So, the other day I came across this photo on the left while scrolling through one of my old accounts. I went back and forth for a long time about whether I should share it, because it’s painful for me to even look at, let alone talk about. But I believe there’s an important message here, and if it can help even one person, then it’s worth the discomfort.
So… here goes nothing.
When that picture on the left was taken in the summer of 2016, I was deep in the grip of a severe intravenous methamphetamine addiction that had been going on for years and had nearly taken my life. At that point, I was medically retired from the military due to combat injuries, and I was injecting up to a gram of meth a day into my arm. I had burned every bridge, destroyed every friendship I’d ever built, and honestly, I couldn’t blame anyone for how they saw me. They were right.
Back then, my only concern was my next high. That’s how I tried to cope with the war, the loss of my father, my mental health struggles, and the weight of all the bad decisions I’d made along the way.
Spoiler alert: I wasn’t coping at all.
My family and the few true friends I still had begged me over and over to go to the VA and get help. There were, quite literally, a hundred arms stretched out, ready to pull me back from the edge.
But I refused to listen.
At that time, I genuinely believed there was nothing left of me worth saving. I had convinced myself I was just another washed-up, Purple Heart and Valor-decorated, homeless Veteran junkie—a statistic. I truly believed the man you see in the picture on the left was all I would ever be, and that change simply wasn’t possible.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
In February of 2017, I reached a breaking point. I had decided I was done, and I attempted to join my fire team leader and so many other Veterans by ending my life through overdose. What I didn’t know then was that God had other plans for me.
After surviving that suicide attempt, something inside me finally shattered—but in a different way. For the first time in a long time, I wanted more. I wanted to be more. I wanted purpose. And suddenly, it became clear to me that the only thing truly standing in my way was myself.
That realization changed everything.
I made the decision to cut every negative influence out of my life. I moved more than 100 miles away from every drug dealer I knew, founded WAT22 as a support group, and threw myself fully into saving my fellow Veterans from suicide. Somewhere along that journey, I found my redemption.
It wasn’t easy. It took a long time to prove to the people I had hurt and disappointed for so many years that my changes were real and lasting. I had to work relentlessly, but their doubt became fuel. For the first time in years, I felt a fire burning in my chest, and I was determined to prove—both to them and to myself—that I was capable of change, no matter the cost.
And finally, something shifted.
My desire to change became greater than my desire to stay the same.
Read that again.
Today, I am the Founder and President of a Veteran nonprofit organization called We Are The 22. Together, we have directly responded to and helped save more than 170 Arkansas Veterans from suicide. I am honored to be surrounded every day by some of the most motivated and dedicated Veterans I have ever known—men and women who stand ready, 24 hours a day, to answer the call and walk alongside their Brothers and Sisters through the darkest storms.
That alone still amazes me.
I continue to battle Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and a Traumatic Brain Injury (TBI), and I probably should see doctors more often than I do. But I am sober. I have my family back. I have a loving home, and I now live a life filled with things I once believed I could never have during my darkest days. By the grace of God, I consider myself truly blessed.
Still, the person in that photo on the left continues to haunt me. Not out of shame, but because I know that somewhere right now, a Veteran reading this feels just as lost as I once did. Someone who keeps putting off getting help for just one more day.
So if that’s you, hear this from someone who’s been there:
YOU are worth saving.
LIFE is worth living.
There are more people who believe in you than you probably realize. You just have to believe in yourself, believe that change is possible, and be willing to ask for help.
We Are The 22, Sheep Dog Impact Assistance – Central Arkansas, VFW Department of Arkansas, Arkansas American Legion, DAV Department of Arkansas, Central Arkansas Veterans Healthcare System, American Veteran Outdoors, A Veteran’s Best Friend, and Mission 22 are just a few places that can help you take that first step.
I won’t tell you it’s going to be easy—because it won’t be. But I can tell you, without a shadow of a doubt, that it will be worth it.
If you’re reading this and it resonates, there’s a reason for that.
I don’t know how everyone will react to this story. What I do know is that at the end of the day, WAT22’s team will always be there when they’re needed. And if sharing this saves even one life or helps one person start their journey toward recovery, then I will gladly accept any negativity that may come with it.
There’s a whole world out here waiting for you to come home. Recovery is possible—and I know for a fact that you can do it.
Thank you. God bless you.
