Analysis identified three experiential statements embedded within two personal experiential themes. Table 2 provides a summary of the statements and personal experiential themes identified across the six transcripts.
Table 2 Summary of experiential statements and personal experiential themes
Personal experiential theme 1: Veterans living in NI experience an extreme lack of …
The first personal experiential theme related to participants’ experiencing an extreme lack of something across their life.
Mental health literacy and awareness
The participants generally thought there was nothing wrong with them mentally; they did not believe they needed help despite being prompted to help-seek by others. It was common for participants to repeat the phrase “without realising it’, which highlighted their reflection they did have unmet mental health needs. There was a tendency to use avoidance, repression and compartmentalisation, which was ultimately unhelpful. Having a lack of awareness/literacy around coping with mental health difficulties, and turning to maladaptive strategies, often culminated in reaching a rock-bottom place, such as suicide attempts. Moreover, suicide attempts were frequently multiple, therefore, the first attempt did not lead to an awareness they needed to reach out for mental health help. The lack of awareness extended to not knowing how or where to access mental health support; some did not help seek until it was thrust into their hand/face by a trusted comrade.
I didn’t realise it [I needed help]…she [my wife] suggested I get some counselling and I was always like ‘what for? But you can only deal with so much and the compartmentalising is actually hurting you…[I] just got deeper into a darker place…[after several suicide attempts] I needed to do something to avoid me acting on the urge again. (P3)
Expectations of official armed forces support
Participants had low expectations of support linked to the wider government, statutory and health services, and official veteran charities. Experiences that fuelled low expectations often spanned back to active service or occurred as soldiers left the military. One veteran described witnessing another soldier’s experience of help-seeking as “walking down an alleyway towards a clown with an axe and severed head” (P1). Alternatively, there seemed to be no support at all, which contributed to worsening mental health.
When I was discharged, they closed the door in my face; that was my support [from the MOD]. I was depressed, in pain, anxious, all sorts. I felt suicidal. I had lost everything. (P4)
When participants did help-seek, now as veterans, they often had poor experiences which led to making swift judgements regarding the usefulness of support and the competence of professionals. Within the context of accessing psychological support (via a GP), therapy sessions were either not enough (duration or amount), participants often felt misunderstood, or they did not like the therapy/therapist. Other poor experiences were connected to accessing support within NI-based charities, where veterans reported having their needs ignored.
Every single charity almost without exception has a tick sheet. They stick your name down, Mr Smith, did we see him? Tick. Was he contacted in 72 hours? Tick. Did we offer something? Tick. Anything we can do? No. Tick. Finished. (P5)
Negativity towards charities was compounded by assumptions that superior support was offered in England. The veterans were aware there were fewer resources in NI and described instances of being offered care overseas. However, travel overseas was not always possible due to mental or physical impairments. It was considered that those who offered such support to the veterans resident in NI did not fully appreciate NI veterans’ needs or that veterans are “fairly dispersed and hiding” (P1).
I’ve a friend who’s originally from NI...he’s utilising [England-based care]… it’s very good. He is definitely being looked after better across there. (P6)
Regardless of what support is offered, and who provides it, there were also those participants who described not trusting anyone (e.g., doctors; housing officers; social workers) due to the perception such workers have sectarian beliefs. Those who reported having these fears described having the lowest expectations of official support, and often made the swiftest negative pre-judgements.
It’s hard because as soon as you go in and the doctor is from the other ‘side’, you know he doesn’t give a f***. (P2)
There were two accounts of some positive help-seeking experiences. Participants reported resonating with their therapists and that the process was considered beneficial. Yet, these positive instances often followed a series of negative experiences, and the overall perceptions of support in NI remained low.
Sense of perceived appreciation
A strong theme expressed was that the NI veterans did not feel appreciated, which may have begun at the outset of military life. During military service, it did not seem to matter what you achieved, as a shadow would be cast over your achievements if you were physically or mentally impaired in some way. This mentality drove many to strive for perfection, to be respected and appreciated.
Imagine I am the battalion shooting champion; I’m the cross-country champion, I play football, I play golf and I’m always in the top tier… represent the military and flies the flag...the day I break my leg and I must go sick they don’t remember the sportsman, the representative; it’s that waster [they remember]. (P4)
This sense of being undervalued continues into veteran life. Some felt that official support organisations failed to demonstrate appreciation for the veteran community, and inappropriately took credit for their positive actions and initiatives.
The saddest thing is there’s loads of veterans who are willing to give up their time but they’re not going to give it to an organisation or on behalf of an organisation that’s going to take the credit for it. (P5)
The other source of non-appreciation experienced acutely by many participants was linked to the general NI public. In contrast to US veterans, they felt their service was not recognised nor valued as it should be, which contributed to the sense of self-marginalisation within NI.
When I joined ….my belief would have been that when I completed my service I would not be praised or acknowledged….it’s not just the government but a huge section of the British people. I feel they don’t acknowledge the sacrifice that servicemen and women have done. In comparison, the US are a pretty proud [of the military] public. Definitely makes me want to hide my status. (P5)
Personal experiential theme 2: Veterans living in NI experience an extreme abundance of …
The second personal experiential theme related to participants’ experiencing an extreme abundance of ‘something’ across their lives.
Exacerbated exposure to a range of ‘extreme’ environments
Participants described being embedded within environments containing extremes. Considering the span of a veteran’s life course, particularly within NI, the first extremes encountered were likely related to local trauma. Some participants inferred they had grown up as ‘Children of the Troubles’. Participants who chose to join the UDR, often experienced direct Troubles’ trauma on their local streets. Non-natives who were deployed to NI also experienced Troubles’ trauma. Members of the security forces situated in NI were generally the direct target of sectarian violence, with two participants describing themselves as being the ‘mark’ of violent attacks. Moreover, many participants also experienced military-related trauma outside of NI, not limited to operational exercises.
