When the plane landed in Bagram, Afghanistan, Jeremy Eyman was ready to roll. The 33-year-old Navy Corpsman specializing in trauma surgery was highly skilled, highly regarded and rising fast through the ranks. Nationally, he’d been chosen fourth for the Sailor of the Year honor. His ambitions were high, and on that day in 2010, he was prepared to do his job.
But a roadside bomb changed everything — for him and his wife, Carrin.
“Honestly, our marriage is better than if we hadn’t gone through these things,” Carrin says. “Because it really forced us to become one. We knew we had to talk about everything, even if we didn’t want to talk about it.”
Carrin can say this, even though Jeremy had kept his trip to Afghanistan a secret for almost a year. Day after day, month after month, her husband’s angry and atypical behavior baffled her. Eventually, Jeremy was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury and PTSD.
“Everything we’ve gone through, God has used as success for others, as well as for us,” Jeremy says. “Was it easy? No. But God has been working this whole time.”
What’s their advice for other couples dealing with trauma in their relationship? “You have to talk,” Jeremy says. “It’s so easy to say that — it’s easier said than done. But there’s no other way.” In 2010, Jeremy wasn’t talking to anyone about what he’d been through. And it almost cost him his life.
The Colorado couple were happily married for 10 years and the parents of two when Jeremy flew to Germany on assignment. “I knew in the back of my brain that I could get orders to go downrange, but I hid that from Carrin,” he says. He was in Germany only two weeks when his specialized skills were needed in Afghanistan.
After two days in Afghanistan, Jeremy joined a convoy to bring patients back to Germany. “They were blaring music to pump you up,” he recalls. “And then you go out there.” When a roadside bomb exploded en route, Jeremy’s vehicle took the indirect blast. “I don’t know how to talk about this,” he says. “It was very gruesome. I didn’t have my Kevlar [helmet] on, so I hit my head pretty hard in the vehicle. Your training kicks in, and I ran up to the scene. I’d never seen anything like that. I could not save my fellow Marine.”
Jeremy knew the man hit directly by the bomb was a father, about two years older than he was. Grief and sadness filled him. “I’m trained to bring men and women back, to put all else out of my mind and do what I have to do. But I personified it and that affected my combat awareness … I felt like I failed.”
Back in Germany, Jeremy took a run to de-stress and ended up passing out. He wound up in Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, where he kept losing consciousness, which resulted in falls and concussions.
“Here I was in the ICU, filled with patients near death, missing limbs, fresh from downrange, and I’m walking around with a nurse escorting me everywhere. That was embarrassing,” he says. “I couldn’t do my job because I was passing out. I got called into my chief’s office, and he told me that my job as a corpsman was over.” Within 72 hours, Jeremy’s successful Navy career ended.
Meanwhile, Carrin didn’t even know her husband had been in Afghanistan. In a short phone conversation, Jeremy told her that he’d passed out and was in the ICU. That’s all she knew.
“I was afraid to face the reality at home,” he said. “I felt she was going to leave me.”
After spending 31 days in a San Diego naval hospital where he used to work, Jeremy asked to be released. “That was dumb,” he says. But they couldn’t figure out why he kept losing consciousness, and he wanted to go home.
Even though he was honorably discharged from the Navy because of his medical condition (which was still undiagnosed), Jeremy was able to work in a Colorado hospital performing cesarean sections.
“I could still do my job effectively at the beginning, but then I had two episodes where I passed out in triage,” he explains. He was relegated to administrative work, and his depression and sense of failure worsened.
I can’t protect my family. I’m weak physically, mentally, he thought. “I had no diagnosis, I was bad at my job and I couldn’t provide for my family,” he says about his emotional state at that time. “Everything was a failure. In my mind, the writing is on the wall — she’s going to leave me. I let those lies come in. And in that state of mind, you’ll believe anything and everything.”
