Permission to Heal: An Army Colonel’s Journey to Recovery

Colonel (Ret.) Sean's military career began in 1989 with the Alabama Army National Guard, where he served with the 214th Military Police Company and later deployed as part of the 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment during Operation Desert Shield/Storm. Four years later, after graduating from Auburn University, he became an Armor Officer in the U.S. Army and took on assignments across the continental United States, Alaska, and Germany. In all, Sean gave more than 32 years of his life to defending America, rising through the ranks with his strong leadership,

Decades of service, deployments and loss, however, left their mark. The weight of what Sean carried home was invisible to most, hidden behind discipline, dedication and a commitment to those he led. Sean credits the Emory Healthcare Veterans Program with helping him “feel more balanced, confident and in control" of his life.

Sean had just completed his training in the summer of 1990 when Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait. In November, just before Thanksgiving, he got the call: “You’re deploying.” At just 20 years old, he left Auburn for Saudi Arabia.

His second deployment to Kuwait came in 1994, about a year after he met his wife. Just before he left, Sean proposed, and she said yes.

Sean’s military career was marked by a cycle of deployments, each one adding to the emotional weight he carried. The constant demands of service took a deep toll—his family felt the impact of his repeated departures, and he carried the grief of losing close friends in combat.

In 2003, Sean served in Afghanistan while his wife was pregnant with their youngest child. When deployed to Iraq in 2006, a close friend was killed right at the end of his deployment. Earlier in the deployment, his friend was able to return home just in time to see the birth of their son. Tragically, it was the only time he ever saw him. “He grew up knowing his father only through stories and never had the chance to experience life with his dad, and that sense of unfairness stayed with me,” shared Sean.

Later in his career, Sean experienced nearly-constant rotations and losses from his active post in Germany. He repeatedly experienced the soldiers who served with, before and after him becoming casualties, while his service frequently disrupted his own family’s life. He felt guilt—guilt that he survived when others didn’t, and guilt for what he felt his family was going through.  

The demands of service weren’t limited to the battlefield. “The totality of all those experiences—the combat, the losses, the exhaustion—it wore on me. I gave up a lot to be with my unit and my soldiers. I was never wounded, but a piece of me always stayed behind,” he said.

The cycle of deployments left little opportunity to process what had happened before it was time to prepare for the next mission. Even within the military community, there seemed to be little space to acknowledge what he’d been through. “You come back, and everyone expects you to act like nothing happened,” he said. “I just buried myself in the work—and eventually, all that stress started getting in the way of who I was and who I wanted to be.”

Trying to Cope through Medication and Counseling

By his final deployment in 2016, the stress was undeniable. His older children were approaching their senior year of high school, and he felt like a stranger to his own family. He began trying to manage the stress with medication and counseling.

During an early therapy session, a clinician asked, “If you’re this stressed, why don’t you just leave the army?” Leaving wasn’t an option Sean was ready to consider; he didn’t want to hit the eject button on a career he had worked so hard to build. What he wanted was to find a sustainable way to manage stress.

Sean carried on by doing therapy, taking medication, and trying to convince himself that what he was feeling was just part of the job. “I’d get to a place where I could normalize my day-to-day and think I was okay,” he recalled.

Even when things appeared normal, underlying stressors would eventually resurface. He would return to therapy or revisit his treatment plan, but it wasn’t working for him. “More often than not, it was just me taking medication and not talking to anyone,” he shared. “There was no one to help me recognize what my thought patterns were, or how I was reacting to them. I didn’t know how to deal with them in a different way.”

Sean knew he needed something unlike what he had already tried, so he joined the Wounded Warrior Project®. During an onboarding call with a team member, he learned about the Emory Healthcare Veterans Program.

Even after completing the evaluation and being accepted to Emory Healthcare Veterans Program, Sean hesitated, worrying that he might be taking the place of someone more in need. He felt like he survived and had “made it” while others weren’t as lucky. He shared, “the truth was that I wasn't okay. I was disconnected from my family, stressed, and not coping well.” Ultimately, he decided to attend, and that decision changed everything.

What stood out to Sean about the program was the structure, consistency and people. “Everyone was top tier,” he recalled. “The program is excellence in action, a world-class experience. If you’re open to it, it will change your life.”

One-on-one therapy played a transformative role. His clinician helped him reframe his thoughts, understand his reactions and develop effective coping tools. For the first time in years, he felt peace.

Sean’s wife participated in the program virtually, which helped strengthen their relationship. They began to have more honest conversations. Even their children noticed the difference. 

Today, Sean is determined to normalize mental health care for other veterans and service members like him. “You don’t have to wait for a crisis. You don’t have to wonder if you deserve help. You do. Just go. Do the work. Get the tools. Live differently.”

He often reflects on his experience with the Emory Healthcare Veterans Program and says, “That’s where I learned how to live differently.” While he still gets emotional, those feelings no longer send him into darkness. He’s learned not to catastrophize like he once did.

The message Emory gave him was simple, but powerful: You have permission to heal. He didn’t need to apologize for being there. He didn’t need to prove he deserved care. He just had to show up and do the work.

If there’s one thing Sean hopes others will take away from his story, it’s this: seeking help is not a sign of weakness, it’s courageous. Whether you’re a private or a colonel, no one walks away from war unchanged. And no one should carry the burden on their own.

Learn more about the Emory Healthcare Veterans Program.