Just a month after then-18-year-old Mathius Carter joined the Army, 9/11 took the world by surprise. By 2003, the Cary resident found himself in a war zone in Iraq as a member of the initial invasion known as Operation Iraqi Freedom.
He recalls that first mission driving through the desert, part of a large convoy, with blown-up tanks scattered on either side of the path they traveled, careful not to drive over any live explosives. He remembers falling asleep in the tank with his head resting on a vinyl window in the darkness, then being startled awake by a mortar bomb shooting right at his tank.
“It was the loudest noise I ever heard,” he said. “Something told me to jump out of the truck and I jumped out, and another came in really close to me. It was so strong, strong enough to throw me into my truck.”
That night he suffered what would be the first of two traumatic brain injuries in combat.
“The ‘fight, flight or freeze’ continued,” he recalled. “I continued to move but I couldn’t talk. I hit my head so hard I couldn’t talk any longer. I ran to the other side of the truck. My partner and I had one pair of night vision goggles between the two of us and when I put them on I saw a Russian tank pointing at us.”
This was just the first night of his first mission. Twenty years later, the experience and more still haunts him. “It was the first time I ever experienced fear,” he recalled.
Carter is like many veterans who have struggled to share their experiences of war and the mental and emotional toll it takes on their lives. Some have entertained – or acted on – thoughts of taking their own lives just to quiet the sounds, voices, guilt and shame and rid themselves of the images.
Often, veterans don’t talk about what is going on inside their minds because as Carter said, “We don’t want to be a burden to others.”
“We think our mental health problems are a burden to our families and they would be better off without us,” said Carter who today is a married father of a 6-year-old son and 17-year-old stepson. Carter has struggled and sought therapy and now helps others veterans. He’s also written a children’s book to help his young son understand PTSD which in turn also helped his healing.
He works as a veteran outreach coordinator for The Road Home Program, a nonprofit through Rush University Medical Center in Chicago. Through a holistic approach, they help veterans with unseen wounds of war.
Among therapeutic activities offered are yoga, acupuncture and mindfulness. They have a pastor who addresses moral injury and an art program that includes painting masks. On the outside of the mask, veterans paints how they think the world sees them, and on the inside they paint how they seem themselves.
Nearly all veterans who have gone through the two-week program come into it reporting they have suicidal ideations. By the end of the two weeks, most say they no longer feel that way, Carter said. He wants all military veterans to know their dark thoughts can be overcome and it is OK to ask for help.
“Your family is better with you there,” he said of the message the group tries to communicate to veterans, while at the same time not denying “it is hard, it is hard when you are in a dark place to see the light.”
Carter was among the scheduled presenters at a suicide prevention training March 14 at McHenry County College. The program was entitled QPR Suicide Prevention. QPR stands for question, persuade and refer. The program was designed to teach people about the warning signs of suicidal ideation and how to respond.
Post-traumatic stress disorder triggers are audible and visual. They cause chemicals in the brain to surge and the fight or flight instinct to kick in. A trigger could be a box or bag on the side of the road that a veteran perceives to be an explosive. Or, as Carter said, a loud sound can trigger fear that someone is shooting at him, or when he hears a helicopter taking someone to the hospital, his mind tells him it is an enemy military helicopter and he should take shelter. Traffic also can be a trigger because he feels trapped, he said.
Many say communication is the most important thing. Jennifer Miller, 54, of Woodstock, is a former lieutenant colonel in the Army who retired in 2022. She spent the last eight of her 30 years in the Army focusing on suicide prevention and intervention training and resiliency skills for soldiers and their families.
Now, she and Carmella Navarro, a friend and licensed clinical professional counselor who has worked as a suicide prevention program manager with the Army Reserve, founded Heroes 4 Life, a consulting business focusing on veteran suicide prevention.
Miller and Navarro said the reason for a higher rate in suicide among veterans – especially for older veterans – is stigma around discussing feelings, depression and mental health. “These soldiers were brought up in a culture where mental health was not discussed whatsoever, and any weakness is completely unacceptable,” Miller said. “No blood, no foul. So many will not seek help or even know how to seek help.”
Miller said a willingness to communicate seems to be getting better with the younger veterans, but it still can be difficult to find a group to connect with. The worst thing for a veteran is isolation, she said.
Veterans need strong, healthy relationships and to know they are safe to express feelings. They need people to talk to who can relate to their experiences which is why veterans groups are so important.
