Veteran: When it's not PTSD

Blessed Through Brokenness: A Veteran Wife’s Reflection on Service, Struggle, and Healing
First and foremost, I hold the deepest respect for those who have sacrificed their lives, those who came close to losing them, and those who silently battle the lasting effects of trauma. As a proud wife of an Army veteran—with multiple deployments and long stints of garrison duty—I know firsthand the complexity of life after service. My husband, a soldier through and through, was deeply committed to serving our country. He carried himself with discipline, purpose, and devotion—values that continue to define him. But like many who transition from military life, the most difficult battles began after the uniform was put away.

Our story didn’t follow the script of traditional PTSD symptoms. There were no flashbacks or exaggerated startle responses. What we encountered instead was something quieter—but no less destructive: a deep emotional dysregulation, persistent irritability, drinking to cope, and relationship strain that intensified after separation from the Army. These experiences align with what many veterans face but don’t recognize: Adjustment Disorder, one of the most prevalent yet overlooked mental health challenges in the post-military community.

Adjustment disorders arise when the stress of transition—such as leaving military structure, identity loss, or moral injury—leads to intense emotional or behavioral symptoms. My husband experienced exactly that. Once bound by duty and a chain of command, he was suddenly unbound, drifting between soldier and civilian. Drinking worsened, emotional distance grew, and the man I had once admired became increasingly unpredictable. I often found myself walking on eggshells, managing my own emotions to keep peace in our home. The tears, the silence, the miscommunication—they all took their toll.

There were moments I was breathless with grief, collapsed in prayer, asking God to intervene in ways I couldn’t even name. And yet, we endured. Through God’s grace and a long, painful reckoning, my husband began to understand not just the pain he carried—but the pain he caused. He learned that I didn’t need solutions—I needed presence. He began to soften, to listen, and to reach for me, not as a soldier, but as a man learning to love again in the unfamiliar terrain of post-service life.

This is what it looked like for us when the wounds weren’t labeled PTSD, but were no less real. Our marriage bore the marks of grief, confusion, and isolation—but also resilience and redemption. I still work to untangle what is trauma, what is temperament, and what is simply life. And while our path has been muddy and complex, I now see that we are not broken—we are blessed through our brokenness.
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To the spouses navigating this journey: your story is valid. Your pain is not invisible. Adjustment disorders are real, common, and treatable. If this resonates, know that you are not alone. Healing is possible—not by erasing the past, but by walking together toward a future with understanding, compassion, and grace.