I’m not here to play nice, I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.
I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.
That’s my legacy, and I’m just getting started.
Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.
Connect with Us
Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.
Your journey is yours to shape, take the next step in Your True Direction.
Someone asked me recently, “What legacy do you want to leave behind?”
Not what job I want. Not what title I’m gunning for.
But legacy – the real kind. The kind that echoes. The kind that leaves a mark.
That question didn’t feel polite. It felt like a punch to the chest. Because let’s be honest – most people are too busy surviving to even think about legacy. But I’ve been through enough, seen enough, fought enough, to know that the real work isn’t in the day-to-day grind. It’s in the lives you change while you’re grinding.
So here it is. Raw and real.
I’m not here to leave behind perfect spreadsheets or polished LinkedIn posts. I’m here to leave behind a trail of people who remember what it felt like to finally be seen. Really seen. Especially the ones who had been counted out.
I want my legacy to be the ones who stood up straighter after talking to me.
The ones who walked into that job interview after years of rejection – and nailed it.
The ones who were told they weren’t enough, weren’t experienced enough, weren’t “corporate” enough – and found out that was a damn lie.
I want to be remembered as the one who called out bullshit policies, stood firm in rooms where people whispered, and used every ounce of experience I had – military, career development, leadership, trauma – to light the way forward. Not just for me. But for everyone around me.
I want my legacy to be about impact. Not impressions.
Because I’ve walked through doors no one wanted to open for me.
I’ve been overqualified and underestimated in the same breath.
I’ve watched less-experienced people get promoted while I held the line and kept everything running.
And still, I didn’t shrink.
Because I wasn’t here to play politics.
I was here to serve. To advocate. To build something better.
Let me be clear: I didn’t build my legacy in perfect conditions. I built it while navigating burnout, chronic stress, leadership that didn’t lead, and systems that tried to silence me. I built it while dealing with trauma and training a service dog who saved my life in ways I can’t fully explain.
I built it while helping others find jobs when I was struggling to find my own sense of purpose. I coached people through their breakdowns while still managing mine in silence. I mentored with a cracked heart and a full schedule – because I knew someone else’s survival might start with my willingness to show up, just one more time.
That’s what legacy looks like.
Not glamour. Not followers. Consistency.
Showing up. Even when you’re tired. Even when no one’s clapping. Even when they’re whispering behind closed doors.
I don’t want to be remembered for being liked.
I want to be remembered for being real – for speaking up when it wasn’t convenient, for calling out injustice even when it cost me something, for pushing others to rise even when I was still crawling.
If someone says my name years from now and follows it with:
“Ryan didn’t just help me get a job. He helped me remember who the hell I was.”
Then I did what I came here to do.
That’s the legacy I’m leaving.
It’s made of grit, grace, fire, and purpose.
It’s covered in dog hair, sweat, sacrifice, and second chances.
And no matter what room I walk into – whether I’m welcomed or not – I’ll keep showing up like I belong. Because I do. And so do you.
I’m not here to play nice – I’m here to make change. I work with veterans, teens, career shifters, and anyone who’s ever been told they’re too late, too broken, or too much. I help people rewrite their story when the world hands them a script they never asked for.
I don’t save people. I remind them how to save themselves.
That’s my legacy – and I’m just getting started.
Follow along as I speak truth, challenge systems, and help folks build a life that actually fits.
Connect with Us
Follow us on Medium @YourTrueDirection.
Your journey is yours to shape – take the next step in Your True Direction.
You never gave up. Not on me, not on anyone. When the silence got too loud, when the weight of it all became unbearable, you were there. No questions, no judgment – just there. In the darkest moments, when I felt like I was slipping away, your words pulled me back.
Some heroes wear uniforms. Others just show up when it matters most.
Every step tells a story. Every scar holds a memory. Music heals what words cannot.
The Battle That Never Ends
PTSD is a battlefield all its own. It doesn’t come with armor, rules of engagement, or an exit strategy. It doesn’t wave a white flag when the war is over because, for many veterans, the war never truly ends. It follows them home, creeping into their minds, hijacking their emotions, and turning everyday life into a warzone.
Some wounds bleed. Some leave scars. And some, like PTSD, stay hidden – festering in the silence, breaking a person from the inside out.
For veterans, PTSD is not just about remembering the past; it’s about reliving it. The mind becomes a battlefield, where memories become landmines, exploding without warning. A simple sound, a sudden movement, a smell – any of these can send them spiraling back into the warzone they never wanted to return to.
And the worst part? They fight this battle alone.
Jelly Roll’s song Save Me isn’t just music – it’s an anthem of pain, a raw confession of struggle, a cry for help that so many veterans relate to. Because while the world moves on, they remain stuck in a war they never truly left.
Jelly Roll’s voice spilled from the truck speakers as Jake sat on the bridge, gripping the steering wheel so hard his fingers ached.
”Somebody save me…
”Me from myself…”
He exhaled sharply.
The world outside his windshield looked normal. People walking, talking, laughing. How could they not see?
How could those in his life not see the war still raging inside him?
Lost in the night, weighed down by the struggle – holding on feels impossible, but hope is never out of reach.
Drowning in Demons
The whiskey bottle clinked against the guardrail as Jake sat on the edge of the bridge, the cold steel biting into his skin. The city lights below were a blur, cars moving like ants on a highway he no longer felt connected to. The wind whipped against his face, numbing everything except the pain in his chest.
The war had ended, but it never really left him.
His hands shook as he wiped his face. He wasn’t even sure if the moisture on his skin was sweat, tears, or the mist from the river below. Maybe all three.
For years, he had fought to keep himself together. Fought the nightmares. Fought the memories. Fought the guilt. But tonight, he was tired. Tonight, the weight was too much.
“Maybe they were right,” he thought. “Maybe I should’ve died over there with them.”
He pulled his jacket tighter, the wind slamming into his back, urging him forward. One step. One second.
”I’m lost and I’m found, but I’m lonely at the same time…”
God, that line.
It ripped through him like shrapnel. Because that was it, wasn’t it?
Alive, but not living.
Surviving, but lost.
Screaming, but silent.
He squeezed his eyes shut. But when he did, the faces were there. Their faces.
Matthews. Torres. Bishop.
He closed his eyes, and suddenly, he was back in the desert. The heat scorching his skin, the sandstorm whipping around him. The radio crackling with desperate voices.
“We’re taking fire! We need air support – NOW!”
Jake could still hear the panic, the urgency. He remembered gripping his rifle so tightly that his fingers ached. He remembered the deafening blast that sent him flying backward.
And then he remembered looking over and seeing them – his brothers, his family – lying still.
Gone.
He should have saved them.
The bridge creaked slightly as he shifted his weight forward.
