PicoBlog

Chad Wilkinson served twenty-one years, completed more than ten deployments, and was awarded the Silver Star. I never knew Chad, never worked with him, and don’t know that we ever met, however, the day he passed is one I can recall with intense clarity. I remember the impact it had on my teammates, their spouses, and the way it felt felt distinct from other losses in the community.

For many who enlist in the military, there's an understanding that military service has the potential to expose a person to combat situations, which in turn may expose them to gunfire, IEDs, and various other life-threatening hazards. However, the notion of acquiring invisible wounds, such as brain injuries and post-traumatic stress, appeared to be topics typically reserved for medical consultations rather than acknowledged as tangible challenges that one must confront after leaving the battlefield. I believe that Chad's passing made many of us reconsider that perspective.

Since October 2018, Sara Wilkinson has been helping us in that process.  

It would be inadequate to describe Sara solely through a list of her titles and achievements. Nevertheless, among that list, you would find designations such as advocate, thought leader, non-profit president, athlete, coach, mother, and Gold Star spouse. Following her husband's loss of life to suicide, I’ve witnessed her dedication and selflessness in educating others about the challenges related to brain injury, post-traumatic stress, and the complexity of losing a loved one to suicide.

Sara’s journey and her ongoing work addresses “TRANSITION” in some of the purist and admittedly, most painful aspects. She’s invested herself completely in changing the way we think and talk about topics surrounding Veteran mental health, suicide awareness, and many others.

I hope you enjoy our conversation and am grateful she took the time to speak with me.  

Since we last interacted, you’ve had tremendous impact on the way we think about a multitude of topics, many of which I can only assume are difficult.

Before we get into it, I guess I want to say thank you, and that it’s not lost on me, my wife, or anyone for that matter, that nothing about this kind of work is painless.

Thank you. This topic is something that’s been, really, top of mind lately. Chad passed away in October of 18’, so 5 years now and I’ll be honest I’m in a tough spot.

Being in this space was never a decision I made.

From the outside world, people have been very complimentary. They say, “oh you do this, and you do that, thank you”, and while I appreciate that, it does come at a high cost of personal self.

Understandable. A conflict between the knowledge that you have the ability to effect change, but also knowing all of it comes at a cost?

That’s right. To give you some context, in 2019 I was at an event for a prominent foundation. They hosted this panel discussion that was made up of families that had lost someone to suicide in the SEAL community. The panel spoke in front of about fifty or so health care providers.

I was flown there on their behalf, and they put me in a nice hotel and when it came time for the panel, I was told I was not allowed to participate. Actually, I was told to stay at my table and listen.

The reason I bring this is up; I now recognize that, that experience hurt me so deeply. I don’t think I’m any more important than those other families. I don’t think my story is any greater a loss or any more profound, but, growing up a military kid, I think I’m really sensitive to people being left out because I moved all the time. I work really hard to never leave people out intentionally.

And that experience felt really intentional.

When you lose someone to suicide, there’s so many other pains that you experience. Not more than any other death, loss, killed in action or anything like that but there’s a lot questions, a lot of shame, family fracture’s, etc. So, there were all these other traumatic experiences I was going through, and then to be singled out that way, it was hurtful.

In that moment, the type of person I was. I remember thinking, noted, and that I don’t ever want to make someone feel that way – unheard - unseen.

Wow. I’m sorry to hear that.

Fast forward to 2020, I was contacted by GoRuck and they say “Hey, we see people doing this workout for your husband, let’s do it as an organized event.”

And I just said, “No.” (laughter)

At the time, I had this plan to rent a camper van. I was going to drive to the Pacific Northwest, and I had one rule: to speak to as few people as possible. I felt lost at the time.

Anyway, I remember lying on this picnic table in the Red Woods, and I thought back to that event, sitting in that chair in that room. I thought, you know, if we can do this workout and bring awareness to a problem, which is a big problem, make other people feel seen and feel heard, than it’s worth it.