At home, Jeremy was not the same man who’d left for Germany. Carrin still didn’t know about the deployment to Afghanistan, but she knew something was wrong. Why did highway traffic and the kids’ bickering make her husband so upset? Why had he thrown that peppermint across the room where it shattered against the wall? He was uncharacteristically angry, sad and hypervigilant. And he kept passing out and falling on furniture.
“I knew he wasn’t telling me everything, but I didn’t know what it had to do with,” she says.
Jeremy says he was hiding his mental and physical suffering from what he’d witnessed in Afghanistan. “I fell into dark thoughts of depression and felt like a burden and a failure to my wife, my kids, my church family and everyone else. No one knew the spiritual battle I was losing.”
His lowest point came one night during his shift at the hospital, when he’d often climb the stairs to the roof during breaks. “I’d made the decision that I could walk those stairs, gain access to the roof and commit the unthinkable from the top of the building. I was numb, and I was believing the lies that I was a burden to Carrin.”
Jeremy is the extravert in their marriage, with a history of calling his wife often. Carrin is the opposite; she calls Jeremy if there’s an emergency. But that night was different.
“I had this whole overwhelming feeling,” she explains. “I know it was from God.” She felt in her heart that she needed to call her husband, and the prompting didn’t go away. As Jeremy reached the top of the stairs on that rainy evening with his plan in mind, his phone rang. “It was Carrin,” he says. “I was shocked. I was confused.”
Carrin told him, “I don’t really have anything to say. I just wanted to say I love you.” After their short conversation, Jeremy sat down and cried. Oh my goodness, what was I just going to do? What just happened here? he thought. “God showed me His love and grace and mercy through Carrin,” he says. “The veil was lifted.”
After he pulled himself together, he finished his shift. “I was still depressed but I wasn’t scared,” he recalls. “I knew I wasn’t going to do something like that.”
Jeremy is one of the more than 430,000 U.S. service members who was diagnosed with a TBI between 2000 to 2020. And the National Center for PTSD estimates that 11 to 20 percent of veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan have this disorder. Thinking about suicide is yet another battle vets face. Boston University research shows that more than four times as many troops and veterans of post-9/11 wars have died by suicide than in combat.
If you’re experiencing suicidal thoughts, Jeremy has advice. “You’ve got to talk to someone. I know so many veterans who have committed suicide. I’ve known veterans who were close; I’ve been on the phone with them. I understand that you can get so low, that you can get so hopeless. But there are so many stories I could share of veterans who were on the verge, and then this person decided to show up at their door.
“It just takes that one genuine person to show they care. You can save someone’s life — literally. I’ve seen it in other people’s lives. It was because one person gave them a hug that day or listened to them or didn’t judge them.”
Jeremy finally talked to his wife after that night and told her the truth about what had happened in Afghanistan almost a year prior. And he asked for her forgiveness. “He was fearful and afraid to tell me,” Carrin says. “But I remember that my whole body relaxed. It was a relief. And I was sad for him, because if he had told me earlier, I would have been able to help him.”
The Eyman’s marriage entered a new phase, one where Jeremy focused on healing and Carrin added caregiving to her role. It wasn’t easy. For three years, Carrin not only handled homeschooling, household and caregiving duties, she was responsible for a long list of new tasks — things Jeremy couldn’t do at that time.
“I had to drive him to all his appointments, to speech therapy, his job,” she explains. Jeremy says his wife “got the brunt” of his issues. “She was dealing with a grumpy young man, because I would get so upset with my speech therapist and Carrin would have to help me with tests.”
Carrin remembers walking into a Rocky Mountain National Park visitor’s center with Jeremy one day and seeing panic in his eyes. “I have to get out of here,” he said. When she found him outside, they realized that the sound of the center’s wind chimes had triggered a trauma response.
Even though they were highly involved at their church, Jeremy wasn’t comfortable sharing their struggles there. “It was pride,” he says. “I didn’t think anyone would understand.” They discovered that isolation isn’t good and regret not seeking support.
