2026 – Madisyn Squires – Maple Mountain High School HS

Changing My View

That afternoon, I came home from school to an empty house—he was gone. I wouldn’t see him for another week after that. From that moment, my family and I began to see mental health differently.

To give some background, my dad was deployed overseas for much of my childhood. For as far back as I can remember, he was stationed in Korea, Iran, Iraq, Germany, and different parts of the United States. He then became highly respected in the military. My dad started to climb through the ranks to become a squad leader. It was his duty to be the front truck, so he would be first in line in case something happened. In his exact words, he would say, “If anyone is going to die cuz of my decisions, it’s going to be me.”

When he was deployed in Iran, he was training others in his squad to take over his position, as he was finally able to come home. That one time he allowed them to take the first truck for the very first time, the unimaginable happened. They set out to patrol the area, and all of a sudden, a bomb went off under the first truck. Metal scraps flew into the air as the truck became unrecognizable. My dad watched in horror as all of his trainees passed away that day. One had his wife pregnant at home, another had just barely gotten married, and the third had multiple kids waiting at home for him. It was supposed to be him in the truck like it always was; he was supposed to be the one who got hit, not them. This destroyed him mentally, and my family had no idea. He kept it hidden for so long. What none of us realized was that the real battle started after he came home. That day in Iran left scars we couldn’t see at the time. For years, he carried the weight of survivors’ guilt in silence.

Fast forward 8 years after that incident happened. For years, he laughed at family events, joked around with us, and acted like everything was fine- but inside he was breaking. We knew he had some severe PTSD from going to war, but we didn’t know it was that bad. The morning of November 24, 2020, my dad walked into my room, but this time it felt different than others. He never drove us to school, but for some reason, he insisted that he would that morning. I woke up to the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs frying on the stove, which never happened either. That car ride to school was silent and eerie. It was almost like there was an elephant in the room, but I had no idea why. The school day went on as it normally would. After I got off the bus that day, I ran home to hug my dad like I always did after I got home. I sped into the door, but when I got inside, my mom was crying on the couch when she was supposed to be at work. Little sixth-grade me wandered the house trying to find my dad, but he was nowhere to be found. Next thing I know, the police were at my house questioning my mom about what he was last wearing, the last time he was seen, and any places that he might be. She also informed the police officer that he had severe ptsd.

The officers then went on saying, “ I know this is a rough time for you and your family, but we need you guys to think straight if we want your husband to come home safe. How many guns are in the house, and are you able to figure out if one is missing? “I can try, but Brian is the one who keeps track of all the guns, so I don’t even know where to start”, my mom replied.

She then went to our gun safe and realized that one was missing. In a panic, all the horrible thoughts were racing through her mind. The major question was, “Will I ever get my husband back?” 

Almost a week went by after that day. The week was filled with frustration, panic, and uncertainty. Nobody knew where my dad was. We tried every possible thing to find him, but nothing seemed to work. My sister and I hadn’t gone to school at all that week, to the point where the school became worried. My principal, Mr Gull, started catering food to my house because none of us had the motivation to do anything, let alone cook for all the people staying at our house. 

On November 29, 2020, he decided to come home. I’m not going to go into crazy detail about what was going on in his mind because I don’t even know for sure, but all I know is I got my dad back. My grandpa decided to take me out for ice cream to get me out of the house that day. I mostly think it was for my mom to try to figure things out without me and my sister always by her. When my grandpa and I got home a couple of hours later, we walked in and we saw him sitting on the couch like nothing had happened. I ran full speed towards my dad, pushing everyone and everything out of my way. I jumped into his arms, crying because I had missed my dad so much. My dad then started crying and saying how much he loved me over and over again. That was the tightest hug that I had ever felt.

This year, I found out that he did, in fact, pull the trigger that November night, but for some reason, the gun didn’t go off. I’m so extremely grateful for the gun malfunction because if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have my amazing, funny, loving best friend. My dad is supposed to be here for some reason we don’t know because it wasn’t his truck that day that blew up, and that gun just happened to have a malfunction. 

That day he came home was the first time I realized mental health struggles can be invisible. It taught me that strength isn’t just about fighting battles overseas, but also about asking for help at home. Before then, I just viewed my dad as a soldier- an untouchable person who protected everyone else. He still protects us, but I believe he’s even stronger now because he reached out for help. I’ve learned that even the strongest people can be hurt in ways we can’t see. Strength to me now isn’t about hiding the pain, it’s about being willing to face it and ask for help. From that moment on, I knew I would never view mental health or strength the same way.