Finding a New Mission After the Military

I joined the Army at 24, knowing I was signing up during wartime. I understood the possibility of going to war and not coming home. The one thing I didn't expect was never getting the chance to see combat. I'm now one of the 10% of noncombat veterans with PTSD, and my story is a reminder that trauma doesn't always wear a uniform.

In 2006, I had back surgery that left me non-deployable. I was placed in a physical training platoon, where I felt like I stopped being a soldier and became just a number. The constant runaround was exhausting; they kept telling me they could rehabilitate me and get me back to 100%, but nothing ever changed. It took a tragedy—the death of a fellow soldier and friend from an overdose—to finally move us out of limbo and send us home. I was the one who found him, bleeding from an overdose of fentanyl before it was widely known as an abusive substance. It was traumatizing, and something I’ll never forget.

Once I was home, I felt lost. I was depressed and felt like a failure because I couldn't fulfill my contract to my country. Soldiers and depression are a terrible mix. We're trained to do one thing—protect our country—and when that's taken away, what else do we have?

It took years after I got home before I was finally diagnosed with PTSD. I always felt like something was wrong but couldn't put my finger on it. I went for an evaluation for my service-connected disability, and it took one doctor to finally listen to me three years ago and give me the answers I'd been searching for. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Making so many adjustments in life was a big task, but that's when I decided to go back to college. My wife, Sara, encouraged me to pursue my dream of becoming a journalist, something I never thought I could accomplish.

I’ve accomplished so much at East Tennessee State University. I write for the East Tennessean student newspaper, contribute content to Overlooked in Appalachia, have been on the Dean’s list, and am a recipient of the Richard Cobb Miller Memorial Journalism Scholarship. Sara always reminds me that "just because I’m disabled, doesn’t make me incapable.”

I share my story because the suicide rate for U.S. Veterans is 34.7 per 100,000. We are not just a number or a statistic. We are soldiers. There is always hope, and always that one person who will listen.

If you or a soldier you love needs help, please dial 988 and press 1 for the Veterans Crisis Line. Someone will listen.