When the Mind Goes Quiet: Understanding Self-Harm, Suicide, and Military Mental Health

In this heartfelt episode, Lori Kendall addresses the heavy but vital topics of self-harm, suicide, and the unique mental health challenges faced by the military community. She shares personal insights, offers compassionate guidance, and emphasizes the importance of community and connection in healing.

Key Topics: 

• The emotional toll of military service and the silent struggles of service members
•  The misconceptions surrounding self-harm and suicidal thoughts
•  The impact of military culture on mental health, resilience, and vulnerability
•  How to listen and support loved ones who are battling internal struggles
•  Resources for mental health support, including the Brandon Act and crisis helplines
•  The importance of community, honesty, and vulnerability in healing
•  Personal story of loss and remembrance as a Gold Star parent

 Timestamps: 

00:00 - Introduction: Addressing grief and the importance of honest conversations
 00:58 - Understanding the internal guilt and emotional struggles of motherhood and loss
 01:54 - Clarifying the purpose of the podcast: questions, healing, not therapy
 02:19 - Recognizing March as Self-Harm Awareness Month
 03:17 - Inviting listeners into the conversation about self-harm and suicide
 03:40 - The importance of compassion and truth in discussing invisible burdens
 04:10 - Practical grounding exercise: breathing to stay present
 05:33 - Misunderstandings about self-harm and what it signifies
 06:03 - The roots of suicidal thoughts: overwhelm, trauma, isolation
 06:56 - Military-specific issues: isolation, culture, and emotional suppression
 08:06 - How military messages influence silence and emotional restraint
  10:14 - The silence following loss and the hidden burdens of service members
 11:49 - Celebrating the humanity and value of service members beyond their struggles
 12:03 - The mental health crisis in the military and barriers to seeking help
 12:46 - Transitional challenges and the “quiet” in the mind after service or injury
 13:39 - Struggle as a response to pressure, not weakness, and the role of self-harm
 14:07 - Suicidal thoughts as a sign of exhaustion, not desire to die
 14:38 - A heartfelt message to those in darkness: you are not alone or beyond help
 15:06 - The heartbreak of caring for loved ones in crisis and the importance of showing up
 15:31 - The devastating myth: no one causes another’s suicide
 16:26 - The power of inquiry: asking “How's your heart today?”
 17:00 - The art of listening: presence over advice
  18:32 - Reaching out to professionals as an act of courage
 18:56 - The foundation and purpose of Reflective Roots and the Kole T. Kendall Anchored Navigation Project
 19:21 - Conversations about mental health in military communities are essential
 19:52 - Healing as a non-linear journey and community support
 20:26 - The Brandon Act: empowering service members to seek help safely
 21:23 - Closing message: your story and presence matter, stay rooted and human

Resources & Links:

•  Brandon Act
•  988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline
• Reflective Roots 
• Kole T. Kendall Anchored Navigation Project

 Connect with Lori Kendall:

