I first showed up in Iraq in November 2004, roughly 18 months after graduating from high school. Knowing that I was not particularly interested in going straight to college, I decided that I wanted an experience that would push me to do things I’d never even conceived of. So, I joined the military. I enlisted as a member of the 82nd Airborne Infantry (we’re the guys that jump out of planes) and did my basic training in Fort Benning Georgia. It was a big adjustment for me—joining the army—total culture shock. I mean, I’m from Whittier—East Los Angeles—it’s a different scene than Georgia.

The culture shock only continued once I arrived in Iraq. My unit had unusual living options in Iraq; we routinely spent the night in an Iraqi family’s home. It was crazy. We’d scout out the area during the day, decide which houses to approach, and then after curfew, we’d secretly knock and enter people’s homes. Of course we couldn’t talk, but we could communicate. They would often serve us tea, and we’d watch TV with them. One time we were watching Al-Jazeera, and a special came on about my actual unit. It was so embarrassing; the family kept pointing at the TV and then pointing at us smiling and nodding. I felt like a celebrity.

When discharged in March, I had no ideas of what I wanted to do, but I figured that I would just go home and that everything would be the same. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

First of all, my family and I were distant, and I missed my military friends. I don’t have any friends here at home that I would hug at night to stay warm. In the military, it’s not weird to do that with your buds. It’s not weird at all for four or five guys to hug because, heck, it’s freezing outside!

I also really struggled to make a routine for my days, an important part of the military. At home, though, people were always coming and going, expecting things, and I really struggled to find a good job, although I did eventually get one. I realize now that I also was dealing with some intense readjustment issues. I remember on the Fourth of July, every firecracker I heard would set me off, and I just couldn’t get to sleep without something to drink.

It didn’t take long for me to start partying pretty hard with my buddies, though, and coupled with the readjustment issues that I was dealing with, my parents and I really struggled to live together.

I made initial contact with the VA when I first left the military, but they encouraged me to take classes and I just said, “Forget that.” I wasn’t in a place yet to start getting treatment. My parents got to a place, though, where they really wanted me to check out the resources, so I went.

At the VA, I got hooked up with Tom, and he helped me find appropriate programs. We decided on the Domiciliary, a place where Vets live for up to three months to get clean, take classes, relax and just get back into life. At first I was hesitant—I mean, I was definitely the youngest guy in the program, but I took an assortment of classes ranging from PTSD, AA, relaxation techniques, and much more. I am now back at home, looking into a welding program, and getting back into the work force, although I still go to appointments at the VA.

It’s not easy to get back into the swing of civilian life. Those first months home were really hard for me. But there are resources—the VA has lots of them— you just have to use them.