Deadly Failure: A Sailor Was in Crisis. Her Command Kept the Pressure on Anyway

March 6, 2018, was another mild and sunny day in San Diego. Petty Officer 2nd Class Tiara Gray, who was 21 years old, was somewhere off the coast, onboard the USS Essex, writing in her journal. It was 27 days before she died. 

I sat on the hangar bay today. I felt the sun warm my skin and the shadows move as we rocked slowly back and forth.

I haven’t been feeling like writing lately and I fear it’s because I don’t want to reflect inward.

I want to be strong and powerful. I want to be sure of myself. I want to have a deep understanding of myself.

I know I get upset when people do slight actions that I perceive as rejection. Usually, I spiral downwards and think of committing suicide. But I know it’s just distorted thinking that I have and that I’m just blowing it out of proportion. Need to make more of an effort to remember that in the moment when I’m upset.

**

Tiara’s journal is full of ghostly footprints. She spends a lot of time at Lestat’s in Normal Heights writing and people watching. She goes to see a local punk band, The Frights, at SOMA, one of the only under-21 venues in San Diego. (The lead singer gets drunk and can barely finish the show.) She goes to a house party in North County. (People dance on the roof. “I wish I were as free as [them,]” she writes.) She hangs out by the pool. She goes to Joshua Tree. “I have a feeling no amount of time out here could satisfy me,” she writes. 

She experiments with tarot cards and crystals, but she’s not so sure. “I’m not 100 percent sold on the magical concepts in this book, but I have my own ideas,” she writes. “Ritual and prayer solidify your intent to achieve something.” 

She feels as if she doesn’t see herself clearly. But some days her vision of herself comes into focus.  

“Why am I basing my actions on other people’s opinions?” she asks. “When we make decisions based on insecurity, we lose our individuality and instead become a representation of other people’s expectations.” 

Other days she judges herself without compassion. She writes of her childhood: 

“I wasn’t abused. It was my fault for being disrespectful and rude. Nothing made me happy. I was ungrateful, awful to be around … And I’m still just that stupid, ungrateful, annoying, horrid girl. I haven’t gotten any better. I don’t know how people stand to be around me.”

This story draws on thousands of pages of documents — from medical records and a death investigation to interviews of Tiara’s shipmates and a lawsuit. It draws on multiple hours-long conversations with the people who knew her best. And it draws on the words she left behind.

Her journal tells the story of a person coming of age, trying to know her place in the world.

Her Navy records tell a different story. Navy doctors note that she has severe anxiety and diagnose her with major depressive disorder. They acknowledge that her high-pressure job exacerbates her conditions. They hospitalize her twice and put her in a 35-day inpatient treatment program. More than 25 different Navy mental health providers treat her. They give her conflicting evaluations and recommendations. Some mark her fit for duty. Others do not.

Eventually, they send her back into the demanding environment that set her off. Together, the thousands of pages of documents and hours of interviews say one thing clearly: The treatment Tiara received in the Navy played a role in her death.

**

Tiara moved around a few times as a kid, but she considered Cumberland, Maryland, home. Cumberland is in that part of Maryland everyone forgets, above West Virginia, in the Appalachian Mountains. Walmart, McDonald’s and a federal prison are a few of the largest employers. 

Tiara thought it was beautiful. She loved walking in the woods and the blue-ish mountains at dusk. She loved the fast-moving rivers and the smooth stones. She wanted a farm one day with lots of animals and a cozy house, where she could make things.

Tiara’s parents separated when she was 10 years old and Tiara, most often, lived with her mom. She had six younger siblings and half siblings in total; four of them lived at her mom’s house. Tiara took care of them, especially her younger brother Nick Buentello. Her mom worked multiple jobs and frequently came home tired and depressed. The divorce had been hard. When Nick was still a baby, Tiara would take care of him sometimes, while her mom rested.

“She remembered me being depressed and distant and always working,” Tiara’s mom Tina Goss told me. “It was a hard time for her.”

Tiara and her mother loved each other very much, but they also had friction. Tiara’s mom had traditional, Christian values. Tiara had accepted Christianity as a child, but as she grew older, she became a vegetarian and then vegan and she questioned Christianity. Even though they didn’t see eye to eye, Tiara and her mom still found ways to maintain a loving relationship. “The vegan thing was rough, but I supported it. It was nice to learn healthy alternatives to the dishes we normally ate,” Goss said. She remembered that Tiara’s version of veganism still allowed for treats. “She would always say that Oreos and Twizzlers are vegan.”

Left to right: Tiara Gray holding a bunny. A family photo of Tiara and Tina Goss. Tiara and her brother Nick at a restaurant. Photos courtesy of Tina Goss.

At Fort Hill High School in Cumberland, Tiara didn’t try to fit in. She wore big glasses and Chuck Taylors and took art classes. “She was very, very intelligent. But she was very humble about her intelligence,” Sandy Arnold, her art teacher, told me. Arnold and Tiara were close. They’d drink tea together and Tiara would make Arnold presents, like knitted scarves. Tiara had been planning to attend a local college called Frostberg State University and, to Arnold, that seemed like a good plan for her.

But then, like a lot of students, Tiara took the ASVAB, a military aptitude test. “She got one of the highest scores we’ve ever had at Fort Hill,” Arnold said. “Almost immediately, I was getting phone calls for her to go to the guidance counselor’s office, because there were recruiters coming down and offering her different packages to join.”  

Joining the Navy didn’t really align with her nature, but it did answer several questions at once. She had no idea, for one, how she would pay for college. If she joined the Navy, she’d be able to attend any university she wanted and the Navy would pay. Also, her father and stepfather had both been in the military. It felt like a responsible decision — one her siblings could look up to. She’d also be able to travel.

For all that she loved Cumberland, getting out for a while sounded nice.

“Everyone complained that home sucked and was full of degenerates, so I felt like I had to leave or risk becoming trapped and becoming like them,” she wrote in her journal.

To get into the Navy, though, Tiara hid some things from the recruiters. She had bouts of serious anxiety and depression. Sometimes, when she felt bad, she would cut or burn herself. A psychiatrist had prescribed her Prozac and considered diagnosing her with borderline personality disorder, but felt like he didn’t have enough information to commit to the diagnosis.

She graduated from Fort Hill in 2014 and signed a contract with a Navy recruiter that would send her to Nuclear Power School — a rigorous, demanding program — in Goose Creek, South Carolina.

**

“I’m not good at anything.“

Editor’s note: These journal entries have been lightly edited for length and clarity.

