NUGGET Number 2: The Void

I retired from the Army this year, but I’ve been retired in my mind much longer than that. Everything was cool when I was working missions, deployed, or preparing to deploy-there was no time to think about anything but the mission. So much happened during that time that should have crushed me, but I never let it affect me– or so I thought.

One day, the missions slowed down (I went to a garrison assignment), and all of that crap was still there waiting for me. In the void left by being in fight or flight mode for the better part of two decades, the craziest thoughts I could imagine came spilling out. It began by thinking that people in my house had stopped breathing. I was obsessed with this idea, and would jump out of bed at random times to go make sure everyone, even the dog was still alive. It got much worse from there, but I’ll spare you the details. I didn’t seek help, because I had done that before and the response was just to throw pills at me. I just kept going on with life pretty much on autopilot. I lost friends to suicide, pills, and alcohol, but I ignored their warning signs and just kept going on with life as best I could.

When I retired, I didn’t have a ceremony or a party like most people would, because I felt dead inside and just wanted to be free. I used that freedom to do as little as possible, playing video games, eating whatever I wanted, and occasionally trolling people on social media for kicks. I gained a ton of weight and felt like shit, and the thoughts kept getting worse and worse.

I lost my job because I couldn’t keep it all together, but I still had to keep life moving for my family. There have been many days when I seriously thought everyone would be better off without me. At some point through all this shit, I picked myself up and began to reach out for help. The VA put me on a wait list. The Vet Center put me on a wait list. I was paranoid about calling a crisis line or even mentioning the word suicide for fear that I would be locked up by the suicide police or something.

While doing all of this, I was trying with all my might to still be a good father and husband. Part of that involved keeping my kids involved in activities. My 8 year-old daughter decided that she wanted to get into martial arts, something that I’ve always enjoyed but never really been able to do as much as I wanted.

So no shit, there I was-sitting by the window of the Brazilian jiu jitsu gym, watching my daughter kick ass. I had every reason to just keep sitting there doing the same old shit, but something changed in me. I stood up, signed a waiver, and started rolling that day.

I would like to say that I got in there and just started dominating, but not so much. I got my ass kicked, and I loved every second of it. I felt pain in muscles that I didn’t even know I had. I sweated more than I had in a very long time, and for the first time in forever I felt alive for a moment. The BJJ community welcomed me and my family with open arms, and gave me the closest thing to brotherhood that I had seen since combat. I’ve been hooked ever since.

I still have bouts of crippling self-doubt, I still have visions and nightmares, and I still feel the pain every day, but none of that follows me onto the mat. Getting involved in something healthy that fills the void of combat and provides a similar adrenaline rush seems like the most effective way to get through whatever this shit is.

The moral of this story: go find something that kicks your ass.