The “Blast Radius” of Veteran Suicide: They Aren’t Going to Call

by “That Guy”

I’m a military veteran. I was diagnosed as “seriously clinically depressed” in 1993 and have survived to this writing. Medication has helped; being married to a good woman for well over 40 years has helped more. That is, until I have one of those tragic accidents in the home… after all those years, it would be understandable.

During every visit I make to the VA, a caregiver will ask if I have thoughts or plans to harm myself. I think it’s natural for people to have those thoughts—it’s mostly anger trying to find a release. No one will admit it, though. If someone is serious about it, they won’t admit they have plans. That’s OK, though. As far as the form is concerned, that block is checked.

We count tallies and collect stats about suicide and decry the 22-a-day victims—delayed KIAs that have returned home. Most of us have seen, heard, and smelled things that are not describable to someone who hasn’t. There are mental health screenings and mandatory visits to organizational mental health folks. But it seems we’re just going through the mental health (MH) motions as people continue to destroy themselves—and their families.

Most career military or combat arms troops have stopped seeing it as a sign of weakness to finally ask for help. But the real challenge is preventing young service members from doing things off duty that get them killed. As just one example: after a 2nd Marine Division combat rotation, they lost more Marines in six months to motor vehicle accidents than were killed while deployed. Some units lost more people to suicide than to combat. That’s a different discussion entirely.

Despite the shortcomings, if it weren’t for all the attempts to push MH services, things would be much worse. Few people really understand the full debilitation that a person at rock bottom in a depression cycle experiences. I’ve described it to people as trying to walk through endless pitch-black nights with a 200 lb+ ruck, with no waypoints, no breaks, and no concept of how it ends. The weight of that ruck grows as a person wears down—until it becomes too much, and it ends.

Depressed people often don’t feel sorry for themselves because they’re in a very, very dark place—without even the light of an oncoming train to illuminate the tunnel. There are signs, though. They may struggle with even menial tasks, or their once-stellar memory is no longer what it was. They might binge eat, drink heavily, or begin to take drugs to self-medicate. Quite often, depressed people are the ones who make the best jokes—because it brings a little light to see others laugh. Robin Williams is a prime example. These changes aren’t like a light switch—they creep up on people, and they begin to withdraw. Perceptive leaders will pick up on these changes.

You cannot expect people in the depths of depression to reach out for help back into the light—they’re too deep in the darkness. Unless they’re one of your best friends, you aren’t going to notice the subtle differences. U.S. society—especially the military—is transient in nature. You may run across people you served with, but there are many more you’ll never see again. So it’s hard to know who needs help or how to get it for them—especially because in many cases, they’re just not going to make that call.

There is one message I believe can help. I was once talking with a very old psychiatrist at Fort Bragg, a Medical Corps Reserve colonel who wouldn’t go on active duty unless he could deploy. What he told me in our first visit has stuck with me to this day.

He said that while suicide is a very permanent solution to a problem that is often temporary and solvable, the “blast radius” of that decision is very wide. Many feel their families will be better off if they’re gone—or that the ruck’s weight has finally defeated them. One fact that is seldom pushed by MH professionals in treatment is this: at first, your family will be very angry with you, and then very hurt. It doesn’t matter what kind of note or message is left trying to absolve them of blame—it will never be enough. The spouse, children, parents, extended family, and friends will quietly blame themselves for the rest of their lives. Sometimes, that blame, or misplaced guilt will destroy another life: “if only they had called.”

Saddling loved ones with that kind of blame projects more hate and anger onto them than can be imagined—even if that was truly not the intent. So, we need to help keep it from getting to that point and keep everyone out of that blast radius of self-harm. If “they” are not going to make that call, “we” need to.

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As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.