At one point, the caregiving burden left Carrin feeling depressed. “I could feel my soul was exhausted,” she says. “I remember telling one of the ladies at a retreat, ‘You know that Scripture about your bones being crushed? That’s how I feel.’ …
“It’s Satan who says, ‘I want to get you alone; I want to get you where you don’t have any hope,’ ” Carrin adds. “And I really think there’s so much about the church that says you need fellowship. Because anything that is hidden and in the dark is shameful, but once God puts a light on it, it’s not a shameful thing anymore.”
After Jeremy got a job at the local Wounded Warrior Project, the couple found themselves feeling less alone. Other vets were a big part of the healing process for Jeremy, and Carrin received support from understanding wives. The Eymans were a source of support to others, too.
“Because of what we’ve gone through, we’ve been able to help others,” Jeremy says. Working with veterans on mental health issues was an open door to share what God had done in his life, he adds. “The seed was planted many, many times with veterans and their families. God has used a lot of this for good.”
Jeremy also helped a neighbor woman who was struggling with suicidal thoughts. “He was able to talk her down,” Carrin explains. “His compassion came through. I think she understood that he wasn’t judging her — that he was a listening ear, that he was someone who got it.”
At their church, the couple recently became leaders in a marriage ministry and shared their story of dealing with trauma in their relationship. “It’s hard to be vulnerable,” Jeremy admits. “But God has used this situation to help me help others and bring it all back to Him. And [the marriage ministry] is just another step.”
The last 12 years have shown them that God’s promise in Romans 8:28 is true, Carrin adds. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”
“Even when it seems hopeless and that the valley will never end, God is working and God is good,” she says.
If you or someone you know is dealing with trauma and its effect on relationships, call Focus on the Family’s Counseling Department at 1-855-771-HELP (4357) on weekdays from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. (Mountain Time). To find licensed Christian counselors in your area, search Focus on the Family’s Christian Counselor Network.
You can also learn more about TBI and PTSD at Military One Source.
Find additional support at:
Recommended books:
The post Trauma in Relationships: Military Couple Thankful to God appeared first on Focus on the Family.
Continue reading...
But a roadside bomb changed everything — for him and his wife, Carrin.
“Honestly, our marriage is better than if we hadn’t gone through these things,” Carrin says. “Because it really forced us to become one. We knew we had to talk about everything, even if we didn’t want to talk about it.”
Carrin can say this, even though Jeremy had kept his trip to Afghanistan a secret for almost a year. Day after day, month after month, her husband’s angry and atypical behavior baffled her. Eventually, Jeremy was diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury and PTSD.
“Everything we’ve gone through, God has used as success for others, as well as for us,” Jeremy says. “Was it easy? No. But God has been working this whole time.”
What’s their advice for other couples dealing with trauma in their relationship? “You have to talk,” Jeremy says. “It’s so easy to say that — it’s easier said than done. But there’s no other way.” In 2010, Jeremy wasn’t talking to anyone about what he’d been through. And it almost cost him his life.
The secret deployment
The Colorado couple were happily married for 10 years and the parents of two when Jeremy flew to Germany on assignment. “I knew in the back of my brain that I could get orders to go downrange, but I hid that from Carrin,” he says. He was in Germany only two weeks when his specialized skills were needed in Afghanistan.
After two days in Afghanistan, Jeremy joined a convoy to bring patients back to Germany. “They were blaring music to pump you up,” he recalls. “And then you go out there.” When a roadside bomb exploded en route, Jeremy’s vehicle took the indirect blast. “I don’t know how to talk about this,” he says. “It was very gruesome. I didn’t have my Kevlar [helmet] on, so I hit my head pretty hard in the vehicle. Your training kicks in, and I ran up to the scene. I’d never seen anything like that. I could not save my fellow Marine.”
Jeremy knew the man hit directly by the bomb was a father, about two years older than he was. Grief and sadness filled him. “I’m trained to bring men and women back, to put all else out of my mind and do what I have to do. But I personified it and that affected my combat awareness … I felt like I failed.”
