, No, No More!!!

For years I had no idea of what he faced or continued to face. My delight during this time of year only exacerbated his loss thus causing more than one argument. Now that we both know better, we finally do better. I try to be a bit calmer in front of him, and he tries to take better care of his emotional needs by having more quiet time, going on long walks or taking Bailey pheasant hunting. And both of us focus on counting our blessings.

 

We’ll be darned if we let the PTS Grinch steal Christmas ever again.

 

 

“Mom Told Me You Are a Hero”

    -Constance Gibbons

            Who didn’t like to use crayons and a coloring book as a child?  I remember spending hours trying to use my box of many colored crayons to make the pages of my special book alive with various shades of whatever I thought the picture called for at the time. It never seemed to matter what the theme of the coloring book was about. The important thing was the simple act of making something of my own creation entertaining and exciting. When I was sad it took my mind off my childhood troubles… which sometimes were pretty significant for a young mind to understand. When I was tired, it gave me a way to stay occupied and calm.

It has been a long time since I’ve thought about the benefits of my early years of coloring. Then a friend told me about a children’s book she was writing to help young individuals process the reality of a parent serving in the military. What made this particular project so interesting was that it included a coloring book with crayons that went along with the original book.  Gosh, I only wish I had thought of such a brilliant way to reach young minds dealing with the unique situation of having their moms or dads away for long periods of time and sometimes on numerous deployments.

The title of the book is Mom Told Me You Are a Hero by author, Constance Gibbons. There is a hard copy edition along with a coloring book with the same text. In my work, constantly studying brain development and the importance of early literacy, having both options is brilliant.  The child can have the hard copy read to him/her, and then have the opportunity to color the pictures exactly as he/she desires. By doing the coloring, the child will be looking at some of the words in the text. The words explain the complex topic of war, yet, not in a scary manner. It describes how veterans come in all ages, sizes, shapes, colors, and genders. There are even examples of injuries a veteran may endure.  It is very well written at an appropriate developmental level for children two years and above.

If you would like more information about these delightful and helpful books you may contact the author at cogconnexion@gmail.com

by Tony & Janet Seahorn

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

 

In teaching, one of the first principles we discuss is how to gain and keep your students’ attention.  The reason… attention is the first thing that must occur in order for a person to think beyond what is happening at any moment in time. An interesting fact about attention is that the mind is always paying attention to something… maybe not the “thing” we would like it to be attending to… but, nevertheless, it is attending to something- the good looking gal across the room, the day dream that is more fun than the lecture, and God help us, anything that can pop-up on any tech device.

And so it is when our country, our communities, our neighbors think about our veterans. Veteran’s Day is now over and perhaps, for a few, our country, our communities, our neighbors may have thought about our veterans for a few minutes on that day. During that one short day of the year, perhaps all of these groups paid attention to our veterans, in between the various department store and furniture sales.  Yet, for many veterans, Veteran’s Day was merely another day that served as a sad reminder of all that was lost – their friends, their innocence, and for many their physical and mental health.

Americans are such a blessed, fortunate people. For most of our history our major conflicts have been fought overseas, away from our land. Other than our early history, especially in the last century, we have avoided having to watch our cities, our neighborhoods, our families destroyed by enemies. We haven’t had to pay attention or live the horrors of war. The action wasn’t right outside our homes. We didn’t have to wait for the bombs to fall, the guns to fire, or the foe to knock on our door late at night and carry us away into the darkness.

These are the things other people in other faraway lands have experienced. These are the things other people in other nations are forced to pay attention to… every hour of every day. Few Americans have had to endure the brutality of war. They might read about it in the daily news, watch it on TV or the internet, or even pay to see a movie. It is a very crucial lesson for each and every one of us in this country to see, to understand – for the enemy is not far from us. Paying attention to our veterans should be a reminder each day of the sacrifice they and their families have given for our freedom. We cannot, however, rely forever on the sacrifice of a mere few to protect the rights and independence of the many.

Pay attention, America.  Pay attention and be ready to give as much as our veterans have always given.

by Tony Seahorn

                

Reading and reflecting on Jan’s recent blog made me realize – one more time — that life is truly fragile.

The Vietnam War was a life changing event for the countless veterans and families who were directly impacted, including me.

For those of us who were fortunate to return from the field of battle, the everyday living of life will continue to be defined by what we experienced then.

 

 

 

 

Fast forward to the present day – 2014.

In May, following recovery from knee surgery at the Cheyenne, WY VA Hospital, I had my annual physical – including EGK and Treadmill Test. Other than the fact that the cardiologist reminded me I’m no longer 21, the physical and other tests all looked good.

