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Bonus Episode - Drownproof Chapter 1 - Be the Author of your Life, not the Victim of it
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Good morning, people of the world. Actually, if it's people of the world, it could be afternoon. I have no idea where you are. Good. Whatever part of your day it may be, wherever you are. Little bit of a bonus Wednesday episode today. I recently wrote a book. I know people are probably tired of hearing me talk about it. For everybody who has supported the book, helped me spread the word, purchase the book, whether it's the audiobook or the physical copy, thank you. I do not have the words to express how appreciative that I am. It made all the bestseller lists, which was not something that I was expecting. But what I will say is this, and this is even more important. I've gotten an overwhelming amount of feedback from people in the real world who have told me that they found the book at a time in their life where they needed it. And that's actually all I care about. Today's episode. Actually, one more thing before I get into that. If you have receive the book, do me a favor. Amazon reviews and Goodreads reviews are super helpful. If you have the time, head over there and leave a review. Whatever you may think of the book, remember, if it's a one or two star, it's called Extreme Ownership by Jocko and Leif. If you really like the book, it's called Drown Proof by Andy Stumpf. Just keep that in mind. Other than that, today's episode is just chapter one of the audiobook. For those of you out there maybe wondering whether or not you should pick this up. This gives you some insight into what the book is all about and who I am as a person. And one of the most formative moments in my life was a change in mentality that changed the trajectory of my life and likely saved my career inside of the SEAL community because I had done something pretty dumb leading up to this. For the video crowd, there is no video of me reading this. So I'm going to put up a still picture of a miniature dachshund. His name is Javelin. He is an asshole. He has plums that are abnormally large. If he was a human being, I feel like they'd be the size of cantaloupes. I don't know why you need that information, but you're welcome. You have that for the remainder of your life. Away we go. Chapter one of the audiobook of Drown Proof. If you like what you hear, do me a favor, pick up a copy, audio or physical copy. And then the most important thing I could ask beyond that is help me spread the word. That's all I have. Let's get into it please enjoy. Okay, got the red smoke sun run north and south west of the smoke, west of the smoke. Okay copy west of the smoke. I'm looking at danger close now give it to me. I need it cleared hot Chapter 1 Sink or swim When I look back on my life, it seems as if most of it has been a blur. But there are a few days and experiences that were more memorable than others. And I remember the day and the moment that I thought I was going to lose it all as if it were yesterday. The only real dream and goal I had ever committed to my driving force from an early age was in serious jeopardy. Years of literal hard work and suffering hinged on the words and decision of the man I was standing in front of and and it was all my fault. I had made the choices, I had taken the actions, and now my fate and future career were in the hands of someone else. Take my word for it, it's not a great feeling. I don't recommend it to anyone, but I hope it happens to everyone at some point in their lives. I was a different young man when I left that office. In reality, I had become a different young man a few days before when I arrived at the realization that I needed to own everything that happened. All of my actions, all of my words, and all of the outcome. That mental shift changed the course of my life. I have not been the same man since. More than anything, I don't want this to be a SEAL book. Honestly, I'm sick of them. They are largely the same common experiences recycled over and over in the hopes of grabbing the reader's attention. There are SEAL books on leadership, relationships, entrepreneurship, business. I am sure there is even a SEAL cookbook out there somewhere. I have nothing but respect for the men who commit themselves to that occupation and the exceptional amount of work that goes into making it through the selection pipeline, let alone the commitment to the career beyond. I just don't want it to be all that I am ever known for. I don't want to be defined by a profession. It was what I did for a short period of time in comparison to how long I'm hoping to live. It was my job. It was not who I was then, it is not who I am now. How do I talk about my past without constantly referencing the shiny object of the Navy SEAL trident? I don't really know, but I'm going to do my best. The trident itself is just a small piece of metal and if you do a Google search you can find them online for about 20 bucks. Go to town, buy a dozen. It's just a pin. I say that, but I also dedicated nearly 20 years of my life to that piece of metal. It was the physical object that was on the chopping block as I stood in front of my commanding officer's desk with my heartbeat absolutely pounding in my ears as I waited for him to decide my fate. I can say it doesn't mean much now, but it felt like everything in the world to me. He in that moment, I felt like my life was hanging in the balance. How did I end up there? And what does it have to do with anything? I was working with men I considered to be my heroes. Imagine the elation of having a goal for nearly 10 years in successfully completing it. Years of dreaming about an occupation that I had just begun, surrounded by those I had looked up