Setting the Scene
I was driving my daughter to school the other morning. It was a good morning because she wasn’t glued to her phone, so I asked her what the previous day had been like and if she had learnt anything exciting. Now, if you know my daughter, she’s a beautiful 13-year-old soul and loves interesting topics.
She said, Yeah, I did. We learnt about Plato.
I smiled and said, I know ‘Play-Doh’. You used to have heaps of that as a kid. She laughed and said not that, you idiot. Plato and his Allegory of the Cave. She explained how people live in this cave, only seeing shadows on the wall. When one person finally escapes and sees the real world, they go back to tell the others, and no one believes them.
I asked her to give me an example of whether she had had cave moments. She said she had overcome all her fears in new situations and believed in herself despite her anxiety. Again, if you know her, that’s a big thing.
She then asked me, “Do I know of any situations?”
And I said, “Yeah, kiddo. I do. Especially for veterans.”
The Veteran’s Cave
When we leave the military, not everyone, but we often step into our own version of that cave.
We get caught up in the DVA claims cycle, the medical assessments, diagnoses, evidence, and labels. At first, it’s just part of getting help. But somewhere along the line, we start to believe that those labels are who we are.
We begin to see the shadows: “Mental Health,” “Chronic Pain,” “Unfit for Work,” and “TPI,” and we forget there’s a whole world of light beyond them. We stop seeing the strong, smart, caring human who exists beyond the reports and forms.
We start saying, “I am broken,” instead of “I am awesome”
And that’s where the cave takes hold, not as punishment, but as protection. It’s safer to sit in what we know than to step into the unknown. Because the system encourages it and needs you to be sick so you can get money and help, and some organisations out there prey on that sickness mindset.
Turning Toward the Light
But just like Plato’s prisoner, the moment you even turn toward the light, when you say, “Maybe I’m not just my diagnosis,” or “Maybe there’s more to me than this”, that’s the beginning of something incredible.
Yeah, it’s uncomfortable at first. The light stings your eyes. It’s unfamiliar. You’re used to the dark. You’ve lived there. You understand it. But as you keep moving, you start to see things clearly.
You realise you’re not broken. You’re not sick. You’re not lost.
The light isn’t outside of you. It’s been there all along, waiting for you to remember.
Stepping Out
When you finally step out, you start to feel alive again. Not because everything’s perfect but because you’ve finally stopped believing in the bullsh!t.
You start exercising again, because it feels good. You talk to people without needing to explain your service history or sickness. You start laughing, really laughing, from your belly, like you haven’t in years.
And the world starts to look different. The colours come back. The air feels lighter. The noise in your head quiets down.
That’s the sunlight. That’s freedom. That’s remembering who you are.
And yeah, when you go back to the “cave”, maybe a veterans’ group or a claims review, and you talk about how you’re doing better, not everyone will get it. But that’s okay. You’re not crazy. You’re just awake.
What I Told My Daughter
I told my daughter that the cave story isn’t about being trapped, it’s about realising you always had the power to leave. It’s about courage.
It takes real bravery to look at yourself and say, “I’m done surviving. I’m ready to live.” And that’s what I see in so many veterans: courage, resilience, and the will to rebuild. You’ve simply forgotten and bought into the sickness bullsh!t.
We’ve already done hard things. We know pain. We know loss. But that means we also know how to get back up.
She laughed, and said for someone who gets frustrated by your community, you do really care. Now shut up. We’re at school; please don’t embarrass me.
Now, Listen Up, You.
Stop beating yourself up. Stop comparing your journey to someone else’s.
Every single person on this planet is trying to make it. Everyone’s fumbling through their own cave, bumping into walls, searching for light.
The truth is. You are f@$king awesome.
Yeah, I’m saying it straight. You. Are. F@$king. Awesome.
And if you don’t believe that right now, that’s okay, because someone made you forget it somewhere along the way. Maybe it was the system, maybe it was all the shit that happened to you, maybe it was years of being told what you’re not.
But let me remind you that if you’re a good person and you’re trying, really trying, you are f@$ken phenomenal.
You’re stronger than you realise. You’ve already survived the cave.
What’s The Lesson
What Plato was really saying, what my daughter and I talked about on that drive, is this: The truth isn’t something out there waiting to be found. It’s something inside you, waiting to be remembered.
And that’s the journey we’re all on, not to prove we’re broken, but to prove to ourselves that we’re still whole.
Now get out of that cave, you f@$ken amazing human.