“One step,” he told himself. “One step, and it all stops.”
No more nightmares.
No more waking up in a sweat, screaming at ghosts.
No more hearing their voices in his head, begging him to do something – anything – to change what happened.
Jake exhaled, long and slow.
Then his phone buzzed.
He almost ignored it. But something made him glance down.
Davis: “Hey man, I know you’re struggling. Just let me know you’re okay.”
Jake’s breath caught in his throat.
Davis.
The only one who still checked in. The only one who seemed to notice that Jake was slipping away.
His fingers trembled as he typed. He wasn’t even sure why he responded, but he did.
Jake: “Not really, man.”
Within seconds, his phone rang.
He didn’t want to answer. He wanted silence. He wanted the pain to stop.
But somehow, he pressed the button.
“Jake.”
Davis’s voice was steady. No panic, no pity. Just there.
“I know where you are,” Davis said. “I’m coming.”
Jake let out a shaky breath.
“You don’t have to.”
“Yeah, I do,” Davis said. “Just hold on, brother.”
The wind still howled. The river still raged below. But for the first time in a long time, Jake felt something other than pain.
He felt seen.
And for tonight, that was enough.
Climbing Out of the Darkness
Healing wasn’t fast, and it sure as hell wasn’t easy.
Jake started showing up – at therapy, at veteran support meetings, even just for a walk around the block. Each step was a battle, but he kept fighting.
One day, he played Save Me in his truck again. But this time, it didn’t feel like a cry for help.
It felt like a reminder.
”I ain’t no savior, no angel, no saint…”
No, he wasn’t.
But maybe he didn’t need to be. Maybe he just needed to keep going.
Resources for Veterans Struggling with PTSD
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone. Here are some resources that can help:
PTSD affects about 11–20% of veterans who served in combat zones, but many cases go unreported.
2. Can PTSD be cured?
There is no “cure,” but PTSD can be managed with therapy, medication, and peer support.
3. What are the signs that a veteran might be struggling?
Withdrawal, irritability, difficulty sleeping, substance abuse, and signs of self-harm are all warning signs.
4. How can I help a veteran with PTSD?
Be there. Listen without judgment. Encourage them to seek help, but don’t push. A simple check-in can save a life.
5. Does music like Jelly Roll’s Save Me really help?
For many, music provides a way to feel understood. Songs like Save Me give voice to struggles that are hard to put into words.
Call To Action
Jake’s story is real. Maybe his name is different. Maybe his struggle looks a little different.
But the pain? The fight? That’s something too many veterans know all too well.
If you or someone you know is struggling, reach out. A text, a call, a conversation – it could be the lifeline that saves a life.
Because in the end, the words of Jelly Roll’s song ring true:
Somebody save me…
And sometimes, all it takes is one person willing to answer that call.
This is for Chris. This is for every Davis. And this is for every Jake who still needs saving.
About Your True Direction
Your True Direction is dedicated to empowering individuals navigating life’s transitions. Through inspiring stories and actionable strategies, we aim to help you reclaim ambition, overcome challenges, and thrive in every stage of your journey.
Join Your True Direction as we learn how veterans can overcome workplace misconceptions, navigate cultural gaps, and thrive in civilian roles, while employers leverage their unique skills for success.
Navigating New Terrain: Veterans face the challenges of transitioning from military service to the civilian workforce, seeking belonging in an unfamiliar office environment.
“Adaptability is about the powerful difference between adapting to cope and adapting to win.”
– Max McKeown
Let’s get one thing straight: veterans, especially former officers, are not out to steal your job or overthrow your company hierarchy. Believe me, we’ve had enough stress, responsibility, and high-stakes decision-making to last a lifetime. What we really want is to be part of the team, contribute, and put our skills to good use. That’s it.
But here’s the problem. The same traits that helped us thrive in the military—taking initiative, owning responsibility, and leading when necessary—can sometimes rub people the wrong way in civilian workplaces. And trust me, the last thing we want is to intimidate anyone or come across as some overzealous leader-in-waiting.
The truth is, you don’t have to be a manager to lead. You don’t need a title to take responsibility. These are values we live by, and they’re not about stealing anyone’s thunder — they’re about getting the job done. So why do these misunderstandings happen? Let’s break it down.
Why Do Civilian Workplaces Misinterpret Veterans?
Misaligned Leadership Styles
In the military, taking initiative isn’t a suggestion, it’s a requirement. If something needs doing, you step up. No waiting around for an official memo or someone to tell you it’s your “lane.” But in the civilian world, this can be misread as trying to outshine your boss or micromanage your peers. Spoiler alert: we’re not. We’re just wired to act when we see a problem.
What’s the alternative? Sit back and wait for someone to ask us to contribute. That’s not how we operate. But hey, we get it; sometimes we need to dial it back, and we’re working on that.
2. Cultural Gaps
The workplace culture in the military is vastly different from civilian environments. Military culture prioritizes teamwork, clear hierarchies, and mission-driven objectives. Civilian workplaces, however, often emphasize individualism, less rigid structures, and a slower pace of decision-making.
Many veterans face cultural misunderstandings in civilian workplaces. According to Pew Research, 67% report feeling misunderstood by their peers. This disconnect can lead to frustration for veterans and confusion for their colleagues.
Bridging this gap requires veterans to observe workplace norms and adapt to new dynamics. Employers, on the other hand, can foster inclusivity by offering training programs and creating environments that encourage open dialogue.
Learn more about military-to-civilian transition strategies at Military.com.
3. Perception of Competence
Let’s not sugarcoat it: veterans bring a lot to the table. Leadership, strategy, and decision-making under pressure—it’s part of the gig. Unfortunately, this can make some people feel insecure, especially if they’re still figuring out their own roles.
We’re not here to show anyone up or make anyone feel bad about their experience. We just want to contribute and strengthen the team. Trust us, we’ve had our share of accolades—we don’t need more.
How Veterans Can Navigate These Misperceptions
“The art of life lies in a constant readjustment to our surroundings.”
– Kakuzō Okakura
Build Relationships
Building trust is the fastest way to break down barriers. Take the time to connect with your colleagues and managers. When people understand your intentions, they’re less likely to misinterpret your actions.
Adjust Your Communication Style
Yes, military communication is direct. Yes, it gets results. But in the civilian world, it can come across as abrupt or overly assertive. Take a breath, tone it down, and make sure you’re coming across as collaborative rather than commanding.
Share Your Intentions
Sometimes, all it takes is a simple conversation. Make it clear you’re there to support the team, not outshine anyone. Let people know you’re focused on collective success, not personal gain.
How Employers Can Support Veterans
“Leadership is not about being in charge. It is about taking care of those in your charge.”