That’s how the Chad1000x thing began, and since then it’s taken a life of its own. Same thing for public speaking.

Well, I hope you know that what you do is helping. It’s helped me, it’s helped a lot of people I care about.

You know that book by Victor Frankel, (“Man’s Search for Meaning”), he says, “suffering ceases to be suffering when you give it a purpose.”

Looking back, I think a lot of the work I was doing in the beginning was in an effort to heal myself.

I thought if I couldn’t save Chad, maybe I could speak, be an advocate and maybe in some ways this will help save someone else.

It was sort of like, when you lose someone you love so deeply, you have all this love and there’s nowhere to put it.  

I think a lot of the work I’ve done is that.

Speaking up was a way I could still love Chad in the physical world.

I think it’s done some good in the world. I hope so. But I’m coming to this point where I’m recognizing what that cost.

Makes perfect sense. Sort of like chapters in life, and how much of what’s in previous chapters do we want to bring into the next.

It’s interesting you asked me about this. I was recently at this gala, and at the end of the ceremony they presented me with this award I wasn’t expecting.

Well, the next morning there was a breakfast type deal, and a bunch of people approached me that all had nice things to say.

“Your story has changed my life,” and “you helped me get my husband back” all this kind of stuff. All really nice things, but it’s still painful to hear, you know?

As great as that is, it’s still painful. It’s like, “oh well you got him back, and I….” 

Anyway, this guy comes up to me and says, “I don’t know if you need to hear this, and I don’t know how to say it, but you’re free to go. Your dues have been paid.”

That really hit me.

That’s powerful. Is there a future you see where you’ve distanced yourself from all this?

You know I read the article you sent me, with Judson Kaufman, talking about identity. One of the things he said, “my struggle wasn’t so much my time in service, I struggled with who I was after my service.”

I think he even mentioned, spouses very often can share in that same struggle.

I was a military spouse for 20+ years, and I was also a military kid. I’ve known no other life than being in the shadows, being this support person so that my loved one could do their job. Now that part is gone, what am I supposed to do?

Some of us have careers outside the home, and that’s a personal choice. I had a career in CrossFit and in coaching, but the identity I built outside of the home, I don’t know that I can fully return to that; I’m a fundamentally changed person.

I hope that I can deliver a voice that resonates. I think I’d like to see my voice perhaps pivot to leadership and grit and resilience versus just my husband’s story. If I’m constantly retelling his story, I think I’m blunting my ability to move forward.

That makes sense. I’ve noticed with writing, when I invest heavily in the Veteran mental health side of things, there’s a lot of heaviness that comes with that. However, when I try to do the opposite, it comes with some apathy and this feeling of, this isn’t really me or this isn’t the work I’m called to do.

Right. I know I have a service minded heart. That was the case even in Crossfit, helping people be the best versions of themselves.

I’ll tell you, a girlfriend called me a few days ago and said a few things I’ve been thinking about; sort of on this topic.

We see ourselves through our own perspectives, right? Well she spoke to her perspective of me, and she mentioned a lot of things that I don’t see in myself.

I think it’s really important to have those conversations. To gain someone else’s view, the lens by which they see you. For better or worse.

We tell people all the time, “check on your friends.” Buddy checks. I think we need to take that a step further. That conversation needs to be bookended with; you’re calling that person because they matter in your life. It might help to call that person and let them know what they represent in your life. The way their morals and their values impact you, and that you’re grateful.

Maybe a little off target.

No, I like that. I think the adherence to humility, and this ‘never acknowledge yourself’ mentality is something a lot of Vets take with them into civilian life. Maybe it’s beneficial in some respects but there has to be some negative that comes with that as well. 

Definitely. The community, the Special Operations community that’s hyper focused on discipline and achievement, so much of it is, what’s the next thing you’re going to DO when you leave the military?

