I’m a violent combat veteran, trying to build community.

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Joke was on me, though. Being alone hurts, too.

The Navy was a brief respite. The shared traumas of boot camp and following training created a bond with my fellow sailors. That lasted roughly long enough to get us to our respective commands, at which point I never heard from them again.

Then I arrived at my ship. I made it about six months before the cycle started again. Since it was an all-male ship, physical violence wasn’t unheard of. While I was larger and stronger than my younger self, I didn’t stand a chance against multiple hardened sailors. So I did what any child of violence would do; I got better at violence.

I pushed myself to the top of every certification that involved weapons. First I got expert qualifications in every weapon available. This got me noticed by the ship’s security force.

Then I outscored the entire ship’s reactionary force. This got me into counter-piracy training, with dozens of other commands involved.

I inadvertently alienated myself from my own ship’s team by being not only the top of my class, but the only member of my command to complete the training. The four others who were sent with me washed out of training before the final test.

I returned to my ship feeling proud, not realizing this was an affront to their shame. Only two other sailors managed to go back and complete the training. The remaining two would later corner me and attempt to tie me to a table. We hurt each other thoroughly, and I managed to escape. Of course nothing came of this; I had no allies. My word against theirs meant the matter was dismissed out of hand.

Life on the Counter-Piracy team wasn’t much better. My drive to be recognized as the best led me to the ‘First Climber’ role. While it meant I was the fastest and most dangerous, it also made me the most expendable. I performed my duties with skill and enthusiasm, not considering the fact that I was essentially a meat shield for the others. Again, I performed my duty with skill and enthusiasm. My meat was the shield.

Once the inevitable injuries occurred, I was adrift again. Brain damage and ruined body meant my next role was as a barracks manager. Basically a bellboy for a dorm room. I hobbled my ass around, checking that beds were made properly, and that rooms were cleaned.

Crawling along the floor scrubbing baseboards, with my cane hooked over my foot so it was always within reach.

I was hurt, I was angry. I’d literally sacrificed my body for the team, and never heard from a single teammate. It’s been almost a decade.

Therapy was the only factor that stopped my slide into a furious madness. Learning how my parents failed me, and how my concept of friendship was broken. Forced to confront the fact that preemptively hurting others didn’t protect me; it made me more vulnerable.

Even with the assistance of professionals and medications, it would still take YEARS before I stopped trying to be a loner. We’re stronger in groups. We’re happier in groups. We’re safer in groups.

Being alone used to be the only way I could feel safe. Now I’m desperately attempting to build anything worth others’ time, so I don’t need to be alone any more. It’s working. Slowly, but it’s working. Now that I’m taking the time to build, I’m starting to see where the structures of community are needed. It’s unfortunately shining a spotlight on where our society is failing us.

I’ve made it to the top. I’ve been to the bottom. I’m now somewhere in the middle. Our country is using us as meat shields, and when we’re inevitably used up, we’re not going to have any support from the society around us.

So let’s build. Let’s use kindness, patience, and positive words to make each other stronger. When one of us falls, two of us should be there to help them back up. I’m spending every day managing my violent urges and bitter language. If I’m capable of that effort, despite brain damage and chronic pain, I’m confident others can too.

Let’s be better to each other. We still have a chance.

Joke was on me, though. Being alone hurts, too.

The Navy was a brief respite. The shared traumas of boot camp and following training created a bond with my fellow sailors. That lasted roughly long enough to get us to our respective commands, at which point I never heard from them again.

Then I arrived at my ship. I made it about six months before the cycle started again. Since it was an all-male ship, physical violence wasn’t unheard of. While I was larger and stronger than my younger self, I didn’t stand a chance against multiple hardened sailors. So I did what any child of violence would do; I got better at violence.

I pushed myself to the top of every certification that involved weapons. First I got expert qualifications in every weapon available. This got me noticed by the ship’s security force.

Then I outscored the entire ship’s reactionary force. This got me into counter-piracy training, with dozens of other commands involved.

I inadvertently alienated myself from my own ship’s team by being not only the top of my class, but the only member of my command to complete the training. The four others who were sent with me washed out of training before the final test.

I returned to my ship feeling proud, not realizing this was an affront to their shame. Only two other sailors managed to go back and complete the training. The remaining two would later corner me and attempt to tie me to a table. We hurt each other thoroughly, and I managed to escape. Of course nothing came of this; I had no allies. My word against theirs meant the matter was dismissed out of hand.

Life on the Counter-Piracy team wasn’t much better. My drive to be recognized as the best led me to the ‘First Climber’ role. While it meant I was the fastest and most dangerous, it also made me the most expendable. I performed my duties with skill and enthusiasm, not considering the fact that I was essentially a meat shield for the others. Again, I performed my duty with skill and enthusiasm. My meat was the shield.

Once the inevitable injuries occurred, I was adrift again. Brain damage and ruined body meant my next role was as a barracks manager. Basically a bellboy for a dorm room. I hobbled my ass around, checking that beds were made properly, and that rooms were cleaned.

Crawling along the floor scrubbing baseboards, with my cane hooked over my foot so it was always within reach.

I was hurt, I was angry. I’d literally sacrificed my body for the team, and never heard from a single teammate. It’s been almost a decade.

Therapy was the only factor that stopped my slide into a furious madness. Learning how my parents failed me, and how my concept of friendship was broken. Forced to confront the fact that preemptively hurting others didn’t protect me; it made me more vulnerable.

Even with the assistance of professionals and medications, it would still take YEARS before I stopped trying to be a loner. We’re stronger in groups. We’re happier in groups. We’re safer in groups.

Being alone used to be the only way I could feel safe. Now I’m desperately attempting to build anything worth others’ time, so I don’t need to be alone any more. It’s working. Slowly, but it’s working. Now that I’m taking the time to build, I’m starting to see where the structures of community are needed. It’s unfortunately shining a spotlight on where our society is failing us.

I’ve made it to the top. I’ve been to the bottom. I’m now somewhere in the middle. Our country is using us as meat shields, and when we’re inevitably used up, we’re not going to have any support from the society around us.

So let’s build. Let’s use kindness, patience, and positive words to make each other stronger. When one of us falls, two of us should be there to help them back up. I’m spending every day managing my violent urges and bitter language. If I’m capable of that effort, despite brain damage and chronic pain, I’m confident others can too.

Let’s be better to each other. We still have a chance.

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<100 subscribers