This is the memoir of a woman who served honorably in the U.S. Navy and, as a result of her experiences, lived with PTSD for years. Her story is filled with hope despite its horrors. It’s all true. What almost seems fictional is that she managed to rise again after everything she endured. But that, too, is true. Debra Jean is the goddess of her own life.
Her story reminds us that hope is more than reasonable. Despite the nearly unspeakable trauma she faced, she received numerous commendations and even earned a highly sought-after posting with NATO. If she can heal, perhaps each of us can, too.
You might expect a memoir about PTSD to be difficult to read. And while Debra’s descriptions of places and emotions are vivid, she never overwhelmed me with pain. I cringed often, but her tone had a clarity and objectivity that kept me from being dragged under.
Still, her writing is deeply engaging. When her plane landed in Italy and a sense of foreboding crept in, I found myself pleading silently, “No, no! Don’t get off the plane—please!”
What came next was heartbreaking. I groaned, wishing that such things didn’t happen, wishing that life didn’t have to be so cruel to make us wise. But Debra is wise. And strong.
Her spirituality is evident throughout. While describing the rituals and rhythms of her childhood religion, she writes, “Time is crucial to Catholics. The shortest mass in town equals the largest congregation. That makes more time for visiting the tavern after church.” Okay, maybe her sense of humor is even more evident. She must have inherited it from one of her grandmothers—two women I wish I had known.
After years of exemplary service and numerous commendations, Debra Jean was honorably discharged—but the document included this: “Other/Physical/Mental Condition – Personality Disorder.” She writes:
From November 1, 2001 to June 30, 2007, over 26,000 enlisted military personnel were discharged with the diagnosis of personality disorder. The Government Accountability Office studied the files. A vast majority of these service men and women were deployed overseas and/or victims of military sexual trauma. A personality disorder is considered a pre-existing condition. So how did 26,000 men and women pass their psychological tests? I believe that these men and women have PTSD. However, if they are discharged under personality disorder, the government is not responsible to pay for their disability benefits because this diagnosis is considered to be a pre-existing condition.
The courageous women and men of this country defend our freedoms, constitution, and country. Veterans should not be subjected to any unnecessary administrative battlefields in order to receive their benefits that they so rightly deserve.
Four years after her discharge, Debra began the long process of challenging the Veterans Administration, seeking recognition that her PTSD was the result of injuries sustained during her active-duty service. Many years later, she was “validated and vindicated” when the Navy amended her discharge to indicate a medical discharge.
For Debra Jean, the act of writing this memoir feels like a release. For readers, it may offer a promise—that healing is possible. Or perhaps it serves as an example of courage worth emulating. It’s certainly a lesson in compassion for those who live with PTSD, and for all of us who want to understand.
Her story begins in pain and sinks into confusion, shame, and fear. I ached for her. But her book ends with these words:
My journey continues, as I walk upon the earth’s arena carefully nurturing the new heart that beats inside this body. I will never forget the journey that carried me here. The scars on my body remind me of the thorns on a rose bush. They were meant to teach me to parent myself, to walk side by side with faith, and to never lose myself for the selfish benefit of another.
And had it not been for the grace of my Lord and Savior, I would not be here today.
Debra Jean has faced her experiences—and transcended them. I am grateful that she shared her story with me.
Every day, twenty-two U.S. veterans commit suicide.
That’s eight thousand and thirty servicemen and women each year.