It’s so strangely beautiful the way the universe works. There is a synchronization that occurs when we lean in and trust the journey. We can reflect on our past and see the connections that existed to now, even knowing that back then we had no clue. This day 12 years ago I’d been medevac’d from Iraq for a colluded airway, Tonsillitis. I was in the midst of my trauma, struggling to find meaning and connection. I chose to go back to Iraq rather than have my tonsils removed (and go home) and for a long time I held that decision against myself. I’ve since forgiven myself, but not forgotten. Facebook helps me remember and find healing from my trauma. The following “note” from this day 12 years back is no less true today.
A few months ago I had my 31,642nd breakdown (actual number may vary), while climbing into an MRI machine at the KCVA for what felt like the millionth time. They stopped the scan, pulled me out of the machine, and handed me tissues. I told them that I was only there because I’m a good little sailor and the doctors wanted it. The thing the tech said next sticks with me, “You’re not in the military anymore, no one can give you orders, only do this if you want to.” It’s amazing how this one sentence helps me deal with thoughts of suicide, when no one answers the phone.
I drew this over the weekend as I thought about the mental health of myself and those I love.
I really, really, really fucking care that people are killing themselves. Yes, three really’s were necessary. I care so much because I have found a life that I love, despite struggles with suicide, and I want others to find hope and a life they love. Sometimes I care so much because it’s a little selfish. If there aren’t people that care this much then how do I justify continuing to live through the darkness that comes over me. I wonder if life is worth it when people suicide. I pick up my phone and I reach out to so many people, looking for someone to hold my hand or just listen to me cry. I try to vary the individuals that I reach out to, because I don’t want them to give up on me when I give up on myself. More often than not I get loving texts telling me they are unavailable, but give many fucks about me. They say I love you, I miss you, I want to see you soon. I reread the texts over and over thinking about seeing them soon, or hearing their voice. I wonder, what do I do? What do I do when no one answers the phone? When it feels so dark and so alone and I can’t seem to contact a person who is available or no one answers my calls… what then?
I have to remember that I am not in the military anymore, so I get to make my own decisions. Whether you were ever military, still are, or never were, just know; you get to make your own decisions too. Having thoughts of suicide is not unusual, more people than you think deal with them, including myself. You get to make decisions for yourself, so if you are thinking of options to deal with your thoughts, before choosing suicide, here are some alternatives to try:
What do I do when no one answers, and I’m at the end of my rope?
I could call 911 on myself
This seems an unlikely decision, but if I don’t know that I can live through the next 5 minutes and the 5 after that and so on, then I should pick up the phone and call. If I can safely navigate to an emergency facility, that is also an option. Likely though, if I’m in a dark place, I shouldn’t drive a car. I shouldn’t be alone if I worry that I can’t trust myself to make life-saving decisions. If I already have a plan I should also not be by myself to go through with that plan, so I can call for emergency help.
I could call the National Suicide Hotline and talk to someone
1–800–273–8255 (1 for veterans) Text Home to 741741 Chat Online
Calling a hotline is a pretty safe anonymous thing. If you don’t desire to go to a facility or call 911, then these are the people to call. They will help you find other ways to go. They will listen, really listen, as you share what is going on and what you desire for yourself. Use the information in this poster to contact them.
I can put down the drugs and alcohol
Using substances that alter your body chemistry may seem like a great idea, but it doesn’t help you have peace of mind and make decisions that are healthy for you. If you can’t stop, then go to a hospital to get help to stop. They have options to help you come down off of a substance safely. If the easiest way to stop is to lay down and go to sleep, try that. I stopped drinking for a whole year of my life because it was my go to cure, it was not an answer. It was terribly hard, but now if I am struggling I work really hard to not drink as a crutch. I got help and relearned how to manage my life and alcohol, instead of it managing me.
I could take a shower
Showers are a great way to calm down the body and the soul. It also helps you get ready to go to sleep. Some people say that eating an orange in the shower is an enlightening experience, maybe this is a chance to try that. If an orange isn’t available, maybe a banana or some celery and peanut butter. Maybe your thing is a bath with the computer propped on the toilet playing Mad Men on Netflix. I like to brush my teeth and then shower to calm down. Finding routine activities to care for yourself can help your mind and soul feel more at ease, as well as your body.
I could eat something
Have you eaten today? I often find that when I am struggling with thoughts of suicide if I eat something it helps regulate my body. You would be surprised how many times when I am struggling emotionally it is correlated with a lack of food in my system. Even if you think it won’t help, what’s the harm of cleaning all the potato chips out of the cupboard?
