This text first appeared on The Battle Horse, an award-winning nonprofit information group educating the general public on army service. Subscribe to their e-newsletter.
They advised me boot camp can be arduous.
They advised me fight zones would change me.
They advised me the streets can be harmful once I pinned on the badge.
What they did not inform me was how quiet it could get after.
Nobody prepares you for the silence.
Nobody tells you that you just would possibly survive every little thing and nonetheless get up years later questioning what the hell you are doing right here.
I served within the Marine Corps. I wore the uniform, deployed to fight zones throughout the invasion of Iraq, lived by means of missile warnings and launches, mortar hearth, and sirens. I labored at a desk, however nonetheless, I used to be there when rounds landed close to us on buildings we lived in and labored in, locations we tried to sleep.
However I wasn’t in firefights. I did not kick in doorways. I wasn’t on the entrance web page.
Nonetheless, I got here dwelling totally different.
Later, I joined regulation enforcement, drawn by the necessity to serve my neighborhood with the identical grit, sense of responsibility, and willingness to stroll into what others run from. I used to be good at it. Revered. Trusted.
And I favored that.
I favored being the one individuals turned to for solutions. I favored the authority, not for energy’s sake, however as a result of I knew the right way to carry it with out abusing it. It felt noble. Helpful. Proper.
However someplace alongside the way in which, life shifted.
I used to be medically retired from the Stockton, California, police division, because of again, finger, and knee accidents that did not kill or paralyze me, however modified every little thing. After which the job was over. The mission was over. The aim?
Gone.
And that is when the silence got here.
You do not simply lose a uniform once you go away the job. You lose the rhythm, the adrenaline, the camaraderie, the id. The cellphone stops ringing.
Those you deployed with … they’re busy now. Households. Life. And also you perceive, nevertheless it nonetheless stings.
You attempt to keep in contact, however everybody drifts. You are left with house. An excessive amount of of it.
And inside that house lives the stuff you by no means stated out loud.
The grief.
The disgrace.
The anger.
The numbness you realized to cover behind humor, caffeine, or responsibility.
I assumed I might use that point to heal, possibly construct a brand new chapter. However as an alternative, the despair I might stored at bay for years confirmed up and moved in.
And here is the half nobody tells you about long-term despair: It would not all the time seem like tears or hospital stays. Typically it appears like staying dwelling all day as a result of being out on the planet feels insufferable. It looks like nothing is attention-grabbing anymore; not meals, not hobbies, not individuals.
It appears like turning off your cellphone since you’re sick of pretending you are OK. It appears like guilt for nonetheless respiration when different individuals did not make it.
It is not about desirous to die.
It is about being so achieved with attempting to really feel alive when nothing’s working.
I’ve tried drugs. Those I used to be presupposed to take and a few I wasn’t. I’ve tried counseling. I’ve heard in regards to the “instruments,” the respiration strategies, the coping methods.
And I am not knocking them — they assist some individuals.
However for me, they did not contact the deeper ache. The sort that sits in your bones. The sort that does not care about targets or gratitude journals.
There are days when the one a part of the day I do not dread is when the home is empty and I am lastly alone.
Not as a result of I hate my household. However as a result of in that silence, there are not any expectations. I haven’t got to carry out. I haven’t got to pretend a smile. I can simply be, and that is a aid in a world that all the time appears to need extra from me.
I serve now because the publish commander-elect of an American Legion publish. And I respect the women and men there. However most of them are of their 60s, 70s, or older.
We’re not the identical era.
We do not discuss the identical wars.
They’re good individuals — however they don’t seem to be my individuals. Not in the way in which that I would like.
I need to construct one thing actual. An area the place youthful vets, first responders, and wounded warriors — inside and outside — can come and never really feel like outsiders.
Not a gathering. Not a membership drive. Only a hearth pit. A spot to be human once more.
No uniforms. No speeches. Simply reality.
And someplace alongside the way in which, I began pondering possibly writing was my method again.
To not fame. To not followers. However to me.
The model of me that also has one thing to say. The model of me that does not want a badge or a rank to guide. The model of me that may communicate to somebody who’s barely hanging on and say, “Yeah, me too.”
I am not a author within the conventional sense. I haven’t got chapters or publishing targets.
I simply have scars. Recollections. And issues I’ve carried so lengthy, I am uninterested in holding them alone.
Possibly writing is the fireplace pit. Possibly these phrases are what I gentle within the darkness.
When you’re studying this and you are feeling something like I do, here is what I will let you know:
You are not weak. You are not damaged. You are simply drained.
And in the event you’re nonetheless right here, even in spite of everything of it, then there’s nonetheless one thing left in you value honoring.
Possibly we can’t ever really feel the way in which we did at 22, or discover the identical thrill we had on the job, or get the sort of brotherhood we as soon as knew.
However that does not imply we’re achieved.
We’re nonetheless wanted. Nonetheless in a position to lead. Nonetheless in a position to cross down what the world practically took from us.
If I can discover another reason to remain, possibly you may too.
So right here I’m.
Nonetheless right here.
Nonetheless writing.
Nonetheless preventing for one thing I am unable to all the time title.
That is sufficient for right now.
And possibly tomorrow, I will gentle the fireplace once more.
Boyd Mayo is a Marine Corps veteran and medically retired police officer who has navigated life’s hardships with regular resilience. He lives in Oklahoma along with his spouse and their teenage daughter.
This Battle Horse Reflection was edited by Kim Vo, fact-checked by Jess Rohan, and copy-edited by Mitchell Hansen-Dewar. Kim Vo wrote the headline.
Editors Word: This article first appeared on The Battle Horse, an award-winning nonprofit information group educating the general public on army service. Subscribe to their e-newsletter
© Copyright 2025 The Battle Horse. All rights reserved. This materials will not be printed, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.
