Use the filters to browse the information we have available or to narrow your search results for a specific audience (e.g. caregivers, military, children), a preferred type of content (e.g. videos, blogs, articles), or by topics of interest (e.g. family concerns, legal issues, symptoms).
While in the throes of dealing with symptoms from PTSD, my counselor suggested mindfulness and meditation, which I initially thought was a bunch of snake oil … something for hippies, monks, and weirdos. But then I started to learn about the science — and even a little history — and everything began to change; I literally started to breathe again.
I enjoy watching my husband cry. That sounds so much worse than what I really mean. He’s been on various medications for his PTSD some of which cause emotional blunting — not being able to laugh or cry when appropriate.
If you are anything like me, when you or your loved one are first given a diagnosis, you research. There is so much information available online, it can be overwhelming or frustrating to know which is accurate, but I find research helpful in being able to report or advocate to doctors for both myself and my loved ones.
One lesson I have learned since I started meditating is the connection between courage and vulnerability. Yes, vulnerability. I know, it sounds like the antithesis of everything related to being a SEAL, but I have come to understand that while vulnerability and courage aren’t necessarily the same thing, it takes courage to show vulnerability and, in turn, as you show more vulnerability, you actually become more courageous.
I believed in heroes growing up, even though I saw very few, if any, up close. Heroes existed in comic books and television shows, or in the real lives of others. Not in my life. I saw the world as one big jungle where survival meant hoping the lion would spare me and those I loved, rather than having the strength to resist being eaten. The only way to stop any abuse I saw as a kid was to run from it. Cry about it. Then try to forget it. No heroes. Just a desire to be one every time I left my home, even as I often felt powerless to make life safer for my mom and younger siblings.
When you’re a man in society — not to mention a Navy SEAL in special operations — you are taught that the best (only) option is to be the strong, silent type. You can’t let your emotions control you. You can’t be sad, or too happy. Really, the only acceptable emotions for the masculine persona are stoicism and anger.
The evening should have been one of the most memorable and enjoyable evenings of my 25-year military career. Instead, I nearly destroyed it because I couldn’t control my drinking.
In the past, Russ and I would celebrate across oceans and time zones, sometimes a half hour off. Yes, really. Afghanistan is nine-and-a-half hours ahead of the east coast, 10-and-a-half from Texas. It was wild trying to sync up schedules but I would never turn down a 3AM-my-time video chat. I am grateful we don’t have to contend with that any longer. But Russ being home hasn’t made the transition from 2021 to 2022 any easier.
Capt. Dawn D. Sellers knows she can’t save the world, but prays she can at least reach a couple of Soldiers during her time here. The psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner has been deployed here since May working at the 3rd Medical Command’s Gaining Resilience in Theater, or GRIT, Clinic here practicing battlefield acupuncture and providing supportive therapy and psychoeducation—therapeutic intervention that provides Soldiers with tools to help them heal.
Relationships after a life-altering injury or diagnosis is, well, weird. Some people will stand by you no matter what. Hold on to them and let them know, often, how grateful you are that they are in your life. Others, even family—no, especially family—are not so loyal.
After nine years in the Marine Corps, I wanted to travel as a civilian. More precisely, I wanted to travel with my wife, to go explore the world together. We met the week before I left for a month-long field exercise. Six months into dating, I deployed for 11 months. Separation just went hand in hand with our early relationship—not uncommon in the military.
I have desiderium. There are aspects in my life I wish I could get back. There are things I miss. Things which once were true that will never be again.
Genevieve Chase accomplishes everything she attempts. She made master sergeant in 15 years in the Army reserves... she was inducted into the Army Women’s Hall of Fame. In the military, she learned Pashto and was an intelligence soldier in Afghanistan. But, like a lot of military women, one dream eludes her: She hasn’t been able to get pregnant.
I have a streaming service subscription. Unlike the popular streaming services so many of us are familiar with, the rules for this service are different: The terms of agreement are lifelong, and there is no opportunity to cancel. And this streaming service allows new content based entirely on my previous viewing habits.
The group rushed down the halls and stairways as a growing trail of people followed. All searched for a path to safety. The security at the Pentagon, meant to keep enemies from breaching its perimeter, had trapped them within the fortified walls.
The Insight segment focuses on the current events in Afghanistan, how they're impacting those who have served, and some potential ways to address how we feel about it.
The news about the United States withdrawing military forces from Afghanistan is hard to stomach. I am angry. I am sad. And I am worried. Worried about the people left there under the Taliban regime. Worried about the possible backlash to the Muslim community here in the United States. Worried about the troops still there working with humanitarian aid. Worried about the veterans and their families who sacrificed so much. Decades of work, deployments, injuries, and death for seemingly nothing.
Duane France has a conversation with Layla Hernandez, Behavioral Health Manager for Silver Key Senior Services. In the Insight Segment, Duane looks at former service members who might be overlooked when it comes to mental health.
Sir, I do not request an apology, explanation, or acknowledgment of my letter. As a lecturer at Texas A&M who advises future leaders, I wrote this to say that I mattered then, and I matter now. I did not deserve to be relegated to a second-class soldier.
This week Duane France explores the paradoxes service members face, a conversation with Eli Varney, combat veteran and mental health counselor and the resource of the week: Onward to Opportunity.
Duane France talks with Kate Hatten, Executive Director of The Homefront Military Network, highlights the resource of the week, CASA of the Pikes Peak region.
Duane France talks with Charlton Clarke, a licensed professional therapist and co-clinical director at the Family Care Center. Plus the reasons why service members avoid therapy and the resource segment highlighting Project Sanctuary.