I could drink a glass of water
Last fall I was having a really rough go of things and I called a friend in panic because I thought I would do something stupid instead of facing the stressful Annual Training I had starting the next day. She was patient and kind and said “When did you last drink a glass of water?” I didn’t know. She said “Go drink a glass of water, the full thing. Don’t chug it, just drink it. When it’s gone, call me back.” I found this suggestion extremely helpful. It calmed my breathing and I was able to refocus myself on doing other ideas on this list. I didn’t call her, she got a text instead, telling her I was doing better and what my next steps were to stay safe.
I could create
Often when I am at the end of my rope I start drawing, painting, writing, or whatever creative thing fulfills my need to release the pressure built up inside me. Maybe you play music, sing along with the radio, or like to rearrange your furniture. Find a way to express yourself that also shows kindness to yourself. If you don’t like it the next day, chuck it, hide it, whatever works.
I could workout
Working out could change the chemistry going on in my body and help ease my mental discomfort. Certainly, it can be distracting with some loud rock music blaring in my ears as I beat the shit out of my stationary bike or exercise ball (yeah, my workout equipment is LAME). You could go for a walk, or a run if you are in a safe neighborhood too. I am also a big fan of doing yoga off of YouTube to help find some semblance of gravity in my moments that I am ready to float away forever. Do you want to borrow my Insanity DVDs? They truly define insane… and are practically brand new!
I could try meditation or mindfulness
I also love YouTube for this one. Or one of many apps, Headspace and Insight Timer are two that I have heard a lot about lately. Look for videos or podcasts on meditation or mindfulness. This one is unique and I have some friends who get a good kick out of it: F*ck That, An Honest Meditation. There are also more serious ones out there that can help with any number of emotions or getting to sleep.
I could go to sleep
If you go back and read my first blog on medium you can understand a small picture of what I went through on my first tour overseas. One of the things I contribute to making it through that deployment was the idea that if I go to sleep then maybe tomorrow I will wake up and it will all be different. Every night, every time I thought of doing something stupid, I would tell myself this and I would crawl into bed. The next day it was often the same shitty thing in the same shitty place. One day I woke up and they said I could go home finally. Even after I came home my adjustment was rough. I would do the same thing, just go to sleep, and have hope that tomorrow would bring new things. What I can tell you is it doesn’t cure the issues to just go to sleep, but it does allow your body and mind rest so tomorrow you can do something different to change your life.
Hope for tomorrow
Sometimes you can only plan for a second or 5 minutes at a time, sometimes you can only hope for tomorrow. That’s okay, because tomorrow you can find new resources to help you further. You’ve drank a big glass of water, you’ve eaten some food, you’ve showered, you’ve called for help, and you’ve cared for yourself by reading this blog and trying some of the things listed. It doesn’t matter if you still have thoughts, but I hope that you have found hope for tomorrow. Tomorrow you can find a mental health provider to help you or a program that can provide new opportunities to be you.
Take this opportunity to make a decision for yourself. One that is kind to yourself, and shows love, even if you don’t feel it right now. Know I’m loving you. If you’re stuck, reach out, even to me… this cheesy but serious blog writer. I love you and I don’t even know you yet, please stay here with me.
The Marines have a Rifleman’s Creed that starts “This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.” My parody is “This is my PTSD. There are many like it, but this one is mine.” I have PTSD, and it doesn’t look like yours, or yours, or yours.
2012 Navy Operational Support Center Denver receiving my second Navy and Marine Corp Achievement Medal
I’m a Navy veteran who has 11 years in the Navy Reserves with two tours under my belt, Iraq and Afghanistan. When I came back from Iraq in 2010, I was not the same person who left a full year before. During my tour, I was not blown up and I didn’t take or give direct fire. So despite having symptoms of mental health issues, I did not seek assistance, because I didn’t feel worthy or that my case was as serious as others. In almost seven years, I learned I was wrong, but I needed to journey to find that answer.
In training for Iraq and while in country, I learned how horrible we can be to one another in the service. I learned when there is nothing else to do, sex or talking about sex is the answer. General Order Number 1 be damned. I had a chief come on to me during training, and when something happened with another female, it turned into an investigation. I was dragged through meeting after meeting with JAG (Judge Advocate General of the Navy), missing important training, all to try and tear my story apart. His charges went nowhere. Privacy is not easy to find in the military, and neither is confidentiality as I learned during this time. It set a tone for my whole deployment.
This was the one job I sat at a desk for in Camp Bucca, Iraq, 2009
It was like living in the worst MTV high school drama you can imagine, where you are the girl that is called “the whore.” Portable toilets were used to share rumors about the females, myself included. I was approached for relationships a lot. This may seem flattering to some, but for me it was overwhelming. I was, and still am, a rule follower. I also was not the popular girl with boys back home, but here I was getting propositioned all the time. I will admit I was not a saint, and I often played along just to try and fit in. It was the world we lived in, I was just trying to survive. Those who I thought were my friends would make excuses and apologies to me for joining in the mocking and gossip about me. I compensated by just trying to play the game.
