Stop the Silence: The Systemic Neglect of Veteran Mental Health Must End - June 17, 2025 - Bonus Post

We like to thank veterans for their service—at parades, during ball games, with bumper stickers and social media posts. But let’s be honest: that’s where the gratitude usually stops.

Behind the patriotic performances and feel-good slogans lies a brutal truth—veterans are being failed. Over and over again. Especially when it comes to mental health.

They are not okay. And we need to stop pretending they are.

The Numbers Don’t Lie—But We Do

Roughly 17 veterans die by suicide every single day. That’s not just a statistic—it’s a damn indictment. These are men and women who put their lives on the line, who sacrificed time with their families, their health, their peace of mind—and in return, they come home to a healthcare system that makes them wait months for appointments, buries them in red tape, and gaslights them into silence.

Veterans are at higher risk for PTSD, depression, substance use, and chronic pain than the general population. And yet, access to competent, trauma-informed mental health care remains uneven, understaffed, and underfunded. If this were happening to any other group in America—especially one that had given so much—there would be national outrage. But for veterans? We get performative patriotism and delayed appointments.

The VA Alone Can’t Carry This Burden—And Frankly, It's Dropping the Ball

The Department of Veterans Affairs (VA) is filled with well-meaning professionals—many of whom are veterans themselves—but the institution as a whole is bogged down by bureaucracy, inefficiency, and outdated practices. Let’s stop pretending that a few good people inside a broken system are enough to call it functional.

Veterans wait weeks to months for mental health appointments. Many are told to call crisis lines instead of being seen by a real provider. In rural areas, some veterans have to travel hours just to find a VA facility—assuming they’re even lucky enough to be eligible for timely care.

And then there’s the paperwork nightmare: miles of red tape, missed authorizations, lost referrals, and revolving providers. Some veterans are forced to tell their trauma stories five times to five different intake people before ever reaching a therapist. That’s not trauma-informed care. That’s retraumatization disguised as "procedure."

Add to that the VA’s notorious turnover and burnout rates among staff, and you have a recipe for failure. Mental health providers are overworked, underpaid, and often unsupported—leading to high attrition and disrupted continuity of care. Veterans are bounced from one provider to the next, never getting the stability that healing actually requires.

Let’s also talk about stigma inside the VA. Too many veterans report feeling dismissed, judged, or minimized by staff. Some are afraid to be honest about suicidal thoughts because they fear being over-pathologized or institutionalized instead of supported.

This is not okay. The VA cannot claim to be the front line of veteran mental health if it continues to operate like a bureaucratic fortress rather than a healing institution.

We don’t need more mission statements. We need results.

We don’t need more task forces. We need action.

And we don’t need more studies on what’s wrong—we need accountability for fixing it.

The Civilian Disconnect Is Deadly

One of the most toxic assumptions civilians make is that “they’ll be fine—they’re tough.” Let me be clear: toughness has nothing to do with untreated trauma. No amount of grit can erase the moral injury of combat, the survivor’s guilt of war, or the identity crisis that comes with reintegration.

Civilians need to shut up and listen. If you’ve never had to clear a building, watch a friend die, or hold your breath in a convoy—don’t pretend to understand what “resilience” means. Veterans aren’t looking for pity; they’re looking for clinicians, policymakers, and citizens who give a damn and are willing to act.

Reintegration Is a Mental Health Emergency

When veterans leave the service, they don’t just lose a job—they lose a community, a mission, and a sense of purpose. The transition is not just practical; it’s psychological. It’s spiritual. It’s existential. And we treat it like a paperwork issue.

Unemployment, homelessness, substance use, divorce—these aren’t isolated problems. They’re symptoms of a deeper illness: a society that has no real plan for bringing its warriors home.

The military teaches people how to fight. We do almost nothing to teach them how to live afterward.

Stop Waiting. Start Acting.

If you are a mental health professional, get trained in military culture and trauma care. If you’re a policymaker, fund community-based veteran services like you actually care about outcomes. If you’re a civilian, stop thanking veterans for their service and start voting for the services they need.

And if you’re a veteran—your pain is real. Your story matters. And you don’t owe anyone silence just because they’re uncomfortable with what you’ve been through.

This isn’t just about awareness anymore. It’s about action. It’s about rebuilding a system that honors service with support—not just slogans.

Because if we can train people to survive war, we damn sure better be able to help them survive coming home.

Enough is enough. Veterans don’t need parades. They need care.And it’s long past time we gave it to them.

—Dr. Michael Ritchey is a Doctor of Social Work and Licensed Clinical Social Worker specializing in trauma, veteran mental health, and reintegration support. Follow @DrMichaelRitchey for more content on mental health, healing, and justice.