Even when we transition, they help you with resume writing, getting you into schools, and career path. Built in this needs to be, “what’s the next thing you’re going to BE? How are you going to show up in your life?

Absolutely. It does seem we’re overweight when it comes to vocational transition. It’s a huge component, you want to land on your feet, but in the overall picture of life after service, that’s just one piece of the pie.

I’m curious, in all the work you’ve been doing, have you seen much progress on the DoD side? When it comes to TBI impacts, and the way we look at mental health do you think there’s been progress since say, 5 years ago?

It's hard for me to say.

This is definitely a marathon and I think we have a long way to go.

What myself and another widow, suicide widow, have shared and are frustrated with is that any conversations we have, for example, I spoke at SOCOM this past January with a bunch of O6 type leadership.

The minute you feel like, okay, I think this person in leadership hears me, I think they hear what’s going on. They transition out of that role.

It’s one of those things, I get it, my dad was on officer, and I’ve seen how a lot of how his works but it’s like “why do you guys not see this as a big problem?” and it is a problem.

There’s a recruiting element to it as well, I think. Chad knew he wanted to be a SEAL since the time he was 12. He had the posters on the wall and the VHS tapes, all of that, he knew he wanted to go catch bad guys. Fast forward, there’s been all these books and movies, and everyone knows SEALs do the hard stuff right?

The Navy knows that men and women want to serve their county and kick down doors and all that. If they start blasting “Hey you might survive and get through all that, and potentially be left with brain injury, dementia, hormonal upheaval, and possibly take your life when it’s all said and done”, that really works against recruitment.

They’re the military, they want to know, what is the problem and how do we fix it? There isn’t just one fix.

It’s my belief that the military is going to keep doing its job, and it’s those of us that have lived within this community that have struggled and survived that will heal each other. 

Makes a lot of sense. It seems we’re seeing some positive movement when it comes to the volume of resources that exist; be it in the non-profit space or through independent programs, but changes to DoD policy and culture seem to be fewer and farther between. Maybe I’m just not privy to it though.

There’s just so much at play. All the time you hear, “focus on your mental health.”

But, when we have these service members who donate their brains to research and we see CTE and interface astroglia scarring, it’s like, yeah, we do need to focus on our mental health, but these people needed treatment for their injuries.

It’s important for people to understand that.

There are so many variables at play, and again, no one single fix.

I agree. I think about this when you see these initiatives to “End Veteran Suicide.” Of course, that’s a goal we all share, but in practice, there’s so much individual circumstance. I’m know Chad suffered a series of brain injuries during his time in the teams. Were there particular injuries you were aware of, in terms of exposures that stuck out from the others?

Early in his career, I got a call, very late at night, which was out of character for Chad. I answered the phone, and he says, “Hey I just wanted you to know I was in a helicopter crash.”

It was a training accident; in Arizona, I think.

Well, 15 years later I learned someone died in that crash. A support guy, who, I guess was outside the window and got caught between the ground and the helicopter.

I think that was a pretty major TBI. One deployment… And Chad was not anyone unique, I know this happens a lot in this world. Anyway, I was talking to a friend of Chad’s, and he told me that on one deployment they were somewhere and a rocket propelled grenade or something came in and blasted the guys out of their beds.

This guy tells, me, “For days our heads hurt, our ears were ringing, and Chad never said a thing.”

After that deployment, three of the guys ended up going to a brain clinic and… Why Chad didn’t?

So, there’s stuff like that. I never knew any of this stuff until later.

We donated his brain, and he had interface astroglia scarring.

Tell me about Step Up Foundation? What’s the long-term vision there? What should people know about it?

Yeah. So, like I was saying, it wasn’t necessarily a role I would have picked out for myself, and I don’t know that I otherwise would have ever chosen to start a non-profit.

Organically the Chad1000x workout grew to a point where it just made sense to do. Our goal is to continue doing the workout on Veteran’s Day and to have that sort of stand as a staple.

