More on KentOnline
More on KentOnline
Paul Landamore spent 22 years putting his life on the line for his country, facing fears many of us could barely even imagine, let alone actually confront ourselves.
Even an injury suffered in Iraq in 2003, which left his arm "basically hanging off", didn't appear to faze the brave Kent soldier, who completed nine tours of Afghanistan.
However, when a succession of wounds built up over time, he eventually had to be discharged from the Royal Marines and faced up to a lifetime in a wheelchair.
“It wasn’t one specific injury, it was more everything combined and my body just gave way,” he said.
“But the main injury wasn’t physical, it was to my mental health.”
The 40-year-old, originally from Chatham, struggled to come to terms with not being at peak physical fitness and started to suffer what he called "reoccurring memories" rather than the clichéd "flashbacks".
Eventually he was diagnosed with post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which he didn’t think could be possible.
“It was hard to come to terms with being unwell because I’d always been so strong,” he said.
“I thought PTSD was a myth - I was a sergeant, how could I possibly get that?”
Paul also found himself turning to alcohol, but not as a vehicle for any kind of enjoyment, instead just as a way to get to sleep.
It started with half a bottle of vodka a night, then a full bottle, and then two.
Before he knew it, his life was spiralling out of control as his relationship broke down and he struggled to come to terms with the financial pressures of putting a roof over the heads of himself and his daughter.
"I thought PTSD was a myth - I was a sergeant, how could I possibly get that?..."
“I never wanted to drink, I cried every time I put the bottle to my mouth,” he said.
“It felt like I had to put a drink down my throat to live, so I didn’t want to live.”
Suffering suicidal thoughts, and given just months to live due to liver failure, he was eventually thrown a lifeline by the Aylesford-based military charity, Royal British Legion Industries, which moved him into emergency accommodation at Mountbatten Pavilion in 2017.
Feeling as if he was at breaking point, he finally rang a PTSD helpline one night.
“I'd never phoned because I assumed I could get through it,” he said.
“But I’d just been crying in my room for three hours, which is when the depression really kicked in.
"I just couldn’t get these images out of my head. So at 3am one night I phoned this number and someone answered.
“It was just a voice at the end and that was all I needed.”
Since then, Paul has managed to kick his alcohol addiction and has become a popular member of RBLI’s veteran community.
“There is always someone here to help you when you’re in need,” he said.
“My faith has been brought back in humanity.”
Paul is also now writing a book about his journey, under the working title of Gendit - a military term for a true story.
He added: “It explains how you can have such an amazing childhood, with great friends and family, but that everyone has a breaking point.
“One small incident can fill your cup up to the brim and cause it to overflow.”
