Join Mike and Friends TONIGHT for "Lawful Order!" with Warriors for Life (WFL)

Col (Ret) Mikel Burroughs
10 hours ago
5 min read

Join our Volunteer, Army Combat Medic Veteran, & Music Writer/Producer Mike Williams TONIGHT for "Mike Check" edition of Warriors for Life (WFL) Online, sponsored and presented by Victory for Veterans, Inc. (VFV).

We are asking everyone to share who we are and what support that Victory for Veterans, Inc. (VFV) is providing via WFL. If you know someone who is a veteran, first responder or a family member/caregiver, please ask them to join us for at least one meeting so they can learn more about what we do and how they can share their wisdom with others who may be able to learn from them.

TONIGHT's Topic: "Lawful Order!"

Join Mike & Friends TONIGHT for a discussion about "Lawful Order!" and Veteran Mental Health.

Lawful Orders and Veteran Mental Health

Why it still feels urgent

Military life trains your brain and body to treat certain inputs as urgent: a clear authority, a clear purpose, and a clear action. That reflex can keep showing up after service - especially when symptoms hit.

After the uniform comes off, life often brings "orders" that are not actually commands at all: tight chest, racing thoughts, intrusive memories, guilt, anger, the urge to isolate, the pull to numb out. They can feel just as urgent as a real order - but they do not deserve automatic compliance.

Moral injury: when the heart says "something is wrong"

Sometimes the hardest weight is not fear - it is meaning. Even when something was technically lawful at the time, it can still clash with your values. That collision often shows up as shame, grief, betrayal, rage, or a sense that you cannot forgive yourself.

This is one reason veterans may say: "I did what I was told... but it cost me something inside." That inner conflict can drive depression, PTS symptoms, substance use, and relationship strain.

A "lawful order" checklist for your own mind

When a thought or urge shows up that feels like a command, run this quick check:

· Authority: Who is giving this "order" - my values and healthy goals, or fear/trauma/old conditioning?

· Valid purpose: Does it support my mission now (health, family, stability, purpose), or does it sabotage it?

· Legal/ethical: Does it push me to violate what I believe is right for me or others (lying, cruelty, self-harm, reckless choices)?

· Clear: What exactly is it asking me to do? Name it precisely. Vague fear is harder to manage than a labeled problem.

· Doable: What is the smallest safe step I can execute today (a 2-minute action, not a life overhaul)?

If it fails the checklist, treat it like an unauthorized order: pause, do not execute, and choose a better action.

Replacing the old chain of command

Recovery often looks like building a new internal chain of command where your values lead, not your symptoms. That usually includes some mix of:

· Boundaries (with people, news, alcohol, sleep, work, and triggers)

· Trusted humans (battle buddies, spouse/partner, faith community, mentor, group support)

· Body skills (sleep routine, breathing, movement, grounding, time outdoors)

· Professional support (Vet Center, VA mental health, private therapist, EMDR/CPT/PE, medication when appropriate)

If you are in a hard moment

Veterans Crisis Line (24/7): Dial 988 then press 1, or text 838255, or use online chat.

Mike Williams shares a Song

"Lawful Orders"

Military life taught you this:

a voice with rank, a mission’s weight—

authority, purpose, action—

and you move before you hesitate.

So later, when the uniform is folded,

the body still snaps to the sound—

a tight chest like a siren,

racing thoughts that circle round.

Intrusive scenes come like radio chatter,

guilt shows up with steel-toed boots,

anger knocks like midnight thunder,

isolation digs its roots.

And numbness whispers, “Just comply—

one drink, one scroll, one closed-door night.”

It feels like orders. It feels urgent.

But urgent isn’t always right.

And sometimes the wound isn’t fear—

it’s meaning.

When the heart says, “Something’s wrong,”

even if it was “lawful then,”

you carry a cost no medal names,

a war that doesn’t end with “amen.”

Shame, grief, betrayal, rage—

a ledger you can’t set down—

“I did what I was told…” you say,

“…but something in me drowned.”

So when the mind arrives with commands,

when the urge stands tall and cold,

run the quiet checklist—

let the truth be what you hold:

Who’s the authority speaking now—

my values, my steady aim?

Or fear and trauma, old conditioning

wearing my uniform’s name?

Does it serve my mission today—

my health, my home, my purpose?

Or does it sabotage the life

I’m trying hard to surface?

Is it legal in the soul—

ethical, kind, and clean?

Or does it push me toward the dark—

lying, cruelty, self-harm, unseen?

Is it clear—what is it asking?

Name it plain. Bring it to light.

A labeled enemy is smaller

than a shadow in the night.

Is it doable—what’s the smallest step,

safe enough to execute?

Not a life overhaul—just two minutes:

one breath, one text, one pair of boots.

And if it fails that honest test,

if it doesn’t match what’s true—

treat it like an unauthorized order:

Pause.

Do not execute.

Choose better.

Choose you.

Build a new chain of command inside—

where values take the lead,

where symptoms don’t outrank your life,

where your spirit states the creed.

Set boundaries like friendly fences:

with news, with booze, with sleepless strain—

not walls of shame, but guardrails

so your heart can heal again.

Call in trusted humans—

battle buddies, spouse, mentor, friend;

a faith-held hand, a circle that says

“We’re with you to the end.”

Train the body back to safety:

sleep like shelter, breath like prayer,

movement like a morning march,

grounding feet in open air.

And when you need a steady guide,

when the load is hard to bear,

let help be strength, not weakness—

Vet Center, VA, a therapist there.

EMDR, CPT, PE—

tools to lay the ghosts to rest,

and sometimes medicine—

not surrender, but support for the chest.

Because you are not your symptoms.

You are not your hardest day.

You are the one who can stand down

and choose a gentler way.

So when the night sends orders again,

when the old alarms pursue—

remember this soft truth: