My life was forever changed on August 6, 2011, when insurgents shot down a Chinook transport helicopter in Afghanistan, killing all 31 people on board.
My husband served in the Navy for 20 years, where he specialized in disarming explosive devices, and his best friend was among those 31.
Most of my husband’s career was spent attached to Navy SEAL Team 2 and Navy SEAL Team 6, where he bravely carried out more than 12 combat deployments.
We were a tight community, and on that day in August, 31 of our friends and teammates lost their lives in an instant.
My husband had the harrowing task of notifying his best friend’s wife and children of his death and bringing his remains back to West Virginia.
We were never the same.
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After this mass casualty, we lost many others, either in combat, in training, or to suicide. I became depressed and constantly anxious that the ball was going to drop, and that my family would be the next to receive that dreaded knock on the door. I began having panic attacks and suicidal thoughts.
I was convinced no one gets out unscathed, and if you want the truth, no one really does.
A few years later, my husband retired with a 100% disability rating at just 39 years old, primarily due to invisible wounds—those deep-seated mental scars that no medal could ever begin to mend.
In the quiet desperation that often accompanies military service, both veterans and their families bear a weight that is rarely understood by those outside the fold. As a military spouse, I’ve witnessed firsthand the toll that years of service can take on the mind and spirit of those who have served our country. For years, our family navigated the turbulent waters of post-service life, where the aftershocks of trauma reverberated through our daily existence.
Both my husband and I have tried a range of therapies to heal. A decade after the accident, in July 2021, I was introduced to midomafetamine assisted therapy on a life-changing retreat to Mexico.
This treatment involves a drug known as MDMA, or on the street as ecstasy or Molly. I was invited along with six other special operation spouses to explore this treatment solution, since it has yet to be approved by the Food and Drug Administration for use in the U.S. It turned out to be a beacon of hope for healing deep-seated emotional wounds.
In a therapeutic setting, MDMA allows those suffering to access buried demons and trauma in a way that is gentle and compassionate—something traditional therapies often struggle to achieve. It’s not about escaping reality but confronting it head-on, under the guidance of trained therapists in a safe and supportive environment.
In 2017, the FDA designated MDMA-assisted therapy, as a “breakthrough therapy” because of clinically demonstrated evidence in treating the root causes of PTSD. In one example, a study found that following just three sessions of MDMA therapy, 71% of participants no longer met the diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder, or PTSD.
Our veterans need access to this treatment, but without FDA approval, it often remains out of reach. Veterans like my husband, for example, who work in government jobs after military retirement, are given strict polygraphs that specifically ask if the employee has ever taken a schedule I drug like MDMA. Without FDA approval of MDMA therapy, they cannot seek out this route without risking their security clearance.
One of the most profound challenges my husband has faced, which is common among veterans, is that his nervous system has become locked in a perpetual state of shutdown and detachment. This manifests as extreme fatigue, emotional numbness, and disconnection from both himself and loved ones.
I vividly recall a moment at my son’s hockey game. He scored a goal, the crowd cheered, and my husband dutifully clapped and smiled. Later that night, he said to me: “I go through the motions of happiness and excitement, but I feel nothing.” It was a stark reminder of the invisible battle raging within him, one that no amount of conventional therapy seemed able to reach.
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The FDA has not approved a new treatment for PTSD in nearly 25 years, leaving those suffering with antidepressant drugs a as approved treatments, medications that only seem to numb the pain. This keeps some people at a baseline of numbness—while they may not feel all the bad, they often struggle to feel joy.
Our veterans are experiencing a suicide epidemic, in part because they cannot access the care they need. Every day, an estimated 17 or more veterans die by suicide, totaling up to 16,000 veterans each year.
For veterans in particular, MDMA therapy provides clarity and allows them to uncover profound empathy and forgiveness for themselves—directly addressing guilt for leaving their families or painful experiences during war. It saves their lives.
Yet, despite its promising results, an FDA Advisory Committee recently declined to recommend MDMA as a treatment for PTSD, cherry picking small procedural concerns. The FDA will make its final decision on whether to approve MDMA for such therapy on August 11.
I strongly urge them to help veterans who are suffering and approve this lifesaving therapy.
The same veterans who risked everything for our country are being denied access to treatments that could offer them a chance at peace. Our veterans should not need to go abroad, or worse, seek this therapy in an unregulated environment within the U.S. It’s a cruel irony that those who sacrificed so much are often left to navigate their post-service lives with inadequate support for their mental health.
Veterans deserve every opportunity to heal, to reconnect with themselves and their families, and to reclaim the lives they put on hold in service to our nation. Denying them access to breakthrough therapies is not just a disservice; it’s a betrayal of the promises we made as a grateful nation. We deserve the right to try any and all options, treatments, and healing modalities available to recover, repair, and improve our lives after years of sacrifice.
We must give our veterans the chance to rewrite their stories, not as victims of war but as resilient survivors who deserve every chance to live full lives.
Elaine Brewer is a proud military wife. She is the founder of Humble Warrior, a 501c3 nonprofit, which aids in military and first responder mental health and wellness. Elaine lives with her husband and their two sons in St. Louis, Missouri.