A few months into being in Iraq, I got really sick with Tonsillitis that was misdiagnosed by the clinic providers. It was a horrible experience. I sought medical treatment only to be turned away and got sicker. Finally, they couldn’t deny my symptoms. They were concerned for my airway, so I got Medevac’d to Germany to get help. During this time my command didn’t check on me, they didn’t stay in touch. A few of my shipmates reached out and told me the rumors that were circulating; I was pregnant by a detainee or local, I had given an STD to a bunch of people, I had gone crazy and pulled a gun on someone. Despite these rumors, I felt the need to prove myself and so turned down the tonsillectomy in order to go back down range with my command. I proved nothing to anyone, but was able to give them more room to create more rumors as to why I was allowed to go back. I was moved from one position to another after that, but something had broken inside of me. I started to isolate and consider how to get out of there. I did not have a good support system in my command and heard about rumors from all levels of the chain of command. There were a few core people left by the last few months of my tour who were the only reason I made it through. We drank Amp, chain-smoked cigarettes, and sang karaoke to get through. None of us could stand that we were still there, but we were fighters, strong women, and we finished the tour and made it home.
Saddam’s Palace at Victory Base in Iraq, 2009
Upon returning home I was different, I continued to isolate myself. I had a hard time trusting even those who I was close to before. Life had really changed in a year for everyone, not just me, and I didn’t know where I fit. This took all of the issues I had in Iraq and compounded them. I couldn’t trust, my health was a risk, and all men were a risk to me. I compensated for a while and through my second tour to Afghanistan, until I couldn’t compensate anymore.
The thing I learned about mental health is that our bodies are incredibly strong and work really hard to compensate and overcome, but at some point, the compensation factor fails from exhaustion. It took until 2013 to finally break down and acknowledge I had issues. I didn’t do it alone though. My civilian employers cared about me, and after my Afghanistan tour, took the time to alert me and give me a chance. I ended up leaving that job and going home to my parents, to grieve and to try to find a new start.
Continuing to serve in a new way has changed the meaning of my life. Operation Steam Wagon, Beaver Crossing, NE May 2014.
People everywhere suffer trauma’s, but together we can overcome and build a new stronger life.
I happened upon several veteran organizations during my multiple breakdowns and they have made a huge difference in my PTSD journey. Within these organizations I have met a multitude of people from different walks of life, both veteran and civilian. It is this collective of people that have provided me insight into how to best reintegrate and also how to cope and manage my PTSD. Without the volunteering opportunities I have had and the wonderful people who have supported me in my journey to good mental health, I don’t know where I would be today. Some organizations have offered me the ability to continue being of service to my community and our entire country. Others have provided me the support and lessons to set boundaries, practice holistic methods of managing symptoms, and allowed me to give myself permission to let go, heal, and move on.
I have stared the possibility of suicide in the face and been able to turn my back on it. I have heard stories of trauma from veterans and non-veterans a like. I have felt love and support in my times of struggle and when I trigger. When I fall on the floor, unable to get up, someone is always there to listen and to give me a hand up. I have learned that there are good men and women who have my back and are not a risk to me. I learned to trust again and what quality leadership looks like. I have learned how to live with a future in sight, and not just day by day.
Being a part of integrated organizations has allowed me to truly move past the labels of being a veteran with PTSD, MST, Anxiety and Panic Attacks and Depression. I can see now that trauma happens to people in all walks of life, and it is not my place to compare my own struggles and trauma with those of others. It allows for me to hold solidarity with everyone I interact with, honoring each person’s journey as unique and important. I hope that they each do the same for me, it is my hope as I share my vulnerability and my struggle with you, here. I may live with my PTSD the rest of my life, but I have found tools to help me remove triggers or manage them. I will continue to overcome with the help from my providers, my community, and those that are closer than family.
I took a literal and metaphorical leap of faith as part of my healing process.
I am working to move past my symptoms and diagnosis.The largest lesson I learned is we have to stop comparing ourselves to others when we are having mental health issues, especially PTSD, whether we are veteran or not. We have to find ways to take our crisis by the horns and search for our own individual answers with help from our communities and from professionals. We cannot give up hope to a four-letter acronym that tries to define us and compare us to others. We cannot let stigma and the feeling of shame overtake us in our hour of struggle. PTSD is survivable, it is something that we can take control back from. It just takes time and it feels terribly hard, but there are answers for us. There is strength in our weaknesses and answers in the darkness that help us find the light. We can find a way to feed the positive side of ourselves. We can practice things like meditation, mindfulness, yoga, healthy eating, working out, journaling, painting, talking, and even writing blog posts to normalize the fact that shit happens in life, but it doesn’t get to take over us. This is my PTSD. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