• LinkedIn
• Facebook

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:03

Welcome to the real fruited podcast, where real stories mean reality. I'm Lori Kendall, founder of reflective roots, where I work as a grief navigator, a companion for the tough times in life, author of missing pieces, the finals of the host. Each week we'll explore the experiences, the losses, the breakthroughs, and the honest conversations that transform who we are becoming. This is a space to reconnect with yourself, reclaim the pieces that you've lost along the way, and grow in ways you never thought were possible or expected. Let's get rooted and begin. Hello and welcome to the Real and Rooted Podcast. I'm your host, Lori, and I am so glad that you have decided to join us. I want to first and foremost thank you for giving grace to me as a host. As I said in the podcasts before, I am going through my own grief journey, and grief doesn't give you warning when it's going to pop up. It doesn't even give you a hint, but I caught myself looking at my children's pictures when they were younger and the memories and joy that we had and the small questions that Cole used to ask, almost as if he was asking permission to engage with me or permission to be a kid at times. And I feel guilty and I take that personal as though I didn't give him space enough to be himself. If you've read my book, you know that that is an ongoing guilt issue that I have. And uh I explain it a little bit more in that uh content area for you. Um, but tonight, honestly, um this is a deep topic, and I'm gonna give fair warning. I'm not a counselor, I am not a mental health professional in any way, nor is this podcast to be therapy um in the formal sense. It is to provide questions and content and an opportunity to think, work on healing internally um without counselors or therapists. However, if you are struggling deeply, I would recommend seeking help. There is always the opportunity to dial 988 if you are uh having any suicide idealation at any point in time. But I really want to talk about um March, March being the month of self-harm recognition, awareness. And um, I would not be doing myself or this podcast justice if I didn't at least address or talk about it. I know with the holiday that um is around the corner for Christians, um I want to touch on that, uh, but we'll probably do that after the holiday or maybe even our Sunday shoreline. Uh, we'll touch on that a little bit. Um, but tonight I want to talk about when the mind goes quiet and giving an insight to understanding self-harm, suicide, as well as the military soul. And I want to invite you uh to step into one of the heaviest conversations we will hold as humans, but yet one that is necessary and well overdue. We're talking about self-harm, suicide, and the invisible weight carried by our military community. This episode is not about fear. It's about truth. It's about compassion, it's about the courage it takes to name what hurts. Before we begin, I want to invite you to take a breath with me. A slow inhale with a gentle exhale. Stay only as long as you can, and that your survival, your nervous system will allow. Step away, and even return when you feel grounded again. But as always, this conversation is not a substitute for professional mental health care. If you or someone you love is struggling, reaching out to a trusted person or a trained professional can make a difference. You deserve support. Your life chapter, it doesn't end here, nor should it. You have more chapters in your book of life to write, and we all want you to be part of it. Let's begin by naming the landscape, the quiet, the complicated terrain of self-harm and suicide thoughts. Self-harm is often misunderstood. It's not always a desire to die. For many, it becomes a coping mechanism. Some just want out of the situation or out of just that moment. It's a way to feel something when numbness takes over, or a way to release pressure when emotions feel too big to hold. Suicidal thoughts can emerge from feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, moral injury, trauma, isolation, or the belief that you're a burden. Oftentimes we talk about the isolation that veterans feel, but I don't really think we have given real thought to the isolation that our active duty military are feeling currently. And not that I want to take anything away from veterans, but we've become a society in which we are so self-absorbed, self-absorbed in ourselves, self-absorbed in our family and our responsibilities, and the life we lead outside of the job. And yet the military is different. And how isolating that must feel as a young person, as an individual that does not have connections outside of the military, outside of the crew that stands beside to the left or the right, or even behind or in front. But what are we doing, even as a civilian, to reach out and embrace those willing enough to stand and take their life and put it on the line for us? These thoughts don't always mean someone wants to end their life. They often mean someone wants their pain to end. And when we add the military culture to the mix, the weight becomes even heavier. Push through. Don't show weakness. Mission first. Be resilient. If you break, you're replaceable. These messages shape the inner world of our service members. They learn to silence their pain long before they ever speak it. They learn to carry more than any one human should ever have to carry. If you're listening today and you've ever felt this way, I want you to know I see you. I honor your experience, and there is no judgment here. As a mom, I carry my son around my neck on a necklace, and the only piece I have of him is his thumbprint. I carry a tattoo I got in his honor and in his memory of a four-leaf clover reminding me how lucky I was to hold him for 22 years. There's a moment every gold star parent's life when the world splits in two. It's the life before and the life after. No parent does. The military shines a bright golden star, like it's an award. That we should be placed on a pedestal and forever felt or to be honored as that though we are an Olympian, and yet I remember the silence after the funeral. The kind of silence that feels like air has been sucked out of the room. The kind that makes your body shake because everything familiar has disappeared. I remember the ache of knowing my son carried burdens he didn't speak aloud. Or I didn't understand. The weight he held, the expectations he placed on himself, and the fear of letting us down. Little did