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Discussion in 'Ride Reports - Epic Rides' started by wittyusername, Sep 7, 2019.
Good to have you back! Both riding AND writing!
Bumping this up. A big drop is on the way...
Rock on! Welcome back. Glad you prevailed.
When riding, remember to properly social distance from others. Also keep your face shield close. The virus will bounce off. I think I am overdue for a social distance ride.
As I have said many times. The two professions that can screw you up the most are just practicing:
Practicing Law, and Practicing Medicine.
A ride without a destination, ... someone once said, "It is not about the destination, it is about the journey".
It's fitting that you bring up law and medicine. I'm wrapping up a long post that ties together lots of loose ends to this journal that deal with 'law' and 'medicine.'
Did you manage to stay on your $16.47 per day budget on your ride to your dad's house?
or do we have to wait for the book to find out?
It wasn’t me who said I’d be riding on $16.47. That was Xwingfighter’s comment.
That's my budget . I'm still stuck in Alaska. I did get my bike out yesterday, but my plans are on hold until the border opens.
35 degrees isn't fun to ride..... unless it's the first ride of the season!
Hold on to your socks...
I originally joined ADV rider in 2012 so I can participate in our Baja 1000 thread. I’ve never even heard of ADV Rider until Brett introduced it to me. Over the years I might have clicked on a few links or scrolled over a few Ride Reports with luke-warm interest. I definitely wouldn’t call myself an active ADV inmate. I’ve never even followed any thread with sincere interest. I always felt that I’d rather experience a ride instead of reading about someone else’s ride. Or maybe I simply never connected with any ride report the way some of you are connecting with my life.
I have the impression that the “Epic Ride Reports” forum is a place where adventurers and ADV enthusiasts aspire to reside. The Day Trip reports are nice…but everyone wants to be a staple in the “Epic” section. I imagine setting up shop in the Epic Report section is the end-state goal of every motorcycle enthusiast. In my opinion, riding a motorcycle around the world and connecting that experience with thought provoking stories and anecdotes is definitely worthy of the moniker “Epic”. I am glad I never read through those “Epic Ride Reports” because I wouldn’t want a frame of reference to compare my ride report with.
This is a “Ride Without a Destination.” This is a different ride report. I had a grand plan of where I wanted to ride and what I wanted to see, but life steered me in a different direction and down a different trail. Maybe I’m technically still on my “ride” because the game isn’t over – more importantly – my life isn’t over. I don’t necessarily have a destination at the moment. Instead, I have a loose idea of where I’m going in my life. Afterall, everything is relative. Remember, not all ride reports are created equal.
This ride report is a journey through the peaks and troughs of a misunderstood and sacrificial life that’s centered around my first motorcycle-love. Told from the perspective as an objective observer in my own reality. I’ve shared parts of myself with you that even my closest friends aren’t privy to. There’s a certain feeling of freedom that comes with the anonymity of the internet. I find it odd that the bulk of encouragement and attention came from strangers on the internet versus people who are closest to me. The encouragement I’ve received through private messages on ADV Rider to continue this story has been inspiring. So, where did we leave off?
I took my bike out for a ride a few days ago to clear my head and to disconnect. We live near a small touristy historic downtown area by the Northeast Florida ocean. That area is typically jam packed with cars, sidewalk cafes, and lookey-loo tourists. The ominous absence of cars and restaurant closures from the quarantine only emphasized my feeling of disconnect from everyone and the world around me.
It’s incredible how much more nimble and light the bike felt without those heavy aluminum panniers and my bulky Mosko top bag. My bike was loaded down with everything I needed to disappear for 2 years. Now, the suspension felt different. The brakes felt different. My feet didn’t rest flat on the ground anymore. When I was riding the other day, I realized that it wasn’t just the gear that made me feel heavy. The incredible weight that was resting on my shoulders was also gone. I was as light as a feather. My mind was clear and the noise was at a manageable volume. I could focus.
