Military Spouses Matter Enough To Seek Help

Sorry I missed posting this yesterday. Here is the fourth post I want to share this week in support of Suicide Prevention Awareness Week:

The following testimonial was submitted to the 100 Voices for Suicide Prevention campaign by Liz Snell. Snell is a Marine Corps spouse of 13 years with more than 10 years of experience volunteering and working in organizations that make a positive impact on the military community. She holds a master’s degree in Strategic Management and Leadership from Western Governors University. In 2013, she founded Military Spouses of Strength , an initiative to raise awareness and reduce the stigma around mental health within the military community. She lives in the greater San Diego area with her husband and their two children.

Like many military spouses, my life became consumed by all of the things related to my husband’s career. This, coupled with my responsibilities as a wife and mother, made me begin to feel as though I was losing a part of myself. I no longer knew myself at my core, or even knew my interests and dislikes.

The breaking point for me came during my husband’s fifth deployment. The roles and responsibilities of a military wife were beginning to get to me. I was single-handedly taking care of the home, children, cars and finances while trying to fulfill my own needs of a college education and bringing in additional income by working. I was doing all of this while having a smile on my face — pretending that nothing was eating at me on the inside. As spouses, there is a silent understanding that seeking out help is a sign of weakness. I went the duration of the deployment with an increasing level of depression. This manifested into suicidal ideations by the time my husband returned home.

Thoughts of killing myself were daily — if not hourly — and debilitating. Eventually, I found the courage to check myself into a mental health facility where I was treated for two weeks. I was released to my husband’s care with guidance for him to monitor me at home for an additional two weeks.
Fortunately, I am not a statistic. I didn’t go through with the act. I was a good actress, and fooled my friends and family as to what I was really feeling. But I do think that I left silent signals, hoping that someone would realize my distress.

During my spiral into depression, I began to get snappy with my kids and others. My sleeping patterns became erratic and the quality of my work at school began to falter. I cried at the silliest of things.

On their own, these are not drastic enough signals to guess that I was depressed, but together they are all clues that something was wrong. Maybe no one saw these as clues, and maybe no one added the clues together. It is irrelevant. What matters is that I now know these clues for myself. If I come to a point where I feel myself beginning to slip again, I have learned that seeking help is not a form of weakness, but is the strongest thing you can do.

I have learned that I matter, not because of what I do but because of who I am, and you matter too.

If you or someone you know is struggling please reach out. Help is available!