Tag: perseverance

My Four Years Beneath the Sea

My four years in the United States Navy, from 1988 to 1992, remain one of the most formative periods of my life. I served aboard the USS Minneapolis-Saint Paul (SSN-708), a Los Angeles-class fast attack submarine, during a time that included Operation Desert Storm. Looking back nearly four decades later, I realize that the Navy gave me far more than military experience. It taught me lessons about responsibility, teamwork, discipline, and resilience that have shaped every chapter of my life since.

When most people think about military service, they picture dramatic moments or action-packed missions. While those moments certainly exist, life aboard a submarine is defined much more by routine, preparation, and trust. Living and working in a steel tube hundreds of feet beneath the ocean’s surface is unlike almost any other experience. There are no windows, no fresh air, and no opportunity to simply walk away from a difficult situation. Every sailor depends on everyone else to do their job correctly because the safety of the crew depends on it. In that environment, accountability isn’t just encouraged—it is essential.

One of the greatest lessons I learned was the true meaning of teamwork. The word is used so often that it can lose its meaning, but on a submarine, teamwork is not a motivational slogan. Every member of the crew has specialized knowledge and responsibilities, and while you may not fully understand another sailor’s technical expertise, you trust them completely to perform their duties. In return, they trust you to do the same. That level of mutual dependence creates a bond that is difficult to describe unless you’ve experienced it yourself.

The Navy also taught me the value of discipline. Many people think discipline is simply about following orders, but I came to understand it as developing habits that allow you to perform under pressure. Procedures exist because someone learned a lesson the hard way, and following them protects both individuals and the mission. That mindset stayed with me long after I left the service. Whether I was working as a Senior SNAP Program Specialist with the U.S. Department of Agriculture, pursuing my master’s degree in anthropology, writing books, or building creative projects, I found that success depends far more on consistent effort than occasional inspiration.

Another lesson that stayed with me was the importance of lifelong learning. The Navy expects its sailors to constantly expand their knowledge, qualify on equipment, and master increasingly complex systems. That expectation fostered a curiosity that never disappeared. Even today, I enjoy researching history, anthropology, religion, game design, education, and countless other subjects. The willingness to keep learning has opened doors throughout my life that I never anticipated when I first enlisted.

Perhaps the lesson I appreciate most today is what I learned about leadership. The best leaders I served with were not the loudest people in the room. They listened carefully, accepted responsibility, shared their knowledge, and earned the respect of those around them through their actions rather than their rank. Watching those individuals taught me that leadership is fundamentally about serving others and helping them succeed.

When I left the Navy in 1992, I thought my military service was simply one chapter of my past. Over time, I’ve come to realize it became part of the foundation for everything that followed. Life has taken me down paths I never could have imagined. I’ve built a civilian career, earned an advanced degree, become an author, and embraced life as a transgender woman. Those experiences did not replace what I learned in the Navy—they built upon it. The confidence, discipline, and resilience I developed aboard the USS Minneapolis-Saint Paul helped me navigate challenges that had nothing to do with submarines.

I don’t define myself solely by my military service, but I will always be proud of it. Serving aboard a fast attack submarine during a pivotal moment in history taught me lessons that have remained with me for more than thirty years. The Navy showed me that trust is earned, discipline creates opportunity, learning never truly ends, and the strongest people are often those who quietly do their jobs well every single day. Those are lessons that continue to guide me, and I expect they always will.

The Challenges of Funding a Passion Project

There’s something both thrilling and terrifying about trying to bring a dream to life—especially when that dream involves starting your own business. For me, it’s a deeply personal and creative endeavor, one rooted in storytelling, artistry, and adult-themed gaming content. I’ve spent years imagining what this project could become. I’ve laid out sourcebooks, sketched out mechanics, worldbuilding lore, and even envisioned the types of illustrations that would bring it all to life. But as with so many creative projects, the vision is the easy part. The real challenge? Funding.

Starting a business from scratch isn’t just about passion. It’s about resources. And when you’re bootstrapping, every decision becomes a balance between what’s necessary and what’s possible. I’ve had to navigate not only the costs of creating a product—writing, editing, illustration, marketing—but also the costs of forming the business itself: registration fees, professional services, and a platform to actually share the work.

There’s this common idea that if you’re determined and the project is good enough, the money will follow. But that’s not the reality for most of us. Grants and loans tend to favor more conventional ventures. Crowdfunding is a gamble that requires a large and active fanbase before you even launch. And personal savings? That can only stretch so far before you’re making choices between paying for groceries or commissioning another piece of art.

Every step of the way, I’ve asked myself whether it’s worth it. Whether I’m chasing something too niche, too risky, too outside the mainstream. But I keep coming back to the same answer: yes, it is worth it. Not because it’s easy, but because it speaks to something I believe in. I want to create spaces where people feel seen, where fantasy and identity can meet in authentic and affirming ways.

I’m still in the early stages—lining up my structure, scouting for collaborators, and planning out ways to generate steady content. I’ve committed to using a monthly subscription platform to slowly build a following and earn enough to commission the assets I need. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. But it’s mine.

If you’re also in the middle of starting something big with not enough money and a heart full of hope, I see you. It’s hard. It’s exhausting. But it’s not impossible.

We create because we must—and we fight to build something lasting because someone out there is waiting to see what only we can offer.

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