When I sit and think about the chess game that I was playing last November and more importantly, what was on the line, it’s hard to believe it was even real. In the unlikely event that I ever make a new friend, how can I tell the story about the minefield I was riding through? How could they ever understand the complexities of this unusual story? Do people even tell stories to each other anymore? This journal is some of the only evidence that I was center stage in this bizarre story that you’ll soon learn about. It all seems like a strange day-dream to me now. But then again…this is my crazy life…mi vida loca. Strangely, this isn’t even the most outrageous event that I’ve been a part of. I dropped hints and breadcrumbs throughout this journal because I anticipated revealing everything once the deal was solidified. I was having fun with it…until it wasn’t fun. Like a Q Anon drop, it was a puzzle that I began to lace into the story of a ride report.
I was playing 4-D chess and, sadly, it looks like I might have lost that round. Over the past few months, I mentally reviewed each decision in an attempt to learn from my mistakes. I haven’t been negatively dwelling on the past. Rather, instead, I let enough time pass to distance myself from the storm so I could achieve a different perspective and new perception of the story below. Hence my silence with this Ride Report.
Ultimately, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t make any mistakes. My execution was flawless. I was, instead, beat by my opponent(s). I was out maneuvered. I was up against a giant who simply had more support and attention to dedicate to this complex game of life and death. I was David - Goliath won that round. Why couldn’t I invest more time to the game if it was as important as I was hinting at in this ride repot? Easy answer…I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to execute the plan in the way I knew it had to be played. I was maxed out in every sense of the word.
What was I up to? Why was I maxed out? What could distract me from, “possibly the greatest invention since the printing press?” Let me introduce you to some of the key players in the game.
* I was forced to quickly sell a house that I loved or I’d lose my life savings and final hope of a dignified retirement one day.
* I was fighting the state of FL on an absurd unemployment lawsuit from a former employee.
* I was buying a house in an unfamiliar city in an attempt to safeguard what remaining assets I had left.
* I was saying goodbye to my sister and continuously supporting my family emotionally.
* I was days away from divorcing the love of my life.
* I was fighting an immovable monster – the IRS. They targeted me and a disproportionate number of my colleagues because we were high-threat overseas security contractors who all voted Conservative. The country I swore to protect and defend accepted a full decade of my life then treated me like a petty criminal.
* I was moving assets before they were seized.
* I was battling with my old (criminal) CPA who destroyed my life yet refuses to pay my outrageous lawyer fees.
* I was navigating an absurd wrongful death case against some of the most successful ambulance chasing lawyers in Florida.
* I was battling the company who bought my business for failure to make payments and breach of contract.
* I was supporting my family and keeping everyone fed and happy while desperately looking for any job.
* I was hemorrhaging money like arterial wound - I was running short on tourniquets.
* I met with lawyer after lawyer while I wore a facade of calm even though I could clearly see that their chief goal was to siphon away what remaining pennies I had left.
Each one of those challenges had dozens - if not a hundred other sub-set complications that added to the complexities of navigating multiple timelines simultaneously. My head was spinning.
My wife is extremely sensitive to energy. She can read people and events with uncanny accuracy just by absorbing the energy in a room. Together, we can [almost] read anyone. She absorbed my stress and then inadvertently mirrored my own feelings of despair back to me. This led to disastrous confrontations. I was arguing with the physical manifestations of the challenges that were suffocating me listed above. Don’t forget to sprinkle in a dollop of severe depression and PTSD into the recipe for a turbulent 2019. The original title of this ADV Ride Report wasn’t “A Ride Without a Destination.” I almost named it, “DKY2019.” I won’t even mutter was it means but I’m sure you can probably guess.
Good ship captains are not made in calm seas.
I'm not sharing the "Key Players in the game" to elicit sympathy or pity. Pity and sympathy are pillars to the bridge that connects weakness to the Sheepdog. I don't want pity and I don't want sympathy. Context is important for the reader to connect with the author's actions and emotions. Context is the framework to hold the story together. Context is the Space-Time of a story - it binds the universe together.
One of the main reasons why I sold my security business in 2018 was because I was mentally exhausted from the unrelenting stress. I thought selling the business would give me relief and eliminate my constant battle for survival. Quite the contrary. It was just a momentary pause before the next wave of suffocating stress and advanced players were added to the game. I was tired of fighting for my life and needed to take drastic actions or I’d be dead in a year.
