Damien B Education, Leadership, Philanthropy, Veterans Transition

Isolated

On May 28th, 2014 Stop Soldier Suicide (SSS) will be hosting its 2nd Annual “Night for Life” fund-raising and awareness event aboard the USS Intrepid in Manhattan.  The name of the organization says it all.  It is a very harsh reality that after one of the nation’s most unique and longest armed conflicts, we are losing more Service members and Veterans to suicide than to combat – SSS claims that to be at the rate of 22 Service members and Veterans per day!  Needless to say, that is an astonishing number – but after spending more time than I’d like to admit to thinking about it, I feel like I unfortunately understand.

I’d like to reference something from my 2013 in Review Article posted here at LifebyDamien:

In the year that ensued I began to realize my greatest, most debilitating fear yet:  At 28 years old, I have already lived through the most rewarding, fulfilling, and greatest part of my life.  Now what? … realize[d] that MANY Military Veterans have feared the same after beginning their transition back into civilian life.

I’ve been separated from the Marine Corps, physically, for nearly 2 years now – after being a Marine for nearly 10 years.  I spent ages 18-28, critical development years (per insurance company actuaries and doctoral studies, the male brain doesn’t complete its development in reason and rational ability until the age of 25).  During that time I was exposed to a “normal” that nobody other than Vets will understand… and I’m not talking about combat.  I’m talking about love and companionship.

I’ve noticed that I’ve become a huge baby since leaving the Marine Corps – when I see heroic acts on TV, or examples of highly cohesive teams on Prime Time drama – I get mushy.  Seriously, NCIS, Hawaii Five-O, Band of Brothers, etc…  it’s not because of the psychological trauma the characters are exposed to – but because I see the unspeakable bond that can’t be put into words – and I miss it.  I miss it dearly.  I look back and from the outside, realize that the way we showed our appreciation for the sacrifices we made for each other were rather arrogant.  It was as if unspeakable sacrifice was not just the expectation – but deserved.  In the moment, the appropriate response to someone saving your life – or giving you the last canteen of water in the desert was “told you this was a bad idea – now what”.  Or “Thanks, I would have been fine anyways”.

That’s because it IS expected – because the bond, the love, the camaraderie was so thick and inclusive that anything less would be disrespectful!  I was so incredibly naive to realize my “normal” was the exception.  Service members get out of the military – and that camaraderie is gone.  We realize that our coworkers don’t care if you have to work late – they have their own plans.  The new normal of compassion is “Oh man, I’m sorry to hear that – I hope everything goes well” and 5 minutes later they are on and about their business.  People are afraid to ask for a ride from the one person in the group who has a car.

How do you go from a culture that is so incredibly cohesive, so incredibly driven by camaraderie, that lives by the idea that your primary responsibility is the mission, and the well-being of everyone else OTHER than you – to a culture where meeting once a week for a beer is the norm for “best friends”?  This isn’t PTSD, this isn’t TBI, this – is depression.  This is isolation.  Have you ever felt alone everywhere you went – regardless of who is around you?

Now, take that isolated, beaten down feeling and add it to the thought that you have already lived through the most rewarding part of your life.  Add that, to the memories of experiences you can’t stop reliving but won’t verbalize because you wouldn’t wish the visual on anyone you care about – or anyone with a pulse.  I might say “add” but the effect is compounding, exponential – and enough to convince 22 people a day that their life is better left – behind them.

I don’t ask you to truly feel and comprehend what I am writing about – but I ask you to recognize that there are many out there who do.  Stop Solider Suicide is one organization trying to take the number “22” and instead say, “Not today”.

RIP Uncle Charlie
With Uncle Charlie – 2007 Post-Fallujah

As I write this – I fight, to not repeatedly look at the single picture on my desk… it is not of my wife, my kids or my dog… it is of me standing beside one of the best friends I ever had; who felt life was better left behind him.  RIP Charles B Lock, or as my son knew him as “Uncle Charlie” 19 Jun 1985 – 9 March 2009.

Damien B General Life, Leadership

Because Today Counts

What is the one thing you have given up on changing within yourself?  Really identify the one thing that just hasn’t seemed to be “changeable”….  And make a commitment to change it.  It may be one of the biggest struggles you endure, and it may result in some of the most pitiful failures mounted within yourself.  But once you find the way to change what you, yourself, though couldn’t be changed, about yourself…  then you have proven that change CAN happen, if you really want it to.

Some of us, I included, have come upon things in our own lives that we have neglected to tend to.  Some things that need change are easier left to be, than they are to shake things up.  I bring this up because ignoring small things, can easily lead down a slippery slope to the point of inability to affect things that absolutely need change… such as “bad” habits, learned behaviors – and addictions.

This all came to mind when I was on the train today, 25 June 2012, and I saw the same man, for a second time, pitching the same plea for food and money.  He pleads to the mercy and good nature of those on the subway to believe that he is in a place that is of no fault of his own, and that he only needs help for the moment.  I was annoyed the first time I saw him a few weeks ago.  But today, I was angered.

I am not an expert, but I have seen my fair share of life… this man is not just homeless by random acts of economy.  He is homeless because his drug addiction, I’m near certain is meth, has become his priority in life.  His own health, life, or the lives of those who love him, care about him, do know him now or have loved him, mean nothing in comparison to his next high.  He has lost the ability to change the “unchangeable”.  Yet, he still pleads to the mercy and good nature of random strangers to help him… even though he isn’t capable of taking the most important steps to help himself.

I’ll be honest, at this point… I have complete disregard for someone like him to find help for the sake of his own self.  But I do have sympathy for those that care about him.  I care to see him find help, not as much to stop his own pain, but to stop the pain of those that have lost him.  Because let’s be honest, to his family, and friends… he is all but gone.

This strikes a personal cord with me.  And mentioning it may not excite members of my family.  My own father has been diagnosed with paranoid-schizophrenia.  But I have good reason to believe, his rapid and sharp decline in health, starting about 16 years ago was a product of drug use.  I am old enough to remember how amazing he was, how much he meant to me, and how I will always compare my abilities as a father to his… or at least what I remember from the age of 6 (which was the last time I ever lived with him).  I saw him again when I was 9, for a weekend visit.  Then didn’t see him again until I was 14 for Thanksgiving… by then he wasn’t the same person, and was on medication for the schizophrenia.

I have not seen him in the 14 years since, during which time I’ve only had a handful of phone calls.  He doesn’t believe I am actually alive.  He has never met his grand-children.  He doesn’t know that the sacrifices he made, have made such a life-long impact on me, for the better… all instilled by the time I was 6. He doesn’t know how many times I have needed him or how many times I will hope to be as good of a father as I remember him to be.   And now I have no way of ensuring he knows it.

The lifestyle lived and choices my father made 20-25 years ago, were never lived or made with the intent of today’s outcome.  My father never knew  he was on nor intended on traveling  a slippery slope to land himself in the place he is now… nor did the man on the train that needs help from others that he can’t get for himself.

In 25 years, how do you want your impact remembered?  …because – Today counts.