 

 

Periodically I have chest pain as a result of remaining shrapnel and scar tissue from combat wounds; cardiovascular tests have always been negative for heart problems.

 

During our annual Wounded Warrior Event in late June, I was guiding a wounded veteran during high-water run-off on the Upper North Platte River. Unfortunately a raft from a separate river party encountered a dangerous log strainer in the main river current and capsized their raft. Three of the rafters made it to shore while a fourth person was submerged and pinned beneath the raft under the huge log jam.

I was able to secure my drift boat and veteran in a small backwater and spent the next hour in vain trying to rescue the rafting victim. The water was freezing and after an exhausting attempt, I was unable to save the trapped person. The time spent in the water subjected me to hyperthermia, but I eventually recovered sufficiently to continue the river float as the day warmed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In late July, I spent a week with our two sons in Montana on a fly fishing adventure. Toward the end of the week, we were climbing out of the Yellowstone River Canyon when I began to experience mild chest pain. By walking slowly and resting I was able to resume our hike and had no problem for the remainder of the trip.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In September, my VA doctor wanted to perform a follow-up exam on intermittent pain I was having in my right shoulder and chest from what we thought was caused by shrapnel. During the tests, an abnormality was found on the EKG and Treadmill that did not exist during my physical in May.

An electrocardiogram located a blockage in my main exterior frontal lobe artery. A heart procedure was performed via my femoral artery and a stint placed in mid-October. The team of Cardiologists concluded that I must have experienced a minor heart attack during the river rescue recovery in June. The cold water and lower body temperature prevented any pain or other potential damage.

As fate would have it, a week following the heart procedure, I was rushed to the local ER for severe stomach bleeding. Prescribed Plavix blood thinner combined with high doses of pain medication is not a good combination. Three emergency surgeries later and 8 units of whole blood finally stopped the bleeding. My hospital stay: 4 days ICU and 3 days recovery and monitoring.

Now 15 pounds lighter, I’m still weak and lack energy, but hopefully on the high road to recovery.

Life is full of challenges as well as an abundance of blessings! Today my black lab, Hunter Bailey and I are going pheasant hunting.

 

Life is good.

by Janet J. Seahorn, Ph.D

Reflecting back on October:

 

“At the very core of my being, I find peace.” (Daily Word, Oct. 2014). Nope! Not yet! Hopefully, later. It’s a beautiful fall day, warm, brilliant colored trees show off their multi-colored leaves, and I am trying desperately to find peace. It is the second time in three weeks that Tony and I are at the Denver Veteran Hospital in the cardiology unit. The first time doctors were going to try and clear a blockage of a major artery in his heart by putting in a stint. Unfortunately, the first try was unsuccessful.  Surgeons found a total obstruction in the artery so they had to pull out and create a new game plan.

So, we are back for a more complex procedure. As many of you know, hospitals, although a tremendous blessing, are not the happiest space to spend time. The sights, sounds, smells… all put many vets back to darker times. Times when violence, pain, and life/death issues surrounded the individual in places filled with anguish and loneliness.

As I sit in the waiting area, it is busy… people walking in and out, not all that comfortable surrounded by walls painted a pretty ugly shade of green.  Looking through the various home magazines I want to get a bucket of paint and start slopping the walls with bright yellows, light blues, or even a lovely burnt orange. My interior decorator screams to be let loose to redo these dreary areas. In my mind, to keep it off the immediate  situation my husband now faces, I am redecorating the entire hospital.

Periodically I have to get up and walk around, if for no other reason than to stretch my legs and ease my cramped back. Walking into the main lobby is disheartening. So many wounded warriors, many down on their luck and struggling to find any sense of hope or happiness in the world, sitting in uncomfortable chairs waiting – waiting for help physically and emotionally.

So, I walk over to a private hospital just across the street. The lobby is huge, spacious and sparse in its furniture, and almost empty of people except those at the information desk. The walls are tastefully painted, flooded with light. The people are calm and possess a look and feeling of well-being. I want to stay in this area of sunshine to wait, but am reluctant because my body and heart knows it needs to be nearer to where Tony is being treated.

I’m trying to find peace. Gratitude is not my issue.  I’m filled with it. Grateful for the amazing nurses, doctors, and selfless volunteers dedicated to supporting our veterans. Yet, this space where warriors wait to be healed is anything but peace-filled for me.  What comes to my mind is the sign in front of every veteran hospital in our nation…. “The Price of Freedom is Visible Here”.  I wonder how many non-veterans have ever been in a VA hospital.  Perhaps not that many. Perhaps more should visit to see firsthand the continued sacrifice being given every day. And, perhaps, they would realize that there can never be enough gratitude, enough service we give to those who served us so well.

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