Feb. 25, 2018

Exercise: On one page write lies/negative things you tell yourself. On another page turns those lies into truths/positive things.

Lies

1) I’m unattractive 

2) I’m unlovable

3) I shouldn’t create any art, because I’m not good at it

4) My interests are stupid

5) I’m stupid

6) I’m not good at anything

7) I’m not good at socializing and making friends

Truths

1) There is no one standard of beauty and plenty of people have told me I’m beautiful

2) My family and Dylan love me for sure, so I am lovable!

3) Creating is how you improve!

 4) My interests are what makes me unique and they bring me joy

5) I have better test scores than most and I can’t be knowledgeable in every field!

6) I’m good at plenty of things

7) I’m just awkward, but I’m good at creating deep connections

**

Tiara was 18 in March 2015, when she shipped off to boot camp in Great Lakes, Illinois. She was thin and had never had much interest in athletics or sports. “My arms are like noodles,” she told Arnold and then flopped them around awkwardly. To get in shape, she began walking around the local track with her mom. She started going to the gym and ordered weights for the house. 

Tiara wanted to excel at Great Lakes and she did. Her commanders made her head laundry petty officer. A few weeks in, though, on April 17, she experienced her first hurdle. The day was uncharacteristically warm, and the sun was shining. During warmup exercises, Tiara started to feel strange. She started thinking about how her ankles had been sore. She thought maybe she’d been lacing her boots too tightly. Maybe she had pulled a muscle? Maybe working out now would hurt it more? Tiara’s chest started to feel tight. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She tried taking deep breaths, but couldn’t. She went to medical.

“She is unable to describe how it felt, she says it just felt like she could not breathe,” a medical provider noted.

They asked her if she had any history of anxiety or mental health issues. She told them no. Anxiety in bootcamp is common enough, but her providers scheduled Tiara to see a Navy therapist the following Monday.

“[Recruit] presented to clinic today in good spirits and motivated to continue training,” the therapist noted. “[Recruit] stated that her difficulty with breathing was troubling in the moment, but in retrospect she felt better about it.”

Tiara, again, didn’t disclose the true gravity of her previous visits with a therapist. She said she’d been to therapy a few times after her parents’ divorce and that she mostly played with toys during the visits.

“This brief therapy for an event such as a divorce is not clinically concerning,” the therapist noted.

**

“I’m trying to accept all of these things about myself… “

Feb. 23, 2018

I’m sitting at LeStat’s [on Adams Avenue] and some man from Croatia named Dragon started talking to me. He’s an older, graying man, wearing a leather jacket. He says he’s a writer and asked me all sorts of questions. Who I am, name, where I’m from, things I’m struggling with. He said I seem like an old soul and have a different pulsing energy.

Said the structure of the military might help but that I’m too wild for that. I have to say, I haven’t had such a deep conversation before with a stranger. But I don’t mind putting myself out there. I guess it could come off as looking for attention or sympathy, but it’s more just I don’t mind. I’m trying to accept all of these things about myself… and I feel like one way of accepting it is to let others [in] and openly express it.

**

After boot camp, enlistees go to A School, where they’re trained in different fields. In May 2015, Tiara headed to Goose Creek, South Carolina, for Nuclear Power School. It’s an intense environment.

“The naval nuclear program is widely acknowledged as having the most demanding academic program in the U.S. military,” a Navy website reads. “Students typically spend 40 [to] 45 hours per week in the classroom with an additional 10 to 35 hours per week of study outside of lecture hours.”

Tiara was ranked 4 of 29 in her class. She scored 3.0 or higher in every category. She filled entire notebooks with complicated diagrams and protocols. But even as she excelled, her anxiety was building.

“Mom, I can’t do this,” she said to her mom in a phone call.

“You don’t have to do it, if it’s stressing you out that bad,” her mom told her.

Tiara tried to push through her feelings. She wanted badly to be a role model for her siblings — to show them what was possible. But in early January, several months after entering the nuclear power program, she was near a breaking point. She took herself to the psychological clinic, where staff administered a questionnaire about depression and anxiety.  

Little interest or pleasure in doing things? “Nearly every day.”

Feeling bad about yourself or that you are a failure or have let yourself or your family down? “Nearly every day.”

Feeling nervous, anxious, or on edge? “Nearly every day.”

Tiara marked “nearly every day” for almost every question on both questionnaires. The psychologist who saw her was worried.

“She feels incapable of coping with her current stress level and at times she contemplates self-destruction or self-harm,” he wrote.

On the spot, he disqualified her from further participation in the nuclear program.

“She expressed a motivation to continue service in the conventional Navy and she agreed to return for monitoring of her psychological status and treatment if appropriate,” he wrote. “There is a possibility of a spontaneous improvement in her psychological state once removed from the stressful environment.”

Tiara did improve. She moved from nuclear program housing to a transfer station for other sailors awaiting assignment. That’s where she met Dylan Seeman, another sailor stuck in limbo. “It’s like the land of misfit toys,” Seeman said of the transfer station. Some people at the transfer station have medical problems. Others are awaiting court martial hearings or to be discharged. Others, like Tiara, are switching fields. Anywhere from 100 to 200 sailors – all unsure of where they might be headed — tend to be there at any given time.

Sailors at the transfer station do all manner of odd jobs. Tiara and Seeman worked together at a little shack on the Cooper River about 20 miles away from Charleston. Their job mostly consisted of washing down patrol boats. They’d clean a few boats in the morning and spend a lot of time doing nothing. They’d sit on the dock, listen to the water tapping on the hulls and smoke American Spirit blacks. Alligators and manatees occasionally swam by.

Tiara and Seeman bonded over being outsiders. Seeman was born with blinding white hair that had never faded. People had always made fun of him for it, but Tiara didn’t. She appreciated that he was different. He would talk about stoicism and she would talk about art. He pried oysters from the pilings and shucked them on the dock. He convinced Tiara to eat one.

“That was gross,” she said. “I never wanna do it again!”

He asked her if she wanted to go fly a kite with him one day. That was weird, since Seeman, if anything, could be a little grumpy and nihilistic. They swapped stories about their childhoods. Tiara told Seeman about Cumberland and how, even though she loved it, it was not a place of many opportunities.

“We liked artsy fartsy things,” Seeman said. “She was very sweet. She was this kind and understanding person.”

They went on another kite-flying date, this time on a pier in Charleston. Seeman knew how to make it swerve and dive in the air and a little boy started watching them closely.

“I was like, ‘Hey little dude, you wanna fly it?” Seeman said.

