This morning is Judith Meyer’s first as a former Sun Journal employee.

Editor for the last 10, she’s shown how the press can keep small towns informed — carefully balancing points of view — at a time when the internet and the despicable lies on social media threaten the world’s longest lasting experiment in democracy.

She’ll be missed and she’ll be replaced by … another journalism pro, I’m certain. 

Not too long ago I was headed to the exit doors at the Togus VA hospital after an appointment when a sign on an office door stopped me: “Patient Advocate.” Acting impulsively, which is my norm, I walked in. A gray-haired lady smiled and asked what she could do for me. “I’ve got a problem and it’s up here,” I said, pointing at my head.

“OK,” she said, without probing. “Let’s take a little walk, shall we?” 

Off we went down a series of long hallways. She chatted me up, joking about the weather and maintaining eye contact. In about 10 minutes we got to a door marked “Mental Health,” where she left me with a pat on the shoulder. I checked in, and two minutes later an RN invited me into his office for a 15-minute talk, followed by 45 minutes with a psychiatrist. Both conversations centered on the anger that I’d been directing at myself. 

I won’t go into details, but they both said I was showing symptoms of PTSD.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “I was in ‘Nam more than 50 years ago!”

“You’re not alone, brother,” the RN told me. 

It was a misbegotten war, and we didn’t learn a damn thing from it when, more than 30 years later, we invaded Iraq and Afghanistan, trying to export democracy at the point of a gun. So what about all those 58,220 American lives lost in ‘Nam — and their loved ones? Were they wasted? That’s what lingers for many of us.

Before long, I began a series of appointments with a clinical social worker at the VA clinic in Portland. Since I’m a writer, she had me write out the details of certain episodes in Southeast Asia that still trouble me. We discussed them at length. It was a brain cleanser, with the result that I’m trying to be easier on myself about misplacing my cell phone, driving in traffic (traffic in Maine? What was I thinking?), and other petty frustrations. She said it probably wasn’t PTSD — in part because “suicide ideation” never enters my mind — but serious anger issues that I have to deal with. 

It’s much worse for younger guys and gals. Veterans make up 6% of the adult population in the U.S., but account for 20% of all suicides, with translates to about 18 a day. 

Why am I telling you this? Because there’s a way out, and it’s not just about vets. It’s about admitting you’ve got a problem and doing something. 

For instance, Spurwink, which acquired Tri-County Mental Health Services last year, has outpatient providers who can help with many mental health conditions including anxiety, depression, trauma and bipolar disorder. Or dial 211 for social service options. Maine’s Crisis Support Line (1-888-568-1112) is another one, as well as Sweetser’s Peer Support Line 24/7 at 1-866-771-9276.

Believe me, you’re not alone. “We all have moments of frustration, and it is important to seek help when feelings become escalated to where one feels hopeless or that they want to hurt themselves or others,” Angela Blier, Spurwink’s director of adult behavior health, told me. 

Moving on: 

This isn’t a political column, but we all know we live in turbulent times, perhaps the most so since our own Civil War. So what do we do about it? How do we, one by one, find some inner calm, a balance free of bilious exchanges on Facebook and the like? 

I’m in two book clubs. You could put one together and find common ground, or hearing — and learning— from others who have a different take than yours. What books? Mysteries, Stephen King, the classics? Let the conversation drift in whatever direction seems natural. That’s just you and your fellow readers — not some lonely, faceless misfit declaiming on social media. 

Meanwhile, March is here. The bitter wind and subzero temperatures are gone, I saw a robin on the driveway, and the snow is nice and deep for those of you who ski. Before arthritis took hold of my right ankle, I found year after year that March snow was the best, especially up at Sugarloaf.

So enjoy.

Dave Griffiths of Mechanic Falls is a retired journalist.