GREATER THAN MYSELF
I joined the Army to be a part of the noblest cause – duty, honor, country. I sought purpose, structure, and the challenge of being a warrior. Serving in the 82nd Airborne Division fulfilled that calling. As an Airborne Infantryman, I discovered the kind of brotherhood forged only through sweat, sacrifice, and shared hardship. The trust we placed in each other during airborne operations and deployments to foreign countries wasn’t just about tactics; it was about unbreakable bonds.
In the airborne community, we didn’t just wear the same uniform; we shared the same spirit of adventure in service to our country. We trained and fought under the most challenging conditions. We endured, not just for ourselves, but for each other. That spirit made even the hardest days feel meaningful. Marcus Aurelius once wrote, “No man is an island unto himself; we are waves of the same sea, leaves of the same tree, breath of the same spirit.” In the 82nd, our actions were geared toward the mission, the unit, and the man to our left and right.
But the mission doesn’t last forever. Transitioning to civilian life was disorienting. The structure vanished. The sense of purpose blurred. The brotherhood faded into the rearview. I was left with echoes – memories of camaraderie and adrenaline, but no roadmap for peace. I struggled to find where I belonged. The war may have ended, but the battle within had just begun.
Addiction took root in that void. It promised relief but delivered destruction in a way no battlefield ever could. Yet even in my darkest moments, something inside me remembered who I was: a warrior. Not one without wounds, but one who could still stand.
Surrender is not a Ranger word, but I found that in my new mission of sobriety, I achieve victory through surrender, a day at a time. In the rooms of recovery, I saw something familiar: shared stories, mutual accountability, and deep bonds formed in the trenches of struggle. Helping others rise from the depths of addiction reawakened my sense of duty. Serving those with trauma and substance use disorders, especially veterans, became a sacred calling.
Seneca wrote, “Wherever there is a human being, there is an opportunity for kindness.” And I’ve learned that through kindness, service, and empathy, we rebuild the very brotherhood we thought we had lost. The esprit de corps that once lived in barracks and battlefields now lives in meeting halls, recovery centers, and moments of one alcoholic helping another.
Today, I serve my community and country in a different uniform – not one stitched from camouflage, but from courage and compassion. My weapon is no longer a rifle but a message of hope. The mission hasn’t ended; it’s evolved. And I stand shoulder-to-shoulder with a new platoon of men and women walking the path of recovery, fighting for their lives, and rediscovering their worth.
As Marcus Aurelius said, “Let your one delight and refreshment be to pass from one act of service to the community to another, with God ever in mind.” I have found purpose again. And for that purpose, I have found peace.