The boy took the kite string. Seeman stayed close so it wouldn’t blow away. He guided the boy’s hands, making the wings dip to the left and right. Eventually the boy lost interest. Seeman looked over at Tiara. The great mouth of the river spread out before them. Something about the moment drew them intensely to each other. Seeman kissed Tiara for the first time.  

Love at the transfer station has its limits; everyone eventually moves. Tiara and Seeman both understood their romance was temporary.

Tiara went back to the psychological clinic for two more visits, in late January and early February 2016. Her depression was improving, according to the answers she gave on the screening questionnaires.

“The service member’s adjustment disorder has resolved and she is ready and fit to proceed into the conventional Navy,” a psychologist wrote. “[Service member] is fit for duty.”

**

“What do I give a fuck about?“

Jan. 8, 2017

What do I give a fuck about? This is a tough one. I give a fuck about quite a few things. 

Give a fuck:

• animals
• plants
• family
• sewing, knitting, writing, reading, learning
• self-care
• hard work
• vegetarianism
• health, exercise, meditation

Don’t give a fuck:

• consumerism
• crowds of people
• social media

**

Tiara’s superiors decided she should become a machinist’s mate, which involves maintaining the various systems on Navy ships. During the spring of 2016, she was assigned to the USS Essex, an amphibious assault ship with a crew of roughly 1,000. Aside from Navy personnel, the Essex can carry more than 1,800 Marines. It’s a floating, steel castle that can shuttle equipment onto a beach. The Essex is designed for helicopters, but it can also launch airplanes. The bowels of the ship carry ungodly fire power: Abrams tanks, attack helicopters, F-35B jets, combat hovercrafts and amphibious assault vehicles. An internal monorail system and massive cargo elevators move all the freight.

Its nickname is the USS Depressex.

Many sailors live a hard-partying and reckless life. “Everyone was an alcoholic — not even in a joking sense of a drunk sailor. It was just pervasive everywhere,” Seeman said. “Enlisted people have no regard for life. That’s the culture. There’s this ruthlessness and meanness … To be violent, to be the strong man, to be tough, to be ignorant, that’s the only way to survive.”

Tiara learned to function in a culture that didn’t value her sensitivity. She started drinking as heavily as the people around her, which had the temporary benefits of silencing her depression and anxiety and helping her fit in. She performed well in her new role, as a machinist’s mate second class, or MM2. The ship’s command eventually put her in charge of the aft shop. The aft shop maintained hydraulic systems in the rear part of the Essex. “[Tiara] held basically the entire shop on her back,” one sailor wrote in a later report.

Seeman eventually transferred to San Diego, too. The Navy is a small world and Tiara heard he was coming. She sent him a message and they started chatting again. Tiara was dating someone else in the Navy, at the time. A few days after Seeman arrived, they met at Lestat’s, a coffee shop on Adams Avenue. Tiara told him about driving her old Ford Taurus across the country with her dad — how he’d sung in the car all the way. She laughed at how annoying it had been. Outside on the side street, Tiara sat on a green power box smoking a cigarette. She looked just as vibrant to him as she had that day on the pier.

The situation pained both of them, but they kept hanging out anyway. They’d meet at Lestat’s or Sunset Cliffs. One day in spring of 2017, they stayed at the cliffs past dark and ended up sitting on the beach, listening to the waves, feeling the strange, interminable pull of the sea. Tiara told him she’d broken it off with her boyfriend. Seeman, in a burst of silliness, grabbed a handful of sand and poured it down the back of her shirt. She screamed and jumped on top of him and they wrestled on the beach underneath the stars.

**

“Don’t think of anything as yours, think of it as you borrowed it from the universe.“

Feb. 18, 2018

Today I went to Joshua Tree with Dylan It’s a gorgeous place. It has mountains that look like jagged piles of boulders, longhorn sheep, cactus and singing birds flitting around. It makes me wish we had better prepared for an adventure, but I have a feeling no amount of time out here could satisfy me. I’d like to learn more about environmental science and ecological studies. It’s a lot colder than I thought it would be; the wind is blowing strong. I can’t wait to go exploring more. I want to go to Yosemite and Redwoods and Mt. Laguna and Grand Canyon.

Don’t think of anything as yours, think of it as you borrowed it from the universe. When you lose it, that’s you returning it.

**

When Tiara first came aboard the Essex, the ship was undergoing maintenance. For her, the maintenance period brought a lighter workload. She got to treat her work more like a typical job; she’d show up in the morning and leave in the afternoon. She stayed on the ship all night to stand watch sometimes, but she didn’t have to endure the regular training missions that keep sailors away for weeks at a time.

After maintenance periods, ships go into what’s called a workup phase. They start going underway for days or weeks at a time to test all the ship’s systems before an actual deployment. Depending on a sailor’s job, they may work very long days — at times, 12 hours or more. On top of that, they must stand watch for several hours during the night. Tiara had been able to maintain her health while the ship was docked. But now, the pressure started cooking inside her.

During the summer of 2017, she went underway twice. Her anxiety had no reprieve during these periods. She was stuck on the ship, working at an extremely demanding pace, constantly interacting “with people who don’t say the nicest things,” as she put it to someone else. Difficult interactions would cause her to burst into tears, as she wrote in her journal and other sailors also noted in a later report. She missed being able to come home to Seeman at the end of the day. She missed the reassurance and love he could provide.

There was only one way off the ship and she thought about it often.

**

Gradually, Tiara started opening up to Seeman about the depths of her sadness, how the underways made her feel trapped and her thoughts of suicide. He pushed her to talk to someone in her command. First, she went to the ship’s medical department. On a ship like the Essex, the medical department would consist of at least one doctor, several nurses and other medical staff. She later told multiple people that whoever she saw in the ship’s medical department wasn’t helpful. The document trail doesn’t specify what she told them about her mental state.

Next, she went to one of her direct supervisors, who told her to go to the Fleet and Family Support Center — a place where sailors and their family members can get help with everything from financial planning to more serious problems like sexual assault or suicidal ideation. There, she told a counselor she wanted to “drive to the Coronado Bridge, activate the hazard lights, and jump.” They took her to the emergency room of Naval Medical Center San Diego, a Navy hospital in Balboa Park.

Hospital staff admitted her to a locked psychiatric ward referred to simply as 1 North. Tiara was friendly and relaxed with the staff, according to her medical notes. “Patient states that recently her work and life have gotten overwhelming with underways,” one note reads. Tiara opened up for the first time with her doctors about her history. She told them how in high school she would sometimes cut or burn herself as a distraction from her chaotic family life. She admitted that she hadn’t only been to counseling during her parent’s divorce, but also during high school for depression.