Instead of dwelling on my struggles, the only thing I had control over was my view of the world. I attempted to pour a gallon of positive energy into everything I did. I portrayed the image of the man I wanted to be versus the man who was crumbling to pieces within. In ADV post 198 I described how much conscious effort I put into remaining positive and uplifting others while I was drowning in real time before them. Now you might understand why those acts of kindness and leadership were paramount to my sanity. Does that post (or this thread) invoke a different chain of emotions now that the curtain is pulled back a little further?
As I was steering my ship through rough seas, the only glimmer of hope on the horizon was my Ride Without a Destination. I fanaticized about disconnecting and disappearing. Going dark and surviving. I shed tears alone in the dark when I thought how amazing it’d feel to sit on my motorcycle under the big blue sky without a care in the world. Like I said, I was pulling the emergency brake on my life. I had enough.
After I left Colin Edward’s Texas Tornado Bootcamp, I planned on riding to Tennessee and starting the TAT. That would have been the “official” beginning of my trip. Remember the deposition where had to fly to S. Florida then made Mr. Fancypants Lawyer look like a jackass on the record? (ADV post # 141) Well, that deposition was originally supposed to take place in Nashville, TN. I gave the team of lawyers 3 different dates to meet with me in South Florida before I was wheels up on my trip. However, Mr. Fancypants Lawyer didn’t like any of those dates because he just returned from a European vacation and wanted time to recover from all the fun he was having with his family before he attempted to further destroy my life. He wanted me to pause my trip until he was ready for the meeting. Not a chance jackass. I told them, “If you want to depose me, then you’ll have to fly and meet me wherever I am in the world because nothing is going to stop me from leaving. I don’t care about your case and I don’t care about a dead drug dealer’s family. Nothing is going to stop me from leaving. Do you understand?” So they did.
I chose Nashville because it was on the way to the start of the TAT and because it’s a fun city with plenty of live music. I told them if they didn’t catch me before I started the TAT, then they’ll likely never connect with me for a deposition. It was their last chance. And frankly, I didn’t care because I was just going to close my LLC and wash my hands of it all. I knew it was a Kangaroo Court, but I was being forced to jump through their hoops like an abused circus monkey.
I made the entire legal team and dirty straphangers buy plane tickets, make hotel reservations, and car make reservations for my Tennessee deposition. I’m sure the in-house corporate email chains for approval were hysterical. And I’m also sure they all hated me. They rearranged the Nashville courtroom schedule and then reserved space to depose me. They hired a Nashville based court reporter and videographer. They also reserved my hotel room for 3 days and gave me money to buy appropriate clothes to wear for the deposition. It wasn’t appropriate to wear my Guns & Roses t-shirt and dirty jeans for the deposition…. but I would of if they didn’t give me money to buy professional looking clothes. The hoops they jumped through to record my 8-hour deposition only highlighted how important my deposition was and the scope of the payout that was on the line to the dead drug dealer’s family. All of the pandering was pathetic. The more they pandered, the more disgusted I was with this entire process and our legal system.
I was all set to check that Big Ticket item off my to-do list in Nashville and then ride off into the sunset to tackle the remining items off my crushing to-do list. I was going to sprinkle all of it into this ride report as I toured around the world and found that illusive peace I desperately needed. I lined it all up so everything could be handled via e-mail while on the road (another monumental task). So what happened? Why did I race back to Brett’s house after TTBC then fly back to South Florida and disrupt my orchestrated Nashville fiasco – and more importantly – my Ride Without a Destination?
A new player entered the game. This new player wasn’t a new lawsuit or a new nonsense personal challenge. Rather, this new player was an opportunity to make the world a better place. Oh…was it exciting! I could barely process the possibilities of this invention since my mind was amuck with nonsense flutter. But, I knew it was big. And I knew I had to postpone or sacrifice my trip for the greater good. My happiness, sanity, and my Ride Without a Destination had to wait because humanity needed this invention. More directly, my sister needed this invention.
In the end, I was out maneuvered and outsmarted because I was mentally maxed out. I was playing 4-D chess and I simply didn’t have the resources or time to invest and properly play the game. To be more clear, we all lost out on something special – you just don’t know it yet. I have one move left. A wild card. An obscure ride report on a small website called ADV Rider that might land in the hands of the right person to reignite the fire. The game was rigged for me to lose – for all of us to lose. Let’s shake the tree and see what comes out. No more secrets.
