In 2019, a coworker and friend saw me walking past his office. He called me in and told me to take a seat. He looked at me and said, “Pete. You are battling anxiety.”

At first, I got very defensive. Who was he to tell me I had something “wrong” with me? Then he explained that he had been battling anxiety himself for a while, and recently sought help. He learned what anxiety is and what the signs were. He described waking up and thinking about everything all at once; things that he had to accomplish, constantly thinking about how to make things better. Taking on so many extra responsibilities, because things needed to be done and he could do it best. My thought was, “Well yeah, those are the qualities that make me a good Chief.” After listening to him, I left his office with some food for thought.

I went home and navel gazed about what anxiety was. I then did what many of us have done and Googled it. I found that I met a lot of the criteria for people with generalized anxiety disorder. I always had a tough time falling asleep, because I could not stop thinking about what I had to do tomorrow. I was snapping and irritable when things did not go as planned, I was short with my family at times, and I had a very tough time separating myself from work. I had been doing all the things people tell you to do to “get over” the anxiety. I ate healthily, I worked out, I had hobbies, I meditated, but nothing really seemed to work.

I finally took the leap and made an appointment with my PCM to explore my options. We talked for a while and she asked me if my anxiety had affected me at work. I thought for a second and replied, “Yes.” I then went on to explain that I thought my anxiety made me a “rockstar” or the ideal Chief. I had always thought that my brain worked sort of like a superpower; It allowed me to think of tons of contingencies for situations, and very seldomly get caught off guard. After doing my research, I found that this is not “normal.” My PCM referred me to the mental health department at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center. I went. They didn’t have any availability, so I was referred out to a provider in town. I then started my journey to understanding and managing my anxiety.

The first thing that I learned was that my anxiety is not healthy, but it appears to be normal in the military. We do not recognize it as a condition, because we are expected to work and behave in this way. I am expected to answer my phone at 0200 in the morning, so I can’t experience deep sleep; I am expected to be able to juggle seven things at one time. I am expected to operate at a consistent level utilizing fewer people and supplies. The Navy calls it, “sustained superior performance.” I am expected to do more than your average “civilian.” We must, or we would not be the mightiest Navy in the world. The Navy for many of us is more than a job or career. It is a way of life. We do not separate our personal life from our Navy life. We don Navy shirts, put stickers on our cars, and collect memorabilia. For those of us who truly love the Navy, there is no “off work” time. I live, eat, and breathe the Navy.

The problem with this mentality is that we seldom recognize the signs of mental illness because so many of us suffer silently. We think it is normal. To put in a crude way, “We are in the insane asylum, so we appear normal among our peers.” I am not an expert, but I recognize my signs and symptoms and therefore recognize those same signs in others. I didn’t become a Navy sea doctor and start diagnosing fellow sailors. I do take every opportunity available to tell my story. I think that it is important to show your peers that you can be successful and mentally healthy at the same time. The Navy pushes PRT, BCA, and physical wellness. The Navy pushes the stress continuum but the problem with that system is that I believe is we (as sailors) operate in yellow and orange most often, so it starts to feel normal and green. I like to explain my anxiety as the following: When I wake up in the morning, my anxiety is at a 4 on a scale of 1 to 10. My baseline is higher than others. Therefore, any event or situation out of my control sends me over the edge.

My goal in writing this is not to criticize the Navy, but to educate some of those that may struggle. It is OK to ask for help. You can still be deployable if you get help. Even if you become nondeployable, your health is more important than any job. You are the most important resource the Navy has, and if you are not healthy or “in the game,” the Navy is not getting its return on investment. The saying that I live by is, “Take your sailors seriously, take your family seriously, take your health seriously, but never take yourself seriously. Life is too short to be on edge all the time.” As a leader, you cannot help your sailors if you do not recognize your own mental health needs and continue to be proactive about your own health.

Aviation Electrician’s Mate Senior Chief Petty Officer Pete Tripp is a native of Greenville, North Carolina, and joined the Navy in 1998 at the age of 18 as an aviation electrician’s mate. He has been stationed at four different squadrons, been an instructor twice, and a recruiter.

Editor’s note: This is an Op-Ed and as such, the opinions expressed are those of the author. If you would like to respond, or have an editorial of your own you would like to submit, please contact Military Times managing editor Howard Altman, haltman@militarytimes.com.

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