– Simon Sinek
Educate Teams
Provide training to help employees and managers understand the unique skills and perspectives veterans bring to the workplace. This will foster a more inclusive environment and reduce misunderstandings.
Utilize Available Resources
Employers looking to hire and support veterans can access valuable resources through the U.S. Department of Labor’sVeterans’ Employment and Training Service. This guide offers actionable tips and best practices for integrating veterans into civilian workplaces.
Encourage Mentorship Programs
Establish mentorship opportunities to connect veterans with seasoned professionals who can help them adapt and thrive.
Final Thoughts: Let’s Get Over Ourselves
Here’s the bottom line: veterans aren’t here to disrupt your workplace, undermine your authority, or steal your job. We’ve had enough of that in the military, thanks.
We’re here to be part of the team, contribute where we can, and help everyone succeed. And yes, sometimes our methods might seem a little intense — but trust us, they come from a good place. So, let’s work together, stop misinterpreting each other’s intentions, and make the workplace better for everyone.
Take Action Today
For Veterans: Access tools and mentorship to navigate your transition successfully.
For Employers: Build a veteran-friendly workplace with expert guidance.
U.S. Department of Labor’s Employer Guide
Together, we can bridge the gap and create thriving workplaces for all.
FAQs
What challenges do veterans face in civilian workplaces?
Veterans often face challenges like cultural misunderstandings, misaligned leadership expectations, and communication style differences. Traits like taking initiative or being mission-focused can sometimes be misinterpreted as overstepping or being overly assertive. Additionally, their competence and experience can unintentionally intimidate colleagues or managers.
2. How can employers better support veterans in their organizations?
Employers can support veterans by offering training programs to educate teams on veterans’ unique skills, fostering open communication, and creating mentorship opportunities. Providing transition support, such as peer networks or veteran-specific onboarding programs, also helps ease the adjustment to civilian workplace dynamics.
3. Why do veterans often struggle to adapt to civilian roles?
The struggle often comes from differences in workplace culture. Military environments prioritize teamwork, clear hierarchies, and mission-first thinking, while civilian workplaces may emphasize individual achievements, informal hierarchies, or complex processes. Veterans may also find civilian communication styles less direct, which can lead to misunderstandings.
4. How can veterans adjust their leadership style for civilian workplaces?
Veterans can adapt by focusing on relationship-building, softening their communication style, and aligning with the organization’s culture. Seeking feedback, openly sharing their intentions, and finding a mentor within the organization can also bridge the gap and foster better collaboration.
5. What are the benefits of hiring veterans for civilian workplaces?
Veterans bring exceptional leadership, problem-solving, and decision-making skills. They thrive under pressure, have a strong sense of responsibility, and are team-oriented. Their ability to adapt to complex and dynamic situations makes them valuable contributors to any workplace.
Your True Direction is dedicated to empowering individuals navigating life’s transitions. Through inspiring stories and actionable strategies, we aim to help you reclaim ambition, overcome challenges, and thrive in every stage of your journey.
Connect with Us
Follow us on Medium: @YourTrueDirection
Have a story to share or want to collaborate? Email Ryan at ryan@yourtruedirection.com.
Discover the moving story of a gay soldier’s battle for understanding, his fight against love disguised as control, and the powerful letter that set him free.
By R.T. Garner
“True love is not about holding on — it’s about listening, letting go, and allowing someone to be their truest self.” — Inspired by John’s Story
Image generated by author
The silence between loved ones can wound as deeply as any battle. For John — a 35-year-old Army Officer, seasoned soldier, and a gay man who had lived through years of service in the military; homecoming was not the solace he had imagined. His return was supposed to be about healing, about rediscovering himself after enduring the trauma of war and the emotional toll of a life lived under the shadow of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”
Instead of finding peace, John finds himself locked in a silent war with his mother, a conflict over control, identity, and love. This war fought without weapons broke him in ways combat never had.
In his final attempt to be heard, John wrote a heartbreaking letter pleading for liberation and understanding.
“I Am Your Mother”: A Mantra of Control
From his earliest memories, John’s mother wielded the phrase “I am your mother” as both a shield and a sword.
As a child, those words were comforting:
“I am your mother; I’ll always protect you.”
“I am your mother; I know what’s best for you.”
However, as John grew older and began to navigate his own identity, the phrase became a leash. It was no longer a promise of love but a declaration of dominance.
When he came out to her at 18, she refused to accept it. “You’re confused,” she said. “You’ll see. I know what’s best for you. I am your mother.”
The military became his escape. At West Point, John found the discipline, structure, and camaraderie he craved. Yet even in the brotherhood of service, he kept a part of himself hidden, fearing rejection. For 15 years, he buried his true self while serving his country with honor.
But when he came home at 35, his mother’s refrain still echoed in his life: “I know what’s best. You’re my son. I’ll always have the final say.”
Love Disguised as Control
His mother had tricked him into returning home, insisting it was out of love. She told him she wanted to “heal” him after his years of military service. She pointed to his PTSD, his weariness, and his guarded demeanor as proof that he needed her care.
Image generated by author
But John soon realized her love came with conditions. She didn’t want to heal him; she wanted to reshape him.
Her attempts to “fix” him ignored the reality of his experiences, both as a soldier and as a gay man. She dismissed the ways war and repression had shaped him, insisting she knew better.
Her words, once a source of comfort, now felt like chains:
“You’ll thank me one day for bringing you home.”
“I’m doing this because I love you.”
“You don’t know what you need — I do.”
What she called love was control. She dismissed his pain, his identity, and his independence as misguided and broken. To her, he was still a boy in need of her guidance, not a man who had fought wars both within himself and on the battlefield.
The Heavy Silence of Home
John tried, night after night, to explain to his mother what he needed. He told her about the weight he carried from years of war. He tried to explain how being forced to hide his identity in the military had left scars more profound than the ones on his body.
“I’m not broken, Mom,” he said. “I just need time. I need space to figure things out on my own.”
But her response was always the same:
“You don’t know what you’re saying, John.”
“I’m your mother — I know what’s best.”
“You’ve never been able to make good decisions for yourself.”
Each dismissal stung like a fresh wound. To her, John was still a child, incapable of knowing what was best for his own life.
Her refusal to acknowledge his identity, to see him as a soldier, a gay man, a person in his own right, was suffocating.
The Final Letter
One night, after another argument where his words were drowned out by hers, John realized he would never reach her. The silence between them would never be broken unless he left.
So, he sat down to write his final letter.
“Dear Mom,” he began. “This will be the last time I try to reach you. I’ve spoken, but my words mean nothing to you. So I’ll write them down, hoping you’ll finally hear me.”
In his letter, John poured out the pain he had carried for years. He spoke of the battles he had fought on foreign soil and in his own heart. He spoke of the shame and silence forced upon him by his mother’s inability to accept him for who he was.
“You’ve always said, ‘I am your mother,’ as if those words give you the right to control my life. But being my mother doesn’t mean you own me. It doesn’t mean you can dismiss my feelings or erase my identity.”
He told her how her love had turned into a cage:
“I know you think you’re helping me, but you’re not. Your version of love doesn’t heal me; it hurts me. You tricked me into coming home, thinking it would fix things. But it hasn’t. This place, your words, your control; it’s breaking me.”
Finally, he wrote the words that had been trapped in his heart for years:
“I love you, Mom, but I can’t stay. You have to let me go. You have to accept that I’m not the boy you raised; I’m the man I’ve become. Goodbye, for now.”
Much like the lyrics of “Listen,” John found himself shouting, unheard:
“I’m done believing you,
You don’t know what I’m feeling.”
John’s story is a powerful reminder that love, when entangled with control, can transform into an emotional prison, stifling growth and individuality.
A Heartbreaking Truth
John’s letter was not just a plea for understanding; it was an act of liberation. For years, he had hidden parts of himself, first in the military and then at home. In leaving, he finally chose to live as his true self.
His mother’s love, though well-meaning, had become suffocating. It left no room for him to grow, to heal, or to be seen for who he indeed was.
The Power of Listening
John’s story mirrors the heart-wrenching themes of Broadway Backwards’ version of “Listen.” The lyrics — rewritten to reflect a gay man’s plea to be seen; capture the depth of John’s journey:
“I’m more than what you made of me.
I followed the voice you gave to me.
But now I’ve got to find my own.”
His journey is a powerful reminder:
To those who feel silenced: Your voice matters. Speak your truth, even if it means leaving behind those who refuse to hear you.
To parents and loved ones: Love is not about control. True love means listening, trusting, and allowing your children to grow into who they are.
John’s story is for anyone who has ever felt unseen, unheard, or misunderstood. It’s a call to action — to listen, to love, and to let go.
If this moves you, share it. Let’s remind the world of the courage it takes to speak and the love it takes to listen truly.
Resources for Healing, Support, and Understanding
If John’s story resonates with you or someone you know, these resources can offer valuable guidance and support:
About Your True Direction
Your True Direction is dedicated to empowering individuals navigating life’s transitions. Through inspiring stories and actionable strategies, we aim to help you reclaim ambition, overcome challenges, and thrive in every stage of your journey.
Connect with Us
Follow us on Medium: @YourTrueDirection
Have a story to share or want to collaborate? Email Ryan at ryan@yourtruedirection.com.
Thank You for Reading! Your journey is yours to shape — take the next step in Your True Direction.
For veterans, the battle doesn’t always end with service; it continues in the struggle to find purpose, identity, and belonging in civilian life.
By R. T. Garner
Image generated by the author
For 14 years, I’ve been fighting a battle I never expected: the struggle to find my place after leaving the military. I graduated from West Point, served my country, and earned three master’s degrees. On paper, it looks like I should be thriving. Yet here I am, stuck in a cycle of self-doubt, frustration, and a deep sense of failure.
In 2004, I stood among my peers at West Point, filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment. I had earned my place at one of the most rigorous institutions in the world, surrounded by leaders destined for greatness. Like many of my classmates, I envisioned a lifelong career in the Army, rising through the ranks, and eventually transitioning into a civilian leadership role that would capitalize on everything I had learned and accomplished.
But life has a way of veering off course. In 2010, I was medically retired from the Army, years before I had planned to leave. My career, my purpose, and my identity as a leader were suddenly taken away. The structured life I had built, with its clear goals and direction, vanished overnight. What followed was a chaotic and often painful journey of rebuilding, a journey that still feels incomplete.
This year marked my 20-year West Point reunion, a milestone I should have celebrated. Instead, I stayed home. I was too embarrassed to face my classmates, many of whom have gone on to achieve incredible things. They’re now lieutenant colonels, colonels, CEOs, congressmen, etc. And me? I report to a manager who was a private first class when I was leading soldiers.
Once, I confided this to a former classmate who is now a lieutenant colonel. I told him about my current position and my boss’s rank when they left the military. He gave me a smirk and laughed, as if to say, Are you serious? That laugh cut deeper than I expected. It wasn’t just a reaction, it was a mirror reflecting all the doubts and insecurities I’ve carried since leaving the military.
The Burden of Expectations
West Point instills in its graduates a culture of excellence, competition, and relentless discipline. We are trained to lead, to inspire, to rise to any challenge. But what happens when those expectations meet the messy reality of civilian life?
For many veterans, transitioning from the military to civilian careers is a difficult process. For West Point graduates and officers, the challenges are unique. Leadership roles that once defined our identities often don’t translate into civilian contexts. Employers frequently undervalue military experience, and the cultural differences between military and corporate environments create barriers to understanding.
The weight of comparison only magnifies these struggles. Seeing my classmates thrive in high-profile roles while I’ve spent years trying to find my footing has been a constant reminder of my perceived failures. For West Point graduates, the pressure is even greater. We’re seen as the elite — the ones who are supposed to lead by example. When we struggle, it feels like we’ve let everyone down: our families, our peers, and even the institution that shaped us.
A Crisis of Identity and Purpose
The loss of leadership roles and military identity is one of the most profound challenges veterans face during their transition. In the Army, I was responsible for making decisions, leading teams, and carrying the weight of leadership. Those roles gave me a sense of purpose and confidence that I’ve struggled to replicate in civilian life.
Civilian leadership often looks very different from military leadership. Hierarchies are less defined, decision-making processes are slower, and the values driving organizations don’t always align with those we learned in the military. These cultural gaps make it difficult to find roles that feel meaningful, leaving many of us questioning our place and our value.
For me, this struggle has been deeply personal. I work in career development, helping others find jobs and achieve their goals. I guide them through the same transitions I’ve struggled with, and while I’m proud of the work I do, it often feels hollow. How can I help others succeed when I feel like I’ve failed myself? Every success story I help create is a bittersweet reminder of how far I feel from where I want to be.
The Mental Health Toll
These professional struggles are closely tied to mental health challenges. Studies show that the suicide rate among veterans is 1.5 times higher than the general population, and unemployment or underemployment only increases that risk. For officers and academy graduates, the stakes are even higher. The loss of leadership identity, financial strain, and the weight of expectations can create a perfect storm of isolation and despair.
The transition to civilian life can lead to mental health challenges for many veterans, particularly those underemployed. Research shows that underemployed veterans experience significantly higher rates of depression (42%) and suicidal ideation (15%) than their employed counterparts (18% depression, 5% suicidal ideation). (RAND Corporation, 2020).
The stigma surrounding mental health in military culture compounds the problem. We’re trained to be strong, to push through adversity, and to see vulnerability as weakness. Seeking help often feels like admitting defeat, and even when we do, civilian therapists or counselors may not fully understand the nuances of our experiences.
I’ve seen the toll this takes, not just on myself but on friends and classmates who haven’t made it. The grief of losing peers to suicide is compounded by the survivor’s guilt and the unspoken question: Why them and not me?
Financial Strain and Underemployment
The financial challenges of transition add another layer of difficulty. Civilian jobs often pay less than military officer salaries, particularly for leadership roles. Underemployment — working in positions that don’t fully utilize our skills or experience, is a common reality for many veterans.
“The median income for veterans often lags behind the equivalent civilian workforce, particularly for former officers transitioning into leadership roles in the private sector.” (Bureau of Labor Statistics, 2021).
A 2021 RAND study revealed that nearly 50% of veterans feel underemployed, with officers being particularly vulnerable. The cost of transition, from moving families to establishing a civilian lifestyle, combined with the loss of military benefits, creates financial instability that can exacerbate mental health challenges.
For West Point graduates, underemployment isn’t just a financial issue; it’s an emotional one. It’s hard not to tie our worth to our professional titles and achievements, especially when we’ve been trained to lead and excel.
What Needs to Change?
Addressing these challenges requires systemic change and a shift in perspective:
Targeted Transition Programs
Programs tailored to officers and academy graduates, focusing on translating military leadership into civilian careers.
Employer Education
Companies must recognize the value of military leadership and actively recruit veterans for roles that align with their skills and experience.
Mental Health Support
Destigmatizing mental health struggles within the military and alumni networks is crucial. Alumni organizations like West Point’s can play a key role in fostering openness and connection.
Redefining Success
Veterans must learn to see success not as a continuation of rank or status but as finding purpose and fulfillment in new ways.
A Call to Action
This journey is deeply personal, but it’s not unique. Veterans, especially those from leadership backgrounds, face systemic barriers that make transition incredibly challenging. By sharing our stories, we can break the silence around these struggles and advocate for meaningful change.
To my fellow veterans: You’re not alone. The weight of expectations is heavy, but it doesn’t have to define you. Together, we can build a future where veterans are valued not just for their past service but for the incredible potential they bring to civilian life.
Call to Action:
If this resonates with you, share your story or join the conversation. Let’s work together to create a brighter path for veterans navigating life after service.
This link provides access to the full article and its details. Let me know if you’d like additional assistance navigating the content or extracting specific sections!
Citations:
Bureau of Labor Statistics. (2021). Employment Situation of Veterans. Retrieved from https://www.bls.gov.
RAND Corporation. (2020). Understanding Veteran Employment Challenges. Retrieved from https://www.rand.org
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More Than Broken: Confronting the Labels That Limit Us
By R. T. Garner
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Yeah, I’m awake again. It’s been months since I’ve had a good night’s sleep. Every night, I lie here, staring at the ceiling, running through the same loop of thoughts over and over again. It’s like my mind is a damn broken record, replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every time I felt like I wasn’t enough.
Let’s cut to the chase: I have PTSD. There, I said it. I’ve been carrying that label for years now. But here’s the thing — ever since those four little letters got slapped onto my life, everything changed. It’s not just about the nightmares or the flashbacks. No, it’s more than that. It’s the way the world looks at you the moment they hear “PTSD.” It’s the way people start treating you differently like you’re fragile or broken. Like that diagnosis is the only thing that defines you.
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It’s bullshit, but it’s real. Ever since that label got attached to me, it’s like I’ve been fighting to prove that I’m more than those four letters. It feels like everyone looks at me and only sees “damaged goods.” And no matter how much I try to show them otherwise, the doubt lingers. You think it’s hard serving in the military? Try coming home and wearing a label like that. Try fighting against the way people judge you, even when you know you’re more than their damn assumptions.
And you know when it really hit? When my own family started looking at me differently. I haven’t spoken to my family since 2020, and I wish I could say it’s because I don’t love them. But that’s not it at all. The truth? They love me, but they didn’t see me anymore. Every time I looked in their eyes, I saw it — the doubt, the pity, the way they thought I needed to be “fixed.” No matter how many times I tried to tell them, “Hey, I’m not broken; I don’t need you to fix me,” they kept coming at me like I was something less. That shit hurts, man. It drags you down. It’s like being punched in the gut every time you walk into the room.
So I stopped talking to them. Yeah, it wasn’t easy, but you know what? Since then, I’ve been happier. I cut that negativity out, even if it came from the people I love. But the scars are still there. The truth is, I’m sick of being defined by PTSD. I’m sick of people looking at me like that’s all there is to me. And I’m really fucking sick of being judged by people who don’t even know the first thing about what I’ve been through.
Look, I know people say, “Don’t compare yourself to others.” But let’s be real — when you’re stuck at the bottom when you’re doing everything you can to move forward, and nothing’s happening, it’s impossible not to compare. I see people I went to school with — people who had the same opportunities as me — moving up in the world. They’re congressmen, doctors, lawyers, CEOs. And here I am, applying for jobs that I’m more than qualified for, only to be told I don’t have the right experience. Or worse — being told that my military leadership doesn’t translate into the real world.
It’s not that I’m not trying. Hell, I went back to school, I earned three master’s degrees, and I’ve applied for countless jobs. But every time, I hit the same wall. I’ve been told I’m not “corporate” enough. Not “qualified” enough. People look at my résumé and shrug, like the years of experience; the blood, sweat, and tears mean nothing. Meanwhile, I see people with half my experience stepping into roles I could crush.
You want to know what it’s like to have PTSD? It’s not just the bad dreams. It’s the way the world labels you. It’s the way you get put in a box the second they hear those letters. You get judged, second-guessed, doubted. And after a while, you start to question yourself. You start to wonder if maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe this is all I’ll ever be. But here’s the truth: it’s all bullshit. It’s their limited beliefs, their judgment, and their inability to see beyond a label.
And you know what? I’m done letting that label define me. Yeah, I have PTSD, but that’s not the whole story. It doesn’t mean I’m broken. It doesn’t mean I’m any less of a leader or any less capable. If anything, it means I’ve been through some serious shit, and I’m still standing. But the world doesn’t get that. Employers don’t get that. Even people I thought knew me don’t get that.
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I’ve been fighting this fight since 2010. I’ve been second-guessed, doubted, judged. And it’s not just strangers — it’s people I thought were supposed to have my back. That’s what hurts the most. When people you love look at you and only see what’s “wrong,” when they can’t see the person behind the diagnosis. I don’t talk to my family anymore, and yeah, I miss them. But I couldn’t take the constant judgment, the constant feeling like I was something broken that needed to be fixed.