This is a story of a ‘friend’ who is part owner of a small business that asked for my help because they knew my contact list ran deep and they knew I was a man with integrity. They believed in me and my ability to help them deliver their invention to the world. They didn’t know who to trust. They received numerous substantial offers from several countries to purchase said invention. The sale of the invention was not the chief goal. The chief goal was to ensure this invention landed in the right hands – honest hands. Like the fate of Nicola Tesla’s discovery of free-clean-energy, they had to ensure the technology wouldn’t be buried in the basement for the next 100 years. The buyer’s intentions were more important than the sale price. They didn’t want to sell it to just anyone with deep pockets…the buyer(s) needed to have pure and honest intentions to change the world for the better. You wouldn’t believe how close me, and my deep list of contacts came to satisfy all of their goals and help deliver this invention to the world.
Before I entered the game, they met roadblock after roadblock and didn’t know where else to go. Straphangers saw flashing dollar signs and positioned themselves to take advantage of an honest invention that was bigger than you can possibly imagine. They were spinning their wheels and were quickly running out of capital. They were a minnow swimming in a sea infested by rabid sharks - and they didn’t even know it yet. This story is in no way intended to belittle, tarnish, or libel them or their accomplishments. I still believe in the invention, the inventor, the man who discovered the inventor, and more importantly, I believe in the math. Afterall, mathematics is the language of the Universe.
My trust is difficult to earn. I only give people 1 chance and if they burn me, then they’re pushed out of my circle forever. No one gets a second chance to burn me twice. Absolutely no one. They lost their access to me but that doesn’t mean I don’t want their product to be made accessible to every hospital, doctor, and paramedic on the planet. Afterall, it’s the Holy Grail of medicine. Their perception of me and my precise / deliberate actions was poisoned by a devious wolf in sheep’s clothing that was hiding in plain sight. We’ll call her “Ms. Clown.” My disappointment with them was their inability to see through the hidden objectives of Ms. Clown and her Agency of secrets.
I knew there was something ‘off’ about Ms. Clown the moment she mysteriously appeared at one of our meetings. I’ve known the family for a long time and never heard them speak of this friend – this pig wearing Prada. She divulged just enough about her family contacts to conceal the much larger secret. I saw right through it and knew exactly where she called home. I, too, have walked over that seal darling. Her key-role in the business and sudden close friendship with the family were entirely too convenient to be mere chance. More importantly, I couldn’t read her body language - ever. I noticed she was overtly suppressing any inadvertent communication to the room that first night. I thought, why is she taking such overt lengths to conceal her covert body language when the room is bustling with optimism, hope, and friendship. I, too, only showed her what I wanted her to learn about me because, as I said, my trust is difficult to earn. At the end of the first team meeting when we were saying goodbye, the room was emotional with optimism. She then began to cry when she spoke about the possibilities of all the children who’d be saved by this device. “Oh do it for the children” is a common tactical cry of the sinister. Something struck me as “off” about the sudden rush of overt emotion when she was so heavily guarded throughout the evening. I watched her push out tears like a gorilla trying to solve for X. It didn’t feel genuine…indeed it wasn’t…my suspicions weren’t confirmed until later.
I’ll refrain from the step-by-step details of the chain of events that led me to where I am today. The details aren’t important.
After a lot of thought and council with my closest circle, I realized that one of two events were taking place. 1. Ms. Clown and her handlers were present to ensure the invention didn’t fall into the wrong hands. To ensure the invention wasn’t buried and lost in the basement with Tesla’s free-clean-energy. I kept my knowledge of Ms. Clown to myself and watched for hints of intended outcomes while I played the game. Ms. Clown was present to either chaperone us (the invention) into the right hands and overwatch us with Clown supervision / covert support. A benevolent shadow guide lifeguard to ensure our safety while swimming with sharks. Or option 2. Ms. Clown was present disrupt and deny you access to this medical device. To be the gatekeeper. I was naive to believe these Clowns would allow a device the size of a shoebox to disrupt such a lucrative industry.
