It blows my mind that women are still saying this. People are still afraid that lifting heavier weights will make them “bulky.” It’s 2026, not 1986. I hate to break it to you, but the 80s were 40 years ago. It’s time to upgrade your fitness philosophy. Women with the muscular physiques you’re afraid of worked very hard for a very long time to build that amount of muscle. They trained intentionally, followed structured programs, worked with coaches, and ate with a specific goa

They say time heals all wounds. That’s a load of shit. A lot of the voices speaking out about PTSD and suicide come from special operations. And they should. I’m grateful for them, both for their service, and for being willing to share both their struggles and their successes regarding mental health. But they don’t look like me. Their experiences are obviously very different. My exposure to war was minimal by comparison, and that realization is something that contributed

Trauma + Family Drama = A Shit Sandwich During orientation at the plant medicine center, one of the facilitators said that many veterans come to Costa Rica for help with military-related PTSD, only to find out that their problems lie much deeper. I thought, nah, that’s not me. Spoiler alert, it was me. So let’s just get this out of the way. If you don’t understand where I came from, nothing that comes later is going to make sense. Whether I like it or not, it’s woven into

I wanted to go. For the first time, I felt like I was actually doing what I signed up for—what I trained for. It was my choice. My duty. The timing was both terrible and perfect. Terrible because it gave me a way to avoid dealing with my brother’s death. Perfect because it gave me something to focus on. Pre-deployment workups pulled me out of the hospital grind, which—honestly—I wouldn’t have handled well anyway. Grief and patient care don’t mix. Instead, I buried myself

Coming Home I flew back through Baltimore. In civilian clothes, but pulling huge sand-colored seabags. It was late. Quiet. People noticed. “Welcome home.” “Thank you for your service.” I didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t grateful. I wasn’t proud. I wasn’t anything. Just tired. And suspicious. Every time someone spoke to me, my brain went: Who are you? What’s your angle? Which is ridiculous, but that’s what happened. When I landed in San Diego the next day, it really h

For the years between GTMO and retirement, I managed. I continued going to therapy, or at least attempting to. One problem with therapy in the military is that either you or your therapist is always moving. It is very difficult to achieve continuity of care. I did intakes with six therapists in four years. We never got past the beginning. It makes it feel like no one is listening. It’s extremely frustrating, and I became inconsistent with my visits. A navy psychiatrist once

The plant medicine center I visited aimed for a fully-immersive, all-inclusive experience. Healing was approached from every angle. Our days followed a structured rhythm: yoga in the mornings, followed by integration classes designed to help us process what had surfaced during the ceremonies. Facilitators guided us in setting intentions for the upcoming night and unpacking what had come up the night before. There were also meditation and breathwork sessions, along with time c

I went into this thinking I’d get one transformational week. What I got instead was a starting point. Ayahuasca doesn’t stop working when the ceremony ends. It keeps going. Most of my healing didn’t happen in the maloca. It happened after. It really does feel like drinking from a fire hose. Insights come fast—during ceremonies, in your own head, in classes. Months down the road. Integration was a consistent routine. I started journaling, constantly. I filled three noteb

“Healed?” What does that mean? Healing isn’t the absence of pain. Just like health isn’t merely the absence of disease. Getting control of anxiety, depression, and anger doesn’t automatically create joy, purpose, or light. I used my ayahuasca machete to clear a path. Cut through the emotional debris. But the work doesn’t disappear. It’s not linear. I still get triggered. I still have to choose, over and over again, to let it go and move forward. There’s no question that I

It didn’t fix me, but it kept me from losing my shit completely. And it helped me prepare for the next chapter. My last two years in the military were rough. Just this slow, grinding sense of what the hell is the point? After the withdrawal from Afghanistan, everything felt pointless. My job wasn’t fulfilling anymore. Everything felt like a waste of time. Like none of it mattered. I had no purpose. I was in survival mode. I went through the motions at work. Spent every

The cognitive and mood enhancing benefits of resistance training. For years, aerobic exercise has gotten most of the attention for improving mental health. Go for a run. Take a walk. Clear your head. And yes, cardiovascular exercise absolutely helps. But newer research shows that resistance training deserves a place in the conversation too. Strength training isn’t just about building muscle or changing your physique. It can be a powerful tool for improving mood, reducing stre