As you know, usually these workouts are meant to honor somebody, but it’s really about more than Chad’s story, it’s about bringing awareness to our service members, and I would extend that to first responders as well.

Beyond that, in terms of the next 5 years, what I know about myself is that I really like coaching people. Inspiring people to be the best versions of themselves. One thing Chad really instilled in me is, “do hard things.” He really liked hard challenges.

My life motto since he died has been, “Live Big.”

There’s a lot to that but, in short, life isn’t meant to be easy. We’re always asked, what’s the one thing you would do if you knew you wouldn’t fail?

My question is, what’s the thing you would do if you knew you might fail, and you’re willing to do it anyway? I think that’s where life is lived.

Taking the trip, doing some challenge, looking a person in the eye and telling them how much they mean to you. Those are life’s real moments.

That’s beautiful. Good for you. Chad found interest in mountaineering at some point. Do I have that right?

He did. He’s not the only team guy to do so, a lot of you guys climb mountains and do all sorts of stuff like that, but yeah, he climbed Kilimanjaro and Mt. Kenya in 2012.

I think he really just loved challenges. He was always looking for that next big goal.

Sometimes I’ve wondered since his death, if it was the physical aspect or if mountaineering really gave his brain something to think about.

When he came back from that first trip, he was doing all this reading and research and he tells me, “I think it would be pretty incredible to climb the seven summits.”

Well for his fortieth birthday, I wrote him this card because he was worried about the money and how much it would impact us. So in this card I wrote, “look you know, you should do it.”

January of 2018, he climbed Aconcagua and when he came home, he said, “babe that was really hard”. I’d never heard him say anything was hard in his entire life.

You know, I know that climbing mountains does a lot for people and in a lot of ways it’s poetically beautiful. Climbing mountains represents a lot of life itself.

But I’ll back that up by saying, it’s my belief, and I’ll never know for sure but climbing that mountain up to twenty-three thousand feet, very well may have exacerbated his symptoms and led him to what ultimately happened.

Interesting. I’ve read some literature on this topic. Admittedly, something I’ve tried not to think about as a resident of Colorado, but I probably should.

Well Sara, I have tremendous respect for you and the work you do. Last question I wanted to ask, with all the dialogue around this topic, the psychedelic movement, and the uptick in people utilizing healthcare resources, I guess I want to know, are you optimistic that things will improve? For Veterans, for future war fighters?

I think more people are talking about it. That’s progress.

Trying to get people to stop saying “commit suicide”, which drives me crazy.

What’s hard is that people don’t know what resources are out there. If you had an emergency right now, you would call 911, you would call 911 because that’s been imbedded in you since you were a child. However, no one has really educated our Veterans and first responders on who they call if there is that 911 moment for invisible injuries.

You can go on social media and see all these organizations, ours included, and you can find all this information on what it looks like when someone is in danger of dying by suicide.

There are so many organizations, and I’ll say it, suicide is this sexy topic right now, Veteran Suicide.

To no fault of their own, when these organizations provide a product or a service, it’s usually to one specific group, whether it be SEALs or Green Beret’s or whatever.

What about the Marine who doesn’t fall under any of those groups? What about the guy whose baby was born while he was away on ship, and that mother doesn’t qualify for any of these programs?

I’d like to see more progress in just finding what works, and applying it to everybody. 

I couldn’t agree more. There’s certainly, for lack of a better term, underrepresented communities in all of this, many of which really need equivalent support, if that makes sense.

Before we close, anything you would want someone in the midst of military separation to know? Be it a spouse or a service member? This is a question I’ve asked everyone in this series.

Oh man. I would say prioritize communication and be patient.

For so long: this is what I hear from spouses. We keep it together, we keep the house running, and the kids moving forward. We’re in this marathon also, it just looks different.

When that goes away, it’s hard, you’re going to have to re-learn a lot of what normal life looks like, and regardless I hope they get to do it as a team.

That’s great. Thank you, Sara.

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