No more Navy
Back in Germany, Jeremy took a run to de-stress and ended up passing out. He wound up in Landstuhl Regional Medical Center, where he kept losing consciousness, which resulted in falls and concussions.
“Here I was in the ICU, filled with patients near death, missing limbs, fresh from downrange, and I’m walking around with a nurse escorting me everywhere. That was embarrassing,” he says. “I couldn’t do my job because I was passing out. I got called into my chief’s office, and he told me that my job as a corpsman was over.” Within 72 hours, Jeremy’s successful Navy career ended.
Meanwhile, Carrin didn’t even know her husband had been in Afghanistan. In a short phone conversation, Jeremy told her that he’d passed out and was in the ICU. That’s all she knew.
“I was afraid to face the reality at home,” he said. “I felt she was going to leave me.”
After spending 31 days in a San Diego naval hospital where he used to work, Jeremy asked to be released. “That was dumb,” he says. But they couldn’t figure out why he kept losing consciousness, and he wanted to go home.
Trauma and their relationship
Even though he was honorably discharged from the Navy because of his medical condition (which was still undiagnosed), Jeremy was able to work in a Colorado hospital performing cesarean sections.
“I could still do my job effectively at the beginning, but then I had two episodes where I passed out in triage,” he explains. He was relegated to administrative work, and his depression and sense of failure worsened.
I can’t protect my family. I’m weak physically, mentally, he thought. “I had no diagnosis, I was bad at my job and I couldn’t provide for my family,” he says about his emotional state at that time. “Everything was a failure. In my mind, the writing is on the wall — she’s going to leave me. I let those lies come in. And in that state of mind, you’ll believe anything and everything.”
At home, Jeremy was not the same man who’d left for Germany. Carrin still didn’t know about the deployment to Afghanistan, but she knew something was wrong. Why did highway traffic and the kids’ bickering make her husband so upset? Why had he thrown that peppermint across the room where it shattered against the wall? He was uncharacteristically angry, sad and hypervigilant. And he kept passing out and falling on furniture.
“I knew he wasn’t telling me everything, but I didn’t know what it had to do with,” she says.
Jeremy says he was hiding his mental and physical suffering from what he’d witnessed in Afghanistan. “I fell into dark thoughts of depression and felt like a burden and a failure to my wife, my kids, my church family and everyone else. No one knew the spiritual battle I was losing.”
His lowest point came one night during his shift at the hospital, when he’d often climb the stairs to the roof during breaks. “I’d made the decision that I could walk those stairs, gain access to the roof and commit the unthinkable from the top of the building. I was numb, and I was believing the lies that I was a burden to Carrin.”
God’s help on a dark day
Jeremy is the extravert in their marriage, with a history of calling his wife often. Carrin is the opposite; she calls Jeremy if there’s an emergency. But that night was different.
“I had this whole overwhelming feeling,” she explains. “I know it was from God.” She felt in her heart that she needed to call her husband, and the prompting didn’t go away. As Jeremy reached the top of the stairs on that rainy evening with his plan in mind, his phone rang. “It was Carrin,” he says. “I was shocked. I was confused.”
Carrin told him, “I don’t really have anything to say. I just wanted to say I love you.” After their short conversation, Jeremy sat down and cried. Oh my goodness, what was I just going to do? What just happened here? he thought. “God showed me His love and grace and mercy through Carrin,” he says. “The veil was lifted.”
After he pulled himself together, he finished his shift. “I was still depressed but I wasn’t scared,” he recalls. “I knew I wasn’t going to do something like that.”
If you deal with trauma
Jeremy is one of the more than 430,000 U.S. service members who was diagnosed with a TBI between 2000 to 2020. And the National Center for PTSD estimates that 11 to 20 percent of veterans who served in Iraq and Afghanistan have this disorder. Thinking about suicide is yet another battle vets face. Boston University research shows that more than four times as many troops and veterans of post-9/11 wars have died by suicide than in combat.
