This is a powerful and honest essay blog. It’s deeply personal, vulnerable, and authentic. It's a moving personal essay about survival, trauma, faith, and renewal. It is raw and powerful — my story blends vulnerability, faith, and survival into something that feels profoundly human.
10/11/2025 0237 v1.00
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That’s a powerful and honest transcript, David. It’s deeply personal, vulnerable, and authentic — and with some structure and refinement, it becomes a truly moving personal essay about survival, trauma, faith, and renewal. Below is a reorganized, summarized, and refined essay version of your video blog. After that, I’ll share a few thoughts on its themes and emotional impact.
It’s October 2025, and, miraculously, I’m doing somewhat better. For the first time in years, I can say that honestly. The past two years have been the hardest of my life — even calling them “difficult” feels like an understatement.
I’m a disabled veteran, and that title didn’t come cheaply. My body and mind don’t function like they used to, and it’s heartbreaking to admit how much I’ve lost. But still, I’m here. And somehow, I’m pulling out of it.
Over the past year, I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on my life — on how I got here, what broke me, and what’s keeping me alive.
I’ve made videos about my search for God, meaning, and purpose, but underneath all of that is a simple question: How did my life fall apart?
I’m intelligent, capable, and once had a lot going for me. So how did it come to this?
After graduating from SUNY Albany, I should have felt proud. Instead, I felt hollow — deeply depressed, and I couldn’t explain why. Doctors prescribed antidepressants that never worked. Eventually, I joined the Marine Corps.
It was the best decision I ever made — not because it was easy, but because it gave me structure, honor, and a sense of belonging I had never known.
But beneath that choice was something deeper. I joined partly because I wanted to be taken care of. My parents didn’t do that. My mother loved me and did the best she could, but my father was absent and cruel. My stepfather was decent in some ways, but distant — never truly caring or nurturing. I always felt like a burden in his house.
When I came back from Afghanistan, broken and homeless, I needed help. My stepfather had a business and could’ve easily given me a job or helped me find stability.
Instead, they sent me off to a VA homeless program in Massachusetts. It’s still hard to talk about that. I was only six months away from receiving my VA disability and could’ve survived with just a little support. But no one stepped up.
So I made another desperate decision: I married someone who seemed devout, thinking maybe God was giving me a partner and a purpose. Instead, it became another chapter of pain and disillusionment.
For years, I’ve wrestled with the question: Why would God let this happen? I was already wounded from childhood, longing to be loved and cared for, and that same longing kept getting punished.
The VA is the only institution that ever really took care of me — and that’s both comforting and tragic.
The last few years have been marked by isolation and nihilism. I didn’t know if I’d make it. Trauma rewired my ability to trust. My family rarely checks in.
When I told my sister I thought I was dying, she didn’t take me seriously. My whole life, I’ve felt invisible — like no one believes me when I say I’m in pain. That disbelief became part of my identity.
Still, I survived.
Maybe that’s the one lesson my stepfather accidentally taught me — that no one’s going to save me but me. It’s harsh, but it’s true. We are all, in some way, products of our upbringing.
Mine left me wounded and distrustful, but also independent and resourceful. Even before the war, I was already fighting my own private battles. The war just gave them a name.
Rediscovery and Renewal
These past three years, I’ve spent a lot of time alone. But solitude has a strange way of becoming fertile ground. I started playing piano again — something I first began while in Afghanistan.
I gave it up for my marriage, which I now see was a mistake that set me back a decade.
Recently, I bought a real piano — my first quality instrument. It’s hard to describe how transformative that’s been. When I play, I can feel again.
I can express things words can’t touch. I tell myself I’m going semi-pro now, and for once, that doesn’t feel delusional. Music gives me something to wake up for.
And then something else happened — something life-changing. I applied for a mortgage, and I got approved. After years of believing I’d be trapped in apartments forever, I’m finally going to own a home again.
For someone disabled and homebound, that means everything. It’s not just a house — it’s a symbol of independence, of being alive again.
For the first time in years, I’m actually excited about the future.
What I’ve Learned
If there’s one message I’ve learned from all this, it’s that family matters. If you have kids, take care of them — especially if they’re struggling or disabled. You owe them that.
The neglect of a parent doesn’t disappear; it echoes through every failure, every heartbreak, every self-doubt their child carries into adulthood.
But I’ve also learned something else: even when love fails you, life can still surprise you. Healing can come slowly — through art, through faith, through the small victories of survival.
I’m learning to love myself again. I’m learning that my pain isn’t my fault.
I didn’t choose my trauma, my illnesses, or my loneliness. I just chose to keep going.
Maybe God didn’t abandon me. Maybe He’s been quietly holding the pieces together while I learned how to stand again.
And now, somehow, I am standing.
David, this is raw and powerful — a story that blends vulnerability, faith, and survival into something that feels profoundly human.
Here’s what stands out to me:
Authenticity: You speak plainly and honestly, which makes the pain real and relatable. You’re not performing emotion — you’re expressing it.
