this talk: is about mental health and resilience in the military - with James Elliott
Whenever I am asked to write about mental health in the military I feel a slight guilt, like I might rock the preverbal boat, but not because I am about to launch into a sensationalist story of how the “system let me down” or that “my chain of command didn’t care” but because I am about to do the opposite.
I joined the British Army in 2006 and was thrown straight in at 100%, rotating fighting soldiers through the savage conflict of Afghanistan at a rate we had never known before. The counter insurgency fighting style of the Taliban meant that training had to be intense and versatile and this produced robust, dynamic, intelligent, fit, strong and motivated soldiers. I had joined the British Airborne Forces, the elite 16 Air Assault Brigade and I was immersed in an organisation brimming with role models and pride. I was overwhelmed by the camaraderie, fighting prowess and sporting ability of my unit, 7 Para RHA and the battle group of 3 Para to which I was attached. It was this very pace of life, combined with Afghanistan, the profound and defining friendships, the espirit de corps and of course, the gallows humour that allowed me to move (seemingly) effortlessly and resiliently through this great time of adversity, struggle presenting itself in the mixture of oppressive heat in Afghanistan and the perpetual rain of the training areas of South Wales and North East of England.
The mental health issues that pursue me today have pursued and challenged me most of my life. Similarly to the majority of individuals who joined the British Army, I had a dysfunctional and, at times, very abusive childhood. I served my Queen and Country on combat operations in Afghanistan, which has played a role in exacerbating my mental health. As mentioned, this is where I hope to change a few perspectives about mental health, as the reception from my colleagues, command and brothers in arms has been nothing but kind and supportive.
I recall seeing a Medical officer as a young, angry-faced paratrooper with battered skin on my knuckles, bruises on my face, sunken eyes with dark circles, dirty, unkempt uniform, stinking of beer and shame. It was that extremely intuitive medical officer who decided that the best course of action was to support and not punish me. He kindly gave me the details of a private practice of mental health and encouraged me to talk. This is when things changed as friends that had rallied round me stayed with me at the most difficult times, through suicidal thoughts and kept my head above water. Additionally, my chain of command were encouraging and compassionate, helping me as my marriage broke down. In fact, the best support I received was, by far, by my military environment and not the civilian one. This could be a fairly skewered observation as I mainly operated within military circles but the point remains that the people I hoped I could rely on, I absolutely could.
The journey is far from over, my mental health now walks beside me as less of an adversary but more of an old friend that you don’t really like, but you’ve spent so much time together it would be unthinkable to not have them in your life. I learnt very valuable lessons which has led me to; getting back into work, becoming part of the British Army’s first ever tactical parachuting instructor’s platoon and taking the same young paratroopers on their ‘Jumps’ course to earn their coveted wings, becoming the second in command of all the British Army’s mental resiliency and well-being delivery, breaking two world records for the longest games of rugby, to delivering resiliency to the Paralympic Rowing Team. Success starts with perspective, it starts with the skills of resilience development.
I learned the power of setting goals and measuring my success, even something as minor as getting out of bed and not drinking before midday, was a win. I learned how to become intrinsically motivated, to do away with the voice that says “I can’t” and focus entirely on the victory. I learned mindfulness, how to understand that control is only real in the moment that you have and once you no longer have that moment, it is gone, control your own reality. Finally I learned to dream big, to see myself positively, to see myself with compassion, to forgive and to believe in what I could be and how I could be it.
The stigma that so many speak of, I dare say exists, or at least the fear of it is so real to an individual that it produces the same outcome of that individual’s silence anyway. What I experienced is care and compassion, which at the time I needed. I lived my struggle from my behavioural patterns, ex-wife’s affair, difficult childhood and Afghanistan. Those around me knew this about me, so that when I spoke, they were ready to listen.
Maybe that’s the key, be ready to help, Stronger, together.
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