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From Pain to Planting: A Veteran’s Journey to Healing Through Gardening 

By Cheryl P., U.S. Navy Veteran

Affirmation: “I am not broken, I am healing. My scars are not shame—they are signs I survived.”

Start with one pot. One seed. One breath.

I didn’t leave the military in 1989 because I wanted to—I left because of something that should never have happened. I was a strong, dedicated sailor with plans to retire in uniform. But after surviving Military Sexual Trauma (MST) by a fellow service member, everything changed.

Back then, they didn’t care. Justice never came. So, I did what many survivors do I buried it. Deep. I tried to move on with life, but the trauma never really left. It lived beneath the surface until 2015, when a trigger cracked it wide open. The nightmares returned with a vengeance, and with them came the anger, confusion, and shame I had tried so hard to ignore.

My husband and children suffered too. They watched me fight through something invisible to them but painfully real to me—something I couldn’t even explain. I no longer recognized the strong woman I once was, and I didn’t know how to find her again.

Therapy helped. So did medication. But even then, one trigger could send me right back to square one. The support of close friends kept me going, but what truly brought me back to life was something simple, quiet, and unexpectedly powerful: gardening.

Gardening didn’t just give me something to do, it gave me something to live for. Planting, nurturing, watching life grow again it mirrored what I was trying to do inside. Every sprout felt like a small win. Every bloom reminded me that beauty can grow from broken places.

That’s when I connected with Vet2Vet—an organization that stands shoulder-to-shoulder with veterans, especially those of us carrying invisible wounds. They offered understanding, resources, and a safe space where I didn’t have to explain myself. They just got it.

To any veteran or member of a veteran silently hurting reading this: there is hope. Healing takes time, and it might come from the most unexpected places. For me, it came from a garden—and a tribe of vets who refused to let me fight alone.