A Soldier's Unseen Scars

Soon after I entered the world, I received my first scar. As an infant I had pyloric stenosis, a blockage between the stomach and small intestines. I'm told that it was a rather simple fix, but it did leave a large scar on the right side of my abdomen. As a child the scar was more of a curiosity than anything else. I remember making up funny stories to tell my friends about how I got the scar such as: "I was wounded in a shark attack."

As I grew older there would be other accidents that left scars as reminders of milestones in my life. There were scars on my legs and elbows from my time as a high school athlete playing lacrosse, basketball, baseball, and football. There is the scar on my thumb from one of my first jobs working in a restaurant kitchen where I had an unfortunate encounter with a slicing machine.

There is a scar on my chin that I notice whenever I look in a mirror. I got that scar when I was in the Army, driving a M113 tank. When I hit a bump in the road, my head slammed into the cockpit, and I ended up with a nasty cut that required stitches.

The scars that have had the most profound impact on my life, however, are not ones that left a mark on my skin. These scars, while invisible to the eye, have left a lasting effect on my life in ways that go far beyond what my visible scars can tell about my life

In 2003 when I entered the United States Army, I took those visible scars with me to Fort Knox, Kentucky. I was taking a break from college when I joined the Army, and the idea of a military experience seemed like a good fit for me. After basic and advanced training at Fort Knox, I was assigned to my first duty station at Fort Irwin, California as a 19 Delta Cavalry Scout. Although physically I had met all of the requirements to become a soldier, I was woefully unprepared for the emotional scar that would wound me in a way that I never expected while I was there in the desert. That wound was the result of a hazing incident that occurred when a few of my fellow soldiers tried to break my spirit by duct taping me into a fetal position. The desperation I felt during that incident broke something loose inside me and left a mark on my soul that would change my life forever.

After that hazing experience, I was a different person. I have since learned that mental illness can be underneath the surface, waiting to push its ugly head out to control a life. The results of that hazing incident produced a different Me—someone who was suspicious of others, thinking they were going to do me harm. I was now paranoid and fearful of everyone around me. I thought people were stealing from me, talking about me in negative ways, and making fun of me. All this made me suspicious of my fellow soldiers, and I began to isolate myself from them. Of course, they saw me as a nonconformist, and they kept trying to get me to follow orders. However, in this new altered state, I was confused about every aspect of life.

One particular delusion I had was that I had a special form of ESP, a special power that would benefit the Army. I thought God was going to use me to teach soldiers to be self-aware, so I referred myself to the mental health clinic on post. No one in the clinic was impressed with my special powers, but instead I was referred to the hospital for psychological testing and received a diagnosis of schizophrenia.

Specifically, I was diagnosed with schizoaffective disorder which is a chronic mental health condition characterized primarily by symptoms of schizophrenia, such as hallucinations or delusions, and symptoms of a mood disorder, such as mania and depression. I would go on to learn that my brain disease would leave an...