I never thought I would be the one. I never thought I would be the one contemplating veteran suicide. It honestly and wholeheartedly never crossed my mind.
Until I had to climb the Mount Everest of trauma, grief, heartache, depression, anxiety, and everything else that life threw at me all at once. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t prepared. As much as I thought I was resilient and mentally tough .... I wasn’t ready.
I’ll tell you something—and let me say first and foremost, I am incredibly ashamed to admit it. That’s another thing I’m working on.
Jan. 6, 2022. I woke up fully intending to end my life. My report date for reclass (reclassification or retraining) school was that day. I hadn’t packed. I woke up. I got my notebook. I got my pistol. I sat on my couch and Googled what angle to pull the trigger on my head so I would die instantly—out of the fear of surviving, of course. I was done. I was checked out. I was numb. I felt that I didn’t have a place on this earth one second longer. And I will tell you—the only reason I didn’t is because my family would be devastated ... and they have already been through enough after unexpectedly losing my grandpa. So I packed my bags and drove to Fort Bragg. I sobbed the entire way there—just because I couldn’t believe I had gotten to that point. I reported to school and graduated with a 4.0 GPA, 100 percent average the entire way through.
This mindset is instilled in your brain from Day 01. Once it’s in there, it’s hard to change. We go through some tough [expletive], we experience and see things that should never be seen. Humanity is at its worst. I mean, don’t get me wrong, we enlist to go to war and we accept that when we sign the dotted line. However, there is no real plan set in stone for the effects on your brain after it all settles down. After the trauma sets in and really hits home. There’s no healing process.
During my deployment, a family member committed suicide. On top of that, my aunt and uncle were killed in a car accident. All within 24 hours of each other. Again, embrace the suck. Move on.
COVID hit—we all went through that. We know how hard it was. In December 2020 my grandfather got COVID. He fought a hard battle—but succumbed to it on 12 February 2021. We were able to be with him during his last moments … the most painful thing I have ever experienced. If you have ever watched somebody die you will understand. It’s not peaceful.
September of 2021. My marriage ended. It was the right decision … but another failure.
At this point I feel like I’m failing at my job; I’m not being a good friend; I’m not being a good family member.
I hate writing these things because I feel like I’m pulling the “woe is me” card. I guess what I’m trying to portray is that you never truly know what is going on in someone’s life. And this isn’t solely about the military; it’s just where my story started. Of the most significant events, Afghanistan is only where my story started. We all have our own battles, and I fully recognize that—whether it is from the military or elsewhere.
We say that there is no stigma behind mental health, but that isn’t entirely true. Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t wish this kind of invisible pain on anyone, but one cannot truly understand until they have experienced it or witnessed it for themselves. This is the sad truth.
Am I grateful that I didn’t end my life that day? Sometimes. It’s a roller coaster. Some days are good; some days are incredibly hard. I continue to believe that there has to be a turning point.
I’ve come to realize that every day I survive the things my mind is telling me ... it’s a battle, and a lot of people fight the same one I do. Like I said in the title, healing is a roller coaster. The light in my eyes left a long time ago. I fight every day to get it back. Even if it is invisible, the demons you fight are incredibly real.
The hardest thing trauma survivors will ever do is go back through the repressed memories and tread through the painful process that is healing. It’s different every day. One step forward, ten steps back it feels like at some points.
I don’t do the cheesy motivation stuff. It doesn’t work, it’s only empty words. I just want you to know that if you are reading this and it burns you to your core—that you are not alone. No matter what your trauma is, it is valid—it is real. You are heard, and you are understood.
Here’s to riding that roller coaster all the way through.