The psychiatrist at the time considered diagnosing her with borderline personality disorder, but held off. (Medical professionals generally agree that to diagnose someone with BPD, the person should be observed over a period of time.) She admitted to episodes that seemed like panic attacks, where she experienced shortness of breath. She also told them that during high school she’d cut and burned herself, sometimes. These things could have potentially disqualified her from service – but because she didn’t reveal them, they weren’t a problem. It’s an open secret that military recruiters frequently help enlistees gloss over certain facts. One Army recruiter acknowledged as much to the Miliary Times in 2023: “What it takes to get in the Army is, quite frankly, a lot of fraud and perjury.”

Tiara also revealed that during Nuclear Power School she had attempted to take her own life, but stopped short when an old friend called her. (At different times, Tiara told different stories about whether what happened was a real suicide attempt. She may not have known herself. Speaking to a different therapist at a later time, she said it wasn’t a suicide attempt at all.) She also told the doctors at 1 North how people talking down to her sometimes triggered breakdowns that led her to cry for hours on end. They asked her how long she had felt down.

“As long as I can remember,” she told them.

Her doctors started her off on 20 mg of Prozac a day. They kept her in a Naval psychiatric care unit from July 12 through July 21, 2017. Time moved slowly. Tiara played board games with other patients and watched movies. She colored and read in her room. She attended group therapy and AA meetings. Every day, the nurses asked her questions about her mood. Her answers ranged from “not great” to “fantastic.” Mainly, she laughed with them about how boring it was on the ward.

“The AA meeting was alright [today,]” she told one nurse. “The usual stories … They gave us donuts so that was a plus for the meeting.”

Within the culture of the Navy, Tiara wasn’t sure she qualified as an alcoholic. But her drinking was heavy. During the last several months, she told her doctors she had an average of 10 drinks, three to four nights a week. They decided she met the threshold for alcohol-use disorder. They also diagnosed her with major depressive disorder and considered diagnosing her with a personality disorder.

“Given mood [fluctuation] in response to perceived interpersonal rejection, along with self-harm and attention-seeking behaviors, borderline personality [disorder] is a rule out,” one note reads.

Her psychiatric team told her they wanted her to attend a 35-day inpatient treatment program, which Navy officials named — quite literally — Substance Abuse Rehabilitation Program. The program — known as SARP — is primarily geared toward helping patients stop drinking or using drugs, but it also involves intensive therapy that her doctors believed would help Tiara’s depression. She was anxious about going to a 35-day, inpatient program.

“I’m nervous about going back and facing my chief, because I told him I was going to [counseling] then I haven’t been back in a week. And now I’m going to be gone a month, so yeah…” she told a nurse. “I called my mom yesterday … I told her what’s going on, even though I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want her to think I was ignoring her.”

When the doctors discharged her, they left clear instructions.

“This service member is not fit for duty,” her discharge papers read. “This service member is recommended for the following temporary limitations: The patient should not carry a weapon or be involved in any operational exercises, including field duty, ship-board exercises at sea or deployment, pending further evaluation by an outpatient mental health.”

Tiara transferred directly from Naval Medical Center to SARP’s inpatient program. Her stay there marked the beginning of a series of conflicting evaluations by Navy medical providers over the coming months that would ultimately lead her back onto the ship and the environment that helped trigger her mental health crisis.

**

“Don’t trust myself to make it on my own in the civilian world. “

March 3, 2018

Things I want to do but don’t act on:

• Get out of the Navy
• Start an online store
• Create more art

Why I don’t act on them:

• Navy offers stability. Don’t trust myself to make it on my own in the civilian world. Unsure of what I would do.
• Fear wasting my time, that I’m not putting out anything original, that nobody will like the things I make.
• I’m embarrassed that somebody will see it and think it’s bad. Feel like I’m not worthy of creating anything.

Steps to take action:

• Set up Etsy store, even if it doesn’t have the perfect name.
• Call my psychiatrist to see if I can talk to him about getting discharged.

What else would I do? Travel, camp, backpack. Go abroad. Work a menial job at a coffee shop or animal shelter. Go on adventures. Not get so caught up in my thoughts. Be kind. Donate. Read more. Ride a bike. Dye my hair. Get more piercings and tattoos.

**

When Tiara entered SARP, she was 20 years old and about nine months away from hitting her three-year mark in the Navy. She saw two potential paths ahead and they both scared her: “[I’m] scared of staying active duty [and] scared of AdSep” — a Navy term for administrative separation — she told a counselor.

Despite her initial reluctance, Tiara embraced SARP. She took part in workshops like “Overcoming Depression” and “Managing Behaviors that Get in My Way.” She also went to 12-step meetings and decided her drinking had been problematic, after all.

One of the most important roles for Navy therapists at a program like SARP is to do an ongoing assessment of a person like Tiara’s suicide risk level. And yet, different clinicians at SARP seemed to be working from different information. One marked “yes” next to a question about previous suicide attempts. Another marked “no.” Part of this confusion came from Tiara herself. She told some counselors that she had tried to take her own life, while she was in the nuclear power program. But at least once, after SARP, she told another counselor that what happened wasn’t a real suicide attempt. Even though Tiara wavered on this point, her official medical record did not. Her psychiatrists at 1 North listed her as having a prior suicide attempt. It’s unclear why some therapists at SARP, just days later, were using different information. This discrepancy was not a small one. Psychologists consider prior suicide attempts as a risk factor in future suicide attempts. Understanding Tiara’s risk level was critical to understanding whether she should continue her role on the Essex.

The confusion at SARP also extended to the question of whether or not Tiara had borderline personality disorder. One provider — who she only saw three times at SARP, according to her medical records — gave her an official diagnosis of BPD. Others seemed to continue to think she needed more monitoring before a diagnosis.

With less than a week left in the program, all the progress Tiara had been making seemed to vanish. She woke up one morning feeling good. Then at lunchtime, two other sailors in the program said something to her that made her upset. The medical notes don’t say what it was. She took a nap after lunch and woke up in full despair. She took apart a pencil sharpener, removed the blade and later that evening used it to make superficial cuts on her arm. She then showed her cuts to the SARP counselors. They took her back to the emergency room at Naval Medical Center and she ended up back at 1 North. 

When asked whether she wanted to kill herself, Tiara was cagey and tried to joke around with the nurses. “She knows that if she states she want[s] to kill herself she would be admitted, so she says she will not say that,” one note reads. She did tell them: “I kept wanting to go deeper.”

