“It is my duty, as an air rescueman, to save life and aid the injured. I will be prepared at all times to perform my assigned duties quickly and efficiently, placing these duties before personal desires and comforts. These things I do THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE.”

This is the code of Air Force Combat Search and Rescue (CSAR), my profession, and a sentiment that reflects much of my life. From 6 years of volunteer firefighting and EMS, to my 12 years in the USAF as a Combat Systems Officer (CSO) on HC-130’s the CSAR version of the C-130 cargo plane. I have spent my entire adult life even starting in High School training and preparing in hopes that I can prevent someone’s worst day from becoming their last. I have been blessed with the opportunity to do this a few times as well, and it is a level or rewarding bested only by being a husband and father. My life is dedicated to helping others, but sometimes, I need help.

I was always able to deal with the traumatic experiences my work has put me through by leaning on friends who understand. This is often the first line of help one can get and it is VITAL even if not always sufficient. Whether it was my first dead body, or seeing an unconscious classmates broken face wedged between the dash and windshield of her car 2 days after graduation, my many close calls, or losing a close friend; I could always find help and relief in the arms and ears of my friends and family. They gave me the strength and support to ensure post traumatic stress never became PTSD. But that doesn’t mean it was easy. All of these events gave me nightmares; sometimes for a night, sometimes for a week, occasionally for a month. There would be sadness, depression, anxiety. But all of this would fade with time and help.

But what about when that wasn’t enough? For the last 4-5 years I have been struggling with bouts of depression and anxiety. Nothing new, except that it was not tied to anything. I couldn’t get past it because I didn’t have a trauma, life event, or anything else I could associate it with and thus, could not worth through the cause.

In the early days I just shrugged it off, pushed through and got on with life. But the episodes were getting worse, and more frequent. After years of this I was sick and tired, I needed help. After all, being a good husband and father are my top priorities, and this was degrading that ability…

But… I’m a military aviator…

Now, no doubt some of you think you know where this is going. After all, you have seen movies about military aviation, aviators are macho, tough, so surely there is a stigma with getting help! No, actually there isn’t, in fact we share our feelings with each other pretty regularly. No, I was scared I would be grounded from flying and bound to a desk either temporarily or permanently. But enough was enough.

With the encouragement of my wife, I made an appointment with the aviation psychiatrist at my unit. He reassured me that grounding was unlikely and only even a possibility if I was diagnosed with a mental illness. Ok, so now I am less worried!

So I opened up about how I was feeling with the psychiatrist. He gave me some great techniques for dealing with the depression and anxiety such as mindfulness and grounding that have been helping. I have follow up appointments to keep working on this and life is already getting better

Emboldened by that experience, at my annual flight physical with the flight surgeon the next week, I discussed the issue with her as well. She asked some questions about other aspects of my health and determined we should check my red blood count and vitamin D levels. My RBC was in normal limits but low considering I live at 5500ft above sea level and do a lot of running and mountain biking. Probably not contributing to the issue but worth addressing. We also checked my iron which is good so I am now on a B complex supplement. But the real concern was my vitamin D, it was severely low. I never would have thought of it as I spend a ton of time outside. But one of the symptoms is mood swings and depression (hmmm… sounds familiar). So now I am on a high dose vitamin D supplement.

After 5 years of suffering and worrying I would lose my flight status, my fear was unfounded, and what I needed was vitamin D and professional counseling. My only regret is that I didn’t seek help sooner.

Please, if you are struggling, even if it is something you have handled without issue before, reach out. Talk to a friend or loved one. If that doesn’t work, or is insufficient, seek professional help. Please don’t suffer in silence. I am still flying, still doing my job, but I am now also a happier and healthier person on the road to further improvement. And most of all, I am able to be the best husband and father I can be.

Thanks for reading,
SEZ

To The Unsealed Community,

Typically, I am not someone who visibly shows the world how I feel. Whether it was a big loss in sports as a teenager or in fourth grade when a boy pretended to throw up when he found out I liked him, I have often, without even trying, kept a poker face.

But how I look doesn’t always reflect how I feel.

During my first year of college, I was having the time of my life: a new school, a new romance, a new city, and lots of new friends.

I looked like a happy, typical college student exploring an exciting new world. And in many ways, I was just that. However, amid this incredible adventure and privilege, there were moments I was overwhelmed and nearly debilitated by fear.

When the sun went down, I was terrified to walk on campus alone. It was only a year and a half since I had been drugged and sexually assaulted by two strangers. I felt so vulnerable that someone could hurt me again at any moment. Whether walking back from dinner, a party, or my boyfriend’s dorm, whenever I was by myself at night, my heart would race, and I would feel this aching pit in my stomach.

Sometimes, when I made it safely, I would go to a bathroom stall or somewhere private and let out a few tears, just as a sigh of relief. Walking at night on what was a beautiful and, statistically speaking, safe campus was a horrible, unsettling feeling – one that I had no idea if it would ever go away.

There are many ways I could have responded. I could have gone home – quit school, and simply remained in the confines of my parents’ home. I could have stopped going out and stayed in my room after dark. I could have withdrawn entirely and hidden from all my fears.

But I didn’t. Instead, my 17-year-old self, consciously or subconsciously, chose to be brave.

I dared to ask for what I needed and took advantage of those offering to help. I told my boyfriend I was scared and asked him to walk me home from parties or back to my dorm room. If he wasn’t available, there were five other 6’5 football players who told me to call or text whenever I needed someone to walk me home.

I had the courage to keep showing up, to keep walking, and to ask for what I needed, knowing deep down I didn’t want this fear to hold me back. No matter how often my heart raced or I got that pain in my stomach, I kept going out. I kept meeting friends, and  attending parties and clubs. Daily, I left my comfort zone, which allowed me to fully enjoy the college experience.

While I still don’t love walking alone at night, my anxiety doesn’t reach the level it once did. And because I didn’t let my fear stop me then, I certainly won’t let my fear stop me now.

Dear Anxiety,

You have been in my life for a very long time. I first met you when I was five or six years old. Even at that age, I thought I needed to be the best athlete, dancer, and student to stand out in the world and reach my larger-than-life dreams. My parents never pushed me, so I am unsure why you entered my life or why I felt so much pressure. But because of you, I had sleepless nights and daily body aches. You had way too much power for a very long time.

Through the years, we have had our ups and downs. Sometimes, you consume me, and other times I have been able to keep you in check. The worst of you appeared in my late teens when a sexual assault led to paralyzing fear and endless stomachaches. I lost 30 pounds all because of you. Terrified about my health, I started to fight back against you. That’s when it hit me. I cause you.

I discovered that you, Anxiety, are the result of my thought process, habits, and attitude. Once I realized I was in control, I started to pay attention to the activities and behaviors that made you less present. Exercise, writing, and conversations with family and friends all helped to stop you from overwhelming my life. The more I engaged in behaviors that helped me, the less you hurt me.

In my 30s now, I recognize that you will probably never entirely disappear from my life. You are probably a part of life. But whether it’s stress from building my company or disappointment from a relationship, I now know how to take power from you. And that’s important because the less power you possess, the more happiness I can feel.

Anxiety, you’re tough, but I am way tougher.