to for longer than I could remember. There was nowhere else that I would rather be and no one else that I would rather be with. For most, this doesn't sound like a nightmare. It sounds like a daydream. It's a long story that many might confuse for a string of bad decisions, which it certainly was. But it is really a story about a young man having an awakening. An awakening in how he viewed the world and his role in the world, but most importantly, how he viewed the young man he saw in the mirror each morning and what he wanted that young man to become. It was the most powerful and concrete awakening of my life. As if there had been a catastrophic shaking of the tectonic plates and the earth had split open in front of me. I could go in one of two directions. The direction I had been going in my life up to that point, or the direction that I knew I needed to go. The entire journey hinged on one how did I view myself? Up until that moment, I had viewed myself as untouchable, unstoppable and unbreakable. I could not have been more wrong. Cas, or Close Air Support, is a tightly synchronized dance of communication between a ground controller and an aviator or aviators circling overhead. The purpose of the communication is to positively identify a target on the ground and successfully put ordnance hanging from the wing of an aircraft to onto that target. In concept, it is very simple. In execution, it is not actually that much harder. It can seem like an overwhelming task when you first begin, but as with many complicated evolutions, you develop a level of familiarity, pattern recognition, and an effective vocabulary that soon removes most of the difficulty. It takes practice and repetition, though, and that is why we were in Arizona. Military strike Aircraft move quickly and bombs often leave big holes, so you need a lot of airspace and a lot of real estate to practice CAS safely and effectively. Davis Monthan Air Force Base has a wide variety of aircraft and the state of Arizona has a lot of land dedicated to training both military pilots and ground controllers. This was my first trip as a fully qualified seal. I had just received my trident weeks before. I had a little bit of book knowledge and absolutely zero experience. What was supposed to begin as a training day quickly changed when the air wing that was scheduled to supply our aircraft was unable to do so. Given our location and lack of training aircraft, we, and by we I mean the senior personnel in the platoon made the decision to focus on our secondary core competency drinking. It did not take us long to identify the most optimal training location at that mid morning hour, a local strip club. And we moved in that direction to perfect our craft. The block of training that had been canceled was our last requirement, meaning we were free to do a maximum depth bounce dive into the bottle as we saw fit. The only thing we had waiting for us in the morning was the drive home from Arizona in the classic SEAL team vehicle, the Ford Econoline van. A brief side note, I have always found it interesting to work in a community that by doctrine espouses and promotes the responsible use of alcohol, but in practice can often send incredibly mixed messages when you make a mistake. The punishment is often measured in six packs of beer. First time doing fill in the blank? That's a case of beer. Each platoon had a beer fund. Every Friday, the command sponsored a monster mash, an extended workout followed by a keger in the grinder, which is Navy terminology for an asphalt or concrete pad. When the command is sponsoring a drinking evolution at midday on Friday, how do they apply the expectation that everyone gets home safely without drinking and driving, especially considering that no one lives on base? It's an interesting thought exercise. Ask yourself what is more impactful, the things you say or have written on paper or the behavior you model. What has more influence? The command guidance telling members to not drink and drive, or the operations officer throwing back drinks and then hopping into his car and driving home clearly intoxicated in front of everyone? I was underage at the time, an issue that was easily solved by either borrowing an ID from a platoon mate or bribing a bouncer. Once you are inside, no one bothers to check your id. We used the former technique at the strip club, and when we had finished there, we used the latter technique at an Irish bar downtown at The Irish Bar. A member of the platoon decided to provide some unsolicited feedback to a woman on her weight and attire. It didn't go over well. She happened to be related to the owner, which in turn did not go well for my platoon mate. By the time I noticed the commotion, he had already been dragged outside, had two bouncers lying on top of him, and was trying to take off his Rolex, a very traditional SEAL watch. While underneath the two bouncers, he attempted to hand the watch to one of us, explaining he didn't want it to get damaged while he was beating the shit out of everyone. Once they let him up, of course they didn't let him up and the cops arrived shortly thereafter, providing him with a few minutes to collect his thoughts in the back of a cruiser. While the officer spoke to us to determine what happened. We chose what we considered to be the most effective option to defuse the situation and get our clearly innocent friend out of the cop car. Tell them you are Navy SEALs. This was pre 9 11, and in that era it was more likely that the person you were talking to did not know what a SEAL was than they did. I don't remember if they recognized the job or not, but they did agree to let our friend out on one condition. That we take him directly back to where we were staying at the time. I did not remember telling them my full