Not surprisingly, she was one step ahead of me throughout the entire process. It was a textbook step-by-step process of coercion and manipulation – and she wasn’t even good at her job. She was doing exactly what she was trained to do and I saw right through it as if she was carrying a blinking billboard. Her body language was silent but her actions spoke volumes. Ms. Clown managed to eventually contractually silence my wife from communication with the inventor and our “friend”. The inventor didn’t speak a lick of English and my wife posed a threat to their plan of isolation, defamation, and eventually control of the product. My suspicions were confirmed when it was discovered that Ms. Clown had 6 social security numbers assigned to her name. Can you think of any organization where this is the norm?
Once I realized we were not being escorted into the spotlight by a benevolent shadow guide, I never had the chance to inform the group of the wolf in sheep’s clothing that was quickly establishing dominance within their ranks. I was pushed out of the circle the same way my wife was silenced and pushed out of the circle. Ms. Clown poisoned their view of me and my actions. My words were twisted and my actions were misunderstood. I had so much information to pass but refused to deliver it to anyone but the inventor. She told them this was manipulation. They lost sight of the fact that I was the only person who gave them money where everyone else was in line to fill their own pockets. Remember when I wrote about possibly losing the house we were buying….now you know why. We would have lost our house if I didn’t find a buyer for my Green Monster truck precisely the day that I did. They failed to grasp what I gave up helping to escort this invention onto the world. My sacrifices were diminished as if they were meaningless. Remember when I wrote about eating alone and asking the server to sing something beautiful to me? Ave Maria might have a little more meaning now that you see a clearer picture.
“The wolves will learn what we’ve shown before; we love our sheep, we dog’s of war.” A sheep’s role is that of a sheep and nothing more. They know nothing about the sacrifices the sheepdog makes on their behalf.
I never had a chance to tell them what was happening or to shift their perspective because Ms. Clown had her talons rooted deep into the business. Like a puppet master – she soon controlled everything. She won and we all lost. These Clowns ultimately caused our Angel contacts to back off and cease all communication. One doesn’t get a second chance to knock on that enormous door. We were days from closing a deal that would of landed us on the cover of Forbes while simultaneously making the world a better place. Still think these Clowns have your best interest in mind?
There isn’t a day that does by where my mom doesn’t shed tears over my sister’s death. It’s been 4 months and she still quietly weeps. When she reads these next few paragraphs, I know the flood gates will reopen and the wounds will fester for months to come. I’m sorry mom. I was simply maxed out and spread too thin. There were too many obstacles in the way to navigate my way to safe harbor.
Imagine having access to a device that could possibly save your sister’s life and take away her constant pain. Imagine watching your sister wither and waste away while Ms. Clown took deliberate actions to deny this miracle invention to the world – and more specifically – to my sister. The incoming payday could of allowed me to circumvent insurance companies and trials. And imagine the feeling of helplessness when I couldn’t stop it from all slipping away. Imagine the feeling of betrayal when my “friend” pleaded for my help and then immediately shunned the very help he pleaded for. Imagine the feeling of betrayal when that “friend” sat quietly while he allowed Ms. Clown to steamroll over me and my wife. We were so close. I tried so hard. I sunk into a deep depression when we lost the deal. I sunk further when my sister died. It was a dark time.
So what’s the invention? What’s the device? What was denied to you?
Did you know that your skin expels minute trace gasses? These gasses tell the unique story of what’s inside your body. Imagine the possibilities of measuring 16 (and up to 200+) blood values…instantly and without ever breaking the skin. Imagine never having to draw blood again. Imagine that valuable data being transmitted wirelessly and in real time to medical professionals. No more guessing what to do by doctors. A nearly instant non-invasive procedure to measure the most vital components within your blood. No more finger pricks to check insulin levels. No more guessing or waiting to see if certain medications were working. No more waiting to analyze blood tests before an emergency surgery. Can you imagine being a doctor in the ER and be able to read the inbound patient’s blood values before the ambulance arrived at your hospital? Can you imagine how useful it’d be read a patient’s blood values in real time during surgery? It could be used to easily test a Special Operations team to see if they are physically fit to carry out a High Value Target follow-on mission or if the B Team would be called up for the task. Could you imagine a real-time measure of electrolytes in professional athletes during the game to ensure the players are playing at optimum levels? Think the NFL, MLB, and NHL would be interested? Could you imagine receiving an alert on your phone of an incoming stroke or insufficient iron levels? What if the hospital received the same alerts and was able to dispatch an ambulance to your location? Wouldn’t instant malaria results be nice? This is where it really hurts…could you imagine knowing if the chemo was working or if another round of chemo was necessary? And on and on and on…the possibilities are endless. It’s the Holy Grail of Medicine and it was deliberately taken from you. That’s a lot to imagine.
