List of the most popular hashtags for theme #22TOOMANY

Let’s talk about veteran suicide. Over 22 veterans commit suicide daily. This cannot happen. A little story about something I went through. When I was a young sgt I had an Airman. This Airman turned himself around from a rough start to his career. I didn’t notice the signs of his personal struggles. But he ended his life by jumping off a bridge. He was survived by his wife. His mother called me screaming. “What is happening to my boy”. I wasn’t ready for that call. Knowing what I know now, I am way more aware. Today was the anniversary of his death. He will never be forgotten. This is serious. Let’s take care of each other. We can help prevent this! I will continue to work with people like @mission_22 to help stop this. Let’s fight this together. You are not alone! Every @one_lastround Reposted from @leyhspotatochips

I still remember the first time I laughed after James passed away. . Sounds crazy, right? And as simple and random as it might sound, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. It was a few days to a week after he died and my dad made a joke (he had been trying anything and everything for days to get me to laugh or at least smile) And it happened; laughter and then immediate gut wrenching guilt. The instant and overwhelming thoughts of “what is wrong with you” “you’re a horrible person” “how can you possibly laugh when he isn’t even here to smile!” and so on and so on. I beat myself up over it SO badly. So harshly. It killed me. . But when I think about it, I know that if I were talking to a friend instead of myself, I would’ve told them “James would WANT you to laugh. He laughed so often and when he wasn’t laughing he was doing anything he possibly could to make other people laugh! Seeing people sad or down made him uncomfortable. If he saw how sad you were he would turn on his charm and try to make you laugh himself. Stop beating yourself up, you know he’d want you to laugh and never stop.” . I wish that was what I said to myself because it’s TRUE. I know it is. But the stupid guilt still came. And if I’m being really honest, it still creeps in. Even still, there are days that if I’m anything but a ball of crying grief, I guilt myself  into how I SHOULD be feeling. So wrong. . I know I’m not the only one who does this and it breaks my heart for all of you that do it, too. So friend, whatever hardship you’re walking...cut it out with the guilt. It’s not good for us and serves absolutely no purpose. For me, I know as well as I know my name that James would want me smiling and laughing. Whatever it is for you, kick that guilt out. Don’t say shit to yourself that you wouldn’t say to or about a friend. . Let’s do that together, k? Whos in

Give me one damn good reason to live, you plead. And silence echoes from the heavens. Alone. Lost. Exhausted. No end and no hope in sight that things will ever get better. That things can even get better. You should’ve died down range. Would’ve been better than this internal hell. And so you are thinking about it. You might have already tried. And for whatever reason, you found this article. These words. These thoughts that feel as if I’m reading your mind. And you feel a spark of recognition. Enough to keep you reading. Because everyone talks about “suicide prevention” but no one gives a damn about you. “Call the hotline”, they say, as they walk back into their comfortable lives. 22 veterans a day. You know what? I’m tired, too. I’m tired of hearing about good, caring guys like you who pulled the trigger, fastened the noose, and died believing they were alone in their pain. Died believing that suicide was the only way. How if they had made one connection to one person who actually gave a damn about them, it would have made the difference. That one healing embrace would have been the turning point. A spark lighting up the dark. Because it is the difference. Your spirit doesn’t need a miracle cure. You don’t need a miracle cure. The power is within you. But you are tired. Depleted. You don’t have the strength to continue on alone. That’s why you’re here. Now. Reading these words. Because you need someone to take your hand and look you in the eyes and fight for you. Yes, fight for you. You don’t need to be rescued. You need someone to fight this battle for your freedom WITH you. To be there when you can’t go on, to remind you of the light and joy and beauty and strength that’s still in you. To hold up a vision of you, whole, and remind you of what IS possible. To see, when you can’t see it yourself. Don’t be that guy I hear of tomorrow whose death causes his buddies to absorb the shock like another blast. Don’t be that death that makes it just a little bit harder for them to stay. Don’t be that death that lets war win, that lets the enemy win. You matter. You matter to your buddies. You matter to me. You. matter. to. me. - Read the rest in our bio.

