“There is nothing either good or bad,
but thinking makes it so”.
A quote from "Hamlet"
by William Shakespeare.
Warning, this article contains reference to suicide
When I contemplated suicide and had a psychological breakdown in 2008, it was the most immense sense of failure I'd ever experienced.
Months earlier, I was flying missions in Afghanistan, leading and working with incredible men and women. Now, I'm convulsing, incoherent and sobbing uncontrollably. What the hell happened? The answer was a mixture of PTSD, depression, anxiety, alcohol abuse and bullying. It's not a fun combo, but it's not uncommon for those with one or more of those issues happening in their life.
I had been the Commanding Officer of an Aviation unit during operations and was now crying on the floor. At that moment, I thought I'd failed—not just a minor failure, but a massive failure. I thought I'd failed my country, our Army, my unit, my colleagues, my subordinates, my parents, my wife, and my family. I convinced myself I had failed everyone.
From the moment you get off the bus at officer or recruit training, the concept of pride is verbally, visually, physically and emotionally reinforced at every opportunity. "Be proud of your country!". "Be proud of your service!". "Be proud of your unit!". "Be proud of your team!". Flags, guidons, uniforms, patches, honour walls, unit history, and so much more ensure every individual in the military knows the need for pride in self and service.
Equally, there's another message transmitted simultaneously that's crystal clear: " Don't dare go jack on your mates!" Letting down the team, being selfish, and not being a team player are immutable, unforgivable military sins.
With both these themes forming an integral part of the military training psyche (for good reason when you get to the battlefield), it's not too far a stretch to see how one can feel like they've failed when they get to the point of psychological distress and suicidal ideation.
It also shows the binary nature that permeates so much of military life. Yes, most military operations happen in an incredibly dynamic, complex, and high-intensity environment. Still, ultimately, military operations are about solving problems. There's a problem; fix it, then move on to the next problem and fix that.
Whilst we operate in the grey, the outcomes are often binary. Indeed, many of our operational decisions are literally life and death. There are no higher stakes. It's a stark example of how binary (black or white) thinking is reinforced and rewarded in military life.
I had a deep-seated shame for my perceived failure and a burning bitterness for several things that had happened. So deep and painful were my negative emotions that I asked my wife to keep it a secret so that it would never be a topic of conversation personally or professionally.
We held that secret for what ended up being seven years until I finally realised that the secret we were keeping was really keeping us.
That realisation came from a combination of business coaching, being part of a supportive, tight-knit and non-judgmental business group, and exploring the concept of paradox. As a self-proclaimed expert in black-or-white thinking, paradox (a logically self-contradictory statement or a statement that runs contrary to one's expectation) couldn't exist in my view.
The reality is that paradox is all around us. For there to be light, there must be darkness; yin and yang, according to Chinese philosophy, are just two examples.
With this newfound guidance and wisdom, I realised that shame is the opposite of pride and that when I was full of pride, I was full of shame, or at least the potential for shame. Leading up to my breakdown in 2008, I had my mask on tight, attempting to hide my illness and ideation from others. But when the psychological dam burst, and I had an immense feeling of failure, all my pride was taken away in an instant, releasing the potential shame to become a torrent of real shame in my mind.
It felt like I had shrapnel in my soul.
The longer I kept the secret, the deeper I buried that shrapnel. Shame loves secrecy and hiding. It feeds on it. The more fearful you are of a secret being uncovered, the greater your shame. Therefore, the way to defeat shame is to release it to the public (or at least a trusted friend/clinician).
I bawled when my coach told me I had to tell other people. But a month later, I did with the support of 150 people in the group I mentioned earlier. Although I expected the world to swallow me whole, the opposite happened. I was embraced by dozens of people, primarily men, telling me their story is just like mine, but they haven't got the guts to talk about it yet. From that day, the shame no longer had a secret to feed on. Denying the secret of further fuel, the shame starved.
That worst day of my life is now one of my most accomplished. I don't look back on it with either pride or shame. I see it now as a day, neither good nor bad. It was a day that created a new chapter in my life, and incredible opportunities, challenges, and experiences have shaped me into the person I am today, able to serve in a whole new way.
This article was originally published in Issue 5 of ANTARES: The World of Military Aviation