E.M. Liddick: You want a leader? This is what one looks like.

What do former Missouri Secretary of State Jason Kander, Sen. John Fetterman and U.S. Rep. Ruben Gallego have in common? This feels like the start of a bad joke, one to which some readers might offer a punchline. But it’s not.

The obvious: they’re men; they’re Democrats; and, although only two can claim “veteran” status, the tall hat of public service covers more than time spent wearing the uniform.

These similarities, however, obscure another commonality, one I suspect none would choose to share: their personal struggles against the shadows of the psyche, the darkness that lives within. As one who struggles with post-traumatic stress and moral injury, I know something of these shadows, the harvest of the innocent deaths I helped sow in Afghanistan.

Old news, you say. The “now” concerns Silicon Valley Bank’s collapse, not Fetterman’s treatment for clinical depression; former President Trump’s potential indictment, not Gallego’s outspokenness about his post-traumatic stress. Such is the nature of a news cycle defined by the attention span of a puppy. But as we sometimes wrote in the Army, I’m “bringing this back to the top of your inbox.” Because in moving to the next chyron, we’re missing an opportunity for betterment.

The National Alliance on Mental Illness reports that 1 in 5 adults, and 1 in 6 youths, experience mental illness annually. These numbers increase exponentially among the multiracial and lesbian, gay, and bisexual demographics. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for people aged 10 to 14 and 25 to 34, and impacts nearly 12.2 million Americans each year. By these measures, undoubtedly an underrepresentation, 20 sitting senators and 87 U.S. representatives are living with mental illness; more have contemplated suicide.

Which brings me to another commonality these men, among other dignitaries like Kristen Bell, Meghan Markle and former U.S. Reps. Lynn Rivers, Cori Bush, Seth Moulton and Dan Kildee, share: courage. The courage to acknowledge their struggles, prioritize their mental health — even or maybe especially in the face of near-certain supercilious response. To display vulnerability and, God forbid that dirty word in politics, honesty.

Sure, it’s relatability their vulnerability unhusks. The relief, admitted or not, in a public figure’s essential sameness. We hoist them upon shaky pedestals. When they topple, we find something like comfort, validation. But it’s more.

We want politicians who are leaders. Leaders get things done. “Proven leader,” a candidate’s campaign flyer insists. “A New Generation of Leadership,” an ad proclaims. “Leadership That’s Working,” a re-election spot coaxes. Few provide any evidence. Empty platitudes, full of fervor.

Members of the Army’s 75th Ranger Regiment, an organization I had the privilege to serve, hold themselves to the high aspirations found in the Ranger Creed. Meaningful words, full of fervor. Lived that way, too. And among the creed’s 245 words spread across seven paragraphs is the intention — command — that Rangers “set the example for others to follow.” Maybe what these three share, then, is what also sets them apart.

Perhaps I’m in the minority, but beyond wanting someone like me to represent me, I also want someone who prioritizes his or her health before trying to address whatever ails our country in that moment. As the in-flight safety brief instructs, you should secure your mask first before helping others. It’s hard to help when you can’t breathe. We should welcome — celebrate, even — the person who recognizes his or her ills and asks for help as a person we can trust to attend to our interests, too.

And yet.

Republicans and conservative supporters pounced, at least in the case of Fetterman. Pennsylvania Republicans demanded a “proof of life” video, as though he was being held captive by the Taliban. Conservatives leveled criticisms; how dare a man battling clinical depression run for office.

And yet.

No doubt Democrats and liberal supporters would, were the roles reversed, be doing the same. After all, we want our politicians — or leastwise those on the opposite side of the aisle — to have feet of stone, not feet of clay. Such is the nature of our (un)civil discourse in America.

In displaying the courage to go public, Kander, Fetterman and Gallego, like the men and women before them who did the same, demonstrate true leadership. And, perhaps above all, they set the example for others to follow.

Those living with mental illness, whether aloud or in silence, know well the withdrawal that leads to isolation, the isolation that turns to unprecedented loneliness and despair. While I cannot speak for them, my own experience warns of the danger that loneliness invites into the lingering vacuum.

Which is the beauty of what these public figures occasion, wittingly or not, by openly acknowledging their own pain and seeking help: a breaking through; a reminder that we who live with mental illness are not standing alone in the darkness within. It’s also possible that, by setting this example, they somehow release us all from the shame we carry, somehow grant us permission to the seek the lifesaving help we need.

The statistics are harrowing. Yet statistics have a way of blurring our vision and depersonalizing reality. So instead, look to the persons on your left and right. Chances are better than decent that one — or more — silently live with a mental illness, fighting a battle you cannot see. If you found someone lying feverish or with a broken limb, you’d advise medical treatment without derision. You wouldn’t question, say, Senate Republican Leader Mitch McConnell’s fitness because he sought treatment for a broken rib and concussion. People living with mental illness should receive no different. They are parents and siblings, spouses and children, friends and colleagues, and yes, complete strangers. Maybe even you. What each of them — each of us — deserves is compassion, not contempt; support, not scorn.

We should afford the same grace to Kander, Fetterman, Gallego and every other man or woman who exhibits the courage and leadership to prioritize his or her mental health and, in doing so, makes it easier for us to acknowledge our own.

E.M. Liddick is the author of the forthcoming memoir “All the Memories That Remain: War, Alzheimer’s, and the Search for a Way Home.” He is a former judge advocate and member of the 75th Ranger Regiment and 82nd Airborne Division.