PTSD Changed My Life Part 5
A continuation of PTSD Changed My Life Part 4
Many folks talk about culture of an organization and the feeling of belonging. Despite the setbacks I had in my training, I felt that I needed to embody what I believe the culture of the organization was. We were taught to lead by example, to be technically and tactically proficient, and to take care of one another. As a Lieutenant, we were told to trust our senior enlisted Marines as they have the experience to “show us the way”. This is what ( in my own naive way) believed to be true when I got into the fleet. I would learn and be mentored from those around me.
After 6 months of low-crawling and getting my elbows and knees bloodied I (barely) passed my MOS school. I graduated and was off to Camp Lejeune, North Carolina to be part of 2nd Marine Division, Communications Company. I’d soon be transferred to 6th Marine Regiment to support Operation Enduring Freedom in Afghanistan.
I’ve finally made it. This is where I want to be. I want to go to combat and to support my Marines. I want to fight for our country.
Honor. Courage. Commitment.
I was the Lieutenant that didn’t score so high in Communications Officer school, so I went to a unit that was considered the bench for operational units. If the Division needed you to go, they reach down to Communications Company for an extra body. The 6th Marine Regiment was getting ready to deploy and I remember my commanding officer ask, who is ready? I raised my hand and said that I would. This was important to me and it was also important for my career. I needed to show that I was capable of being effective in a combat environment because staying in the Marine Corps was very competitive. I’d already been in for 10 years and halfway to retirement, if I wasn’t competitive, I’d be forced out.
Off to 6th Marines I went and I met with the S-6 officer. He was a Major of Marines and had deployment experience as well. He often boasted that he was a part of Marine Corps Cyber Command as a Captain and that he was part of meetings where people had to watch what they said because they didn’t know what they could say. It’s pretty impressive to a young Lieutenant who is looking for a real mentor in the fleet. This man would be the one that I would be learning from and the one who would be evaluating my performance.
However, being a junior officer is a strange place especially if you were prior enlisted. Being a prior enlisted Marine, you have experience with the organizational culture and you’ve also seen what good leadership is and what it is not. I somehow believe that my career was done after Communications school, and that I was already written off by a system that said, “You are not fit enough to lead Marines however, since we have you on contract we are going to work you until it is up.” Is there truth in that? Maybe. Maybe not.
Weeding out the weak doesn’t end after your training, it continues through your time in the fleet. It’s a subtle but deadly game if you’ve already been deemed as defective and perfect opportunity for a weak field grade officer to take advantage of. In his mind and in his behavior, he treated me as the back-up Lieutenant.
In hindsight, I made it easy for him to. I was competitive, wanted to lead Marines, to stay in the Marine Corps, and to retire. I acted like it, and I was hungry for it. I was also stubborn and hardheaded, this was the first time I had truly experienced a bad boss. I had put my hopes and dreams on the line and this man knew that he could shatter them with a velvet dagger on my performance evaluation. What power a single person has over another person’s career.
Naturally, a junior officer is going to make mistakes and mistakes I did make. You would think that a good leader would take you aside and tell you about your screw ups. I was taken in front of my peers and subordinates and made to look like an idiot. I thought “This isn’t leadership. This isn’t my Corps” and while I wasn’t insubordinate to this individual’s rank, I lost complete respect for the man that wore it.
I went to Afghanistan as the advanced party without any real guidance from this Major. When you are the black sheep or the “help” its just easier to send you off to some remote location and let the environment deal with you. So I went to Forward Operating Base Nolay with four Marines. From there we were to take over for the unit that was in place. With only one-way communication going towards support from my unit, it was clear that I was meant to be isolated and ignored.
Unbeknownst to me, this behavior was noticed after I answered when asked during a visit by senior officers, “It’s been 6 weeks since I’ve had any feedback on my mission or way forward”. It seemed as if someone was looking out for me, but it only infuriated the Major. He was also on the hot seat, he was also an awkward man and not your typical run-of-the-mill Marine Corps officer. He was intelligent and also wanted to progress in his career, however he had a Lieutenant Colonel hovering over him like a hawk. It was like the more stress that the Lieutenant Colonel pressed towards the Major, the Major would push it right down on me.
I remember thinking to myself that Afghanistan would be a beautiful place if people weren’t trying to kill you.
While it was nice to have a senior officer on my side, the Lieutenant Colonel was relieved of his post. This gave a nice opening for the Major to continue his campaign of abuse. By this time, I had moved from Forward Operating Base Nolay to Forward Operating Base Delaram. Since I couldn’t live off on a remote base, I was the “representative for the command S-6” whenever there were convoys or some other need that required the Major to be off base. Translation, while we have to put up with you,you are going to be traveling a lot because we don’t want you here. I was a convenient substitution for any uncomfortable meeting or extended traveling that the Major was expected to go to.
