Stories about overcoming adversity tend to really inspire. People like to see the scrawny unlikely kid make it to the top, perhaps even more so than some get a kick out of tearing people down from that top. Here’s my short story of starting over many times at rock bottom. I was that scrawny kid so unlikely to succeed.
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Before I was born, so I’m told, my mother was advised by her doctors not to attempt getting pregnant or giving birth; she had waited into her mid-thirties, and at that time the medical science believed pregnancy was just too much of a risk. I was born not long after. Both of us lived and lasted decades longer.
That isn’t really a story about me overcoming anything, though. I just thought I’d open with it. It kind of set the trend.
When I was five, my parents started to split. By six, they had, and the divorce was a messy one; it wiped out their money, and I ended up living in a rat-infested apartment on the northern edge of Dallas. The emotional rollercoaster I witnessed was a rough one. Still, I carried on with school and normal friendships, not really feeling all that bad.
Chronic asthma came next, and I had to use an inhaler to survive. Add to that braces, headgear, and having to run across town on my own as a child one day, and you get the picture; I was in a lot of stress and pain. Both my lungs and teeth are in great shape now, though, and both feel fine.
Around age eight, I was in a really bad biking accident that ruptured my spleen. After a weekend of internal bleeding before I was driven to the hospital, I was being prepped for emergency surgery before the doctor, at the last minute, changed his mind and decided to see if I would heal on my own. (Had I been wheeled down the hall and opened up, my spleen removed, it would have meant daily pills, and no physically strenuous activity for the rest of my life.) I did heal without any surgery, and ended up playing soccer and other sports. I even sampled weight lifting, track, and martial arts. Rock climbing, white-water rafting, and so much more also came later.
Attempting to join JROTC during the onset of junior high, and later its physical training (exercise and competitions) team, I was discouraged by a number of people. I not only made it in, I kept my grades high in honors and advanced classes the whole time. I also rose through the ranks to that of cadet Major, and the position of cadet Battalion Executive Officer –a year earlier than most get the chance. At first, I couldn’t do a single pullup, but I kept at it, struggling and exhausting myself, until I got that first one. One turned into 20, and eventually 260 in sets throughout a single day.
Sports hoss, right? Wrong. I wouldn’t be seen as fit until much later, long after my high school days. And I couldn’t get a date to save my life. Eventually, I more than made up for this; I’ve dated girls from nearly every part of the world, and a lot of them were pretty damn hot.
Forced to learn and perform music I hated, in two different kinds of choirs, and then being banned from all the music I loved and worked out to, was quite the kick in the balls. What did I do? I just got the CDs I loved in secret, and later started my own barbershop quartet and rock band. I’ve recently resurrected many songs I wrote, made a list of those I want to cover, and laid out plans for my next two bands.
Kicked out of two schools, first over a misunderstanding, and later from the first university I attended after an emotional rollercoaster of my own left me in academic probation, I continued getting into other colleges and universities, and would for decades to come. All told, I’ve so far attended a dozen, earned three degrees and numerous certifications, and started working on my PhD. I also just got informed of a doctoral program overseas within my budget, and you can be sure I’m headed there next.
In that first university, by the way, many of the upperclassmen in my officer training program made merciless fun of me for not having as much muscle definition as them. Most of them didn’t end up using theirs for anything; a few joined the Air Force, while most just got degrees and stayed civilians. I went on to become the strongest of them all. (More on that in a minute.) Perhaps they should have instead admired the fact that I was pushing through the same challenges with far weaker of a starting foundation; I had way more heart, and much bigger goals regardless.
Recruiters erroneously told me that a hernia I’d gotten during my college job meant I could never be part of the service. Instead of accepting that, I drove through multiple states until the last recruiters gave me a yes; there was a medical waiver they knew of, and I went to Boot Camp two weeks after hearing about it. I agreed to a risky major surgery (told I might lose my balls and be sent home a civilian), recovered in Boot Camp, and went straight through training until I’d made it to the fleet as an Infantry Marine. Some of the hikes nearly killed me; I turned purple on one, got a fever on another, and had my femur broken during the middle of a particularly brutal training exercise, but I always made it through. More than 200 combat missions later, I was still fine; no hernia relapse, nothing.
In the military, there were quite a few times when I locked horns with some of the immature who’d slipped through the recruiting cracks, as it were. There were times I was ordered not to teach what worked and saved lives, but what was ineffective doctrine. There were times I was used as sniper bait, times I was choke-slammed, and times I was denied hard-earned promotions and awards. There were even a few unconstitutional orders I had to disregard, risking a court martial each time because of that stance. I never deserted, though; I completed my contract and got on with my life, routinely checking on my veteran buddies and even seeing which wanted to start businesses several years after.
Getting back into civilian life was one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. I never had unmanageable stress while on active duty. Being on my own shortly thereafter was a different story. After a few years of it building up, I ended up crippled by panic attacks, then bedridden from dozens of nightmarish side-effects from prescriptions that very nearly killed me many times. Pill-pushing quacks ordered me to keep taking what was killing me, so I broke all contact, weened myself off everything they’d said would help, and got better in the wilderness on my own. I just got tired of feeling like shit all the time, and decided that if my death was coming… it would be out in the clean-smelling alpine paradises I loved.
Healing from that hell took years, but I did. I ended up running marathons on top of mountain ridges, carrying entire trees across farmland, and really raising my strength to new levels. Now I hike up mountains in sandals or barefoot, and I have multiple friends as witnesses with photographs and videos to prove it.
