A Place Once Safe, Now Unfamiliar
The moment my boots hit American soil, I should have felt relief. I should have felt safe. But I didn’t.
Instead, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to be there. Like I had landed in the wrong place, in the wrong life. The same streets, the same houses, the same people—but nothing felt the same. I moved through it all like a ghost, drifting from one place to another, trying to outrun a feeling I couldn’t shake.
For many young men and women who leave for war, coming home is not the victory it’s made out to be. It’s another battlefield—one where the enemy isn’t visible, but it’s just as relentless.
The Unseen Battle: Reintegration into a World That Moved On
The Illusion of Homecoming
People said, “Welcome home.”
I nodded. I smiled. I played along. But home wasn’t home anymore.
I tried to keep moving—visiting friends, keeping busy, staying anywhere but alone. But no matter where I went, the feeling followed. And the quieter it got, the louder my mind became. My hands shook. My stomach twisted into knots. My thoughts raced a hundred miles an hour for no reason. There was no threat, but I wasn’t safe.
Then I started noticing something even worse.
I’d talk to people I used to know, and my anxiety would skyrocket. I’d stutter. I’d lose my train of thought. And for some reason, I was convinced people could see right through me—like they knew I didn’t belong anymore.
That feeling? It was torture.
The Safety That No Longer Exists
It became clear to me: home was never really my safe place.
When I was a little kid, I would tuck myself between the wall and the mattress just to feel secure. That small space made me feel protected, like nothing could get to me.
Now, coming home from war, there was nothing. No safe corner. No shield. Just an emptiness I couldn’t escape.
I was too old to be young, and too young to be old.
And I kept waiting—for myself to snap back, for things to make sense again. But after years and years of waiting, I realized something devastating:
This was my new reality.
The Moment That Changed Everything
It goes back to radio watch.
We were monitoring the comms when the transmission came in:
“We have one KIA and one URGENT SURGICAL. STAND BY FOR…”
Silence.
My stomach dropped. This was my platoon. My brothers. And then I heard a name.
For a moment, I thought it was someone I had prayed with, someone I had met their family, someone who was my brother.
But then—it wasn’t him.
Halverson was the one killed. 14 more would follow shortly after, including my 19yr. Old driver Richard Chad Clifton. Hell and heartbreak.
Those moments did something to me. Maybe it planted a subconscious rule in my mind: Don’t ever feel that again. Don’t ever let yourself care too much, or get too close. Because when you do, people die.
I didn’t recognize it at the time, but looking back, that’s when the wall went up. And after that, I carried that rule into everything—friendships, relationships, even my own family.
But the thing about walls is, they don’t just keep the pain out. They keep everything out.
We All Bring Our Own Battles
The truth is, we don’t come into the military as blank slates. We bring our past with us.
For me, that past started when I was five years old—when my dad walked out. That was the first time I ever felt like I wasn’t good enough. And I carried that feeling with me everywhere.
War didn’t take that away. It just amplified it.
That little boy who felt abandoned? He grew up, put on a uniform, and proved himself in combat. But deep down, that same fear was still there. And when I lost my brothers, when I heard that name on the radio, that old wound opened right back up. It’s like life kept confirming the same thing over and over: Everyone you love will leave.
That’s the weight a lot of veterans carry. It’s not just war—it’s everything war brought to the surface that was already there.
Words Mean Nothing Without Action
People love to say, “Thank you for your service.” But let’s be real—what does that actually mean? I’ve had people say those words and then turn around and try to overcharge me, acting like knocking ten bucks off a deal was some grand gesture. I’ve seen companies slap an American flag on their logo and pretend they support veterans while doing nothing to actually help.
Saying thank you is easy. Following through is what matters.
So, if you really want to thank a veteran for their service—show up. Give them a real opportunity. Be honest in business. If you say you’re going to do something, follow through. Because “thank you” doesn’t mean a damn thing if it’s not backed by action.
The Mission Behind Putasos: Iron Sharpens Iron
For years, I thought I was alone in this. But I wasn’t.
There are so many of us—men and women who came home but never really came home. Who carry ghosts in their minds and weight on their chests. Who fight battles no one else can see.
That’s why I started Putasos. Not just as a fight brand, but as a mission—to bring together warriors still in the fight. We fight to the very end.
If this story resonates with you, share it. Not for me, but for the warriors still out there feeling like they’re alone in this. Because they’re not.
And if you’re ready to fight, to rebuild, to find your edge again—Putasos is here., Fight For It. Support the cause.
1 comment
This one is spot on. “ Don’t ever let yourself care too much, or get too close. Because when you do, people die.”Hard to get attached to people and why often some struggle with feeling like they belong in relationships.
And when you said war just surfaced everything that already was there so true.