There I went, all over the Marine area of operations, which I’m really grateful for. I remember thinking to myself that Afghanistan would be a beautiful place if people weren’t trying to kill you. This was the first place that I looked up in the night sky and saw the beauty of the Milky Way. There were times I was able to eat with the Afghan Army and their Special Forces Commandos. We spoke about Afghanistan’s future and current headaches. I saw the mountain ranges go to vast deserts as well as lush green areas around the Helmand River to walking around moondust that never got out of your boots. There was a time that it rained so much, it didn’t make sense to get up to go to the shower because I would be muddy on the way back. While I have fond memories of the good times, I also remember the bad times.
I knew I was doing my job and was serving my country, but I also knew that I wasn’t wanted or needed. What a strain on your soul. Being treated as a nuisance and avoided as well as your peers ignoring you because they don’t want to be guilty by association. There was a point that I knew that the more I went out of the wire, the higher the probability it was for me to be killed. Knowing this, I resigned myself to accept that at any point, that I was going to die, alone. Accept it.
Stress. Anxiety. Depression. This isn’t how Marine Officers should be.
Weak.Unworthy.
I rattled cages, talked to peers, talked to other officers
Help me. This situation is untenable.
People from other commands saw what was going on. They would tell me “Why would he tell you to do that when you don’t have the resources to do that?” or “He is setting you up for failure.”
I don’t know what to do. Keep quiet and just keep moving.
My Marines were looking out for their careers naturally went for the winning side. I’ve been under minded and mocked.
I am truly alone
It finally spiraled to the point I asked to be removed from the S-6…I had no mechanism for support and as much as I was asking, it fell on deaf ears.
This is karma. I deserved this somehow. I am living in the world that I designed for myself. This was my choice and this is my fate.
There was another war going on. Veronica was alone back in North Carolina with small children and teenager. I can’t imagine the amount of stress of knowing that her husband and her children’s father may not come home. She had support with neighbors who eventually became her friends throughout the deployment cycle.
However, to compound the stress of one who is away in a combat zone, she had to try to be the comforting ear to me. She knew I was struggling and knew I was in pain. I let out all of my frustrations and tried to conceal my true feelings. She listened dutifully and was very supportive but she knows me. She has never seen this kind of pain from her once proud and confident Marine. I was so lost in my moment that I didn’t realize the amount of stress that I was putting on her.
I can’t imagine the helplessness that she felt with me and trying to balance being a supportive mother.
From December 2012-November 2013 our family endured our first and last deployment. I eventually left 6th Marines and was with Communications Company again. At this point, I’d given up hope in staying in the Marines and as expected, I wasn’t selected to renew my contract. Luckily for me, the Executive Officer, another Lieutenant, was in 6th Marines with me in Afghanistan and took it upon himself to use the opportunity to have the “worthless” Lieutenant go and do jobs that were unsavory to ensure that my misery continued.
I’ve now had it. I’ve invested my entire adult life to the Corps. I’ve sacrificed my time away from my family for the Corps. I’ve seen what good leadership is and what it isn’t. This is not the Corps I signed up for.
It is what it is. My pack officially dropped and I was bitter. Instead of fighting for relevance, I accepted that I will not be what is considered a good officer.
I don’t remember the month or time of day it was, but whenever it did occur, I made myself a promise:
- I will never let myself or my family ever suffer this way again
- I will never lower my standards to toe the line
- I will never treat people the way that I’ve been treated
Angry. Frustrated. Mad.
The emotions I had at this time would be equivalent to breaking up with someone you’ve loved for long time only to find out that it was a lie. Coming back from a war zone and experiencing some traumatic events also complicates things as well. It was time to go and I was ready for something new. I just didn’t know what exactly I wanted. The stress from everything now tripled with going into a workforce that had been foreign to me for the last 12 years.
For weeks, I’m a soup of feeling that have been repressed for so long that they are keeping me up at night. There are days of complete depression and days of not so bad depression. It is another level of suffering that I knew existed but couldn’t put a finger on it. Trust? Who can I trust? No one will take care of me but me. I’m anxious and constantly reminisce about the past. I should’ve or could’ve…I can’t anymore.
Everyone has good days and everyone has bad days. Some days are just more terrible than others. If you need to talk about it please call the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration at 1–800–662-HELP (4357).
You are not alone.
