One Soldier’s Experience with PTSD – Part 1

Submitted by Joseph Reagan 

June 27 is National Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Injury Awareness Day. It is a day dedicated to raising awareness about the signs, symptoms and stigma associated with PTSD. As a former infantry officer with two deployments to Afghanistan, this issue is deeply personal to me. The U.S. Dept. of Veterans Affairs (VA) has reported that somewhere between 10% and 15% of veterans has a clinical diagnosis for post-traumatic stress. The actual number is likely far greater. A recent survey suggests that over a quarter of the U.S. population believes PTSD is incurable and those who have it are dangerous and mentally unstable. It is for this reason that so many veterans refuse to seek help. Twenty-two veterans will take their own life today; two thirds of them will have never stepped foot inside a VA facility – 15 veterans will die today without ever asking for help.

The redeployment process was like an assembly line: 2,600 soldiers going from office to office getting their checklist signed off by each office (dental, vision, finance, etc.). The mental health station was no different; walk in, answer a few questions, get your sheet stamped and leave.

It was June 2006. I had returned a week earlier from a 16-month deployment to Afghanistan. I walked into the mental health office and, without looking up, a man asked, “What was the worst thing you experienced while you were deployed?”

I proceeded to tell him, in detail, about the suicide bomber attack on my platoon that resulted in every member of the platoon being awarded the Purple Heart. He looked up at me and said, “Lieutenant, that is the worst story I’ve heard all day.”

He left me with one question: “Am I still me?”

I answered yes, partially because I thought it was true, but partially because I knew if I said no it would mean an early end to my career.

Over 30 soldiers would recount the same attack that day; 30 soldiers would answer “Yes, I’m good” and walk out of the office with their paper stamped “cleared mental health” and start preparing for the next deployment.

Fast-forward a few years. I left the military, used my GI Bill to get a master’s degree, and had started a new career in management consulting. The guidance most people gave to veterans starting civilian careers was to not talk about being a veteran, so I did not. During a conversation with a colleague, I happened to mention my service because it was related to the topic at hand.

My colleague stopped and said, “I didn’t know you were in the military. You’re remarkably well adjusted.” Not exactly a compliment but also not far from the truth. From the outside I was a normal businessman; from the outside you could never tell that had it not been for an Afghan guard who grabbed the suicide bomber at the last minute I probably wouldn’t have seen my 26th birthday; from the outside I was still me. On the inside, these memories are defining moments: “You can’t unsee a suicide bomber attack” or all the other memories associated with combat. Again, from the outside, for the most part you can’t tell what another person has experienced but these memories tend to pop up at the unexpected times.

A child’s nosebleed triggers a memory you’re not equipped to deal with as you comfort the child in the middle of the night. That’s PTSD. It’s your past fighting with your present and no one on the outside can see that battle.

I cannot describe the weight of command, especially in a combat environment. As a junior officer I was given the responsibility of leading an amazing team of men and women. The mantra of “mission first, people always” was a heavy reminder that it was my job to maintain a balance of keeping my soldiers safe and accomplishing our mission. I wasn’t always successful at either, but we all came home alive.

Today, my office is built for our “Zoom world.” Behind me hang the awards and pictures that represent the proverbial “T-shirt” as in “Been there, done that.” I’ve got the T-shirt to prove it.

In front of me, out of view of the camera, is a collection of bracelets, each inscribed with the name of a friend or colleague I’ve lost, either to our enemies abroad or the demons within. So, while the world see’s all my accomplishments I am confronted with my why – the friends I’ve lost. There is one in particular that inspires me to do more every day – the one I couldn’t save.

Part 2 of Joseph’s story will be featured in the July 1 edition of the CV Weekly.

Joseph Reagan is the director of Military and Veterans Outreach for Wreaths Across America. He has over 10 years experience working with leaders within government, non-profit and Fortune 500 companies to develop sustainable strategies supporting national security, and veterans’ health. He served eight years on active duty as an officer in the U.S. Army including two tours to Afghanistan with the 10th Mountain Division. He is a graduate of Norwich University, the oldest private military college in the country.