At the time Tiara went back to 1 North, she was still listed as “not fit for duty.” But by the end of her second stay — it was just two days this time — her doctors decided, for reasons they didn’t explain, to upgrade her duty status. (Her care team changed only slightly during the second stay. The same attending doctor — a fully licensed physician — oversaw Tiara’s care during both hospitalizations. However, during her second stay she had a different resident doctor — a physician in training, who is not yet fully licensed.) This time they marked her fit for “light duty,” but still noted that she should not carry a firearm or go underway.

Back at SARP, the flow of information between her treatment team, again, seemed severed. The day before she left the program, she met with a psychiatrist to debrief. He seemed unaware of Tiara’s hospitalization. “She reports she went to the hospital for a day because of thoughts of [suicidal ideation,]” he noted. Tiara told him: “I feel like they were overreacting, but it was the weekend and there wasn’t many people here.” He upped her dose of Prozac to 40 mg a day.

The psychiatrist marked her as a “low” imminent risk for suicide and a “moderate/high” long-term risk. Her fitness for duty should be determined by her command, the counselor wrote.

In her final debrief with a different counselor, the hospitalization a few days earlier isn’t even mentioned. In a suicide risk assessment, the therapist marked her as having no depression — despite her diagnosis of major depressive disorder — and no prior suicide attempts.

He also wrote: “MM2 Tiara Gray, if retained in the Navy, should participate in a command-monitored substance abuse program for at least one year.” Tiara should provide proof of attending multiple 12-step meetings per week, he wrote.

According to her medical records, Tiara saw more than 25 different licensed therapists from the time of her first stay at 1 North onwards. Some she saw a handful of times; others just once.

The day after she left SARP, Tiara met with yet a different psychiatrist – this time a woman, who she would see only once. “The patient resorts to suicidal ideation when experiencing negative moods,” she wrote. “The patient is easily overwhelmed when triggered by her environment.” Only two days after Tiara had been rated as a “moderate/high” long-term risk for suicide, and only nine days after she’d been released from the hospital for cutting, the therapist rated her “as being a low imminent risk and low chronic risk for suicide.” She added: “The patient is fit for full duty.”

The notes do not explicitly address Tiara’s previous restricted-duty status.

**

“I’m pretty excited.“

Sept. 20, 2017

Didn’t write three pages yesterday. I ended up changing my mind while writing and going to meet Dylan at the pool. However, I ended up getting upset because I felt like he was brushing me off. But I shouldn’t take things so personally and I need to learn how to express my emotions in a healthier manner. I need to get away from the “you hate me” and “why do you hate me?” I know he doesn’t hate me … Also I use that so generally to explain why I’m upset, instead of discussing the specifics of what actually set me off. So that’s something to work on … I don’t have control over my external triggers, but I do have control over how I react to situations and handle my emotions.

Also I feel bad because nobody’s keeping track of my AA meetings and I haven’t spoken up. But I dislike how much time it takes up. I’d rather spend my free time doing things for me and things I know I need to do to get better. Like right now, I’m sitting at a park, breathing fresh air and writing. It’s such nice feeling. And I want to go to the store and buy supplies to make bread and soup — dabble in some cooking magic. Tomorrow I want to bake some cookies for the kids on Friday. I’m pretty excited.

**

Clinical psychologists who have reviewed Tiara’s case believe she should never have been allowed to stay in the Navy — or, at the least, transferred to a low-stress, stateside job.

Elliott Rosenbaum, a former Navy psychologist, reviewed Tiara’s files, as part of a lawsuit Tiara’s mother later filed against the Navy.

“The diagnosis of [borderline personality disorder] makes an individual high risk by its very nature and this seems to have been missed on numerous occasions by her providers who deemed her low risk at times and high risk at others but still cleared her for duty,” he wrote. “These actions endangered Ms. Gray and her fellow seamen.”  

M. David Rudd, a former Army psychologist and former president of the University of Memphis, agreed.

“Borderline is one of the most disruptive disorders in terms of social and occupational function and also has the highest correlation in rates of occurrence in suicidal behavior and death by suicide,” Rudd said. “All of those things indicate very clearly she is not appropriate for military service. Someone with borderline personality disorder is not going to be able to function well in what is an ever-changing, remarkably difficult job.”

Rudd said it is not uncommon for service members like Tiara to be kept in, even when all the indicators are pointing in a different direction. Two large structural factors contribute to that. First, in the military, psychologists have competing mandates, unlike any other professional mental health treatment setting. They must weigh the needs of a patient with the needs of a patient’s unit. Commanding officers, the patients’ bosses, are allowed to view many parts of patients’ files and weigh in on what they think is best from an operational perspective. In no other field, do employers get to view a patient’s records and give an opinion.

“You can have a commander that says, ‘We really wanna keep this person.’ It’s different when someone says that to you [as a psychologist] in the military than when family members say that in other health care settings. Because the family member isn’t an authority figure,” Rudd said. “You can hear those directions like they’re an order, even if they’re not.”

Also, military leaders are in desperate need of labor. Military recruitment has fallen precipitously in recent decades. All the branches of service are falling short of their targets. For fiscal year 2023, the Navy fell well short of its recruitment goal. That means when people sign up, there’s a huge incentive to make sure they get in. And once they’re in, officers want to make sure they stay.

The incentive to put people in situations they can’t handle is even greater when a service member is, as Rudd said, among the “best and brightest.” Tiara was good at her job. And she was a work center supervisor, who scored higher on the ASVAB than the vast majority of enlistees.

“When you have someone good and capable and smart, they’ll make the extra effort to keep that person even when all the indicators say that person won’t be able to function,” Rudd said.

These pressures are a major factor in the military’s growing suicide rate, Rudd said.

For most of modern history, active-duty service members had a suicide rate that was lower than the general population. That’s because, military leaders said, people in the service tended to be more fit mentally and physically than the general population. They had to undergo screening to even sign up. But over the last decade, as recruitment has plummeted, the numbers have reversed. Women between 17 and 30 are the most at-risk population in the military. They are now more than twice as likely to die by suicide as their civilian peers, as Voice of San Diego previously reported.

**

“Duty today, which is unfortunate, but not too bad.“

Sept. 23, 2017

Duty today, which is unfortunate, but not too bad.

