I found myself in a place I was never in before and not used to in the least. About nine years ago I was told that due to issues with my body — some related to my time in service — I could not work. Now, this was devastating to me, a relativity young man of 48 being told he could no longer support his family in the only way he knew how.

My whole life, in some way I took care of my family. Even in junior high school when my mother was dying from cancer, I took her to her appointments, filed her medications and even one time I was told she was taken to the hospital by ambulance in bad shape. I left work and drove 45 miles to the hospital to check on her status. She died two months later in hospice.

I know my family meant well and they truly feel that it’s not my fault and that it’s my body failing me, not a reluctance on my part to contribute. However, I just can’t get them to understand how I feel, no matter how many times I try to explain — how I don’t feel like a man, a husband or a father while my wife works two jobs to help get my son through college and all I can do is keep the property clean and looking nice. This is against my DNA. I keep fighting with these feelings every day going out to my workshop and beating things and breaking things just taking out whatever anger I have towards myself and this situation not knowing what I can do next. My son, I felt, was scared of me because I would constantly go off on some angry tirade. My marriage was going down because of me and my feelings.

It finally came to a head about eight and a half years ago when my wife and I had an argument, started by myself, about me not being able to work and having the feeling that I am not contributing to the family for about the 200th time. I ended up walking out of the house and started walking down the country road that I live off of.

All I can think is how to get my family much needed money and how to stop being a burden or anchor on them. I then made the decision. I noticed a big rig heading towards me and the speed on this road was about 60 mph. I decided I have $50,000 in life insurance and that would pay for the rest of my son’s college and bills the family were underneath.

I then turned towards the road with my feet right on the edge of the asphalt and when the truck started getting closer, I closed my eyes and stepped in to the street. Somehow, I don’t know, maybe the by Grace of God saying ‘I’m not done with you yet’. The trucker noticed what I was doing and swerved at the last second. But all I felt was the gust of wind from the truck blow me back and onto the ground.

I’m still alive.

I could feel my heart pounding out of my chest and the surprise that I’m not dead or injured and then found I could not stop crying. After a few minutes, I gained my composure and got up and walked back to my home. I then got into my truck without my wife’s knowledge and drove to the nearby hospital and asked to be checked for a 5150 mental health evaluation.

Purpose, Meaning and Mission

About a month later, while I was still dealing with doctors about my attempt and still having the feelings of depression and anger toward myself, I received a card in the mail from The American Legion national headquarters asking me to join. I was confused because I didn’t know I was eligible to join this veteran organization. After reading the information provided, I found I was eligible to join The American Legion and I did just that.

Now, it still took me a few months to locate a post because the nearest one did not advertise or hold functions in the area. However, I did find my first post and transferred into it. What I found in The American Legion was something that I truly needed at that time: a purpose, a meaning and a mission. After attending a few meetings, I volunteered for honor guard duties and color guard. About one year in, I moved posts to a more active one that was conducting more community service, mostly monthly dinners and poker Tuesdays, but that worked for me at that time. I worked more and more with this post commander and then became aware of the district and began attending their meetings also and eventually took a seat as a district officer with help from my post commander.

However, this post still did not fully fill my tank and give me everything I needed. So, I transferred one last time to my current post, being a district officer allowed me to see all the posts in my district and I was able to find one that I felt was the best fit for me and my needs. I have been with The American Legion now for eight years and I have a renewed purpose and freedom that I only could have gotten here. I still have those feelings of not contributing to my home sometimes. However, the Legion Family has been the best thing, second to my wife and son, that has ever happened to me.

If this story sounds familiar to you and maybe you have a few of those feelings and don’t know what to do or how to help yourself, I suggest checking out your local legion post and starting there. It saved my life, and believe if you are open and willing it will save yours as well.

Don’t get to the point I was at. For whatever reason, the truck missed me and I am now very happy have a much larger family — my legion family.

Some people who read this will know who I am, most will not. My name is Jeffrey Freeman and I am a member of the American Legion Department of California and this is my true story.

Reach Out

If you’re feeling anxious, down or depressed, please connect with the Veterans Crisis Line to reach caring, qualified responders with the Department of Veterans Affairs. Many of them are Veterans themselves. Call 1-800-273-8255 and press 1

Author: caLegion Contributor

The above article may contain opinions which are the author's own and may not necessarily reflect an official stance taken by The American Legion Department of California. We do our best to vet any information posted to the website. Please email webteam@calegion.org with any changes and/or corrections to anything published here.