How the Military Taught Me to Respect Myself Again

From Trauma to Transformation — My Road to Confidence

In 1997, at 15 years old, I seriously considered ending my life.

Not because I hated the world — but because I hated myself. A childhood trauma I never asked for rewired how I saw everything: my worth, my boundaries, my place in the world. I had been molested by a friend of a sibling — someone I looked up to. That one betrayal planted deep beliefs:
"I don’t need boundaries. I’m not worthy of respect. This is just how people treat me."

I didn’t become violent or sexually inappropriate — I became defiant, depressed, and lost. Jail visits, failing grades, toxic friendships… I spiraled. From age 12 to 15, I was drowning in a life I couldn’t even understand, much less control.

Thankfully, my mom saw it. She saw my grades fall, my spirit dim, and the self-destruction setting in. She tried everything she could. What helped me most back then wasn’t a therapist — it was time in the mountains with my uncle. That man, that land, and those summers gave me the first glimpse that maybe I could be more.

Still, after high school, I was bored, broke, and completely without purpose. Smoking two packs a day, drinking, and stoned constantly — I was just wasting away. Then something snapped. Not an epiphany — more like a survival instinct:

"I need confidence. I need money. I need a future. The military gives you all three. Let’s go."

So I did.

And Fort Knox damn near broke me.

I was out of shape, had no discipline, and hadn’t run a track in three years. Basic training hurt. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. Every limiting belief I had came roaring to the surface:
"I can’t do this. I can’t take another step. I’m going to pass out. I need to quit."

But I didn’t.

I vomited and ran.
I cried and rucked.
I pushed through.

And every day I did something I didn’t think I could — the doubt cracked. Slowly, steadily, it turned into something solid. Something unshakable. Something earned.

"Confidence. Real confidence. Not loud, not showy — but forged."

I didn't find self-respect in books or slogans. I found it in the dirt, under a pack, soaking in sweat, chasing a cadence I swore I couldn’t match. And I made it.

I made it through basic.
I made it through deployments.
I made it through the lies I used to believe about myself.

Today, when I teach survival skills or mentor other men, this is what I come back to:
Confidence doesn’t come from comfort.
It comes from doing hard shit you thought you couldn’t do — and doing it anyway.

That’s what the military gave me.
Not just a job or a paycheck — but a reason to respect myself again.

And that changed everything.

“Success Preceded by Struggle Breeds True Confidence”