Did an exercise from a witchcraft book today. Moving hands together to feel energy. It felt like magnets being pulled together, but there was some resistance (like opposing magnets) every so often. I suppose it was due to the “layers” of energy they are talking about. Also, felt a lot of heat, energy when hands finally came together…

I’m not 100 percent sold on the magical concepts in this book but I have my own ideas. Ritual and prayer solidify your intent to achieve something, making you more likely to achieve it…

**

After more than five weeks of inpatient treatment, Tiara stepped back onto the Essex. The ship was now in the middle of its work-up phase. The work up is what happens before a deployment — and as its name indicates, it gets more intense over time. First, the ship might go out for a day or two. Then the drills get more intense and the periods at sea get longer. It starts officers pushing sailors to get required shipboard certifications. It leads up to drills on amphibious assaults, helicopter raids and humanitarian assistance. By the time a deployment happens, the sailors onboard should be ready to do anything a ship like the Essex might be called on to do. The hours can get crushingly long. Sailors might work a 12-hour day and then stand watch for six hours at night. That was Tiara’s schedule.

But just as the Essex’s work-up got more intense, Tiara was supposed to be attending at least five AA meetings a week. Her command was supposed to verify she’d attended. She was supposed to be going to individual therapy and seeing a psychiatrist about her medication. Her clinicians also wanted her to attend an intensive outpatient program in late September, about a month after she’d left SARP. Almost immediately, the demands of the ship started to take precedence.

**

Therapist’s notes from Sept. 22, 2017.

The patient was seen from 0930-1030. Previous week was reviewed. The patient came into the session stating that her command is not supporting her in going to [intensive outpatient] and that she would be going underway next week. This was discussed and Dr. [name redacted] (patient’s psychiatrist) was contacted to discuss possible need for [limited duty] if her command is not supportive of the patient’s mental health treatment. Discussions between Dr. [name redacted,] myself, and the patient illuminated the patient’s ambivalence in her own desire for treatment as she is conflicted about being away from work. On one hand, she does want to follow medical recommendations and engage in treatment fully. On the other hand, she enjoys her work and does not want to miss any opportunity to excel.

She also made several conflicting statements including her desire for treatment and wanting help on one hand, and then not wanting any treatment as she can do it herself on the other hand. This dialectic was pointed out, which served to frustrate the patient. This provider also made a poorly-phrased statement about her possible difficulty working with her command to obtain orders for [intensive outpatient] when she is conflicted on whether or not she wants to go. Given the poor choice of words, the patient was understandably frustrated with this provider and alliance was at least partially ruptured. Attempts to repair through education on the difficulties with dialetics was discussed, and this may need to be a focus of the next session to assess therapeutic alliance or rupture.

Despite the patient’s frustrations during the session, she did schedule follow up for when she returns from her underway mid-October. Of note, today’s session did demonstrate some of the “push/pull” often characteristic of interactions in relationships for individuals with borderline personality disorder… Given the patient’s ambivalence for treatment at this time, military disposition will continue to be assessed but no actions (such as [limited duty]) were necessary today.

**

“I really put myself in a predicament.“

Oct. 4, 2017 (During the time she had been scheduled to attend intensive outpatient treatment)

It’s been a few days. I haven’t set aside time to write. We were underway and now we’re in San Francisco. I always say I’m going to write when I’m off duty but I just end up sleeping the day away because I’m tired/drunk.

I got a tattoo yesterday. Actually two tattoos. Pretty impulsive. I just walked into the first tattoo shop I saw and got one. I’m pretty happy with it though. But when I do things like that it’s so weird. Like looking back it doesn’t really seem real and I don’t really remember doing it. That might be something to bring up.

What else? Went to a cocktail bar yesterday. They had a pay it forward bottle for military. A 56-year-old IT guy, who worked for a bank bought us a round of drinks as well. Took a tour of AT&T Field…

G—- made me feel bad because I’ve been drinking since we’ve been here. I know I’m not supposed to, but I’m just trying to have fun with my coworkers, not drown my sorrows. It’s hard to resist when that’s what everyone wants to do in the evening.

And now I’m stuck between wanting to tell my counselor and being honest, or holding it in so I don’t run the risk of getting kicked out. But if I get caught without telling them I’ll be in deep shit. I really put myself in a predicament.

**

After her two hospitalizations, Tiara went on at least eight different underways, between October 2017 and April 2018. Each one lasted anywhere from a few days to more than a week.

Tiara and Seeman had a routine for her underways. The night before departure, they would hang out for a few hours and then Seeman would drive her to the Essex. One night in late March, they followed the same pattern. That night they decided to go to Sunset Cliffs, before he took her to the base. They found a flat spot on the sandstone cliffs, laid out blankets and snuggled up together under the stars. Seeman told her a story about one of the constellations and when he looked down he could see tears in her eyes. She told him they weren’t sad tears and that everything was fine.

**

“It’s just hard for me to stay engaged while we’re underway.“

March 9, 2018

New rule: no naps. In addition to no sugar during or after dinner, there will be no naps. Same rules underway as in port.

It’s just hard for me to stay engaged while we’re underway. I don’t know if it’s because I feel trapped or the monotony of it.

I have not been kind to my supervisor lately. Maybe he can’t help his town of voice, it’s just natural. His responses are conditioned and not malicious towards me. Be kind and stay calm.

**

“With all my heart, Your foolish boyfriend.“

March 27, 2018

Dear Tiara,

I have been putting off writing to you for a couple of days, not because I don’t know what to say, but I have so much to tell you; I then get lost on where to start, get anxious and put it off till after watch. What I really mean to say is I’ve missed you so very much, the days have been quiet and plain without you — just sleeping and watch. The nights are beautiful out here and so is the air, it feels all the more clean and crisp than in the city. [What] has kept me a little less lonesome these past days is knowing you’re looking at the same moon as me with those gorgeous eyes of yours — deep, rich brown with the most soothing of green in the center — and a breath of fresh air fills your lungs the same as mine when I stand on the weather decks. But I guess enough with the soppy stuff. On something of a funnier note, it turns out I get incredibly sea sick.

How does your ship do in this sea, it must feel like you’re not even out at sea some days? How has everything else been in your adventures? How have you been? I can’t wait to hear back from you with all the marvelous misadventures the Essex brings to you!!

With all my heart, Your foolish boyfriend.

**

“With love, your crazy girlfriend.”

