Am I a Cliché?
Or Succumbing to Archetypes
I saw a post on Instagram extolling the virtues of being a silent veteran. In the Special Operations with which I served it was termed “silent professional.” The post enumerated the accomplishments of a career infantryman with multiple combat deployments to various shitholes, none of which currently have an NFL team despite our Nation’s best efforts to import Americana to their ancient cultures.
It continued by congratulating the veteran on his 20-years of service and how he wasn’t:
· A Special Ops guy
· Going to write a book
· Start a leadership company
Just a patriot who did his duty and would live obscurely such that no one save his former military comrades would know who he was or what he’d done. The comments that accompanied the post ranged from “Thank you for your service,” to “write that book,” and “THAT’S how it’s done!”
Reading the post a few times made me consider, in my pursuit of individualism and finding my own satisfaction, if I am instead a cliché. I’ll break it down in its parts.
I’m a former Special Ops guy. Within the SpecOps community some would debate just how “SOF” I am because of where I served and the roles I filled. I wanted adventure and sought a challenge. SOF provided the outlet, it was what I wanted to do, and I believe I did it well. I do have a ton of detractors who will say otherwise. That comes with the territory. For my 24-year career I was involved in Special Operations and some of the most elite units for 20 of them. I’ll let others decide if I’m SOF enough.
Being a SOF veteran doesn’t make me “special”. By choice, I underwent arduous training which made me a specialist, but in the main I remained who I am; I merely fit a personality profile which lent to being suited for these kinds of units and working in the environments in which I served. I didn’t do this alone, however, and most forces out in the battlespace were indeed infantry units, most of whom have way more combat experience in ferocious engagements than I ever did; I was never in Fallujah or Marjah, as an example. My hat’s off to all of them and that they didn’t take the path I did isn’t a mark on their character.
Second, I am a writer. It is my chosen profession. With it comes writing books, of which I’ve written four short novels and have a feature on the way this year. They are based upon or influenced by things I encountered in my career, but I’m also a non-fiction commentator and craft reflection pieces for a variety of platforms. Further, I write screenplays and live-action plays. It’s impossible to be good in every genre, but I give it my all. My writing is developing, though I am prone to exposition, but that is how I was trained. As I learned in my military service, you will do what your trained to do and rise to the level of your training. I write this column to hone my craft and some days it’s rewarding. Most days its difficult. Nothing good comes without hard work.
There are numerous reasons veterans write books. Some to tell their story, some to achieve catharsis, a few seek validation. I started writing to make sense of what I’d gone through during my service. There are myriad books written by veterans, SOF and otherwise, and mine will of course contribute to the pile.
But I write for specific reasons, many of them selfish, because of the ongoing struggle I have as a veteran who feels invisible in our digitally dominated, online world, and though I am screaming in the wilderness (along with millions of others), if I can have some impact and resonate with people, that will make my efforts worthwhile.
Mostly, though, I write for my mental health because, well, I experienced a lot, and I’m still trying to make sense of what happened to me. I do want people to read my work and hope they enjoy it, but I can’t make them care.
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To the third bullet, many military veterans believe we have something we can contribute to training leaders, and as my friend Jay Ly pointed out, there’s a leadership crisis in this country, but no one wants to solve it. What people really want is feel-good platitudes and to say they received leadership training, but this is generally delivered by established gurus looking to upsell the unwitting without addressing the root cause of anything.
True, I offer leadership training because I know I can assist organizations to solve problems, but I am not involved in it seeking riches. I genuinely want to help people and companies, sports teams, etc., get better. The bots keep flooding my inbox with marketing bullshit and the phone remains silent because there are plenty of options available so that people can achieve their goals with known entities without risk.
Shameless plug: Take a chance on me. I’ll make it worth your while.
All of this makes me wonder why I’m justifying any of this. I don’t have to explain myself and made my choices without coercion. I suppose I’m sorting out my personal feelings that I might just be another archetypical, retired SOF guy.
But I’m part of the larger veteran community and a former Marine who’s discovered a new sense of purpose. How I do it isn’t anyone’s business, but it’s a bit narrow to box in my journey because I’m on a path others have taken and someone else isn’t while scoffing at those who do.
By some people’s measurements, I’m indeed a cliché, but I caution in the interest of being original, you’re probably copying someone else in some capacity. How ironic.
Saliently, I wish the recent retiree the best of luck. It’s a shitty, cruel world out there, and my only unsolicited advice is to find something you enjoy and do it. Further, congratulations to you and all who served and performed their duty to a changing Nation. You went where others would not. It’s more that Elon Musk can say, and no amount of his dizzying riches can purchase what you have earned.
Your service and what you choose to do with it makes you unique, and that is something of which you should be immensely proud.