Sunday Read: Scars and tattoos

I’m not done yet and neither are you

What does that mean?

I often get asked about how I ended up with my one and only tattoo and what it means? This weekend was my high school reunion. I have never gone to one, so it was good to catch up with folks here in town that I haven’t seen in many decades. More than a few of my old friends wondered why I had four words with no punctuation on my left forearm.

It simply says, “I’m not done yet.”

Like most of these things in my life there is a story that goes back to the Army and hard times that taught me lessons. In the end this lesson would be one that stuck with me and ended up being permanently affixed to my arm to remind me.

Tattoo and the world’s worst guard dog

Who died?

This story starts as I prepared to retire from the Army in late 2009. If you’ve never been to a military retirement ceremony it can really feel like a lot like a wake. Everyone gathers to celebrate the honorees 20-plus years in uniform. A dignitary gives a speech about how awesome they were at Army-ing. The honoree gets up and extols on their experiences, thanks those who supported them, and sheds a tear or two about how hard it is take off the uniform. It’s literally like speaking at your own funeral.

I was retiring out of the Pentagon after 22-years and four combat tours. Over a dozen moves and over 20 different jobs. My ceremony was going to be led by then U.S. Central Command commanding officer and my former West Point professor and mentor, General David Petraeus. Several dozen of my former bosses, colleagues, and even a Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense would all be in attendance. It was a big deal.

As is my way, I was up late the night before writing my speech. As usual I waited until the last minute to do it. I’m not sure if that’s my ADHD, trauma brain, or the old joke at West Point that if you “wait until the last minute to do something…it only takes a minute to do it.”

There I was at midnight staring at the cursor on my computer blinking at me in our darkened living room. Kids were all asleep. Once again, my then wife was sleeping alone as I hovered over a computer screen trying to craft something that made sense.

As I wrote the speech, I realized I felt like I was writing a eulogy for myself, but I wasn’t dead. I was 44-years old, getting ready to end an Army career and move on to my next thing. That’s it. At that point, I had even already quit the Army once before in 2000 and come back after 9/11. I thought to myself ‘this is ridiculous.’ I was young, I was just getting started on my private-sector career. I wasn’t done yet. So, I erased the whole thing and started over.

My new theme was just that: “I’m not done yet.”

I refocused my speech on the fact I’d been fortunate to do some amazing things like fly helicopters all over the world, visit the pyramids, live in Korea, be “in the room where it happens,” and so much more. I’d seen loss and led heroes. I’d been a part of the craziest things and momentous historic events, but I was just now getting to the good stuff of my life. One I hoped would bring me peace, no more loss, no more pain, and hopefully, some measure of comfort for my family.

I ran the same thematic thread through it all, ‘I wasn’t done yet.’

Retirement ceremony at the Pentagon

Theme becomes mantra

I had no idea at the time how much of a personal mantra that would become and how much I would test the entire premise.

I’ve shared stories publicly about the losses I dealt with in my life from soldiers under my command, fellow pilots, Iraqi partners, and, devastatingly, my first wife and unborn child. I dealt with those issues and the mental health challenges that came with the survivor’s guilt with varying levels of failure for most of the last three decades. Through those dark times the darkest thought would float in regularly that maybe I was done.

Maybe I was finished with this journey.

Maybe I should be.

But I wasn’t. I didn’t quit. I always came around and though…I’m not done yet. And that became my mantra.

I eventually I sought treatment for my mental health problems and found hope and relief from the demons that had chased me for so long. Oddly, on the other side of that process I began to find joy again.

As I looked to end that phase of my life, I couldn’t escape the picture in my head of those words on that screen and the blinking cursor at the end.

I’m not done yet_

So, one afternoon in a fit of pique in Richmond, I went down and had them ink it on my arm. It’s the typeface of a computer and has no punctuation at the end because on any given day it varies. One day it might be an emphatic period, or an exclamation point! Even today sometimes it might even be a question mark.

A few years later now even the tattoo has some scars on it from when I crashed my bike into some blackberry bushes and later cut my arm while cleaning up broken glass. Those scars make it more fitting. We get beat up but all we can do is dust ourselves off and keep going.

I’ve had others tell me that they are inspired by it and even get their own versions of it. I can’t tell you how much that gives me joy. Being human means facing difficult times. Some of those difficult times may make you question if you should remain in the fight.

If you are still able to carry on.

You must. No matter what you’ve faced or the challenges of today. You’re not done yet.

Don’t forget that…even if it’s not written on your arm like mine.

Fred

Notes

I’m gearing up for our first live Zoom Q&A with paid subscribers this Thursday evening. I hope you’ll join me. Keep your eyes peeled for the invite info. In the meantime the new ‘On Democracy’ with guest John Nichols is really a good one. I hope you’ll watch it on MeidasTouch.