March 28, 2018

Dylan,

You picked a good time, because I was just complaining to everyone in my shop about how I hadn’t heard from anyone (anyone being you and my mom) yet and how it was making me nervous earlier this evening. But I’m glad you’re enjoying some parts of being out. My favorite thing to see is definitely the ocean in the early morning during sunrise or the evening sunset when the water reflects all the pink and orange hues of the sky and it all looks very surreal. I’m sorry that you’ve been feeling sea sick, I’ve heard that it gets better within the first few days though. Have you tried the medicine they have at medical for that, or are you trying to avoid taking it? And yes, for the most part it’s not too bad, just a gentle rocking. Since my shop’s all the way aft it’s a bit more stable back here so it’s definitely not anything crazy. However, this morning I was all the way up forward for [a certification test] and I was almost positive I was going to puke from how we were moving!

Luckily I left there before it actually happened haha. Everything’s been going all right for the most part, except I gave myself the 0000-0600 watch and it’s been rough. I took a nap today during work and got called out by my MM1. Which is reasonable. I don’t know why, I just felt so over everything and tired and I just didn’t care at that point. But I’m feeling pretty good now!! I’ve managed to finish A Dog’s Purpose and The Shining since we’ve been out, and those were both pretty good books. We’ve had a few hiccups this underway here and there, but nothing too bad and nothing directly affecting me. But more importantly, how are you?!? How is your first underway that is longer than a day? How are your watches going? Are you doing well besides being sea sick? Sorry to pester you with questions, but I’m curious and I miss talking to you a lot. 🙂

With love, your crazy girlfriend

**

On March 29, 2018, Tiara was underway again. She started experiencing tightness in her chest that was reminiscent of a panic attack. She went to the ship’s medical department.

The notes from her visit read as follows:

21 y/o female with one day of left upper rib/chest pain, described as sharp and stabbing, lasts 30 seconds to two minutes. No alleviating factors. She describes central chest discomfort/tightness during some of the left upper rib/chest pain that does not prevent ease of breath. Pain does not radiate. She denies nausea, pallor, sweating during episodes. She endorses a sedentary personal and professional life and cannot remark on exertional exacerbation.

Endorses an increase in personal/professional stress during this underway out-to-sea period.

At the visit, the staff noted Tiara had a diagnosis of borderline personality disorder with anxiety and depression, but no one saw cause for urgent concern. They ordered labs for her and planned to follow up in two days.

**

All of Tiara’s colleagues on the Essex knew she’d been dealing with depression and getting treatment. At times, if things got really overwhelming, she’d tap out of the workflow to write in her journal. Everyone called it “Gray’s time.”

In February 2018, Tiara got a new supervisor, who oversaw her work in the aft shop. The person was an MM1 — or machinist’s mate first class, a rank above Tiara. Tiara had just come back from a several-day intensive outpatient treatment program that had kept her out of work.

In one official report, the MM1 noted: “Some days later MM2 Gray reported back to the ship, at that time and for a short time after, I thought she was a pretty good worker. Some time after that she would go on mood swings and get depressed and sad out of nowhere without anyone telling her anything. Other times she said she needed to be left alone and not spoken to. This would happen every other day or about every third day.”

One of her supervisors — it’s unclear if it was the same MM1 — told another sailor “he had to be careful every time when he yelled at her.”

Her chain of command liked “to make examples of people,” another sailor wrote.

**

On April 1, several people on the Essex noticed Tiara crying. She’d gotten into an altercation with one of her supervisors.

“MM1 was mad at her for ordering the wrong parts. She was trying to explain why it wasn’t a big deal on why she ordered those parts,” one sailor wrote.

The MM1 remembered it this way: “The last time I had made contact with MM2 Gray was when myself and [name redacted] spoke to her about the expectations and requirements and military bearing that was expected from a second class petty officer in the US Navy. This happened around 1500 due to MM2 Gray being disrespectful towards [name redacted] and myself on several occasions on that day and prior days. MM2 Gray didn’t say anything while [name redacted] and myself spoke to her. She acknowledged [what we said] when asked to do so by both of us. In the process of talking to MM2 gray she started crying. We spoke to her about what we expect from her as a second class and how she has to start leading from the front and setting the example. I asked her if she thought she was overworked and she said “no.” After that the conversation between her, [name redacted] and myself was over.”

Tiara left the shop crying.

**

In one of the final pages her journal, she made a list of precious stones.

Rose quartz for self love, kindness, gratitude.

Hematite for protection.

Agua aura quartz for divination.

Blue lace agate for peace.

Tourmalated quartz for life and death.

Flourite for connectedness.

Titanium aura quartz for being your true self.

**

At 11:45 p.m., Tiara was supposed to report for watch. When she didn’t, people thought she had overslept. Someone went to check her rack. She wasn’t there. Her supervisor sent people from Tiara’s team to look in their shared workspaces. Still nothing. Others began to search the normal hangout spots.

One of the people who worked with her everyday headed toward the front of the ship. He took a ladder down into a machine room, where the 40,000-pound anchor of the Essex lives. He noticed a person in their work coveralls behind a piece of machinery and yelled “hey” to get their attention. He didn’t get a response. It was Tiara. She was dead.

Reporting guidelines suggest it’s best practice not to reveal specific methods people use to die by suicide and I’ve left out those details.

“[I] recognized it was MM2 Gray, because she was my work center supervisor that I worked with everyday,” the sailor wrote in a report after Tiara’s death. “[Another sailor] entered the space shortly after me. Before she could get close enough to see MM2 Gray I told her to get out. In complete shock, I ran to the mess decks and made the call … “Man Down” at around 0100. I ran back up to the anchor windlass and waited for the medical to arrive.”

**

Navy officials called Tiara’s mom later that morning. They told her Tiara was dead; Goss doesn’t really remember the details. She remembers screaming and then everything going quiet. She laid down on a couch and didn’t get up. Greg Goss, her husband, called the other kids. He greeted the casualty-assistance sailors who showed up at the door in their blinding white uniforms. Goss just laid there.

Goss was severely depressed for months. But then one of Tiara’s sisters gave Goss some medical records that had been among Tiara’s things. Goss started flipping through the pages and a whole new picture began to emerge. She had no idea that Tiara’s mental health had been so unstable. Yes, Tiara might break down in tears. She might get angry. She had sad and happy days. All that seemed normal. Goss didn’t understand the forces Tiara had been wrestling. She didn’t realize the Navy had handed out so many major diagnoses to Tiara and kept sending her to sea.

Goss now found herself needing to know more. She tried to request Tiara’s full medical records from the Navy; officials wouldn’t give them up, because of an ongoing investigation into Tiara’s death by the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. In June 2019, Goss sent a Freedom of Information Act request to obtain the NCIS investigation. She waited almost two years. Then in February 2021, she finally got a copy. 

