Rough Rider

I'm doing it on my own.
Tomorrow is 4 months sober. No one local who was there four months ago even bothers with me anymore, with only a few exceptions, most of which are people I don't see often anyway.
I have several guys I'm hanging out with right now, almost all of which have a combat patch. At least it's someone who understands what PTSD is like. They treat me well, and I enjoy being around all of them. It's nice to have people who care around, especially when there's several. A few are NCO's, even. I don't know how I'd make it through this time without them. Things are hard and painful, and, even on leave, it seems like there's nothing but triggers around me. I've never had so much pain at one time, and never been forced to handle it this way. I have to deal with this all, or it will kill me. It sounds exaggerated, but it's not. If I can't handle this, I have no right re-enlisting or getting my stripes. If I can't take care of myself, I can't take care of my soldiers. By the same token, if I can't get better than this, no civilian job will want me. Failure is not an option, because this is truly a matter of survival at this point. Even if I have to fight this battle alone, I can't afford to lose it.
This has been going on since I was seven years old, which is something I only came to understand in the last 24 hours or so.
I have been fighting too long and too hard, and I have come too damned far to fail now.
"True friends are gonna stay true, ship jumpers gonna jump ship." -Haystak
I have no time for the ship jumpers, and am done paying attention to the people who couldn't be there for me.
It's just me now, me and the people who have my back.
You're either a rough rider or you aren't my problem.