When in the service, “you are trained to be mission-focused, and anything outside of that was disruptive to that mission,” Miller explained. Veterans think “I don’t want people to know how I’m feeling or what I am dealing with, or what my family is going through. ... There is a stigma around that.”
Miller, Navarro and Carter each said the best thing to do if someone notices a friend or family member, even a neighbor, struggling is to ask them directly. Do not be afraid to ask specifically what they are feeling and thinking. Then let that person know they are safe and cared for and help connect them with resources.
“If someone has suicide ideations, they have them,” Miller said. “[Saying] ‘I notice something is off’ and asking, ‘Are you having suicide ideations?’ does not trigger them. To do it lets the person know you care. It takes personal courage to ask about suicide. The person at risk recognizes that as a sign of caring.”
Navarro said she sees a lack in training to help veterans in particular who may be suffering in silence. It is one reason she joined Miller in starting Heroes4Life. Another reason is because she has her own story of a family member, a Navy veteran, who committed suicide.
“As the one in the family who talks a lot ... how come I couldn’t see that coming?” Navarro said. “It is important that we have a conversation. What do we think is needed ... If we can talk to one person and reach them then we have done our job.”
Victor Somoza, of Crystal Lake, is a veterans service officer for Boone County Veterans Assistance Commission and formerly worked with McHenry County VAC for about seven years. He served 10 years in the Army, was wounded in Afghanistan on June 7, 2013, and medically retired in 2015. He detailed the attack, for which he was awarded the Army Commendation Medal for Valor and which ended his military career.
He was 29, a gunner on a Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected vehicle (MRAP) when it rolled over 88 pounds of homemade explosives that detonated underneath the vehicle. He remembers being surrounded by smoke and fire. One of the five men in that vehicle died.
Somoza, now 40 and the father to 10 children ages 2 through 22 in a blended family, said the explosion left him with back injuries, traumatic brain injury and shrapnel in his legs. And like so many other veterans, he said, he too suffers with the unseen scars.
“Because of stuff like this, I struggle,” Somoza said. “Veteran suicide … I can talk from both worlds. … I have had to call the [suicide] hotline twice in my life.”
He said talk therapy and pills did not work for him. What did help was programs such as The Road Home and an eight-week residential stress disorder program at Lovell Federal Health Care Center in North Chicago which focuses on veterans diagnosed with PTSD. The program is trauma focused and he talked with other vets like himself and listened to their stories.
“I started to realize that we need to do something more to battle veterans’ suicide,” said Somoza whose work with the VAC includes the Veterans’ Wellness program.
Talk therapy is not for everyone, so the wellness program, which partners with other veterans groups, encourages socialization, planned group events such as video gaming and outdoor activities like hiking, fishing and kayaking. Program operators also make sure veterans are aware of all the services and benefits available to them. The program stresses the importance of learning to ask for help, which he said “is the toughest part.”
Like Carter, Somoza said not wanting to ask for help is not about ego; rather, “It is more of I don’t want to seem weak.”
“Helping other veterans in turn helps me with my mental health,” Somoza said.
Sina Balouch, 27 of Lake in the Hills, was just 12 when his 25-year-old brother came home from a military stint, and shortly thereafter overdosed and died. His brother struggled with his mental health, and the only treatment he received were pills that did not help.
For this reason Balouch, director at Transformations Counseling, located in Lake in the Hills and Rockford, along with You Are Not Alone (YNA) is hosting Heroes For Hope, a 5K at Huntley High School on May 26, to raise awareness of veterans’ suicide prevention.
YNA wants to raise $10,000 for Veterans Path to Hope, a nonprofit based in Crystal Lake that provides services to veterans. The money would be earmarked for programming that specifically helps veterans struggling with PTSD and suicide ideations, Balouch said.
Seeing how the military changed his brother – he suffered with major depression and insomnia and no longer looked like himself – “created a passion in my heart,” Balouch said.
Balouch, who also hosts a podcast, said Dr. Ryan Rogers, president of the PTSD Foundation of America, explained on one of his podcasts that when veterans come home, talking to someone is so difficult.
“They don’t know how to open up. Emotions are nonexistent in the military,” Balouch said. “The military breaks you, then rebuilds you, but it doesn’t build a foundation to deal with mental health and when we can’t talk about the problem that is the problem.”
Veterans Crisis Line is available 24/7. Those who reach out do not have to be enrolled in VA benefits or health care to connect with caring, qualified responders: Dial 988 then Press 1, chat at VeteransCrisisLine.net/Chat, or text (838255). Loved ones of veterans can also access help.