I had thought that my days of war were over. I had thought that I had enough and given all of this shit up a long time ago. But I guess I was wrong. I am back here again like a bad song in a broken jukebox. There was one more ounce of strength in my soul to give towards the fight. There was an immense burden of duty that pressed down hard upon my mind. And there was an overdue balance of paybacks that still needed answered. Hell was my home away from home. I fucking hated it here; it was too hot, the chow sucked and mistakes seemed to have too steep of costs. But there is a tipping point in a forsaken warrior’s life where the bullets and bombs of conflicts become more comfortable than the quiet streets of home. I know nothing of peace anymore. The very fabric of my existence is made up by fear of a painful death, and the want to dispense painful deaths upon those that would seek us harm. Anxiety leaves a warm bitter bile taste upon my delicate palate. Garnished with a twist of malice and served upon a toasted bed of hostility; I find that as I get older, my taste for this war thing doesn’t get any more refined. It just leaves me longing for the uncomfortable home-cooked meals with those strangers that I would call my family. The constant thundering of the tracks suddenly stopped, rousing our interest. A hurried frantic call of “Contact right! Contact right!” blared across the radio; relieving on one hand, terrifying on the other. The sharp pings and pangs of high velocity metal-on-metal impacts tightened up the pucker factor of those of us inside the Bradley. Like the abrupt electric excitement of a firehouse crew when alarm bells sounded, my fellow sleepy members inside this mechanical hornet’s nest instantly stirred awake; stingingly and with agitation. My arms and legs felt impeded and bound by an unseen constriction and now ached for movement. We needed to get the hell out of this situation, reverse this kill zone and put the smack down on them before they get lucky. “Alright boys, get ready!” the Bradley’s commander leaned down and bellowed with enthusiasm, “3 O’clock! — KA-BOOM! Follow @no_tougher_duty Read the rest linked in our bio. Post 1 of 4 or 5.

One month... It feels like a thousand years and yet not a single day all in the same gut wrenching breath. I miss you, I hate this . “His absence is like the sky; spread over everything.”-C.S. Lewis

Men Never Die Until They are Forgotten... #22untilnone #neverforgotten Rest Easy Prouty.

Three months have passed without James. Some days the reality and permanency of it all still takes my breath away like the hardest punch to the gut or a car being dropped upon my chest. But if there is one thing I’ve learned throughout this it’s that the depth of grief matches the depth of love...and because of that, I’ll carry this for the rest of my days. I was the luckiest girl in the world to ever love and be loved by James Hawley.♥️ . “Saw a black bird soaring in the sky, tell me that was you saying goodbye.”

Yesterday . . . I was walking patrol with Travis and some locals. Locals had been hit three times in less than a week. They were jumpy. Someone was having a gunfight in the distance. I heard a “Snake” coming in fangs out — low and fast. Six must have called in air assets. Fish heads were probably already inside the wire. I heard her making that distinctive “whoopp whoopp whoop” of a hard return to target and knew they were about to put fire right on top of us. . . Commo down for 20 mikes. Me and Travis, we were separated from the team and had no idea where Six was. We started taking heavy fire from our left flank. We were screwed! I headed for cover and lost sight of Travis, I think he went down . . . I hoped he was just taking cover. . . . I took up a firing position and waited . . . . . . THEN THEY CAME! . . . And I saw the look of concern on the old woman’s face; gazing in at me. . . . through the cases of paper towels, past my bunker barricade of rolls, on in to my hole . . . as I frantically tried to figure out how I’d lost my weapon. Then the realization that I was still at Walmart in Lodi, California. It seems Walmart has a ventilation fan that sounds much like a Cobra gunship in a turn if you just happen to stop directly below it to get your paper towels. I guess I’m fortunate she didn’t call security. I almost think she understood. — DO YOU? This is PTSD. Some of us ruck up and hump it every day (or night) and some of us give up and become a statistic. Don’t let your Warrior become a statistic. Harpo J. SGT. US Army If you are looking to heal yourself in any capacity, be it internal or finding community, message us. We know some good folks. #havokjournal #voiceforveterans #storyteller . . . : Soldiers with the 3/21 of the U.S. Army's Stryker Brigade secure a police station which had been over-run by insurgents during heavy fighting in Mosul, November 19, 2004. REUTERS/Bob Strong

That face when you know you’re about to hit the bell cheesin’ extra hard not only because this was my first #Spartan of 2019, BUT I got to run it as an ambassador for #MI22ION, an advocacy group/ non-profit that provides support and awareness to veterans, families, and service members about mental health and suicide prevention. This Saturday! Catch MI22ION & my smiling self supporting the Marine Corps Run for Freedom over in Freehold ! #Mission22 #VeteranSuicidePrevention #22TooMany #OCR #SpartanBoston