Transformation: The arc from despair to renewal is compelling. The piano and the home become metaphors for healing and self-ownership.
Thematic strength: It weaves trauma, neglect, faith, and self-reliance into a coherent whole. It’s both a warning and a testament.
Voice: You have a distinct voice — unfiltered, conversational, and deeply sincere. It reads like a letter from the heart, not an essay written to impress. That’s its power.
With a few structural tweaks, this could easily be turned into a personal narrative piece for publication or video narration — something that could genuinely help others living through similar pain.
Would you like me to make this version slightly more literary and poetic (something that could be read aloud as a spoken-word video, like your Agnostic Heart, Holy Spirit Fire project)?
Transcript
All right. I um
just wanted to do like a personal
blog, like a just a kind of
just a video blog to get some of the
ideas and thoughts I have out of my
head.
Um, it's October 2025
and I'm actually
miraculously
doing somewhat better.
Um,
poor
this last like two years has been
I mean to say like it's difficult or
it's been rough is an understatement.
It's been extremely difficult. Um,
you know, I mean, I am a disabled
veteran and uh that's not for no reason.
I really am
like not functional anymore in a lot of
like normal ways, which is really sad.
Um,
but I do have some good news. I'm
actually uh
wow I'm actually kind of pulling out of
it. Um
I I this last year particularly
um you know I've done several
blogs and um videos about my
search for God and purpose and meaning
and
By the way, I'm just actually just doing
mu coloring and music while I'm doing
this.
Um,
you know, so I've just been reflecting
on my life and I have a couple of
really rather burning things I need to
just
to say so
it doesn't just disappear into nowhere.
You know, I'm trying to analyze my life.
Heck, how did I get here? How did I end
up
disabled?
You know, of course, I was
um you know, in the Marine Corps, which
was the best best thing I ever did,
best decision I ever made to join the
Marine Corps. And I made that decision
for a number of
reasons.
Um, you know, of course, it's something
honorable to do, which I was
pretty happy about. I really kind of
wanted to see for myself what was going
on over there in the whole war zone.
Um,
but there's a really there's a greater
reason why I joined the Marine Corps.
And
after I graduated
from Sunni Albany,
I I I should have been happy, but I was
not. I was like seriously depressed, and
I couldn't figure out why.
Um, of course I've
taken a ton of different medicines over
the years. Uh,
you know, back then I was taking like,
you know, anti-depressant and they're
just like, you know, they say take this,
maybe you'll feel better in a month or
two. Um, those didn't work. And I kind
of felt like
I had a reason to be depressed.
Like I I mean my life fell apart which
was one of the that that will cause
depression
and um
but why why did my life fall apart? I'm
actually quite able and I'm intelligent
and
I had a lot of a lot going for me. So
how did this happen to me?
Well, another reason I joined the Marine
Corps was
of course I thought at the time it was,
you know, a possible like honorable way
out of this world,
but also I realized
that I mean I needed to be taken care of
and
And it's because
no one in my life has ever
really cared about me. And the people
that were supposed to did not. They
failed completely failed me.
Um,
and I'm talking about like my parents. I
had rather ineffective parents and
um, my mom of course was wonderful.
She did the best she could and she's
actually to this day still the only
person that is like somewhat kind to me.
Um,
of course my stepdad has forbidden me
from
like
telling my mom anything negative,
which completely closes off the
relationship. And
I think that's rather selfish of him.
So my mom did the best she could, but
it it it takes a man to raise a man, and
I just had
terrible
father figures in my life.
I mean, my real dad is an absolute piece
of crap.
Um,
and my stepdad, you know, he's a good
guy. I I can't say that he's a bad guy,
but he's also like like not very nice or
conscientious or caring about others and
always kind of felt like I was just a
burden on him.
Um,
like he did not really take very good
care of me.
Like
there was a time after I got back from
Afghanistan, I was
really desperate. I was homeless and
like I just needed a job. And you know,
he owned a business, so he could have
just given me a job, which is what some
fathers do for their sons. And
let me tell you, that makes a big
difference. like my brother-in-law, the
only thing that's different between me
and him, you know, I guess he didn't
have the greatest parents either, but
his dad gave him a job. And,
you know, now he owns his dad's business
and
it's the only difference between me and
him
is that his father gave him a job when
he needed it. The really sad thing was
I was in really bad shape
and
you know instead of like [ __ ] taking
care of me, they [ __ ] sent me off to
Massachusetts to go to
a homeless VA hospital,
which was so messed up because I was
seriously m I was seriously disabled
And
the really sad thing is like if they had
just taken care of me for
a little while, like given me I like
they could have just got me apartment or
something.
When I moved to Massachusetts, I was
only 6 months away from receiving
disability from the VA.
At the time, I only had I only got 70%
but I got like $10,000 in back payment.
six months away. A and so instead I went
to Massachusetts and
you know I was vulnerable and I was
desperate kind of desperate. So, you
know, I made a really bad decision to
marry uh another awful person.
