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Dear Veteran: How Mindfulness Helped Me Navigate Life After the Military

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Updated: Jan 26

When I left the military, I felt completely unprepared for what was ahead. I had sustained injuries in combat and had little to no time to prepare for the transition. No classes, no roadmap—just an abrupt shift from the structured world I’d always known to something unfamiliar and uncertain. The last few months before getting out is a blur. I can’t recall much from that time, and honestly, it felt like I was stuck in limbo, going through the motions without any real direction or purpose.


Even after leaving, that sense of limbo lingered for another year or two. I felt disconnected from myself, unsure of who I was or what to do next. Like so many veterans, I carried the weight of my past with me. And while the past shapes who we are, it can also hold us back, trapping us in cycles of self-doubt, guilt, and frustration.


I tried everything people told me to try. I talked about my issues in personal and group therapy sessions, tried clinical treatments, and followed every recommendation. But the medications? They made things worse. I became a shell of myself—a zombie—adding to numbed emotions and disconnection. I felt like just another statistic, a victim of a system that didn’t see me as a person.


Everything changed when I decided to give the medications back. I made the choice to take control of my own life and to stop letting others dictate what came next. That decision, though small in the moment, was the first step toward reclaiming my identity and finding a way forward. It wasn’t easy, but it was the start of something better.


Starting Small: My Journey into Mindfulness

 

Mindfulness, for me, is about paying attention to the here and now. It’s about focusing on what’s happening in the present moment, not the past or the future. That doesn’t mean forgetting the past—it means not letting it control you. It’s about recognizing how you feel, understanding what’s going on inside, and finding a way to steady yourself when things feel overwhelming.


For years, I went to the VA for therapy sessions and tried everything they recommended, but mindfulness was never offered or even mentioned. When I asked about yoga classes, I was discouraged from attending them because they weren’t seen as a good fit for someone like me—they were mostly filled with older adults, “baby boomers.” Desperate for answers, I eventually stumbled upon mindfulness while reading an article about chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) in the military. That same article also mentioned the potential of psychedelics in Mexico for treating symptoms, offering tactical athletes a way to regain control. While that path didn’t feel right for me then, the mention of mindfulness stuck with me. It seemed like something I could try on my own, even if I didn’t fully understand how it worked.


At the same time, from the article, I reflected on how creatine, which I had used during my service and after, had unexpectedly played a role in my recovery. Initially, I thought it was just boosting my physical performance. But looking back, I see how it may have done much more. Research suggests that creatine can support brain health and potentially help heal spots of damage caused by traumatic brain injuries (TBI). It aids in providing energy to brain cells, which is critical for recovery after trauma. For me, this meant it wasn’t just improving my endurance or physical output; it was also helping me regain cognitive clarity and control over my mental health. Creatine became a kind of saving grace—a small yet powerful tool that supported both my body and my brain. With that realization, I decided to give mindfulness a shot.


When I first started, I wasn’t sure it would help. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing someone like me needed. But at that point, I had nothing to lose. I began small—just lying in bed before getting up and focusing on my breathing. It didn’t feel like it worked at first. Nightmares still woke me up, and the mild panic attacks were relentless. But I stuck with it. Slowly, I started using deep breathing during those overwhelming moments—when panic attacks hit or my thoughts began to spiral. It wasn’t a quick fix, but it gave me a sliver of control, enough to help me calm down and get through my day.


Over time, mindfulness became part of my routine. I began to notice my triggers, like driving, which used to be incredibly hard. Now, it’s manageable. Sure, I still get frustrated when someone cuts me off, but it doesn’t ruin my day. Mindfulness didn’t fix everything, but it gave me the tools to navigate life on my terms.


Forgiving Myself and Accepting the Present


One of the hardest parts of this journey was learning to forgive myself. For a long time, I felt stuck, overwhelmed by guilt about the things I didn’t do or the friends I lost. But mindfulness taught me to accept who I am in this moment. It helped me realize that honoring the past doesn’t mean living in it. It means showing up every day and living a life that would make those who served beside me proud. This wasn’t an overnight transformation. At one point, I almost failed out of college because I wasn’t ready. I had to forgive myself for that too and give myself the time and space to grow. Little by little, I worked on myself, and today I’m a 4.0 student and lead from the front just as I did in the military. I’ve come a long way, but I’m still growing and still learning.


Mindfulness in Everyday Life


Mindfulness isn’t about sitting cross-legged and chanting at least for me—it’s about being present. It’s something you can weave into your daily life. During workouts, I focus on the muscle I’m working on and how it feels. This helps me stay present, and for a little while, the world fades away. I’ve also used mindfulness to improve my relationships. Listening carefully, showing up, and being fully present have helped me build meaningful connections—even when it’s uncomfortable or challenging.


Eating is another place mindfulness has helped. In the military, we scarfed down meals as fast as possible, but now I pay attention to what I eat and how it makes me feel. I’m not perfect, and I don’t always practice mindfulness at the table, but I’m aware of what I’m putting into my body and how it fuels me. This also plays a crucial role in how I feel.


It’s Not a Cure, but It’s a Start


Mindfulness isn’t a cure for PTSD or the other challenges veterans face. But it’s a tool—a step toward taking back control of your life. It’s helped me manage my triggers, get better sleep (and trust me, sleep is PTSD’s enemy), and handle stress in a way that works for me. Looking back, I’m proud of the progress I’ve made. I’m still not perfect, and I still have bad days. But I’ve learned to own those moments and understand that it’s okay not to be okay sometimes. What matters is forgiving yourself, honoring the sacrifices you and others have made, and moving forward—one step, one breath, one day at a time.

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