Listen up soldiers, I don't think many of us understand unless we've been there what it takes to bring, oh let's say the average person to the point they think dying looks good in comparison to living through another day, so
maybe my story will help because I truly believe given

the right set of circumstances...a "perfect storm" if you will...no one is immune. My storm has after my first deployment to Iraq, and the horrors I saw there would leave anyone with scars, at the time I'd been divorced from my shitheel of an Ex a couple of years (yes the Ex that

outed me) That same Ex had also (on purpose) run up a mountain of debt that was also attached to my name. I was in Korea at the time, having a lot of problems with family...the whole gay thing (mostly my folks) living in barracks obviously and every penny I had that wasn't for

necessities whent to paying the debt that I hadn't accrued myself. I was busting my ass on duty,...it wasn't able to sleep more than 2 hours a night if I was lucky, I was always exhausted, I always felt heavy, like I was being crushed, and crushed in slow motion and I was sure I

utterly alone, I felt like I was failing, failing my family, failing the Army, failing myself, I was drowning and no matter how hard I swam I couldn't reach the shore. I was tired, beyond tired. I mean what was the point? Then I looked at my gun...I saw a way out, I mean if I was

such a disappointment who would it hurt? I'd certainly be better off and this is the point I lucked out, something deep in me that wasn't tired, that didn't feel empty and heavy all the time got scared, some spark, a bit of fight still left. So I called my Master Sergeant, which

scared me even more. He came right away, about as white as could be which was really something since he was African American. He didn't offer me platitudes, he took my gun, which was a good thing since I was shaking so hard I probably would have shot both of us, and then wrapped

me in his arms and held me as I sobbed...he cried...and told me he was there, and managed to get me in his car and drove me to get checked out he must have made calls, I don't remember, because when we got to the hospital My Captain was there, my co-workers were there, the people

hung out with and lived with were there, I don't think I've seen som many soldiers cry before or since, I got more hugs than I can remember, Dozens of we got you's and a Captain who the doctors thought they would have to peel off me to get a proper exam, much less talk to me. I

won't say it was easy to claw my way out of that place, it wasn't and it hurt at times... a lot. But one of the biggest starting steps was realizing, that I belonged, being shown I was valued and cared for. I still take anti-anxiety meds when I need to to help me sleep, when I

need it. I did another deployment to Iraq 2 years later some I must be okay right? I'm a work in progress, I always will be, aren't we all? My point is no one knows what another suffers, what hurt festers and what stressors crack our armor, so be mindful and watchful of your

brothers and sisters in arms, don't be afraid to speak out when you're hurting or things happen you don't think you can shoulder on your own. I promise someone will reach out a hand if you do, probably several someones, you are not broken, you are not weak, you are human and we

all have a limit when we reach all we can bear