Months after we were silenced and the Angel deals were lost, Ms. Clown was terminated from the company because it was discovered that she was deploying the same tactics to further isolate other key members and take control of the invention. She utilized the same tactics. At least this time the minnows didn’t fall for it. Telling them, “I told you so,” would lack the hollow satisfaction.
The silver lining is that this miracle technology does, in fact, exist. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. It’s out there and it cannot be silenced forever. Similar to Tesla’s discovery of free-clean-energy, it’s only a matter of time before this miracle is released into the world. Mathematics is the language of the universe. As far outward that math can ‘see’ into distant galaxies and nebulae, math can also be used to see inward into the human body. Not only is it the language of the universe, it’s also the language to unlock the human body. Do you have chills yet?
In my original post to this ride report I said that I wanted to “discover a life worth living.” That statement opens the door to the question…did I find a life worth living? No one has asked me that question yet. You’ll notice several times in this ride report where I let people sign my fender with a yellow paint marker. I told everyone that I wanted a reminder of my trip and the space on the fender was reserved for those who are closest to me or intense experiences I had along the way. I told them to draw a small picture, symbol, or simply write their name. When I was done with my trip, I told everyone that I wanted the entire fender filled with memories and that I was going to mount it on my wall one day. I told them it’d be a cool reminder of my trip. All of that was a lie.
In reality, I was making a list of reasons not to take regrettable and permanent actions. I had enough. I was in a dark place and needed to take drastic actions to save my life.
It turns out that I didn’t need an entire fender full of names, places, and experiences to find a life worth living. The first person I let sign my bike was my wife. In her native language she wrote, “Kisses Forever.” We were days from divorcing and barely on speaking terms. That simple assurance of unconditional love perched on top of the most significant list imaginable brought it all back into focus. In my quest to find peace on this epic journey around the world, that was the only reminder I needed to fulfill my list and to confirm I had a life worth living.
You’re in control of your life and your own happiness. If you’re not happy and think you’re out of options, then do something you’ve never done before. Use my story as inspiration to find a life worth living. What else do you have to lose?
It’s not until you lose everything that you’re free to do anything.
Thank you for reading about my unique life, the ride that almost was, and thank you for your time.
Thanks for sharing.
Damn Scott. You are that Sheep dog that is always on watch. Always looking for threats, anticipating and planning. One gets so gets complacent looking out and forward searching for the threat. Sometimes one gets so focused and determined to protect the sheep that one does not look back at the sheep he is protecting to see his purpose. You looked back my Brother, you saw what you needed and you saw your life... Your life worth living. You must continue to be that sheep dog, that is what you are, that was how you were born. But look behind you from time to time and look at those sheep and show yourself that Life worth Living. Stay safe my friend, keep moving forward and give that beautiful soul in your life and big hug and kiss everyday. Thanks for sharing your journey from the dark and back into the light. It has been a long time since you felt the warmth on your face. Thanks brother and welcome back.
After spending 43 years in medicine I’ve no doubt you believe in the invention. I, on the other hand have zero belief in the holy grail. I admit it would be wonderful but seriously doubt its abilities are real. Pure science fiction in my mind. After reading your entire report you exist with serious rage. If possible you should consider real medical treatment, real therapy. Writing on a blog for one’s release while internalizing without proper help is a recipe for disaster. I wish you all the best you’re still young but you’re in true need of professional help. Don’t be the ticking time bomb.
About the above post.
By the number of posts and the year he's been, I assume he doesn't post often.
I know it's a sensitive issue, but guy is correct. Most people here are nice and only say things are cordial ( most times ).
You need someone who will be brutally honest with you for you own sake.
Good luck man. I feel your pain.
