The Families

Lynn Jeffries is a single mother from Lubbock, Texas whose 23-year-old son Nathan was deployed to Iraq in late 2003. A registered nurse who worked for years in an emergency room at a hospital in Lubbock, Jeffries soon found herself unable to take care of trauma patients and left the emergency room for work as a hospice nurse.

“I just started crying at everything,” she says. “I was so angry about this war, but at the same time I felt like I couldn’t fight against it without betraying my son. It just ate at me every day, more and more.”

Jeffries’ depression grew until, she says “at one point I thought of taking my own life in order to get my son home. It’s just made me a little crazy. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life—there are days I could not even leave the house.”

Jeffries’ son was home on leave when she spoke with AlterNet, and she said she was feeling a little better, but was already dreading her son's redeployment to Iraq (scheduled for early in 2005). “What will happen the day I have to put him back on the plane to go back?" she asks in despair. "I would do anything to have him go to Canada, but he says his friends need him and he can’t leave them.”

Teri Wills Allison, who lives in Austin and is the mother of two boys—one of whom is deployed in Iraq—says that the depression she sank into after her son left for Iraq got so bad that “though I’d never taken pills before, I’ve needed Xanax just to get through the day.”

Secondary Traumatic Stress Disorder

Jeffries and Wills Allison are not unique. They are part of a growing number of military families who find themselves dealing with what psychologists are beginning to recognize as Secondary Traumatic Stress Disorder. Not unlike PTSD, Secondary TSD can clearly be debilitating.

Says Wills Allison: “We, the mothers and fathers of the boys in Iraq, we’re getting by, but barely. Some of them tell me they need a six-pack before bed to fall asleep. Others can’t leave the house for fear they’ll come home to have that call from the military waiting on the machine. Some families are just torn apart by this.”

Some more than others.

During late November, 2004, Marine Lance Cpl. Charles Hanson Jr., was killed in a roadside bombing of his convoy in Iraq. One week later, on Nov. 30, his stepdad, 39-year-old Mike Barwick, entertained guests at his Crawfordville, Fla. home with stories of the stepson he loved so much. Three days later, just hours before guests were scheduled to arrive for a viewing at the home Barwick shared with Hanson’s mother, Dana Hanson, Barwick shot and killed himself. Family members quoted in the local newspapers said it was clear that he simply couldn’t live with the pain.

Misha ben-David, a trained trauma counselor, says he remembers his family growing up being torn apart when his father went to Vietnam. He is reliving the tragedy now that his son is being deployed to Iraq. “The stress on the family is unbearable,” he says. “I can already hear my ex-wife starting to freak out, retreating into a ‘rah-rah, do you love your son or not?’ frame of mind."

The internal rifts are intensified by the media coverage of the war. "We’ve got so much pressure on us from people like the Fox network to see this as a black and white issue—either you’re for the war and a patriot or you’re a no good, liberal, anti-American," he says. "Add to that stress that it’s your child that might be killed, or wounded, or permanently maimed and you’ve got a lot of family members going crazy out there.”

The Pentagon's treatment of its own soldiers – the involuntary tour extensions, multiple deployments, shortages of both body and vehicle armor – don't help either. And thanks to e-mail, parents are no longer protected from the daily struggles of their children. “It’s not a letter every couple of weeks, where parents can try to imagine that everything is okay," Lessin says. "With the internet we’re learning that our loved ones don’t have enough food or water or weapon replacements or armored vests, things that leave us feeling helpless.”