My Activity Tracking
8
mi
My target 10 mi
Mental health
After leaving military service, the battle didn’t end—it changed. The structure, purpose, and brotherhood I relied on were suddenly gone, and I found myself struggling in ways I never had before. Hypervigilance, anger, emotional numbness, insomnia, and a constant sense of being “on edge” became my normal. What made it worse was that, from the outside, I looked fine. Inside, I was falling apart.
One of the hardest parts was not the symptoms themselves, but the silence around them. In the military, strength is praised and vulnerability is often misunderstood. Mental health struggles are still too often seen as weakness, an excuse, or something that should be handled quietly. I avoided asking for help because I feared judgment, career consequences, or being labeled as “broken.” That stigma nearly cost me my health, my relationships, and my sense of self.
There are also real controversies in how mental health is handled for veterans. Many feel overdiagnosed, under-listened to, or pushed toward medication without addressing root causes like identity loss, moral injury, survivor’s guilt, or repeated exposure to trauma. Others experience the opposite—being dismissed, delayed, or told to “just adjust.” The system meant to help veterans can feel impersonal, bureaucratic, and disconnected from the reality of military culture. These gaps leave many suffering in silence.
My turning point came when I realized that discipline alone couldn’t fix something that required honesty. I started by acknowledging that I wasn’t weak—I was injured, just not in a way people could see. Seeking help didn’t erase my resilience; it demanded it. Therapy, peer support, physical training, and rebuilding purpose gave me tools to understand my mind instead of fighting it blindly. Progress wasn’t linear, and setbacks were real, but I learned how to manage them rather than be controlled by them.
What truly changed me was recognizing that my experience wasn’t unique. Too many service members and veterans are carrying the same weight, often alone. That’s why I now choose to speak openly, even when it’s uncomfortable. By sharing my story, I aim to normalize conversations about mental health, challenge harmful stereotypes, and remind others that asking for help is an act of strength—not surrender.
Supporting others doesn’t mean having all the answers. Sometimes it’s listening without judgment. Sometimes it’s encouraging someone to seek professional help. Sometimes it’s simply saying, “You’re not crazy, and you’re not alone.” Real change happens when we stop pretending that toughness means silence and start recognizing that resilience includes healing.
Mental health after military service is complex, controversial, and deeply personal—but ignoring it costs lives. I turned my struggle into purpose by choosing growth over denial and connection over isolation. If my story helps even one person feel seen or take a step toward help, then it matters.
Support my March in March
This year I will be taking on March in March to raise vital funds for life-changing mental health treatment for veterans.
Combat Stress is the UK's leading charity for veterans' mental health. For over a century, they've helped former servicemen and women deal with issues like trauma, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Today, they provide support to veterans from every service and every conflict.
I’m taking on March in March to help take vital steps towards ensuring veterans can get the support they need.
Thank you so much for your support and together we march!