If you’re experiencing suicidal thoughts, Jeremy has advice. “You’ve got to talk to someone. I know so many veterans who have committed suicide. I’ve known veterans who were close; I’ve been on the phone with them. I understand that you can get so low, that you can get so hopeless. But there are so many stories I could share of veterans who were on the verge, and then this person decided to show up at their door.
“It just takes that one genuine person to show they care. You can save someone’s life — literally. I’ve seen it in other people’s lives. It was because one person gave them a hug that day or listened to them or didn’t judge them.”
Jeremy finally talked to his wife after that night and told her the truth about what had happened in Afghanistan almost a year prior. And he asked for her forgiveness. “He was fearful and afraid to tell me,” Carrin says. “But I remember that my whole body relaxed. It was a relief. And I was sad for him, because if he had told me earlier, I would have been able to help him.”
Healing from trauma
The Eyman’s marriage entered a new phase, one where Jeremy focused on healing and Carrin added caregiving to her role. It wasn’t easy. For three years, Carrin not only handled homeschooling, household and caregiving duties, she was responsible for a long list of new tasks — things Jeremy couldn’t do at that time.
“I had to drive him to all his appointments, to speech therapy, his job,” she explains. Jeremy says his wife “got the brunt” of his issues. “She was dealing with a grumpy young man, because I would get so upset with my speech therapist and Carrin would have to help me with tests.”
Carrin remembers walking into a Rocky Mountain National Park visitor’s center with Jeremy one day and seeing panic in his eyes. “I have to get out of here,” he said. When she found him outside, they realized that the sound of the center’s wind chimes had triggered a trauma response.
Even though they were highly involved at their church, Jeremy wasn’t comfortable sharing their struggles there. “It was pride,” he says. “I didn’t think anyone would understand.” They discovered that isolation isn’t good and regret not seeking support.
At one point, the caregiving burden left Carrin feeling depressed. “I could feel my soul was exhausted,” she says. “I remember telling one of the ladies at a retreat, ‘You know that Scripture about your bones being crushed? That’s how I feel.’ …
“It’s Satan who says, ‘I want to get you alone; I want to get you where you don’t have any hope,’ ” Carrin adds. “And I really think there’s so much about the church that says you need fellowship. Because anything that is hidden and in the dark is shameful, but once God puts a light on it, it’s not a shameful thing anymore.”
All things work together for good
After Jeremy got a job at the local Wounded Warrior Project, the couple found themselves feeling less alone. Other vets were a big part of the healing process for Jeremy, and Carrin received support from understanding wives. The Eymans were a source of support to others, too.
“Because of what we’ve gone through, we’ve been able to help others,” Jeremy says. Working with veterans on mental health issues was an open door to share what God had done in his life, he adds. “The seed was planted many, many times with veterans and their families. God has used a lot of this for good.”
Jeremy also helped a neighbor woman who was struggling with suicidal thoughts. “He was able to talk her down,” Carrin explains. “His compassion came through. I think she understood that he wasn’t judging her — that he was a listening ear, that he was someone who got it.”
At their church, the couple recently became leaders in a marriage ministry and shared their story of dealing with trauma in their relationship. “It’s hard to be vulnerable,” Jeremy admits. “But God has used this situation to help me help others and bring it all back to Him. And [the marriage ministry] is just another step.”
The last 12 years have shown them that God’s promise in Romans 8:28 is true, Carrin adds. “And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.”
“Even when it seems hopeless and that the valley will never end, God is working and God is good,” she says.
Find support
If you or someone you know is dealing with trauma and its effect on relationships, call Focus on the Family’s Counseling Department at 1-855-771-HELP (4357) on weekdays from 6 a.m. to 8 p.m. (Mountain Time). To find licensed Christian counselors in your area, search Focus on the Family’s Christian Counselor Network.
You can also learn more about TBI and PTSD at Military One Source.
Find additional support at:
Recommended books:
- Exit Wounds by Derek Mcginnis.
- Concussion Rescue by Kabran Chapek.
The post Trauma in Relationships: Military Couple Thankful to God appeared first on Focus on the Family.
Continue reading...