I know when he took that oath I was standing there beside him along with my right hand raised. Military families are taught to be strong, to hold it together, don't dare cry, as it will be the last thing they remember. To keep moving, but sometimes that strength becomes a mask. One that hides the breaking happening underneath. My son Cole served with honor. He served with heart. He served with a sense of duty that ran deeper than most people will ever understand. And I speak his name with tenderness, not tragedy. Because he was more than his pain. He was more than his struggle. He was a whole human being. Complex, loving, jovial, dedicated, and deeply valued by family, friends, and a community. When we talk about the mental health crisis in the military, we're not talking about weakness. We're talking about the emotional cost of service. The cost of vigilance, trauma exposure, and long separations from family. Identity tied to performance, fear of seeking help because it might affect your career. And then there are the transition periods, the moments that feel like a free fall. After deployment, after injury, after discharge, during disciplinary action or career uncertainty. These are the moments when the mind goes quiet. Not because someone wants to die, but because they can't see a path forward. I often talk about how my son was on a 45-day terminal leave and not one check-in occurred. Can you imagine the emotional freefall he was in? The uncertainty, the overwhelmingness of emotion and feeling, of feeling lost. The inability to understand how his skills directly related to the civilian life. Where he could go, what he could do. And when someone's hurting, their mind can become a storm of contradictions. You see, struggle is not weakness. It's a human response to inhuman pressure. Self-harm can be a way to feel something when numbness takes over. It can be a way to release emotional pressure. It can be a way to cope when words feel impossible. Suicidal thoughts can be a sign of deep exhaustion, not a desire to die. Many people don't want to end their life. They want to end their pain. Cole was a jovial person. He hid his pain behind jokes. They're not the typical depression symptoms. So if you are listening right now and you have ever felt this way, I want to speak directly to you. You are not broken. You are not beyond help. And you are not alone in this struggle. For families, loving someone in the dark is its own kind of heartbreak. There's a helplessness of watching someone you love withdraw. The fear of saying the wrong thing. The guilt that settles in after a suicidal loss. The endless questions. The what ifs, the should-haves. But here's the truth. It's a tough truth. And something that's hard to even hear. Harder to say. No one causes another person's suicide. No one. We can love someone with our whole heart and still not be able to carry their internal battle for them. What we can do is show up. We can listen without trying to fix it. We can sit beside someone in their pain without rushing them out of it. And we can learn from what we didn't know. Not as regret, but as wisdom. So what helps? Sometimes it's as simple as asking, how's your heart today? Not how are you? Not are you okay? But how's your heart? It removes shame. It opens space. It invites the raw honesty that you're seeking. Listening matters more than advice. Let me repeat that. Listening. The art of listening without speaking. Matters more than the advice you will ever provide. Presence matters more than the solutions. And emotional safety looks like this. No judgment, no minimizing, no rushing, and no spiritual bypass. Please do not say leave it to God if someone is really hurting. Because when they don't get the answer they are seeking, or they don't get the answer fast enough, they will feel as though God is not listening. And when we tell them it comes in God's time, sometimes that timeline is not the timeline we are needing. And when someone is struggling immensely, reaching out to a trained professional is an act of courage, not failure. It is an act of love. You see, this is why reflective roots exist. This is why the Cole T. Kendall Anchored Navigation Project was born. I founded Reflective Roots because no family should walk this road alone. Because grief is heavy, and healing requires a community. Conversations about mental health, especially in the military, are not optional. They're essential. We walk with families through crisis and loss. We support cadets, service members, veterans, loved ones navigating the emotional terrain of service. We create spaces where honesty is welcome and vulnerability is honored. Healing is not linear. It rises and falls like a tide. And who better to tell you that than myself who last night could not record our podcast? Actually, for the past two nights, I usually record this on Tuesday for you for a Wednesday drop. I did not have the energy or have the capacity in me to talk about this. But I can tell you that no one should face that tide alone. The Brandon Act is specifically for the military to ask for mental health assistance without fear and without repercussion. So as we close today or this evening, I want to offer a moment of silence for those we have lost, and a breath for those who are still fighting their internal battles. Take a moment with me. Breathe with me. Healing is possible. Your story matters. There are more chapters in your book to be written. Your presence matters. Stay connected. Stay rooted and stay human. Thank you for being with me on Real and Rooted this evening. It is where real stories are rooted for healing and future growth. Again, if you are struggling and you need assistance, dial 988 or ask family and friends for help. Thank you. Have a good evening. In Missing Pieces, The Final Salute, a Mother's Journey through service, sorrow, and survival, you'll walk through my story of preparing for the service of grief, of resilience, and rediscovery. And along the way, I hope you find space for your own story. This book isn't about being perfect. It's about becoming whole again, even when some pieces feel forever changed. Order your copy of Missing Pieces today on Amazon or at MissingPiecesbook.com. Join other readers who are finding their own story. Encapsulate it within the pages. Gain insights and learn more at Real and Rooted Podcast, where real stories take root and healing grows. Missing Pieces, the final salute a mother's journey through service, sorrow, and survival. A story of love, loss, and becoming whole again.