What My Brother’s Suicide Taught Me About How We Treat Trauma

Letter to the Editor

by Laura Haynes
Boots & Baddies

Guest commentary
Editor’s note: This commentary discusses suicide, suicidal thoughts and traumatic loss.

The most baffling part of my brother’s suicide was not that he had served combat tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. It was that, after he came home, he worked for the Department of Veterans Affairs for 13 years.

Steve had his own office inside the very system built to treat post-traumatic stress disorder and prevent veteran suicide.

That left me with a difficult question: What are we missing in the way we understand and treat trauma?

I do not believe medication, therapy or mental health professionals have no value. Many people benefit from them, and no one should stop treatment without speaking with a qualified healthcare provider.

But my brother’s death, along with my own experience with complex post-traumatic stress disorder, taught me that managing symptoms and healing are not always the same thing.

Trauma can affect more than memory. It can change how the nervous system reacts to ordinary situations. A trigger may cause the heart to race, blood pressure to rise and the body to respond as though an old danger is happening again.

When those reactions become frequent, people may begin organizing their lives around avoiding them. Then comes shame—the feeling that they should be able to control what their body is doing.

People often try to numb that pain with alcohol or other substances. Veterans are not the only people who experience PTSD or complex trauma. Trauma does not check a résumé.

My brother’s last words to me before he died were, “Sister, don’t follow me.”

He knew I had fought my own battles with complex PTSD and suicidal thoughts.

This year, I began looking more closely at approaches that focus not only on thoughts and memories, but also on nervous-system regulation.

I interviewed people involved in guided psychedelic experiences, including ibogaine journeys. Some veterans and trauma survivors credit these experiences with helping them confront memories, addiction or emotional pain.

Research into psychedelic-assisted treatment is developing, but it is important to be honest about the limits. Ibogaine is not an FDA-approved treatment for PTSD and can carry serious medical risks. Promising does not mean proven or safe for everyone.

I also participated in three sessions using the Release Core Method, which combined physical responses, memory work and affirmations. I noticed immediate changes in my life afterward.

That is my personal experience. I cannot say the method has been clinically validated or that another person would have the same result.

Around the same time, I was introduced to neurofeedback.

During sessions, sensors measured brain activity while images, movies or games changed in response. The brain received real-time feedback and rewards for producing certain patterns.

Some research suggests neurofeedback may help certain patients, including people with trauma-related symptoms or traumatic brain injuries. But the evidence is not equally strong for every condition, and the quality of providers varies.

I was also introduced to transcranial magnetic stimulation, or TMS, which uses magnetic pulses to influence activity in targeted areas of the brain. It is an established treatment for certain conditions, including some forms of depression.

Neither treatment is a guaranteed cure.

But both raise an important question:

What if some people need help regulating their nervous systems before they can fully benefit from traditional therapy?

That question matters inside the criminal justice system.

I have spent years working with incarcerated people, along with time incarcerated myself. Many people inside prisons and jails have histories involving childhood trauma, addiction, violence, brain injuries and untreated mental illness.

Those histories do not excuse harm. They do matter when we ask what will reduce the likelihood of future harm.

During a course on leading group therapy in correctional settings, an instructor said something I never forgot: People who appear resistant to treatment may respond more effectively to incentives than punishment.

Neurofeedback is built around reward. That may make it useful for people who struggle with traditional therapy or systems centered almost entirely on consequences.

Punishment alone does not teach emotional regulation, impulse control, coping skills or healthy decision-making.

I believe mental health care should begin with a basic question: What helps this person become more stable at rest?

For one person, the answer may involve medication and trauma-focused therapy. For another, it may include neurofeedback, TMS, EMDR or another clinically appropriate treatment.

The goal should not be to replace one rigid model with another. It should be to expand responsible, evidence-informed options for people whose needs are not being met.

My brother worked inside a system designed to help people like him. He still died.

That does not mean the entire system failed. It means access to a system is not the same as receiving the right treatment, at the right time, in a form a person can use.

Real healing is not soft on crime or indifferent to accountability.

It may help prevent the next crime, the next addiction, the next broken family—or the next suicide.

If you or someone you know is struggling with suicidal thoughts, the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is available 24 hours a day by calling or texting 988.