Age 37 and after years of internal torment, my naval career was at a cross road sand going nowhere. I was suffering from a myriad of physiological and phycological symptoms that were enough to have a significant impact on my day to day life in civvy street. I was posted from ship to shore for medical review.
My marriage had failed. I was separated from family and friends, alcohol became a ‘false’ comfort. I came to spend as much time in the Guzz pubs and nightclubs as I was in and out of naval hospital. No one could help me. At that time my medical condition was not fully understood or explained. I was sliding down a slippery slope of depression. A naval psychiatrist reported that I was a high risk suicide case. I withdrew from friends and family, feeling angry, frustrated and even violent at times.
Nowadays, thanks to the many veteran charities, the condition is recognized and there is help, even giving it a name PTSD.