Coming home from combat wasn’t the relief I thought it would be. The war didn’t just stay overseas — it came home with me. I was stuck with memories and feelings that didn’t make sense to anyone else, and honestly, sometimes not even to me. I was living with PTSD, though I didn’t have a name for it at first.
Starting therapy wasn’t easy. There’s a lot of pride in being a veteran — you’re trained to be tough, to handle things yourself. I thought I should be able to “deal with it” on my own. Talking about what I went through felt like admitting weakness. But the truth was, I was barely holding it together. The flashbacks, the anxiety, the sudden panic—it was a daily battle.
Therapy didn’t erase the memories or the pain. It didn’t fix everything overnight. What it did do was give me tools to fight that battle a little better each day. My therapist didn’t judge me or push me to “just get over it.” Instead, they helped me understand that PTSD is a natural reaction to trauma, not a sign of failure. I learned ways to manage flashbacks, ground myself when anxiety hit, and challenge the negative thoughts that kept me stuck in the past.
One coping technique that helped me the most was grounding — specifically, the “5-4-3-2-1” method. When I felt overwhelmed or like I was slipping into a flashback, I’d focus on five things I could see, four things I could touch, three things I could hear, two things I could smell, and one thing I could taste. It sounds simple, but it helped me pull myself back into the present when my mind was spiraling.
Some days were rough. Facing those memories head-on brought up a lot of pain I’d spent years burying. I wanted to quit more times than I can count. But slowly, I started to see progress. I’m not “cured” and probably never will be, but I’m stronger now. I’m learning to live with PTSD, not let it control me.
The daily battle is still real. Some mornings are harder than others, and I still have bad days. But therapy has given me hope and the tools to keep moving forward. I’m more connected with myself and the people I care about. I’m not alone in this, and that makes all the difference.
If you’re a vet dealing with PTSD, I get how hard it is to ask for help. But therapy isn’t about being broken—it’s about finding strength and support. You don’t have to fight this battle alone. Taking that step made all the difference for me. It can for you too.
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