As I sit down to write this, my head throbs with a familiar pain – another migraine making its unwelcome presence known. Yet, I find myself drawn to the keyboard, recognizing that the act of writing itself has become a form of therapy for me. It’s a way to make sense of the chaos, to give voice to the struggles that often go unseen. It’s been over 30 years since I left the service, but some things just can’t be left behind. The migraines, the sleepless nights, the weight of depression, and the constant hum of anxiety – these are my invisible companions, my service-connected disabilities that the average person on the street would never notice.
And then there’s the incessant ringing in my ears – tinnitus, another unwanted souvenir from my time in service. The doctors say it contributes to my anxiety and depression, a perpetual reminder of the past that refuses to fade into silence.
Being a veteran with chronic conditions isn’t just about managing symptoms. It’s about navigating a world that often doesn’t understand what we go through. The stigmas we face, the impact on our personal and professional lives, and the strain on our relationships – these are the daily battles we fight long after we’ve hung up our uniforms.
In this blog, I want to pull back the curtain on what life can be like for veterans like me. Not to seek pity or special treatment, but to foster understanding. Because sometimes, the toughest fights happen after we come home. And sometimes, the simple act of sharing our stories can be the first step towards healing – both for ourselves and for others who might be silently facing similar struggles.
The Weight of Invisible Disabilities
When people think of disabled veterans, they often picture visible injuries – missing limbs or scars. But for many of us, our battles are fought inside our minds and bodies, invisible to the outside world. This invisibility often leads to misunderstanding and stigma.
“You don’t look sick,” they say, or “Have you tried just not thinking about it?” These well-meaning but misguided comments can cut deep. They dismiss the daily struggle of managing chronic pain, fighting through the fog of depression, or trying to function on minimal sleep due to insomnia.
The constant ringing in my ears – a sound only I can hear – serves as a persistent reminder of my service. It’s not just an annoyance; it’s a trigger for anxiety and a contributor to my depression. Yet, to others, I appear fine. This disconnect between appearance and reality is a burden many veterans carry.
The Long Road to Recognition
For years after leaving the service, I struggled without understanding why. The migraines, the sleepless nights, the constant anxiety – these were all just part of my new “normal.” I had no idea these issues could be related to my time in service. Like many veterans, I was lost in a fog of confusion and self-doubt.
During this time, I often turned to self-medication, usually with alcohol, to numb the pain and quiet the noise in my head. It was a destructive cycle, but one that felt like the only option when I couldn’t make sense of what was happening to me.
It took years of suffering in silence, of going untreated, before I finally began to understand the nature of my struggles. The revelation that these issues were service-connected was both a relief and a new source of frustration. Why hadn’t anyone told me this could happen? How many other veterans were out there, still unaware that their struggles might be linked to their service?
This journey of recognition is one that many veterans will understand all too well. It’s a reminder of the critical need for better education and support for service members, both during and after their time in uniform.
Navigating Personal and Professional Challenges
Living with chronic conditions doesn’t just affect my health – it permeates every aspect of my life. Professionally, it’s a constant balancing act. There are days when migraines strike without warning, forcing me to call in sick or struggle through work with diminished productivity. The brain fog that comes with lack of sleep and chronic pain can make even simple tasks feel monumental.
In my personal life, the impact is equally profound. Social plans are often tentative, always at the mercy of my unpredictable health. Friends and family may not understand why I cancel plans at the last minute or why I sometimes seem distant or irritable. The guilt of feeling like a burden can be overwhelming at times.
Perhaps the most exhausting aspect is the constant front I have to put up in social settings. There are countless times when I’m at a gathering, and my mind is screaming at me to leave, to escape the noise, the people, the overstimulation. But instead, I keep smiling and nodding, maintaining a façade of enjoyment. It’s a performance that drains me, yet one I feel compelled to give for the sake of those around me. This disconnect between my internal struggle and the external image I project only adds to the isolation I often feel.
Maintaining a routine – something that was once second nature in the military – becomes a daily challenge. The discipline I learned in service now goes towards managing my health: tracking medications, practicing stress-reduction techniques, and trying to maintain a sleep schedule despite the insomnia that plagues me.
Continue reading in part two: Living with Invisible Wounds: A Veteran’s Perspective (Part 2)