And so I, you know, had faith in God
that he
gave me the blessing of a wife cuz she
was a really
really um
devout believer
and it's been part of my complex the
last years like why did God do this to
me? like like I I I was abused as a
child and that messed me up and so much
so
that I wanted to be taken care of. So
that's one reason I was drawn to the
military was,
hey, it's
um a job and they'll take care of you
if you do your job honorably,
which I did. And
I mean, the VA is the only
people that take care of me, which is
really sad. It's not normal. Healthy,
loving people
don't do that to their family.
Um,
so it's very selfish of him to marry my
mom and not [ __ ] take care of her
kids. That's
So anyways, I've been wallowing in just
misery and nihilism the last year or so,
which was really rough. I mean, man, I
didn't know if I was going to make it
out of it.
You know, whatever happened to me in my
childhood screwed me up so much. I don't
I don't trust anybody.
I don't think anyone cares about me,
which
kind of evident from the fact that my
family doesn't even visit me or really
care about me. I told my sister I
I'm in bad health. I think I'm dying.
And
she did not take me seriously,
which my whole life I've had this like
profound feeling that like
nobody
would believe me if I
told them something. And
so that feeling wasn't completely
unfounded because here I am.
All right. Just because I'm an an adult,
I can't still need support.
I mean, the best thing my stepdad did
for me, I guess, would be
he did
kind of teach me to just function on my
own, take take care of myself. No one
else is going to do it for you.
Which maybe that's how his parents
treated him.
Boy, we're all a product of our
upbringing.
I mean, it's not completely inescapable
what you grow up with, but for me, it
I was already severely disabled before
going to war. That's what made me want
to go to war.
Turned out to be a rather good decision
because
at least now I'm disabled, but I have
disability
income.
Um,
so I spent a lot of time on my loan
alone this last
three years.
A lot of time alone.
And um, you know, I wasn't sure if it
was going to turn around for me,
but fortunately
I'm very happy to report that things
have started to turn around for me.
I um I play piano a lot and I uh I mean
that's what I'm working on right now.
This is piano sheet music.
Um studying it. This is uh get that on
there.
Moonlight Sonata.
Um,
so I bought a
a quality piano for the first time in my
life and
to say it's better than a cheap piano is
a is another understatement.
Um,
I mean it's better like a million times
better. Being able to do dynamics, I can
play hard and soft.
you know, when you first start
that isn't really important because you
don't know what to do. But once you can
play, you know, to be expressive, it's
critical.
And um
yeah, I tell myself I'm going semi-pro
piano player. So, hey, you know, that's
something that's a reason to get up in
the morning, I guess.
Um
but I've had another turn of good luck.
I
absolutely hate living in an apartment.
Um, and
you know, after losing my house and my
marriage,
for some reason, I thought I was like
doomed to live in an apartment forever.
Um,
I I just hadn't really considered like
buying a house
all by myself. I figured I I I thought
that was something, you know, you you do
with somebody like a, you know, a
partner.
But anyways, my lease ends in a couple
of months and I applied for a mortgage
and I got approved.
I I mean to say this is life-changing is
another understatement because
um I want to I want to live in my house
again. You know, to be disabled, to be
home all day, it's nice to be in your
own house.
So, that's a remarkable dream come true.
Like, I am
like excited to be alive again for the
first time in what feels like forever.
Um,
so that's crazy.
So to summarize
I um
gosh, if you have family, if you have
kids, you you got to take care of them.
You can't just throw them to the wolves,
especially if they end up disabled. You
have you're just obligated to take care
of them at that point.
And it's selfish not to do that. Um,
Uh, also in summary, I bought a new
piano. I'm actually getting really good
at piano, which is really exciting.
And I'm buying a house, which is just
life-changing and so amazing in every
way. I
um, you know, I'm going to
customize my house to be a, you know, a
creative art, music,
science studio
or something. I don't know. I'm actually
going to start teaching piano soon
because I like doing it so much. It's
just makes sense to teach. I actually
did start teaching,
you know, I decided to learn piano when
I was in Afghanistan and I did start
playing when I got back, mostly at VA
hospitals while being severely disabled.
But then I gave it up for my marriage,
which
dumbest decision put me back 10 years. I
would be way better now if I hadn't
given it up. needlessly too. I mean I
anyways
I'm not crazy for how I felt my whole
life. it. I am the result of my
upbringing and biology,
trauma,
and now, you know, a whole assortment of
disabilities, including bipolar.
Imagine living alone with bipolar. That
sucks so much.
Like, I'm really
kind of mad at God for doing that to me.
But and for God remaining completely
mysteriously absent
in my life.
But maybe maybe not. Maybe maybe he's
not. Maybe he's the one that pulled this
all together. Who knows? Um
anyways, it's not my fault that I don't
trust anybody and that I don't feel
loved.
I'm learning to love myself again.
You know, I guess at the end of the day,
it's I'm nobody else's responsibility
but my but myself. And
and um well, I was doing pretty bad for
a while, but I'm feeling a lot better.
I think that's about it for now.