From the Royal Navy to Civilian Life. A Veteran Counsellor’s Reflections on Mental Health.

A veteran stands contemplatively at the edge of a wooden pier, gazing out at the vast sea, symbolizing reflections on life and mental health after military service.

Leaving the Royal Navy: Losing My Second Family

I still remember the day I hung up my Royal Navy uniform for the last time. Walking out of the base gates, I felt a mix of pride and deep anxiety. After 12 years in service (my entire adult life up to that point), I was stepping into an unfamiliar world. Many veterans describe leaving the armed forces as a sudden shock, a “jolt” back into civilian life rather than a gentle transition. I can relate. In uniform, I knew exactly who I was and where I belonged. Out in “Civvy Street” (as we call civilian life), I felt unprepared and unmoored. In fact, a recent UK survey found only about 43% of veterans felt prepared for life after service, while roughly 35% felt unprepared. I was definitely in that latter camp.

One of the hardest parts was losing my military family. In the Navy, my crewmates were like brothers and sisters, we lived, worked, and even risked our lives for each other. Suddenly, that daily camaraderie was gone. The sense of loss was profound. It might sound extreme, but leaving the forces can trigger feelings similar to grief. You’re not just changing jobs; you’re saying goodbye to a way of life. I had lost the tight-knit community, the shared mission, even the banter and black humour that got us through tough times. As Combat Stress notes, “feelings of loss can happen when you leave the military. Losing the military family, the sense of companionship and camaraderie, can bring about a loss of identity and feelings akin to grief.” Indeed, I felt like I’d lost part of who I was.

Another thing I hadn’t anticipated was the loss of purpose. In the Navy I woke up each day knowing my role and my mission. Whether I was navigating a ship through stormy seas or planning the training schedule for my team, I had a clear sense of purpose and responsibility. Then, all of that structure evaporated overnight. Suddenly there was no mission briefing, no rank to hold, no uniform to wear. I was proud of my service, but who was I now? Research has described how veterans often experience “a loss of purpose and disconnection… being trapped between two worlds” after leaving the military. That’s exactly how I felt: caught between the world I’d known (the military bubble) and the civilian world, not fully belonging to either. It took me months to realise that what I was going through was normal for many ex-forces personnel. I wasn’t weak or failing; I was adjusting to a major life change. Just knowing that others had felt the same way was a small comfort during those first lonely weeks.

Invisible Wounds: PTSD, Depression and Other Struggles

As the initial excitement of freedom wore off, I began to encounter some inner battles I hadn’t expected. We often talk about the physical dangers of military service, but the psychological impact can linger long after the uniform is gone. In my case, it started with sleepless nights and a sense of being “on edge.” At first, I brushed it off, surely I was just missing the routine. But the insomnia got worse, and I found myself snapping in anger over small things. I wasn’t the only one. Over time I learned that many veterans face hidden mental health struggles after service, even those who never had any issues while in the Forces.

During my service and after leaving, I saw friends and shipmates struggle with anxiety, depression or PTSD. It’s not surprising, people in the armed forces face tough experiences. Working in combat situations, being away from family for months at a time, and coping with injuries are all factors that can lead to mental health problems. Even the process of adjusting to civilian life (the transition to “civvy street”) can be extremely difficult. We’re trained for high-intensity situations, and then returning to normal civilian life can feel disorienting.

I know how hard it can be to talk about these things. Saying “I’m struggling” feels like admitting weakness, when all we’ve been taught is to keep calm and carry on. In fact, research shows that many veterans find it extremely difficult to open up. In a 2022 UK veterans’ survey, about 60% of respondents admitted struggling to talk about mental health issues. I’ve felt that myself, there’s a real stigma around admitting you need help. But I learned that avoiding the topic only makes things worse. Bottling everything up can let anger and pain simmer under the surface. As a counsellor now, I meet veterans who finally began to speak up, and it truly makes a difference. Even when it’s hard, talking about it is an important first step towards feeling better.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD): Distressing memories or nightmares of traumatic events can surface after we come home. For combat veterans especially, intrusive flashbacks and hyper-vigilance (always being on high alert) are not uncommon. I’ve had shipmates who were haunted by things they witnessed or survived. They’d dive for cover upon hearing a loud bang, or avoid crowded places because it reminded them of dangerous port visits.