name, the team we were assigned to, and the name of the base that we were staying at. All of those details would have an impact later in the evening. To make a long story short, what we had promised to do did not happen. As we were corralling the platoon members across the street, the individual, who had moments before been in the back of a cop car, went directly toward a different bouncer and began another verbal confrontation. By this point, we were at least around the corner of the building where the initial incident took place and not in the direct line of sight of the officers, but they were less than a hundred feet away. I ended up pulling out a folding knife, holding it against my leg, and threatening the bouncer and then running from the police. I don't know how to rate my escape and evasion, but I feel like I put my best foot forward. It involved a sprint down an alley, clearing a razor wire fence that left me with a souvenir on my right hand that I still have to this day, hanging from the side of a building and then falling through a tree directly in front of the teammates I had just separated from. What would one likely do after evading the police. What would have been the smart decision in that moment? That's right, keep drinking. At yet another bar, I swapped shirts with a friend, crossed the street and sampled the cold beverages of our newest drinking location. It was a relatively mellow dive bar, but it was tough to relax and enjoy it with the lights and sirens of the local police constantly passing by. I guess they were looking for someone at some point. All good times must come to an end and in the short distance between the hideout bar and the Ford Econoline van, the same teammate who had insulted the woman in the Irish bar managed to talk his way into a fist fight with another group of people on the street. I am sure many are hoping to hear the legendary tales of Navy SEAL hand to hand fighting techniques in the mean streets and alleys of Tucson, but he got his ass kicked. Eventually we all loaded in the van and headed back to Davis Monthan. There are moments in life when you know without a shadow of a doubt that you are just proper fucked. Our arrival at the Davis Month and gate was one of those for me. As soon as we pulled up to the gate the guard asked, is there an Andy Stumpf in the vehicle? I suppose that I could have tried to hide, but my hide and seek options were limited at that point and I knew it was over. The same officers that had pursued me down the alley casually pulled up next to the base entrance guard shack and I got a few moments to examine the interior of their rear seating compartment. How did they solve the case of where to find me? Pretty simple. I had told them everything. Full name, unit, and of course exactly where we were staying. Some real Jason Bourne shit if I do say so myself. The officers had briefly looked for me downtown and then made the most logical conclusion. If they couldn't find me there, I would certainly return to my room at some point. A high return move that required very little effort on their part. I was read my rights, had the pending charges against me explained, and was then informed that the officers had already contacted my command in the time between when they had last seen me and when I arrived at the gate. I was free to go, but the charges were not settled, as you can imagine. Once my command was notified, a chain of events began that were well outside of my control. Both my OIC officer in charge and my AOIC Assistant officer in charge were present on the trip, but not with us that evening. The command representative who received the call from the Tucson police immediately contacted them to gather more information which they did not have at the time, and notified my commanding Officer. For those of you who are unfamiliar with the enlisted officer structure, the absolute last thing you want to happen as a junior enlisted member is to appear on the radar of your commanding officer. You don't want to show up as even a blip, not even for something positive. In the absolute worst case scenario, your commanding officer is hearing your name for the very first time. The average headcount of a SEAL team at that time was likely 200 personnel in relation to an underage alcohol related incident on a training trip that may have long standing legal implications for the service member. I was in the worst spot I could be. The drive home the following morning was brutal for me. I knew that I had made a series of bad decisions. I knew that there would be consequences for my actions. I had no idea what those consequences might be. I had nothing but time and a restless mind. We arrived back at Seal Team 5 to a waiting command Master chief, the senior enlisted billet at a Naval command he wasn't there because he wanted to be and he wasn't happy. This portion of the story gets a little hazy for me as I was utterly consumed with fear about what my future might hold. But I do remember hearing from other people present that there was a good amount of screaming and a flipped table or two. I have zero recollection of what he said. I just remember that it was the first step of a multi step process over the next several days that would determine my future in the Navy and SEAL teams. I wish that I could tell you I spent that weekend fine tuning my apology and acceptance of my punishment. But I didn't. I spent the first half staring at the ceiling, looking for a way to do what I had always done in my life up to that point. Explain my actions in a way that would make them seem justified. Almost as if I had no choice but to take them and hopefully reduce any possible punishment. I was still asleep. I don't know how and I don't know why, but the day before returning to work, the realization of