There was a time when my car keys were taken from me, the door to my room hidden, and all my rights taken away. Making it to the library or grocery store was an uphill battle, let alone across town. I have since made it to 6 continents, 57 nations, and all 50 states –multiple times, and I’ve set things in motion to see all 204 nations, as well as the 7th continent; Antarctica. I’ve nearly set sail for it with a few different groups ever since 2014, as a matter of fact. I suspect its advent is soon coming.
My first time on a rollercoaster scared the shit out of me, and I asked to hold the hand of the guy sitting next to me. I was 10 or 11 or so. Fast-forward 20 years, and rollercoasters bore me. I’ve been bungee jumping and paragliding, riding in a helicopter high over the ocean with no doors, and started skydiving lessons. I’ve even looked into going to Space via Spaceport America –which you should check out, in case you haven’t heard of it. It’s real, and they’ve been selling tickets for rides out above the atmosphere since at least 2012.
Swimming was never my strong suit. My first lessons were in the shallow end of a public pool near where my grandpa was playing golf. I had arm-floaties on, and had to hold my nose all the time. Would you believe I took the highest swim-qual’ in the military? A couple years ago I jumped off my group’s raft in the Grand Canyon and swam with the bravest of them through one of the rapids. I also sailed into the Bermuda Triangle, certain I’d be okay.
Homelessness has been checked off my to-do list a few times, too. I’ve slept in vehicles so many times, I long ago lost count. One time I was woken up by a cop knocking on my door, but I couldn’t roll the window down or open it to see who it was because my entire car had been covered in sleet and frozen shut while I was sleeping. I had to kick the door open from the inside, and was then told it was illegal to be homeless; I’d have to drive down the highway out of city limits to be homeless somewhere else. It never once mattered that I was a veteran doing the best I could with a rough hand.
Bad roommates? You wouldn’t believe it. I’ve ended up living with some I found out were in a cult, and plenty who stole from me, even a couple that lied to the police and left me homeless all over again. One actually tried to get me to smuggle drugs for them, and another tried to order me to take drugs. There was a lot of crazy in the world back then. I managed to evade every time.
And then there were the diet issues; raised on southern cooking, I later tried drinking and other less than intelligent things, even to the point that they were a borderline addiction for a while. One train-wreck of a year didn’t help; I usually never lose or gain any weight, yet lost 15 pounds in less than three seasons that year. (That might not sound like much to some of you, but I had started at around 165, and it left me looking like an Auschwitz survivor.) I got on the Paleolithic diet after that, and it saved my life. Next, I tried vegetarianism. I’m now trying vegan, and it is already starting to make a difference.
By the time I’d made it through to adulthood, I’d had all of the following fucked up and broken in some way: chin, eye, feet, forearm, gums, internal organs (brain, heart, lungs, spleen), knees, leg, nose (inside and out), skin, teeth, thumb, toes. I almost died on an emergency-room table after a few hours of being there in a very bad state. I got so familiar with being on the brink that I even started angrily growling at god to hurry up and take me if that’s what he intended. I was sick of being stuck in that state, and didn’t care about the conclusion, either way.
I’ve been beaten, poisoned, jailed, broken, cut open, sniped at, mortared, in car crashes and roll-overs, inside a forming tornado, and nearly drowned. I’ve been blown back by electrical outlets and an electric fence. I’ve been confined to a wheelchair. I nearly drove off a cliff a few times (and did watch more than one vehicle right in front of me do that), and lost half of both my big toenails after sliding downhill into a boulder. I’ve seen armored vehicles blown sky-high right in front of me, and nearly been shot off a tower by an attack helicopter. I’ve even been directly threatened with a lifetime behind bars and unapologetic murder. My reaction? Smirk and carry on.
I won’t tell you how many women I’ve been with. I will, however, say that several relationships crashed and burned. (And I won’t say why or complain; too many people fall into that habit, and there’s just no point.) I didn’t shut down or become sexist, though. I kept busy, occasionally added to my journal loving ideas for future relationships, and accepted new ones when they were offered. I have a lot of love to give, and only pause from giving it when I know I need to focus more on my life’s work; I wouldn’t be a good partner during such work, anyway, and I know that wouldn’t be fair. (I’m clean, by the way, and always will be. Ladies.)
So many times I’ve been told ‘no way’, ‘not possible’, ‘you might die’, ‘not interested’. I’ve skirted death I don’t know how many times. I’ve ignored so much nay-saying and intimidation attempts. Every time I set out, I embrace the adventure and narrowly avoid what seems to catch up everyone else. I’m not an adrenaline junkie, though; I just love to travel, explore, and learn. I always find or make a way.
All this from a scrawny kid that got made fun of, was a child of divorce, banned from music and travel, kicked out of school, and told he could never serve his country. I was never tall, ‘swole’, or ‘cut’. I don’t look like much. I was never that fast, and certainly didn’t have much confidence for the longest time. I rarely had a place to call my own, much less to take and charm a girl. I didn’t have the fortune of good looks, and I never had any money. I was a poor nobody, yet I changed my life and the lives of many others across multiple regions here and overseas. I became a graduate and then a teacher, and I’ve taught many things.
I don’t care about bragging, though, and I want to make that clear. I hope none of this sounds like I am. I just want you to hear it from me; if someone like me, who was as weak as I was in so many ways, can do all this, imagine what you can do. Just imagine… and then do it. You might surprise yourself. I know I did.
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If you liked reading about any of that, all the details are in my first book, Forming. It’s listed on Amazon and Goodreads. You can find it in the Store tab of this website. This wasn’t one long sales pitch; I just wanted to let you know there is more to the story if you are interested. Happy reading and overcoming, fellow Earthlings. See you on my next adventure. (Antarctica)
