Individuality in the Uniformed Service: Breaking the Cycle of Hypervigilance

Individuality in the Uniformed Service: Breaking the Cycle of Hypervigilance

Taanoshi Kyujitsu Naval Helicopter Association! Carrier Air Wing FIVE and Task Force 70 remain underway to support security operations in the Philippine Sea. On the Ronald Reagan deck plates, you can feel the emotional tides shifting in response to the uncertainty of our homecoming date. Originally scheduled to return to Japan in time for Thanksgiving, I booked non-refundable tickets back to the states for late December to celebrate New Year’s Eve with some of my favorite people in the Naval Helicopter community. Now approaching the second week of December and still underway, I am listening to the murmurs of a second extension crescendo, and considering that “nonrefundable” tickets may have been a mistake.

By LCDR Rob “OG” Swain, USN (CVW-5)

When your forward operating base can move 600 miles a day without severing the satellite umbilical to higher headquarters tasking, the reality of Navy life is that change is inevitable. Emergent threats demand tactical action, and the speed of relevance requires immediate flexibility. The dynamism of naval operations not only strains unit planners, it risks fatiguing every Sailor. Pilots and Aircrewmen are particularly susceptible to change-related stress. Too often, aviators allow their entire lives and self-worth to orbit around their billet, the flight schedule, or the leadership decisions implemented by their chain of command. In this issue of RFTRS, therefore, we’re going to talk about “Identity.”

The Naval Aviation Enterprise mirrors the structure of tight-knit organizations throughout the Department of Defense, Department of Homeland Security, and Law Enforcement. Carefully orchestrated periods of indoctrination, standardization, and adversity bind individuals from disparate socioeconomic backgrounds, creeds, and beliefs under a new banner of fraternity and Navy core values. This professional alignment, however, carries certain risks to a lifetime of individually-shaped personal identity. The aviator can begin to exhibit a physiological pattern coined “hypervigilance.”

The experiences, language, and danger inherent in flying naval aircraft prove difficult to emotionally translate to an outside audience. This environment passively invites aviators to cloister from the outside world and choose the path of least resistance toward a life defined, and self-worth dictated, by the squadron, staff, or ship. Slowly but surely, an aviator can dilute their identity from “I am Rob Swain” to “I am a Naval Aviator.” Hypervigilance is revealed when the individual is engaged, focused, social, and high-performing at work, but quietly in the background, balance in their personal lives atrophies. Preoccupation with the job begins to eclipse the hobbies, goals, values, and relationships which fortify service member resilience. If the hypervigilance cycle is not broken, then the support structures which equip a person to continue a life of committed, enthusiastic service erode, replaced by cynicism and disillusionment toward that very service.

During my first seven years in the Helicopter Sea Combat community, I enjoyed immense job satisfaction. I benefited from leaders who inspired and gave me the latitude to fail and learn from my mistakes without reprisal. I worked with peers who motivated me. I enjoyed diverse flight experiences across the globe and developed an intense loyalty to my squadron. I was also single, rarely socialized with individuals who did not fly the MH-60S, and scorned Department Heads who spent time with their families rather than going to Belmont House of Smoke for karaoke on a Wednesday night. Over time, my sense of self and my professional reputation began to blur into one indistinguishable set of metrics. I was functioning in the hypervigilance cycle, but did not recognize the risk because I was having fun.

My first few months on CVW-5 staff threw all of that out the window. On my first day in the new billet, I rapidly recognized that all of my previous job satisfaction and community rapport had not followed me on the Trans-Pac. With no turnover and minimal carrier experience, I labored to orient myself in this foreign environment. I could sense a heaviness in the cultural atmosphere generated by a strike group trudging into year three of forward-deployed COVID restrictions. For the first time in my career, I experienced overt and covert prejudices against helicopter pilots and took it personally. I was straight-up not having a good time.

I did not handle the changes gracefully. I felt undervalued. It led to sleeplessness, irritability, and waking anxiousness. I began firing off emails to mentors, friends, and family in an effort to understand why, for the first time in over a decade of military service, my commitment to the Navy was wavering. I tried to google “Harvard Graduate School application,” but the afloat CANES network blocked my search. I battled an internal victimization characteristic of so many service members who allow consistent professional validation and personal identity to merge into one amorphous definition of self-worth. When my work-relationships changed, when the job description changed, when the professional responsibilities, trust, and environment changed, I experienced conflict in my own personal perception.

About two months into that first deployment with CVW5, I received a response from my former Weapons School Pacific Commanding Officer. In a straight-forward message characteristic of his transparent leadership style he wrote, “Don’t be who you think the staff wants you to be, be yourself and everything else will fall into place.” His message resonated with encouragement to break the hypervigilance cycle.

Shortly thereafter, I started this column because I love to write. I set a personal goal to enter the 1,000 lb club (which I had very publically failed at on the Aqaba, Jordan pier as a junior officer). I took leave over the holidays to spend time with loved ones and take off the flight suit for a few days. I took pride in flying helicopters, made efforts to increase mutual understanding of platform capabilities, and sought opportunities to integrate helicopters across the strike group and joint force. I started reading books that interested me, some related to the military, some not. I diversified my emotional investments outside of “the job” and found that it produced a source of strength and greater positivity in my work. The consistent positive attitude afforded by a balanced personal life increased trust between me and the organization. This led to reinvigorated job satisfaction and professional commitment. While I initially feared forward deployment had been a professional mistake, my time with CVW-5 came to yield some of the most rewarding moments of my career.

The Navy is an Armed Service. Service requires sacrifice. Sacrifice demands selflessness. The uniquely American strength of our Navy lies in the creativity, personal liberty, and individuality of our Sailors. To give of one’s self in defense of one’s country affords no higher honor. In doing so, however, do not compromise all of the wonderful qualities, interests, ambitions, and relationships which make you, you! Attending to these internal aspects independent of your career will steel you with the resolve to handle any spoolex, extension, ORDMOD, or disappointment without challenging your sense of self. It has been a privilege to share the “Report from the Rising Sun” over the past 18 months, and I look forward to continuing to share this great Navy adventure with you all!

Torii Gate at the Itsukushima Shrine