A Journey Through Trauma
The boy was my brother, the soldier, my father. I bear the name Anthony, given to me in memory of my brother, Tony. It is both an honor and a weight that I will always carry—the profound sense of obligation I feel to strive for something meaningful in my life, not just for myself but of the both of them.
My father never spoke of his military service. I believe, for him, the pain of that night was etched into the fabric of his uniform. He was a capable and physically adept soldier but powerless to save his own son. I can't fathom the nightmares he endured or what it was like to look in the mirror after such an event.
In the days before my father's suicide, he attempted to end his life in my presence. Tears streamed down my face and onto his as I sat on his chest, clutching a firearm, and screaming into his face, pleading with him, "Please, please don't do this."
After the altercation, I was asked to keep it a secret from my mother out of fear that she would restrict his visitation privileges. As a child, carrying my father's secret became an immense burden of guilt. I believed his suicide was my fault and bore his death in a way no child should.
His trauma of losing his son in Germany was passed on to me when I lost him to suicide. It consumed me for nearly 20 years, casting a shadow on my life that I couldn't see beyond.
When my father fell into depression, there were no programs available to help soldiers dealing with PTSD, and emotional scars, especially those unrelated to combat, were not addressed. In the years since, our society has evolved, gaining a better understanding of how trauma affects our minds and bodies.
During my four years in the Marines, I served in Iraq twice, exiting the military at the age of 22. With considerable emotional trauma from my childhood, I also faced physical trauma from a near-fatal motorcycle accident. These combined to create a life event that almost pushed me to follow my father's path. I contemplated suicide despite witnessing its devastating effects on my life and family.
Three key factors helped turn my life around and steered me away from self-destruction. First, after my motorcycle accident, I developed a healthy relationship with fitness, which altered my brain chemistry, reduced stress and anxiety, and boosted my self-confidence.
Second, a wilderness adventure focused on healing and transforming adversity into self-reliance played a crucial role in channeling trauma into strength.
Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, I concentrated on mental health and cultivating a positive mindset. This journey involved years of consistent work centered on personal and professional development that ultimately generated a new level of emotional maturity.
The most significant progress in assisting military members with trauma has come from those who have experienced it themselves. Along the way, I was fortunate enough to lead two such wilderness adventures for a non-profit called 23rd Veteran, founded by another Marine infantryman, Mike Waldron. Witnessing the transformation in individuals throughout this 14-week program reminds me of my own journey.
At times, I wonder if such a program had been available to my father, would he still be here today.
It should be the responsibility of the military to create and fund programs like this for service members who endure trauma during their service. Unfortunately, many, like my father, are left to figure it out on their own.
During my healing process, mentors emerged, guiding me and sharing their wisdom to help me better myself. I first needed to be in a mental space to accept their time and energy. I believe this is where programs like 23rd Veterans can be of ultimate success: getting individuals to a positive frame of mind in order to accept the help and guidance of those who care.
Throughout my life, I've learned that there are traumas worse than physical injuries, ones that scar souls and extinguish the will to live. We face things we wouldn't wish on our worst enemy. In those times, darkness can overwhelm even the faintest light at the end of the tunnel, making faith seem impossible.
Some traumas may seem insurmountable, but life provides tools to endure them and even grow stronger, to experience what is known as post-traumatic growth. Those who stand by us in times of trauma, those who come to our aid, and the passage of time all offer the perspective needed to develop a mindset strong enough to navigate any adversity.
Expressing the gratitude I feel for my perspective on trauma is profoundly challenging, particularly as I must also emphatically state that suicide holds no positive aspects. My father's suicide, a traumatic event during my childhood, robbed me of much happiness and altered the course of my life. Yet, it also gave me a resilience that enables me to endure any challenge life may present.
It has gifted me a story, one I share with the hope of helping others.
In telling this story, my intention is to articulate that suicide marks the end only for the one who chooses it, initiating a never-ending journey through trauma for those left behind.
The weight I carry, which is both an honor and a curse, has significantly shaped who I am. Within embracing it, harnessing its strengths, and seeking to understand it, I am certain that my brother and father walk with me, proud of the man I've become despite the adversities I've faced. This certainty brings me great peace.
Please consider donating to the 14-week reconditioning program by 23rd Veteran and help give someone battling trauma the tools they need to endure.
