It’s time to talk about mental health.

Mental health is one of those taboo topics, especially among men, and even more so within certain communities of men.

There has been a stigma associated with it because men conventionally think seeking help makes them “weak” or “lesser” than others.

It takes a bigger man to admit you need help than to continuously keep the emotions bottled up until it nearly kills you or so often does among veterans specifically.

If you are new to my Substack, then you’ll know I have mentioned how my military service has informed my writing. It’s 1000% true and accurate. My time in Iraq, both tours in fact, serve different purposes in writing the book. There is a heavy military component, mostly because the dragonriders are part of the kingdom’s air forces, even though dragons make a significant part of it. The generals who command the forces receive significant page time, especially the commander of elven kingdom’s air force.

What happened?

I deployed to Iraq while I was with the 5^th Battalion, 20^th Infantry Regiment, which many of us affectionately call (to this day) the “Tweezy.” IYKYK. The deployment was from November 2003 to November 2004. During that time, we were shot at, had mortar rounds dropped around us, and had to return fire. Everyone’s individual experience in some way, shape, or form, varied to different degrees. In recovering the Kiowa Warrior helicopter, I happened to be on the site where they were lobbing mortar rounds, thankfully having moved before it landed on me and a safe enough distance away because it was a smaller round. This occurred, if I remember correctly, in September of 2004, two months before we were to redeploy back to Fort Lewis, WA (now called JBLM).

Flash forward to 2009, and I had left active duty in 2005 and joined the NC Army National Guard in 2007. Little did I realize I’d be deploying again, which occurred for the entirety of 2009, including the mobilization leading to setting foot in Iraq again, this time about an hour south of Baghdad in the Triangle of Death. I spent most of my time doing electronic warfare for my battalion, deploying with the 1/120^th Combined Arms Battalion out of Wilmington, NC. It was a far cry from being on the ground with a target on my back wearing a radio with an antenna sticking up. However, the stress, while somewhat combat related, came from a batch of bad company leaders who were out to ruin me and my career, but thankfully there were leaders who had my back, and that support carried me through a personally hostile deployment.

Why do I mention this?

I mention both of those things primarily because, as I covered in an earlier Substack, the source of my mental health issues stemmed from service, primarily during my combat tours. Leave those unresolved or at least unmanaged, and it leads to a deadly crescendo that nearly kills you. Yet, I’m here standing. PTSD, anxiety, and depression are very real, no matter their source. My trauma is no worse than someone who experienced a tragedy at any point in their life or was assaulted. We process things differently, and I am very aware of that.

The PTSD and subsequent mental health issues inform my writing in a major way, but it took me 15 years to even address it. I’m not ashamed. I’m not scared to talk about it. People, both strangers and close friends, ask me about it. It doesn’t make me less of a person or even less capable. There are just things in my life that I HAVE to manage. It is no one else’s responsibility except for my own. I have sought support in the past and currently in order to manage the effects while acknowledging and addressing the symptoms. Thankfully, because of the support network I have, it lessens the severity so I can participate in society in a meaningful and impactful way. It is my burden to bear.

Why now?

The answer is simple and more of a question. Why not now? PTSD is now part of my existence and doesn’t just go away with therapy and medication if that happens to be the solution prescribed. I know many others who suffer from it, and we all experience it differently. It just so happens after my journey of acceptance I finally forgave myself and decided to take ownership of all of it.

The characters, even though they exist in a fantasy setting, are designed to be very real and relatable. They are not pilots, but they are the fantasy equivalent – dragonriders. PTSD shows up in a myriad of ways, and it is very nuanced when writing it out on the page for others to consume. It is an idea I have to handle with care, as it is either going to be done well or poorly, and I hope I can communicate my own trauma in a way that makes sense and does it justice so people understand.

While no PTSD is discussed in book 1, it will make an appearance in book 2. Warfare will move beyond a few small patrols here and there to full-blown conflict involving multiple groups of people, both elf and human alike. It will happen in the air, on land, and across the oceans.

I’ll leave you with this. It is absolutely disgusting how men shame other men for seeking help because it somehow makes them weak. Mental fortitude is a different kind of strength, and I’d argue it is more important than physical strength depending on the circumstances. No one should ever be ashamed to seek help, including leaders of others, regardless of military or civilian.

When you have lives in your hands, the pressure becomes unbearable, and there is no shame in asking for help to minimize the mental stress that comes with it. Daily life comes with stressors. Just ask any parent. Seeking help not only saves yourself, but it could save someone else’s life, including your child or significant other. No one should suffer because of perceived weakness by a culture that conventionally values physical strength above all else.

It won’t matter you could bench press 500 pounds or talking heads on the Internet think you are weak if you have mental health issues, when you’re buried six feet under because life became too much to handle. All you had to do was reach out and ask for help. If your support network doesn’t identify the signs, then find better friends who are just as invested in you as you are in them. It could save your life.