**

Goss seized on a line from NCIS’s report: “There was no clear indication of Gray being medically cleared to go underway.” NCIS investigators, in other words, came to the conclusion that Tiara’s commanders had sent her underway, even though she wasn’t cleared for duty. During both her stays at 1 North, doctors had indeed placed restrictions on Tiara’s duty status. They had said she should not go underway. Days later, on Aug. 30, 2017, a different psychiatrist, who met with her only once, marked her as “fit for full duty.” That psychiatrist, however, did not address the previous doctor’s orders or explicitly overturn the restrictions on Tiara being able to go underway.

Explicitly overturning the previous doctor’s orders wouldn’t have been necessary, according to military officials I’ve spoken to. Marking a service member as “fit for full duty” would automatically overturn any previous restrictions. NCIS officials, however, don’t seem to see it that way. When I asked them to explain their logic, they provided a statement that sheds little light on their determination. “NCIS requested medical records for MM2 Tiara Gray and reviewed those we received. Those records reflect that Gray was medically restricted with respect to weapons access, at sea ship-board exercises, and deployment,” Darwin Lam, an NCIS spokesperson, wrote in an email.

A Navy spokesman did not respond to a specific question about whether the duty restrictions would have needed to be explicitly overturned.

For Goss, the report was devastating. But it also began to fan away the fog of her grief. Before, she had only numbness and confusion. Now, a discernable picture was emerging: Tiara had received extremely serious medical diagnoses and yet her commanders put her in high-pressure environments that exacerbated her conditions. Officials for at least one agency believed she had been sent underway without the proper medical clearance. Goss began contacting attorneys. Most of them simply did not respond; families have relatively limited grounds on which they can sue the military. But finally, a personal injury attorney from Silver Springs, Maryland, named Aldo Terrazas called her back. He found a narrow legal loophole that would allow them to bring a medical malpractice suit. 

“I wanted some type of resolution like, ‘Hey we know we messed up.’ It doesn’t even have to be an apology, just an acknowledgement,” Goss said. “Anything that can help this from happening again. The military needs to do better. I was really angry at the Navy for a long time. I’m still angry.”

Terrazas enlisted Rosenbaum, the former Navy psychologist, to review Tiara’s case.

“With a confirmed diagnosis of borderline personality disorder and other co-morbidities [Tiara] was not suited to working in a high-stress military environment, particularly when her work-related conditions and pending deployment were identified as major stressors causing psychological distress at the time,” he wrote. “It is therefore, my opinion with a high level of psychological certainty that her military providers failed her in clearing her for deployment which was the proximate cause of her suicide. It is also my opinion that her suicide could have been prevented had appropriate action been taken.”

In a medical malpractice case like Goss’s, the agency under fire gets to investigate itself. Navy officials didn’t agree with Rosenbaum. They found they had “met the standard of care” in Tiara’s case. On appeal, in August 2023, the Military Medical Malpractice Claims Appeals Board backed up the Navy’s findings.

Now, Goss is attempting another lawsuit, but it’s unclear if it will be allowed under the statute of limitations.

I asked current Navy officials about Tiara’s story, but they had little to say.

“The loss of a sailor due to suicide is tragic and we mourn their loss. The health and welfare of our Sailors is a priority and we will continue to seek ways to strengthen the resiliency, care, and wellness of our people,” wrote Cmdr. Arlo Abrahamson, a spokesperson for the Navy.

**

When Seeman heard the news, he was at work on his ship. First, he got a voicemail from Tiara’s mom, saying only that she had spoken to the ship’s captain. He knew that was ominous. He thought, ‘Maybe, Tiara broke her leg.’ But he was nervous. Captains don’t just call people.

While he was out on the smoking deck, a call from Tiara’s stepfather came through. He told Seeman what happened. Seeman screamed there on the deck in front of everybody. He screamed from a place inside himself that most people never learn about. Someone eventually got him up and walked him away. Seeman barely remembers the first month after Tiara’s death. He went to the funeral, but he found no resolution there — no unifying events or messages that bore any meaning in his journey through grief.

He started drinking heavily and adopted the same lack of regard for life he’d seen in so many other sailors. He drank with a kind of fury, until he passed out or threw up. He drank any time of day, including before work. Underways and deployments were the only things sobered him up. This carried on for two or three years, until Seeman neared the end of his contract. Typically, the last six months or so of a person’s contract is a transitional time. Seeman could feel his Navy life molting away. He started painting and working out. These new activities didn’t feel as if they healed him. They simply took the place of drinking, which seemed like an improvement. After he got out, Seeman enrolled in Arizona State University’s undergraduate fine arts program. He paints many hours every day.

He doesn’t even consider getting in new relationships. He has tried, but it doesn’t work. Mostly, he doesn’t feel a connection with other people. When he has, he has found ways to sabotage it. He still feels like he could have done something differently. He feels guilty. Whenever he tells people that they inevitably try to take it from him. But they don’t really understand and so he won’t let them have it.

**

March 4, 2018

… Write down your dream life in extreme detail …

I’m back home. I live in a secluded wooded area in a tiny house. It’s cozy and warm inside, with a [lot] of antique furniture. There is a cozy reading nook for me and a garage for Dylan. I have a dog, and they are my absolute best friend. They love me. 

The house is secluded, but still within a reasonable distance of the rest of my family. I’m going to college to learn and be more well-rounded. No particulars in mind. I work full-time at the animal shelter working with the dogs. I get to come home everyday to the love of my life. 

We own everything and have zero debt. We have a nice savings account that could support us if anything happened. We have the money to travel regularly and see the world. We get to spend a lot of time in nature, hiking, camping and star-gazing. 

I have quit drinking/smoking for good. I’m still a vegetarian and cook a lot of healthy-hearty home made meals. 

That’s what an ideal future looks like for me. Nature, family, learning, growing, doing something I love for work, with enough spare time to create. 

I think the reason I put the dream out of my head for so long is because everyone told me I could do whatever I wanted, that I could be a lawyer, doctor, etc. So I felt like I had to aim high. Everyone complained that home sucked and was full of degenerates, so I felt like I had to leave or risk becoming trapped and becoming like them. I’m grateful for everything that’s happened though, otherwise I wouldn’t have had these revelations.

If you or someone you know might be considering suicide, there is help. Call or text 988 the Suicide Prevention and Mental Health Crisis Lifeline.

Voice of San Diego is part of the Mental Health Parity Collaborative, a group of newsrooms that are covering stories on mental health care access and inequities in the U.S. The partners on this project include The Carter Center, The Center for Public Integrity, and newsrooms in select states across the country.