Lee Suckling: What you should really be doing on Anzac Day

For the last few years, I've struggled to commemorate Anzac Day. I've found some of the civilians who attend dawn services to be hypocritical. They'll gladly remember the soldiers who fought in wars 100 years ago, yet criticise current military service members and their overseas service, dismissing New Zealand's international efforts as "other people's wars".

I am the husband of a currently-serving soldier who's a veteran of several modern global conflicts. I've historically stayed home on Anzac Day morning because I've found attendance too tough a pill to swallow. It's terribly conflicting to try and remember soldiers from a century ago whilst your own soldier, sailor, or airman is currently deployed, in present danger, and the people around you at a dawn service don't seem to value it the same.

This year may signal a change. The theme of this year's poppy appeal, run by the RSA, was "not all wounds bleed". The goal was to shine a light on the non-physical injuries veterans and their families face.

My husband and I are real life examples of the people this campaign sought to create awareness about. Over the last few years, we have both (collectively and separately) suffered though post-traumatic stress, anxiety, anger, inexplicable blame, and what I can only describe as communication brick walls. There was a point during our "lowest low", two years ago, where we were both worried an overseas deployment had broken our bond and destroyed our marriage.

As part of a military community, this is a common theme amongst our peers. To find a service member and their partner who has NOT experienced the mental health challenges that spurn from being in the military is, frankly, rare. The physical and emotional stress we are all put under can be devastating.

I don't have kids, but I must also acknowledge what military life does to the children of service members as well. They deal with their mothers or fathers being absent frequently and unable to explain where they are, and why. They may be moved around the country every few years. They regularly go birthdays, Christmases or other holidays, exams, sporting competitions, and graduations without physical support of one of their parents.

Even more difficult, I presume, are the lives of the kids of two active service members – it's not uncommon for military personnel to couple up – who juggle all of the above twice as frequently, and are left to consider both parents being home a complete luxury.

During my husband's and my worst period, which lasted almost a year, we were fortunate enough to receive counselling, to work through some acute military-related relationship problems. We can honestly say this saved our marriage.

Yet some of our peers are not so lucky. They aren't offered help, or they don't get help in time. Whenever I learn of the dissolution of a military relationship, I feel my heart sink. A deep sadness follows upon discovery that a couple have been pushed apart, irreconcilably so, through no fault of their own. I know how easily that could have been my husband and me.

I'm won't use this opportunity to wade into the issue of the failings in returned service member support. There's a whole poppy campaign around it, after all. Instead, I want all of the New Zealanders that stand quietly in reflection on Anzac Day to realise that there are an unknown number of living military personnel, both current and formerly serving, in pain.

Many of them will actually be working on Anzac Day while the rest of the nation gets a day off. You will encounter soldiers, sailors, and airmen deal with unseen wounds that you – part of the general New Zealand public – have no idea about. Their partners and children also suffer through invisible challenges and feel there's little understanding out there from wider society about them.

So what can an average Kiwi civilian do to help? Wearing a poppy on your lapel and observing a moment of silence isn't enough. Recognise that while you will honour New Zealand service members for one day in April, the members and their families themselves do so 365 days a year. Wars and conflicts overseas never stop affecting those at home. Reach out to us, because we want to talk about the challenges we face. Not for your pity, but purely because your compassion makes it so much easier to manage.