People think they know what PTSD is. They think it’s just flashbacks or waking up in a cold sweat. But it’s so much more than that. It’s the constant battle in your mind. It’s the overthinking, the self-doubt, the way you can’t shut off your thoughts. It’s the look in people’s eyes when they don’t see you anymore; they just see the letters. It’s the feeling of always being underestimated, no matter what you’ve accomplished.
But here’s the thing: I’m still here. I’m still fighting. And I’m tired of being judged for what I’ve been through. I’m tired of being defined by something I can’t control. I’m tired of comparing myself to others when I know I’m doing everything I can to move forward. Yeah, I’m struggling. But I’m not broken. I’m not a victim. I’m not some damaged vet who needs fixing. I’m a person who’s been through hell and is still showing up every day, even when it feels impossible.
So yeah, I’m sharing this because I’m done pretending. I’m done acting like I’m okay when I’m not. But more than that, I’m done letting anyone — whether it’s my family, employers, or anyone else — tell me who I am. I’m more than a diagnosis. I’m more than PTSD. And if you’re reading this and feeling the same way, know this: You’re more than your diagnosis, too.
The world can slap as many labels on us as it wants, but at the end of the day, it’s up to us to decide who we are. So yeah, I’m tired. But I’m not giving up. And if that’s all I’ve got right now, then that’s enough.
“Brave men rejoice in adversity, just as brave soldiers triumph in war.” — Lucius Annaeus Seneca, Roman philosopher.
Empowering Veterans
In the summer of 2009, Sam, an American soldier, started dealing with symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder. Though he was diagnosed with PTSD by doctors in 2009, he initially denied its existence and avoided discussing it with anybody, despite their insistence. It was terrifying for him because he was worried about what his family and friends would think and how his diagnosis would affect him.
As a soldier, he continued driving on until a particular day in the summer of 2009, four years following his departure from Iraq’s battlefield. The exact cause behind this turning point is still unknown to Sam. Perhaps it was the sight of the young Soldiers’ remains that he helped collect after an IED explosion obliterated their vehicle, knowing deep down that they would never reunite with their loved ones. It could also be attributed to the time of year, as it coincided with the haunting memories of Iraqi children covered in blood and innocent victims of a market bombing in Balad, Iraq.
Despite being unable to pinpoint the exact trigger, he felt an intense tightening in his chest out of nowhere one evening in 2009, making breathing difficult. He felt enclosed and overwhelmed by panic in a way that made him get out of bed instantly, convinced he would die. Although he considered going to the emergency room, he found solace in his military training, which urged him to persevere. His morning began with panic, fear of confinement, claustrophobia, and tightness in his chest. When that moment came, he wondered whether he might have had a heart attack. He needed to seek medical attention if that was the case.
He returned home to Sarasota after his medical retirement. There, he realized that while he no longer burdened the Army, he was now one of those who were most important to him: his family and friends. Like many others, he hid himself to avoid being seen as another broken ex-soldier. In contrast to what he expected, those around him provided help that worked against him instead.
In the darkest hours of the night, memories of recovering the bodies of his comrades haunted him. Iraqi children were tragically killed, and the blood on his uniform is still an unforgettable memory for him. While he enjoyed his family’s company during the day, he found himself confronted by the faces of many family members of those who had lost their lives, and he continued to be haunted by the loss of fellow soldiers.
He sought help because he grew tired of not being there while battling his inner demons. The moment had arrived for him to return home for real. His peer support specialist at the VA informed Sam of a coffee social (peer mentor group) provided by Goodwill Manasota Veterans Services. Unlike the many doctors and therapists he had met before, these groups truly helped Sam bring everything into focus.
Except for other combat soldiers, Sam felt that no one else truly understood the weight of his experiences. He sought out fellow soldiers who wore combat patches to find solace and mutual understanding. Together, they formed a tight bond, grappling with the immense weight of the deaths, destruction, and pain they had seen firsthand. Before, they felt isolated, fearful of seeking aid, and burdened by the haunting memories that plagued them.
Peer-to-peer mentoring is a highly effective method for developing and honing leadership abilities, gaining insights from others, and establishing a support network. This entails forming a partnership with individuals with comparable aspirations, obstacles, or interests and engaging in a reciprocal exchange of feedback, guidance, and motivation. Peer-to-peer mentoring has thus been a valuable resource for Sam and other veterans, providing many benefits. Here are just a few:
Benefits of Peer-to-Peer Mentoring for Veterans:
1. Development of a sense of camaraderie and belonging:
Veterans can connect through peer-to-peer mentoring programs, combating feelings of isolation during the transition back to civilian life. Peer Mentors provide a sense of community and understanding during the transition — supporting the veteran and easing the transition.
2. Provision of emotional support and the reduction of feelings of isolation:
Transitioning from military to civilian life is emotionally challenging for veterans. Peer mentors provide a safe space for veterans to express themselves, reducing isolation and helping them process their experiences. This support encourages veterans to seek help when needed.
3. Transfer of practical knowledge and skills:
Experienced peer mentors help mentees with careers, education, finances, and resources. They share their knowledge and lessons to support veterans in transitioning to civilian life and succeeding.
4. Enhancement of personal growth and self-confidence:
During peer mentoring, veterans explore strengths, develop new skills, and set personal growth goals. Mentors encourage their mentees to challenge themselves, take on new responsibilities, and aim for excellence. With peer mentors, veterans can gain confidence, recognize their potential, and achieve post-military goals.
5. Facilitation of successful reintegration into civilian life:
Veterans who take part in peer-to-peer mentoring receive aid in navigating civilian life, finding jobs, and accessing healthcare. Mentors reduce stress and increase their chances of success in civilian roles.
6. Improved mental health outcomes:
As veterans transition to civilian life, they often experience mental health issues. Peer mentors provide veterans with a safe and supportive space to express their concerns. Having a mentor improves veterans’ mental well-being and reduces mental health risks. They help veterans seek help, practice self-care, and develop coping strategies. Mentors share their journeys and offer support.
Sam has also joined another group through Goodwill Manasota Veterans Services called Lutz Buddy Up. They meet regularly to share experiences and provide support. They provide a safe environment where everyone can share their challenges and successes. During his time in these groups, he has gained advice on navigating the job market, adjusting to civilian life, and dealing with the emotional effects of those with similar experiences. Transitioning to civilian life has been challenging for veterans; however, together, they support each other through this process.
We are social beings, and our well-being depends on our interactions with others. For veterans transitioning to civilian life, peer-to-peer mentoring is crucial. During this challenging time, programs like Lutz Buddy Up and Goodwill’s Coffee Social provide support. In this new chapter, veterans can receive help from practical advice and emotional support from a mentor group. As long as these programs are funded, all veterans can get the help they need during their transition.