Depression and Anxiety: Many of us experience a general low mood or constant worry during transition. In my case, I fell into a funk, feeling hopeless about the future one moment and anxious about everything the next.

Loneliness and Isolation: This one hit me harder than expected. I went from being surrounded by mates 24/7 to being a civilian who felt nobody around me understood what I’d been through. Even in a room full of people, I often felt alone.

Anger and Irritability: Military life taught us discipline, but it also normalised a certain level of controlled aggression (you need it in combat or high-stress situations). Once out, a lot of us find our fuse is unexpectedly short.

Substance Use, Alcohol and Drugs: To cope with all of the above, many veterans (my past self included) turn to self-medication. In the forces, a drink at the end of the day or a big weekend in the mess was a common way to blow off steam. That habit can spiral after leaving.

An Evening with the Wrens

One night a few weeks ago, my wife and I popped into a pub for dinner. We don’t often get out, but after a long week I said, “Why not?” As we was shown our seats for our meals, I noticed a woman at the next table having the ensign flag at the side of her. When I said nice ensign, she said that they was out for trafalger night and that she was a wrens and the friends she was with were former Wrens to (Women’s Royal Naval Service veterans).

They introduced themselves , and before long we were laughing and sharing stories. I wasn’t expecting it, but they made us feel incredibly welcome, like I had stumbled into old friends. We talked about ship life and family, and they told me about their local veterans’ hub. The Wrens volunteer to help run a community centre where ex-service people gather weekly for coffee, activities and support. Hearing about their work really struck a chord.

That chance encounter reminded me how vital peer support can be. It turned what could have been an ordinary night into something special. I could see the warmth and understanding they showed was lifting everyone’s spirits, including mine. As Combat Stress notes, attending these peer meetings can create “a social connection that is meaningful and based on a shared history”. I felt that myself – by the end of the evening I was back among my naval family. That camaraderie was a huge boost to my morale and emotional wellbeing. My wife later said how much it meant to her that I saw this community embracing us. That night I remembered: if ever I feel alone or overwhelmed, all I might need is to say hello to a fellow veteran. The bonds we share from mess hall banter to sailing across oceans can help carry us through tough times.

Moving Forward As a UK counsellor and ex-Royal Navy engineer, I say to anyone reading this: your feelings are valid. Whether you’ve been out of the forces for years or only recently returned to civilian life, it’s normal to have emotional or mental struggles. The key is to reach out even if it feels odd at first. Start small: maybe give SSAFA or the Royal British Legion a call, or register with Veterans’ Gateway to see what support is on offer. You might find, just as I did, that there are people ready to listen and help. Connecting with fellow veterans can also be surprisingly easy join a local social media group, attend a remembrance event, or just introduce yourself to someone in uniform. Those shared experiences create a bond that helps us heal. Remember: it doesn’t matter how long ago you served or what you did. The Legion and SSAFA have been there for veterans of all eras, committed to lifelong support. There is no shame in using that support. Talking about what you’ve been through can lighten a heavy load, just like it did for me. Finally, I’m grateful to those former Wrens who turned a normal night out into something meaningful. Their kindness reminded me that hidden among familiar faces are always potential allies in our wellbeing. If you or a fellow veteran are feeling low, try reaching out even a small chat can plant a seed of hope. We owe it to ourselves and to each other to look after our mental health, just as we once watched each other’s backs in service. You are not alone. We’re all in this together.

You are not alone on this path many of us have walked it and are walking it with you. And if you ever feel lost, remember: there are guiding lights along the coastal path (to borrow the name of our counselling service) to help you find your way. The camaraderie, identity and purpose you thought you lost can be rediscovered, just in new forms. It’s okay to miss the life that’s behind you, but keep your eyes on the horizon ahead. A new mission awaits one of healing, growth, and making the most of the peace you fought so hard to earn. Stay safe, stay hopeful, and never hesitate to ask for support, we’ve got your back, now and always.

www.coastalpathcounselling.co.uk