My Battalion Has Lost More Than 30 Veterans To Suicide. Psilocybin Could Have Saved Their Lives.
By Armand LeComte
There were no bombs exploding under my armored vehicle. I never carried a wounded brother across the battlefield. I wasn’t a member of the elite Marine Special Operations unit. My battalion and I saw plenty of combat, but we were simply normal Marines. My tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan reflect the experience of tens of thousands of women and men who serve in the United States Marine Corps. That’s what makes my experience after my service so devastating. Serving the country that we love exacts an incalculable toll on us while we serve, and an often greater one on our mental well-being when we get out.
My history with depression predates my time as a Marine. I felt the shadow of the dark clouds that would eventually overtake my mind even before high school, a feeling that lingered as I signed-up for military service. But by the time I left Afghanistan that depression intensified, and I had developed suicidal ideation. As I have fought against my own demons, I’ve watched as one-by-one, more than thirty members of my battalion have now died by suicide. Like me, so many of these men struggled alone amid the pervasive culture of toughness and silence that defines the Marine Corps.
When I came back to U.S. soil, I tried to outrun the darkness inside my mind. I enrolled in college. I took anti-depressants. I traveled all over. None of it was enough. Not for me. Not for the men in my battalion who died. Not even for the strongest, toughest, most elite members of the armed services.
But there is something that helped me, and continues to help other veterans. Through the Heroic Hearts Project, which helps veterans access safe psychedelic treatment facilities outside of the United States, I witnessed veterans undergo psychedelic-assisted treatment that changed their lives. It was like watching someone clear the wreckage. Family’s put back together. Marriages saved. Lives saved. And that has been my experience with psychedelic-assisted treatment, too. I’m finally living a life I never thought was possible—one filled with love and levity.
My mission now is to help others. I’m a registered and licensed mental health peer support specialist, and through that work I am honored to coach people struggling, including veterans, after their psychedelic-assisted treatment to help them integrate that experience into their everyday life. I’ve witnessed, aided in, and seen remarkable healing come out of this process. And I couldn’t be prouder to be from Oregon, knowing that my fellow citizens voted overwhelmingly to make safe and effective psilocybin-assisted treatment available to those who need it.
But now a number of Oregon’s city and county governments are asking voters this November to ban psilocybin-assisted treatment within their borders, meaning that people who live in these places would need to travel to another city in Oregon to get effective treatment. This might seem like a minor inconvenience, but it’s not. For people struggling to get out of bed everyday, driving to Portland might as well be flying to the Philippines—neither trip is going to happen.
Putting up hurdles for veterans and others who desperately need help just isn’t who we are in Oregon. We’re the people who tear those barriers down. The Oregonians who served our country deserve the best shot possible at healing. I know that some of the men in my battalion who lost their lives to suicide would still be here today if they had access to psilocybin treatment. When you head to the polls this November, remember that allowing psilocybin treatment where you live could save someone’s life.
