From Breakdown to Breakthrough: How Love, Loss, and Leadership Shaped My Mission

May 16
3 min read

By Amber Capone, CEO & Co-Founder,

Veterans Exploring Treatment Solutions (VETS)

If you had told me ten years ago that I’d one day be leading an organization helping U.S. veterans heal from invisible wounds, I might’ve smiled agreeingly—but I wouldn’t have believed you. Not because I lacked ambition, but because at the time, I was simply trying to hold my family together.

When my husband Marcus, a Navy SEAL, returned home after more than a decade of service, we were thrown into a reality no training manual could prepare us for. He battled depression, traumatic brain injury (TBI), post-traumatic stress, and a sense of disconnection that seemed to deepen by the day. The man I knew was still there, but buried beneath pain and confusion. And like many military spouses, I was told to be patient. That time and therapy might help.

But things didn’t get better—they got darker.

In those years, I wasn’t the founder or CEO of a nonprofit. I was a caregiver, a partner, and a mother doing everything I could to keep my husband alive and our family afloat while managing a successful career in real estate. I navigated a storm I never signed up for, armed with nothing but gut instinct and the hope that something had to change.

That change came when we discovered a form of treatment that wasn’t available in the U.S.: psychedelic-assisted therapy. After undergoing a medically supervised ibogaine experience abroad, Marcus experienced profound healing. It was the first time in years that I saw real clarity in his eyes—and for the first time, I exhaled.

But alongside the relief came a new weight: the realization that thousands of other families were facing the same fight we had, with nowhere to turn. That awareness became the beginning of my leadership journey—not because I felt ready, but because I knew staying silent wasn’t an option.

In 2019, I co-founded Veterans Exploring Treatment Solutions (VETS) to help other veterans access the same kinds of therapies that helped Marcus. Since then, we’ve supported nearly 1,000 veterans and their families through financial assistance, coaching, and community support. We’ve stood alongside those navigating trauma and loss, and we’ve fought for systemic change so these therapies can become more accessible to those who need them most.

But I didn’t step into this role with a blueprint. I stepped into it with lived experience and a sense of urgency. Everything I’ve learned about leadership—resilience, adaptability, vision—was built in real time, through real challenges. And much of it began long before VETS ever existed

Being a caregiver taught me how to lead under pressure. Being a spouse taught me how to listen between the lines. And being a woman in rooms where I was often the only one with personal proximity to the mission taught me how to speak with clarity and conviction—even when my voice shook.

Empowered leadership, I’ve learned, doesn’t come from having all the answers. It comes from the willingness to show up, to learn as you go, and to use your story as a bridge for others.

The truth is, leading an organization rooted in trauma is heavy. It means bearing witness to pain—your own and others’—on a near-daily basis. It means hearing from spouses who are still in the thick of it. Veterans who are barely holding on. And it means finding ways to stay grounded while carrying all of it.

So how do I stay resilient?

I return to my “why.” I remember the moment I saw my husband come back to life. I think about the veterans who tell us, “VETS gave me a second chance.” I focus on the mission, and I surround myself with people who share it. I also stay honest—with my team, with myself, and with the limits of what I can carry alone.

I’ve learned that resilience isn’t about pushing through at all costs. It’s about building rhythms that allow you to keep showing up: with clarity, with boundaries, and with a full heart.

What gives me the most pride isn’t just the impact we’ve made—it’s the way we’ve made it. By leading with empathy. By refusing to treat healing like a one-size-fits-all path. By holding space for both the science and the soul.

To anyone standing at the edge of a life transition—whether it’s personal, professional, or both—I want to say this: your hardest chapters can become the foundation of your leadership. Your pain can shape your purpose. You don’t have to have it all figured out to begin. You just have to be willing to turn toward the fire, not away from it.

Connect With Amber