In 2009, my life plan took a different turn when I had to leave the Army after 13 years due to medical reasons. With no clear vision for the future, I was forced to search for a new path and reevaluate my aspirations and career. This unexpected change prompted me to redefine my identity and seek a new purpose.
I felt fear and uncertainty, grappling with PTSD and other challenges stemming from my experience in combat. I encountered unforeseen obstacles, diverging from my intended path of a long Army career and retirement. The unsettling aspect was not knowing where my life was headed.
Now I understand that I have made numerous mistakes that I could have prevented and wish I had. However, such is the nature of life. We all make mistakes, but what if I had the opportunity to avoid them? Would I be in a better place today? Would I have achieved more success? Would I feel more satisfied? The potential list of these hypothetical situations could be unending and span several pages.
So, you may be wondering what mistakes I made. Here are a few key issues that hindered my progress:
1. The conclusion of my military service and the difficulty of securing equivalent employment left me feeling shattered.
2. The fear of failure made me hesitant to attempt new endeavors.
3. I accepted the limitations that others imposed on me.
4. I allowed others’ perceptions of me to dictate my self-esteem.
5. I should have established appropriate goals before and after leaving the Army.
6. I needed help to find the correct path, and asking for it is ok.
However, another important consideration is what I gained from my experience and what I wish I had known beforehand. Looking back, the most valuable lesson one can learn is to listen to one’s own desires in life. Ignore expectations, advice, and “should haves.” Disregard others’ opinions and live according to one’s own preferences.
This process could have been more straightforward and required time to comprehend because change is difficult. I didn’t realize that discovering my genuine purpose, identity, and happiness would be challenging. It is indeed a difficult journey. It is a struggle to adopt new ways of thinking and to let go of the life, love, or hope I once desired. Change is always challenging. However, one important thing you can do for yourself is to uncover what makes you happy and grow according to your values. It involves identifying what is most important to you, igniting your passion, and finding the motivation to love yourself more, ultimately leading you to discover your true purpose and live life according to your terms.
For me, discovering my genuine path entails embracing the person I aspire to become rather than conforming to others’ expectations. Ultimately, life is about finding the discernment that brings happiness to oneself, you! However, you can still navigate it by yourself. If I had the chance to start over, I would have appreciated having someone to help me craft a plan and guide me through much of that process.
Reflecting on the past, I believe that with the appropriate “plan,” I could have achieved greater success in discovering my true path. I aspire to fulfill this role and assist others in setting achievable goals, recognizing their self-worth, and understanding that personal setbacks are not always their fault.
Over the years, I have come to understand the following principles:
1. You are not flawed
2. It’s okay to experience failure
3. You can dispel misconceptions
4. The significance of self-value
5. The importance of setting goals
6. Live your life purposefully
My role now involves assisting people who have encountered challenges to develop a renewed sense of self-belief, achieve their aspirations, and find their true path. Ultimately, this empowers them to experience purpose, pride, and dignity, leading to a stronger belief in themselves. A quote that has stuck with me is, “I want to inspire people. I want someone to look at me and say because of you, I didn’t give up.” I aim to ensure that others do not become a part of the statistic of 22. The essential message is to never cease in the fight!
Strategies for Military Veterans to Secure Employment
by R.T. Garner
Thinking of it as an Army Operation Order (OPORD) can be a helpful metaphor for job searching. The OPORD is a structured plan of action that the military uses to achieve a specific objective. Similarly, having a clear objective and a well-defined action plan can help you achieve your career goals, such as finding a job in a specific industry or location or reaching a certain salary or position.
1.SITUATION:
Securing post-service employment is a critical issue that requires attention. Veterans frequently encounter difficulties in finding employment that matches their abilities after leaving the military, as employers often fail to appreciate the value of veterans’ military experience and skills. Consequently, approaching the job search in a structured manner is crucial for veterans to find suitable employment opportunities. Recognizing the potential for their unique skills to contribute to the growth and success of businesses is a complex endeavor.
To begin, it is important to assess one’s resources in a similar manner to how an Army unit operates. This involves evaluating one’s skills, experience, and qualifications, as well as identifying any potential challenges or hurdles in the job search, such as competition for specific positions or gaps in one’s resume.
a.Enemy Forces: High unemployment rates and competition from other job seekers
b.Friendly Forces:
c.The job seeker with their skills, experience, and education
d.Terrian: The job market, including online job boards, company career pages, and job fairs.
e.Weather: Economic Conditions
2.MISSION
The mission is to secure full-time employment in a desired field.
3.EXECUTION: Once you have a clear objective and have assessed your resources, it’s time to develop a plan of action. This might include researching potential employers, networking with industry professionals, and tailoring your resume and cover letter to specific job postings.
a.Intent: The intent is to conduct a thorough and systematic job search and secure a job offer promptly.
b.Concept of the Operations:
i. Conduct Research on potential employers and job openings.
ii. Tailor resumes and cover letters to specific job requirements.
iii. Network with contacts in the industry.
iv. Attend job fairs and recruitment events.
v. Prepare for and perform job interviews.
vi. Evaluate job offers and negotiate salary and benefits if necessary.
a.Tasks:
i. Conduct Research on potential employers and job openings.
1. Research companies and industries of interest.
2. Spend a few minutes on the company’s website and social media channels.
3. Learn more about their culture, mission, and products.
4. Highlight this information in your application to demonstrate your interest in the company.
ii. Tailor resumes and cover letters to specific job requirements.
1. Customize resumes and cover letters to highlight relevant skills and experience.
2. Ensure that all documents are error-free and professional.
3. Highlight this information in your application to show interest in the position.
iii. Network with contacts in the industry.
1. Reach out to former colleagues, classmates, and other contacts.
2. Attend industry events and meetings.
3. Build relationships with recruiters and hiring managers.
iv. Attend job fairs and recruitment events.
v. Prepare for and perform well in job interviews.
1. Research the company and position.
2. Prepare responses to common interview questions.
3. Dress professionally and arrive on time.
vi. After the interview:
1. Follow up with a thank-you note after the interview.
2. Evaluate job offers and negotiate salary and benefits if necessary.
3. Research industry standards and salaries for similar positions.
4. Negotiate salary and benefits if necessary.
d. Coordinating Instructions:
I. Maintain a positive and professional attitude throughout the job search process.
II. Keep track of all job applications, interviews, and follow-up actions.
III. Seek feedback from recruiters and hiring managers to improve job search skills.
4. SERVICE SUPPORT:
a.Medical: Maintain physical and mental health throughout the job search process.
b.Logistics: Ensure all necessary materials are available for job applications, interviews, and networking events.
c.Personnel: Seek advice and support from mentors, colleagues, and other contacts.
