Stories of Services

I grew up moving between states, and I went to five different high schools by the time I graduated. The adventure was cool, but it was lonely, and the bullying followed me everywhere. I told myself I was fine. Then I joined the Marine Corps.

Nobody called me names in uniform, but I felt it, the sense that people didn’t like me, didn’t care. And I made the mistake so many of us make. I held it all in and tried to forget. I stayed quiet even after I gave my life to Christ in 2015. People assume salvation erases old wounds. It didn’t for me.

By my last year in the Marine Corps, depression and anxiety had taken over. I was a Sergeant by then, and comments from my own staff cracked open every memory of being torn down since I was a boot. I cried myself to sleep more nights than I can count. I never turned to alcohol or anything like it, but I understood, for the first time, why people do. I was looking for anything that could numb what I couldn’t carry.

Covering up what you feel instead of dealing with it is the worst thing you can do to yourself. I found that out the hard way.

When the pandemic cut me off from church and community, and I started having real thoughts of not wanting to be here, I made a choice. I turned myself in before those thoughts became a plan. I checked into the psychiatric ward at Camp Lejeune Naval Hospital, 4A, in the spring of 2020.

I was only there two nights. The staff treated everyone like human beings. And when I got out, I finally let myself grieve, really grieve, for the first time. I cried myself to sleep that night, and I woke up still in tears. But somewhere in that darkness, peace started to settle in. I felt God lift the weight I’d been carrying and turn my worst night into the most peaceful moment of my life. I decided then that I was done being a prisoner to my own mind. Now my mind answers to me.

That didn’t mean the fight was over. Even years later, the thought of not existing still visits sometimes. It did on an ordinary drive to a friend’s birthday party not long ago. It scared me enough to write this. But I’ve learned I’m not fighting it alone, and I don’t have to hide it either.

What I have now that I didn’t have then is the ability to say all of this out loud. And that’s exactly why I do, because I know I’m not the only veteran carrying something they’ve never found the words for. I found purpose in showing up for other veterans, first responders, and their families, being the person I needed and didn’t have. If my story helps one more person turn themselves in, reach out, or just say the hard thing out loud, then everything I went through was worth it.

That purpose is also why I started Kingdom Pathfinders (kingdompathfinders.shop), a faith based brand built around veteran and first responder suicide awareness and prevention. Every piece carries that same message I needed someone to hand me back then, that you are not done, you are not alone, and there is a way through.

All the best,
Emmitt