The First Marine I Ever Knew

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, courage, and love for his country. Like so many who served, he came home with wounds that weren't visible.

As a child, I didn't understand why he reacted the way he did. I simply knew that the war had followed him home in ways I couldn't see. Years later, after becoming a trauma therapist, I came to understand how profoundly trauma can shape the brain, the body, and relationships. That understanding didn't erase the pain, but it gave me a deeper compassion for the battles he continued to fight long after Vietnam had ended.

Sometimes I find myself wishing EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and other trauma therapies had been available to support his healing journey. I often wonder how different his life—and ours—might have been.

Over the years, I've had the privilege of working with Marines in my practice. Their stories often echo similar themes: unresolved trauma, attachment wounds, and nervous systems that have remained in survival mode long after the danger has passed.

Many of the Marines I've worked with describe carrying significant burdens long before they ever put on a uniform—childhood adversity, family instability, financial hardship, or feeling they had limited opportunities. Every story is unique, but I've been struck by how many were surviving long before they were serving.

Despite everything they've endured—before, during, and after military service—they continue to show up. They do the difficult work of looking inward, confronting painful memories, and learning new ways to live. Their resilience is nothing short of remarkable.

As a therapist, working with Marines has become one of the greatest privileges of my career. In many ways, it feels like a quiet way of honoring my father. It's not simply about helping people process trauma; it's about witnessing extraordinary courage, determination, humor, intelligence, and vulnerability. The Marines I've had the privilege of working with have taught me just as much as I hope I've offered them.

If you're a Marine—or someone who loves one—please know this: healing is possible. Healing doesn't erase what happened, but it can help your nervous system stop living as though the danger is still present. Whether through EMDR, another evidence-based trauma therapy, or simply finding someone willing to truly listen, there is hope.

Side note: Every Marine I've worked with calls me "Ma'am." I know it's a sign of respect, but I can't help wondering whether the Retinol isn't working. (I secretly love the formality.)

Marines are famously known as the "First to Fight." My hope is to help their remarkable brains and resilient nervous systems recognize when the fight is finally over, allowing them to experience something many haven't felt in a very long time: an embodied sense of safety.

Oorah!

—Mandy