5.COMMAND AND SIGNAL:
a.Command: The job seeker.
b.Signal: Communication will be maintained through email, phone, and in-person meetings.
Military veterans encounter numerous obstacles when seeking employment after completing their service. It is crucial to follow a systematic job search method, incorporating strategies such as researching potential employers, networking, tailoring resumes and cover letters, attending job fairs and recruitment events, and adequately preparing for interviews. Furthermore, maintaining physical and mental well-being, seeking guidance and assistance, and documenting all job search activities are fundamental for achieving success. By utilizing appropriate resources and tools, job seekers can discover suitable employment prospects.
Despite the battle’s embrace, they bravely stood, The heroes of land, the righteous and good. But the story doesn’t end on foreign shores, For the struggles persist when the war closes its doors.
Neither drink nor drugs they seek, Nor the shallow tales that make them weak. The root of their pain runs much deeper still, A seed planted in hearts, a void they cannot fill.
The young, completely in their prime, Called to put their life on the line. They sacrifice love and dreams untold, Carrying burdens that can never be told.
Their souls wrestle with moral strife, Haunted by actions that cut like a knife. Then cast back into a world unknown, With scarce resources and hearts turned to stone.
Amongst a world that cannot comprehend, The reality they faced, the battles they defend. They’re left to embrace themselves anew, A world that may never comprehend the pain they knew.
So let us not judge or cast them aside, But offer support as they try to confide. For it’s in unity and understanding’s embrace, That we can help them find comfort and grace.
Let’s seek true help, resources galore, To help them heal and find hope once more. For the root of their problem runs deep within, And it’s our duty to aid and help them begin.
So let’s banish the shallow civilian fiction, And show compassion for our brave veterans’ afflictions. With open hearts and the desire to learn, We can bridge the gap, and help their souls return.
“An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.” — Martin Buber
The night was October 19, 2005, and my Platoon was assigned as Quick Reaction Force (QRF) for the day. It was a pretty easy day until around 8 pm; we received a call that our 3rd Platoon had come in contact with an Improvised Explosive Device (IED) outside Balad, Iraq. When we arrived on site, the scene was horrific, not something I wanted to deal with on my first day back in the country from R n R. A HUMVEE had been melted to the ground, rounds were going off from the flames, and only one soldier survived out of the five on board.
Service members experience unprecedented adverse situations in war and are required to prepare for unknown challenges. Thus, In the military, resilience and confidence are two essential fundamentals of a well-rounded capable person. While they can feed and strengthen each other when they are both high, they can also negatively affect other aspects of our lives when they are low. In comparison, while service members feel they can face adversity head-on, many face trauma from combat, injury, captivity, or even sexual assault. Studies have shown that up to 95% of post-9/11 veterans report experiencing attacks, ambushes, or seeing human remains while deployed.
Many scenes, like that October night, play in my head, and in 2010, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and medically retired from the Army. Consumed with PTSD, I felt incredibly isolated and angry, rarely left my home, and was full of hate. Like many others who selflessly traveled to Iraq and Afghanistan, I was confronted with death and horror daily. We survived the unbelievable, only to come home to a life of emotional trauma, broken relationships, paralyzing depression, and hopelessness. For many, the saying is true. The most challenging part of war is not the war; it is coming home. My days often culminated in either thinking of death or looking for a better way to live, knowing that an average of 22 veterans were ending their lives every day. Many who have PTSD are not finding efficacy in standard treatments.
Once home, I hated myself for many things and didn’t trust those around me. Falling apart emotionally, I cried, shook, and hyperventilated often, wondering would life ever be the same. It has taken years to get to where I am today and start a course for a better way: to continue to be resilient and work on my confidence. I want to face the struggles, challenges, and barriers in front of me head-on, not allowing them or other limitations to hold me back. Is it a struggle, yes? But it is better than the alternative.
I continue to seek help through veteran organizations like Operation Warrior Resolution, which has partnered with Sarasota Manatee Association for Riding Therapy (SMART), where I have had the incredible opportunity to participate in Veterans Equine Therapy for the last six weeks. Yes, Equine Therapy has been effective in treating veterans with PTSD. According to the Man O’War Project’s clinical research findings, a test group of 8 veterans experienced a reduction in symptoms between 26% and 74%.
I partnered with a horse named Buddy Cassidy on our first day. We started on the ground and learned how to lead our horses around. Many of us, including the horses, were anxious at first, but as I looked into Buddy’s soft brown eyes, I mirrored his breathing as we became in tuned with each other.
Martin Buber, a 20th-century Jewish theologian, wrote, “An animal’s eyes have the power to speak a great language.” Buber felt that “all real living is an encounter” because it is during intimate conversations or shared experiences that we grow in love, intimacy, and humanity. While animals cannot speak as we do, they have a unique way of listening, responding, and communicating with us.
The horses at SMART provide just that experience for veterans. As prey animals, horses rely on their heightened senses for survival, as veterans do at war. As herd animals, horses communicate through body language, such as pushing, kicking, biting, squealing, grooming, and grazing together. Stepping into their herd becomes about respect and trust, with the horses reacting to and mirroring the veteran’s emotions without using words or judgments. “They listen to your energy and can feel your heartbeat from five feet away,” stated Ilee Finocchiaro.
While riding is not included, the activities concentrate on feeding, grooming, and walking the horse; the goal is to focus your attention and mindfulness on the horse and how each interacts. As a 1200-pound lie detector, there is no hiding how you feel. They provide feedback to the veteran by flicking their ears, widening their eyes, and dropping off their shoulders (head). Letting the veteran know whether or not they are trusting them or are even relaxed.
Equine therapy helps veterans because it is entirely based on trust. “Whether you are anxious or fearful, they are going to know,” per Terri Arnold. “The first couple of days is a trust-building process.” The build-up of trust, confidence, and self-awareness are built between the horse and veteran, and soon the veteran can move the horse backward, forward, and sideways with minimal effort. All the veteran needs to do is stay focused in the present; if your mind is elsewhere, the horse will know and take advantage of that. Both veterans and horses are worried about continuing concerns about trust and safety. Working with your horse, this innovative therapy facilitates bonding, overcoming fear, reestablishing confidence, self-efficacy, self-awareness, better communication, social skills, assertiveness, and boundaries within the veteran.
Buddy Cassidy allows me to bring my guard down and express myself. While Buddy Cassidy did not know me before going to war, he accepts me for who I am. He expected nothing from me except to feel safe as if I was part of his herd. I hope to carry these skills over to my herd, allowing more growth opportunities within my family and community.
