By: Teelia Lowery
No one ever talks about how I’m feeling. Yeah, I said it. Let me introduce myself. Hi, I’m Teelia, and I’m an Army Veteran. I suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
Most Veterans like myself walk the Tiger walk most days alone, head lowered, eyes looking the other way, afraid of not wanting to interact with the world.
Am I different? Of course, I am but I’m okay, and I’m not ashamed. 18 years ago, an Army Recruiter showed up on my New Jersey doorstep and offered me the dream of a lifetime; joining the military.
The first seven years of my military career was challenging for me. At this time, I was exposed to a tour of Kuwait and Iraq. I never knew what the next six years of my life were going to denote.
Did I mention I had two small children and a husband at this time? War can negatively impact your family.
Never did I expect to lose my family behind the effects of war, but it happened. From waking up to the sounds of mortars rounds to being on constant alert, my PTSD increased. Insomnia began to make its bed in my life. I found myself staying up for days pushing through the mission.
There were times; I’d forget where I was. The little voice within me kept telling me to give up; you’re tired. By the time I’d reached my third deployment to Iraq, my psyche had begun to accept what I had thought to be the truth.
I recall the night being Christmas Eve and the air filled with emptiness; memories of my children staying up late at night to open gifts emerged. Most of my unit had left the building and went to their living quarters. My mind was blown to wonder about being far away from family and the war around me.
The phone call I made that night shifted my career in a direction I never intended on going. The phone rang, and my husband was on the other end, unaware of my mindset. The only words I could utter were, “take care of my baby girl.” He placed her on the phone, confused as to what I was advising him. Her innocent voice did not affect the dark place my mind had shifted to.
I have reached my dark hole, and there was no way to come out of it. I proceeded towards my living quarters, locking eyes to a dresser full of pill bottles. Lining up several pills I moved to end my life, I felt I had no control over any longer.
When I woke up, my hospital bed was surrounded with military uniforms; brothers and sisters alike. The support was solid, and they’d assured me that I wasn’t alone. But the feeling of being alone is what led me to this very place.
Sometimes, it only takes us to step back and take one deep breath. Look around you and you will see that you are never alone.
Suicide is real; Depression is real.
I share my story because around the anniversary of my attempt; my mind plays a trick on me. I’m reminded of the decision that I’d made several years back.
I am not ashamed to share my story because I have developed into a healthy person amidst of the pain.
If you know someone who may be struggling with depression and can’t speak for themselves, you can advocate for them.
Let’s stand together as a community and fight depression. Every life is worth living, we all have a story to tell.
Do you care to share yours?
Comments