Adam Carr was a man constantly driven by the need to find some greater purpose. After graduating from The Ohio State University with a bachelor’s degree in 2006, he set out to join the legendary ranks of the United States Army Special Forces, fighting through cracked bones and bloodied boots to endure a test of will that breaks even the most hardened soldiers.

Of the 400 men who joined him in Green Beret training, two years later only 14 endured. Carr was part of an esteemed and rarified club. In the years that followed, the opportunities that lay ahead were endless.

And yet Carr felt only the wave of darkness rolling over him.

Here I was, a 31-year-old man with top-secret clearance, experience leading hundreds of men in combat as a Green Beret, a four-year degree from a great school, a lot of contracting job offers making very good money—well beyond what my friends were making, Carr said. But the purpose just wasn’t there for me. I thought I had peaked at 31. Had my mountaintop moment.

Gaping holes in his personal life were beginning to weigh heavily on him. He’d been deployed for the majority of the past eight years and felt his wife back home in Okinawa growing distant. He barely knew his own children.

I thought, it’s all downhill, and I still have to live this long life without having any purpose, he said. Thoughts spiraled down there for me, and I was in a really dark place.

He knew what that darkness meant. He’d seen too many friends succumb to it. Out of sheer frustration and helplessness, Carr went live on Facebook and, for 24 minutes, shared how he was feeling.

I did it in a way that was very kind of crazy, because I did it online and I did it live for the entire world to see on a public channel, not knowing what would come of it, he said. At this point, what do I have to lose? I’ll fall on this sword if it means I can reach one person. If my story just saves one, it’ll be worth it.

Sharing that part of himself was terrifying and liberating. The video went viral. Thousands of people reached out, including representatives from Save A Warrior, an organization headquartered in Ohio that’s committed to ending the plague of suicide among veterans, active-duty military and first responders. They asked if Carr would meet with them at a café, and he reluctantly agreed.

He arrived to the meeting armed. He’d surveilled the area. He wasn’t about to trust these strangers.

But he found himself moved by their words, and soon he was traveling to California to witness the Save a Warrior experience. A week away brought light to the darkness that haunted him. He learned the essence of what the program called bucket work: It’s like you’re in a boat and you can see land, but there is a little hole in your boat, he said. You have a bucket—and if you don’t start paling that water out of your boat, you’re going to sink and die.

In a way, water had been slowly filling Carr’s boat since childhood.

He’d always been a smaller kid, and bullies seized on that. This was like throwing kindling in the fire. It made him want to work harder than ever to prove himself. A dean at his high school took a look at the Stanford ball cap Carr wore and said people from their school don’t get into universities like that. Even in the Army, Carr was constantly hearing he wasn’t good enough: You’re probably not going to make Special Forces, a major once told him. Barely anybody gets through. You have to be the best of the best. But you’ll be a good infantryman.

He found himself fueled by those who underestimated him. As a kid, he dreamed of being a superhero who stood up to the bullies. As a Green Beret, he hoped to be a model for others who might feel overlooked or helpless.

I may not be the biggest, but I’ll never give up, Carr said. Because somebody else out there might be watching, and I want to inspire the little guy or somebody out there who doesn’t believe in themselves.

But while he paddled furiously toward his goals, Carr failed to see the water rising in his boat. Despite his impressive accomplishments, he was sinking. Joining Save A Warrior—he would ultimately become executive director of the organization—helped him see that, and his raw confessional videos helped him share it. For the first time, on a public forum no less, he let others see the parts of him he’d always tried to hide. He found that his vulnerability was the path to connection.

He became a different kind of superhero.

Being vulnerable and sharing how I felt—instead of trying to be He-Man or John Rambo, like everybody thought that I was—really allowed me to connect with people in a way I’ve never been able to in my life, he said. I’ve always been the one that I need to bear the burden. I don’t want to bother anybody else. I need to portray myself as strong. What I’ve really learned is that a real man can be vulnerable with boundaries. That’s true courage and true strength—being able to connect with somebody else and put down your walls.

Carr’s story is full of valuable life lessons, and maybe the biggest is this: You don’t have to be the box you were born into. You are in fact the director, producer and starring actor of your very own movie called life. Out of possibility and declaration, one can create a powerful, joyful, self-fulfilled life.

Also, you don’t have to be a Green Beret to find that kind of strength. Look around. Support might actually be reaching out to you and inviting you to a café. If it’s not, ask for it. Admit you don’t have the answers. You’ll probably be surprised to find out how many people are just like you—and how many have been waiting for someone else to say it out loud.

When Carr shared his first video, one of the thousands of people who reached out was a woman he never met. She said she, like Carr, was lost in the darkness. She was planning to end her life that day until she saw Carr’s video and made the decision to push forward.

In that moment, Carr realized he’d finally found his purpose—his true purpose.