October 2025 – Male Veteran Group
Tonight’s Veteran KAP group was perhaps the most powerful and palpable session yet. Seven veterans attended, many of them long-standing members of the healing circle. The depth of honesty, vulnerability, and connection that unfolded was indescribable.
We entered directly into the journey, accompanied by a playlist brought by one of the return veterans. After about an hour of inner reflection, the group shared from within the healing circle, where I read them the poem *“A Party for the Broken”* by Tom Hirons. The poem resonated deeply; each veteran asked for a copy, describing how its words spoke directly to their own lived experiences.
One of the most profound moments came from a veteran who typically stayed more isolated from the group during the journey, this time choosing to be in the circle with his brothers he has come to know and trust.
One shared to me that he had been overwhelmed by suicidal thoughts, and that finding spirituality again through these KAP sessions had literally saved his life.
One told the group: *“This is church for me.”* He spoke of his spiritual battle with hate, and of his efforts to let it go. In response, another veteran got up, shook his hand and embraced him, which sparked a wave of handshakes and hugs throughout the circle.
Another veteran expressed that he felt a new, “almost odd sense of confidence”— a first for him in a very long time. Others echoed that each time they attend, they leave feeling more confident and more thankful. Several admitted it had been their roughest month in a long time, but emphasized that being with other veterans was what healed them. One stated plainly, *“There is no better place than this.”* Another said his heart has been broken, but when he comes to the group, he listens, grows, and heals.
One veteran who had struggled with lost purpose after war shared that he was rediscovering his sense of meaning through his love for his children. Another said this group was the *safest place on the planet*. He revisited his “anchor” analogy — describing his trauma, hate, and anger as a heavy anchor he is slowly and carefully lifting, bit by bit. Another veteran responded that this anchor metaphor had stayed with him for weeks, helping him recognize his own trauma as a heavy anchor. Though fearful, he is attempting to turn the weight of the anchor into something positive. The group encouraged each other with messages like, *“Keep going. Don’t give up. It’s not too late.”* One reflected: *“You find it (peace) when you find it — and when you find peace, it’s never too late.”*
They spoke of their brokenness, but also of their brotherhood. One veteran said: *“We’re all broken in different ways, but we have to show up for each other. We’re brothers.”* Another reflected on the transformation of coming from a life of war — “killing for a living” — to now finding peace in collective healing. One veteran realized that while his solo journeys in the recliner helped him begin to work on his issues, tonight was different. The group experience impacted him in ways he hadn’t imagined. *“We’re all fighting a different fight, but we’re all brothers,”* he said.
There was laughter — joking about age differences and similar military experiences. There were tears, pain, and suffering. But most importantly, there was love, peace, and a profound sense of unity.
The imagery of the “barrel roll” from earlier sessions returned, combined with the anchor metaphor. One veteran said: *“Maybe we can land the plane together. Maybe we can pull up the anchors together.”* The collective healing was undeniable. One mentioned watching the film *Inside Out* and how it reminded him of his ketamine journeys — the different emotional parts working together inside the mind: the angry part, the fearful part, the anxious part.
In a private moment, another veteran shared with me that his hatred for those who had wronged him had long been overpowering. Now, for the first time, he wondered what might happen if he leaned into his newfound spirituality, love, and peace to let go of that hate. Just contemplating the question revealed a shift: the beginnings of self-compassion, worthiness of life, love, peace, and relief.
It is hard to put into words what unfolded tonight. It was indescribable — a night of transformation, connection, and healing that none of us will never forget. This work matters deeply. It saves lives. And it must be shared so that more people may know what is possible within the circle of healing.