Participants who chose to settle or remain in NI after military service, were transitioning as veterans within an environment they generally perceived as traumatic. Living with the threat of trauma directed at Crown affiliates brought a sense of extreme hypervigilance and distrust of outsiders, and participants were managing a constant feeling of animosity.
Therefore, native veterans seemed to have travelled a full ‘trauma-exposure circle’; they had been born into traumatic exposure, continued to be exposed to environmental extremes through military life, and had retired into an environment with perceived or actual trauma.
I was raised and witnessed a lot; the discontent, the rioting. [From home] I watched gun battles, I used to hear gun battles, I used to see hooded men walking about the streets…[while in the UDR] a person set me up to get killed, and again in the [regular army] service (P5)
The lows that really stay with you are the tragedies, people died … the easiest one [to recall] was when a young fellow died on [foreign] exercise. It was tragic. He died in a training accident and not even on tour. (P1)
Aside from experiencing environmental trauma, some described engaging in activities at an extreme level, including playing sports and parting. Not only did veterans describe shifting between these environmental extremes (traumatic and pleasurable) regularly, but sometimes it occurred quite suddenly.
When you stop, it’s like you’re catching up on six weeks of living in a hole. Fitting six weeks life into a two-week gap before you do it again. Everyone does it…you try to live two days in one….you are trying to put the days you have lost socially into the days you have got so you go further; double up; you party harder before going off again. (P1)
[When not on tour] I decided to do a full ironman for my first triathlon and not a basic triathlon…I was encouraged to compete for the UK. I ran 115 miles in 26 hours, and placed within the top 15 of the whole UK. (P2)
Given that the veterans described transitioning between combat deployments, sometimes without decompression, and experienced periods of intense partying or ‘activities’, they seemed to regularly be in some kind of ‘extreme’ state or situation (physically and mentally).
Rule-based living
Much of military life was described as heavily ‘rule’ or procedure-based. There was unquestioning respect for the rules, which were strict and inflexible and instilled from the outset of military life. Rule-breaking was stigmatised and deviating from the rules (e.g., formally help-seeking for mental health) could be harmful to one’s career.
We weren’t even allowed to go home for the funeral … you get on with it. You get over it. It was the policy. You don’t go to counselling or anything if you want your career; you just crack on. (P3)
Instead of help-seeking via therapy to manage stress and trauma, alcohol was used excessively. Alcohol use was both encouraged and permitted as self-medication, to ultimately help soldiers get back to work.
During service there was an awful lot of alcohol and a lot of sadness… he died we came back to camp, we packed up his stuff, we had a funeral, we got drunk, I was sad, we went back to work. (P1)
Alcohol was also used to aid socialisation and celebration. It extended beyond its being a permitted substance and instead was expected and ritualistic. Drinking excessively was a cultural rule, with alienation being a consequence of non-conformity.
You go into the mess and you’re encouraged to drink before you go in and sit down around seven. You’ll not leave the table. Waiters, waitresses come and fill your glasses with wine and port. You don't get an opportunity to say, ‘I can't drink wine; could you get me a Fanta orange’... if you didn’t join in you’re were alienated. (P5)
Once some leave the military, they may change their alcohol-related attitudes and behaviours. Participants often realised that holding such rule-based attitudes/behaviours is unnecessary and maladaptive, choosing to no longer engage with the overuse (or sometimes any use) of alcohol.
A lot of guys [veterans] want to go for a coffee you know, and a chat [rather than the pub]…I would avoid places like the Legion as I was trying to be different; I just didn’t want to be around that [the drinking culture]. I wasn’t me anymore and doesn’t help me. (P4)
Similarly, the need to challenge and break the no-help-seeking rule was acknowledged and encouraged by many participants, usually due to poor quality of life and functional impairment. They reasoned that although as soldiers they did not break that rule, it no longer applied once the military ‘connection’ was severed.
While I was serving [I was] incredibly reluctant to [get] help but once I left there was no connection or..[no barrier]. (P1)
Engagement with informal and local-level support
Participants expressed having an abundance of informal support through camaraderie and veteran connection. Long-lasting camaraderie often came from sharing intense operational experiences. Veterans considered they were best placed to offer support to each other, due to the peer bond they shared.
Six weeks living in a trench, sharing experiences together means you get very close. It’s hard to replicate the social connection outside the military. (P1)
Most participants commented that they socialised within NI with ex-military or ex-security as they mutually respected each other’s privacy and opinions surrounding security concerns. Although the need to stay vigilant was stated by all participants, most described being friendly with some select community members and having a few close local friends who were non-Crown affiliates.
Despite a lack of official, publicised social events in NI, for security reasons, a few select events were well supported by local veterans. Moreover, there were non-veteran-specific membership clubs that enabled veteran interaction, such as the Freemasons or the Orange Order.
Remembrance Day’s a great occasion for it [reconnection] because we all get together. My local Orange Lodge seems to have a disproportionately high number of ex-UDRs. (P1)
Some ‘unofficial’, veteran-specific, often veteran-run, activity clubs existed across NI. The local clubs were engaged with by veterans in a variety of ways; through receiving support, getting involved in local support, or both. P5 described running such a club that facilitated fellowship; it brought people together.
Veterans were invited along, we’d go out, we’d have a bit of lunch and a bit of craic. We started to meet once a month but that went to one day a week, as people wanted to meet more often. (P5).
Another source of local, informal support came from families. Some participants opted to move nearer to their families, who provided them with support and mental health relief.
My family helps me [mentally]…seeing my kids makes my heart glow…seeing my kids is probably the biggest thing [that helps me]. (P2)