The Struggle Part 1

**Trigger warning. This post is about my struggle with suicide. If you are currently struggling with your mental health and are not in the right headspace to read about something this dark/serious, don’t read any further. **

Not that anyone has ever said it but… I’m not special and neither is my story. Nearly 800,000 people die by suicide every year (www.save.org). You read that correctly, which probably doesn’t factor in suicides that fall into other categories (vehicular suicide, for example). What makes my story worth anything is that I am willing to share it.

My experience was over the span of nearly 10 years. If my life during that time was like driving on a highway, I was gradually accelerating and ignoring all the exits, despite my fuel tank running down to nothing. Just pedal to the floor.

I had many opportunities to take care of myself but my pride and lack of understanding were my ultimate downfall. 

My exposure to the Iraq war was the catalyst for the majority of my mental health issues. Being a medic was a unique position to be in during conflict. We often witnessed the beginning, middle, and end of traumatic injuries via small arms fire exchange, explosions, fire. 

There were other factors to war that I'm sure many of us had to cope with like dealing with the death of friends and other service members. The death of enemy combatants. The death of civilians in the wrong place at the right time. Then there was trying to get your head around the possibility of your death. I had to accept the real possibility that every time I went out could be my last. I saw the reality of those who could not deal with it. There is a breakdown and the person becomes highly emotional and irrational. I did not want any part of that. I thought about it all, the different ways that it could happen, how I may react to it, and made peace with it. I was going to do what I was trained to do, as long as I could do it, and hope that if my number was drawn that I wouldn't even know it had happened. It actually made doing my job easier because I wasn't worried about it anymore. I did not have the mentality that I was indestructible or lucky, I just understood that it could happen... just as easily as it wouldn't happen. 

Back at home, I was having trouble sleeping. This alone can make life a living hell, given enough time. Nightmares kept me from staying asleep and my reactions to them kept me from falling back asleep. Nightmares are a hell of a thing to deal with. Not only did I dream about the things I saw and did but the things that might have gone differently. My brain seemed to go out of its way to take all the close calls and turn them into stories of what it would look like if it actually happened. Dreams about not doing my job right, making error after error, or failing my brothers in some way. It got to a point where being awake was maddening and sleeping was hell. 

Anger and hate are emotions or expressions that are welcomed in conflict. They will keep you alive by keeping you on your toes. Keeping your guard up, ready to respond. This does not translate to home life very well. Like, not at ALL. I needed to have all the other emotions and expressions come back but I had pushed them away because they could affect my job performance. Living this way has a cumulative effect, like sleep deprivation. I was always angry. Angry for no reason. My head was a mess and nothing I thought really made any kind of sense. Why was I so mad? What was I mad at? Being mad because other people didn't like me being mad. Being angry because I have to work with people who didn't know. I don't know what they didn't know... but I didn't like it. 

Anger eventually allowed another feeling into my life though... depression. I had lost my purpose when I left the Army. Even though I joined the Fire Service, it wasn't the same. I missed the men I served with, I missed the thrill of combat, I missed the feeling of being alive after coming so close to death. Regular life was muted in comparison and it made me fucking miserable. My depression was probably palpable but when asked if I was ok... I got angry. The negative loop was being fed well and I let it run. 

(Continued)