PTSD: Marine's Story of Seeking Peace After War

A retired Marine's struggle to find some peace on homefront
Chicago Tribune
By Bonnie Miller Rubin
November 11, 2014

Pause Stacey Wescott, Chicago Tribune

Don Larson pauses for a long moment during a meeting of Tribute to the Troops at the Brunch Cafe in Fox River Grove. He and his wife, Terri, are active members and are working on an event to bring awareness to mental health issues.

Don Larson's bucolic Crystal Lake subdivision is a long way from Somalia, Iraq or any of the other war-torn locales where he served during his 23 years as a Marine.

But in his mind, Larson must remain hypervigilant. He can't enter his home without first sweeping the property to make sure it has not been compromised. He has devised strategies — such as leaving a coin on a dresser — to make sure nothing has been moved by an intruder.

Still, home feels safer to him than any public place — a shopping mall, a movie theater, even a church pew — where he's constantly scanning the crowd for suspicious characters and searching for exits, just in case he needs a quick getaway.

"Time and distance is always your friend," said the 55-year-old. "That's why when we enter the house, I like (my wife) Terri to always be behind me — so if we run into anything, she has time and distance to get away."

Larson's wife of 35 years, Terri, patiently waited outside on a recent weekday afternoon while her husband performed his security check. She is the one who nearly three years ago persuaded this reluctant, stoic Marine to get help.

Don Larson is being treated for post-traumatic stress disorder at Alexian Brothers Behavioral Health Hospital in Hoffman Estates. He credits the combination of medication and counseling, including a tool called virtual reality exposure therapy, with saving his marriage and his life. Despite his mood swings, crippling anxiety and fear of crowds that fuel obsessive surveillance rituals, clinicians say he is making progress.

As the nation observes Veterans Day, Larson allowed the Tribune to sit in on his sessions, sharing intimate details in the hope that it might erase stigma and encourage others grappling with mental illness.

"I knew that I was destroying myself, my wife, our relationship," Larson said. "I came close to losing the very thing that was most important to me."
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