The first Marine with Complex PTSD I ever encountered wasn’t a client or a patient—it was my father. A proud Filipino Irish American, he volunteered to serve in Vietnam, carrying a fierce sense of duty and courage. But like so many others who served, he returned with wounds that weren’t visible. Looking back now as a therapist, I wish EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) had been available to support his healing journey.

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Over the years, I’ve had the honor of working with Marines in my practice. Their stories often echo similar themes—unresolved trauma, attachment wounds, and a nervous system stuck in perpetual overdrive. These brave men and women carry burdens that most of us can hardly fathom, yet they also bring incredible strength, intelligence, and vulnerability into the therapy room. One thing that has struck me time and again is how many of these individuals seemed to have endured significant trauma even before enlisting. Whether it was relational wounds, poverty, or a lack of support systems, many Marines joined the service to serve their country and as a path to a better life. While I don’t have hard statistics at my fingertips, it seems clear that a large proportion of those who enlist come from marginalized communities, low-income families, or disenfranchised backgrounds. 

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This is purely anecdotal—drawn from sitting with Marines and hearing their stories—but it’s a pattern that can’t be ignored. Their resilience is nothing short of remarkable. Despite everything they’ve faced—before, during, and after their service—they show up in therapy with a determination to heal.

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As a therapist, working with Marines has been a profoundly meaningful experience—one that feels like a way of honoring my father. It’s not just about helping them process trauma but celebrating their humanity. They are some of the most intelligent, determined, and vulnerable individuals. If you’re a Marine or someone who loves one, know this: healing is possible. Whether through EMDR, other trauma-focused therapies, or simply finding someone who will listen, there’s hope.

 

Side note: They always call me "Ma'am," and while I know it's a respectful gesture, I can't help but wonder if the Retinol is working. I do secretly love the formality. 

 

Marines are famously known as the “First to Fight,” so I aim to help their dynamic brains and resilient nervous systems recognize when the fight is over, allowing them to (finally) feel an embodied sense of safety. 

 

Oorah!

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- Mandy 

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