In war, there are explosions. In peace, there is the silence that follows, often harder to endure.
For many veterans, that silence is filled with pain, not just physical but systemic. Not just personal but political.
In 2012, after two tours in Iraq and an honorable discharge from the U.S. Army, I moved to Thibodaux, Louisiana. I was seeking stability and education. Instead, I entered a new battlefield shaped by injury, bureaucracy and pharmaceutical dependence.
While serving in Iraq, I was injured by an improvised explosive device. The blast left me with post-traumatic stress disorder and traumatic brain injury. The physical toll got worse. In 2015, I suffered a spinal injury. In 2018, a car accident made it worse.
Offshore rig work deepened the damage. Chronic pain set in. Like many veterans, I turned to the system we were promised would care for us. The Dept. of Veterans Affairs has long relied on opioids for pain. I was no exception.
When I sought help at a respected pain clinic near Baton Rouge, I was told they focused on holistic therapies. Instead, after one appointment, I left with 90 hydrocodone pills and no referrals.
Over time, the dosage escalated. Hydrocodone became oxycodone. My wife and I begged for a tapering plan. We were ignored. In late 2019, I nearly died.
Marlon Chouccoli
In January 2020, I entered rehab at the VA’s Gulfport-Biloxi facility and began medically supervised detox. I was put on Suboxone. It numbed me but didn’t help me recover. I was discharged with 90 tablets and a new dependency.
That’s when I found kratom. Kratom, a plant from Southeast Asia, is used by millions in the U.S. to manage pain and opioid withdrawal. Veterans in rehab whispered about it. Some used it to taper off stronger drugs.
In February 2020, I began tapering off Suboxone using kratom. Within two weeks, I was off pharmaceuticals. I had symptoms, sweats and chills, but no agony. I could think. I could function. I could live. I have been sober ever since.
Kratom isn’t a miracle or a cure. It’s a tool that helped me reclaim control. It relieved pain without stealing my clarity or identity. Unlike opioids, it didn’t make me feel less like myself.
Now, Louisiana may criminalize it. Senate Bill 154, by Sen. Jay Morris, R-West Monroe would classify kratom as a Schedule I drug, alongside heroin and LSD. That designation is for substances with no medical use and a high potential for abuse. That is not supported by science or lived experience.
If SB 154 becomes law, it won’t jail traffickers. It will jail people like me. It will criminalize working people in pain. It will push kratom underground, replacing regulation with risk. For veterans, it will make sobriety harder and relapse more likely.
When I testified before the House Health and Welfare Committee this spring, I shared my story. Others did too. We were ignored. The bill advanced. Once again, veterans were honored in words but dismissed in policy. We are not rare. Thousands in Louisiana and millions nationwide share this experience. Some live with pain. Others with panic. Many with both. We’re not asking for pity. We’re asking for options.
Today, I volunteer with my church, help the unhoused, and serve in VFW Post 3784 and American Legion Post 38. My life is grounded in service, but I had to rebuild it, and kratom helped. I support responsible regulation: age limits, labeling and quality standards.
But criminalization is not regulation. It is abandonment disguised as policy. To lawmakers in Louisiana: Reject SB 154. If we are called heroes, honor us with more than words. Honor us with a policy rooted in truth, compassion, and dignity.