Who the Fuck are you? Mr 43 year medicine man. How do you know he doesn't seek help? Because he doesn't tell you. Then you have the small balls to question his story? The Best way for a Man of Scott's design is to talk and share his insides. I guess you either want him medicated or sitting on a couch talking to some sheep who can not even begin to understand what a Man like Scott has experienced. Men like Scott share their soul with those that they trust. For a Warrior like Scott to share what he has is off the charts. Remember it is Men like Scott that allowed, yes allowed you to have 43 years in Medicine. Scott was born a sheep dog, wasn't his choice. It is all he knows. When people try to change that or make one feel bad for it, that pisses the sheep dog off. People need to thank the Warriors like Scott and move on. A simple thank you, a nod of the head is all it takes. No everlasting praise. Simple. The Sheep dog lives with fear, fear that he cant save every sheep. It is his one job and he will do whatever it takes to ensure that, even the sheep that are assholes. It is what he does. He protects the weak. If you want to report my reply to ADV that is fine, they can remove this or me.
I neither question nor deny his story simply the invention he was involved in. Furthermore, I appreciate all men and women that have served there country for the betterment of us all. You seem to know exactly what Scott needs. How did you come to his treatment plan? What was his diagnosis? Was it he’s a sheepdog? How would you feel if something horrible happened to Scott by his own hand? Would you simply say I did all I could? Never said anything about being medicated or sitting on a couch you are simply making assumptions. I wish Scott nothing but the best as I do anyone that struggles in life. Your diagnosis of Scott as a sheepdog unfortunately won’t do a thing to make him feel better nor will it correct the struggles he’s going through.
I find myself continually coming back to this Adventure post time and time again only to find myself staring blankly at the white letters on the black screen until they blend into a blurry frustrating mess. I typed several "Way to go's" and "I'm in" only to erase them because it's not what I wanted to write to you. I'm a retired Infantry Paratrooper who has served over 27 years and was finally forced out after several surgeries requiring a few internal prosthetics (thank you deployments). I'm generally a quiet kind of guy who has chosen to deal with the after affects of deployments in my own way. Anyway, I've spent a lot of time planning adventure trips on the ole 1200GSA only to cancel them at the last minute because I can't tell you why. Fear I guess …. fear of being alone and left to my own devices when all I really want to do is, how did you put it …. "Reconnect with myself and discover a life worth living".
I'm not here to preach. I'm not here to judge. I just want to know …. did it work? Have you found even a little bit of peace? Is your smile genuine? Has the ringing in your ears eased up a bit? I'm simply looking for answers Brother. I've done and witnessed a lot and figure I have a price to pay, which I'll gladly pay up with no regrets. Just hoping it gets easier is all.
My "Reconnect with myself" adventure ride starts this mid-July. My plan is to ride half way across our great country and ride the WABDR and then take my sweet time riding back to my HQ. I'm as gitty as a school girl on prom night when I think about the trip and what lies ahead. I only hope I don't start shaking like a dog shitting peach seeds when it comes time for me to plant my ass in the saddle and GO.
You must know Scott very well. Otherwise, you are taking a giant leap of assumptions ... and, possibly lack adequate credentials.
I have been following this thread since it started. I don't know Scott or what he has been through. I admire his writing style. He has a real talent. When he shares some of his story, it helps me understand more about a couple friends. I think everyone who chimes in is just trying to help, in their own way. But without his frame of reference it is impossible to understand. I have "never been there or done that", therefore I cannot really understand.
One of my good friends started acting very bazaar (violent and angry) 40 years after his service in Viet Nam. Many of his friend noted his behavior but didn't know how to deal with it. We were thinking metal illness of Alzheimer's or something. Prior to this change he was jovial and fun to be around. His wife encourage him to get some help. Through a group with other soldiers of his era, he was able to deal with his latent PTSD. I think he could share and heal in conversation with others who shared his frame of reference. The therapy made a big difference, after so many years of suppression. He went back to being the guy we knew and loved. My friend was a sniper, but never talked about it before. In fact none of knew, before.
If this thread helps wittyusername, in any way, cope or vent by sharing then great. I hope he find what works for him to find the inner peace.
Good Story ! Good writing !