what I needed to do hit me like a ton of bricks. Accepting responsibility for one's actions was not a concept that was unfamiliar to me. I had heard it discussed many times leading up to this point in my life, but I had never taken an action that would have a potential consequence of this magnitude. I had never been standing on the tracks watching a freight train barreling in my direction. Up until this point it had all been talk, largely hypothetical. What could I have done? More importantly, what should I have done? I could list the behaviors and red Flags along the way, but they are not the most important piece of this puzzle. Yes, changing my behavior at key moments in the story would have modified the outcome, but only in the short term. It would not have solved the actual problem that I was facing and didn't even realize. It would have just moved it farther down the tracks. The real problem was how I viewed myself. What I needed to do more than anything was change my own perception of myself. Up until that point, I would have followed my teammates to hell regardless of what they had asked me to do. Walk on hot coals, no problem. How far? Meet me at midnight with an M60 because we're going to go rob a bank. You got it? Where are we meeting and can I pick my high ground position? I didn't question what they said and I didn't feel like I had any right to speak up or advocate for what I thought and knew was right. I need to be very clear here. That unwillingness was not the Navy's fault, not the training pipeline's fault, not my teammates fault. It was utterly and completely my own. I did not feel like I could speak up because I did not feel like I had earned my place to do so. I did not view myself as a leader and I certainly hadn't acted like one when I needed to that night. So what should I have done? Well, I probably should not have been out drinking underage, that is the lowest hanging fruit. I should have addressed the warning signs and poor behavior when they occurred instead of going along with them. The individual who initiated the momentum on this ball rolling downhill had a history of drinking heavily. Trust me, he was not alone in that. And that day and night was no different. I should have taken him back to the barracks on base. I should have put my arm around his shoulder and said, hey, you've had enough for one night. Let me get you out of here and back to bed. I should have paid attention to the interaction he was having with the woman at the bar. I did not see it firsthand, but heard from others that it escalated over time with plenty of opportunity to be interrupted once he was out of the cop car. I should have physically prevented him from approaching the bouncer again, regardless of how much he may have resisted. Each of the escalation points that night had clear warning signs and I did nothing about any of them. Was I physically capable of intervening? Without a doubt. Was I mentally prepared to do so? Not even close. I had trapped myself in a thought process of inadequacy. I wasn't old enough. I wasn't experienced enough. These guys were legends and my heroes. I was just the new guy. The following week, there was a Chiefs Board, executive Officer's mast, and then finally captain's mast. The Chief's board was all senior enlisted personnel from the command. The XO is the number two, and the CO is the big boss. At each meeting, I explained the actions that I had taken, admitted that the actions were wrong, and explained what I thought I should have done. I talked about only my actions. I made no attempt to characterize them as anything other than what they were, as tempting as that was, and took total accountability for my behavior. I apologized for bringing negative light and awareness to the community that I had wanted to be a part of for longer than I could remember, and asked for the opportunity to show the leadership, the team and the community the man that I wanted to become. I have no illusions that I did any of those things as eloquently as I can describe now, but I feel like I was able to get the point across. At the end of my captain's mast, my commanding officer slid a pair of scissors across his desk and told me to cut the trident patch off my camouflage fatigues. It had been sewn on just weeks before. I did so and returned the patch to him with the scissors. My commanding officer did not end my career, a move that he was more than capable of making. Instead, he took the one thing from me that I valued most in my life, hoping it would make the change in me that he wanted to see. I had already made that change internally, but the biting daily reminder of wearing my garrison uniform top, where anyone and everyone could clearly see the outline of a patch that no longer remained, was painful. Everyone at the command knew who I was and not for the right reasons. Six months later, at a yearly exercise in Korea called Foul Eagle, my commanding officer returned my trident. At that point in my life, the preceding six months were the most introspective time I had experienced. I thought often about who I was and who I wanted to be. I was incredibly ashamed of my actions, but even more ashamed that I had allowed something that I knew was wrong to happen right in front of me because I didn't have the balls to do something about it. For many years, I didn't talk about what happened. I was embarrassed and viewed the experience negatively. I now see it as one of the most important and impactful times in my life. It truly changed who I am. Many years later, I sat in an oral interview for a counterterrorism command on the East Coast. The room was perfectly situated to make the interviewee uncomfortable. Tables had been aligned in a horseshoe shape, with the interviewee sitting alone in the middle in their dress uniform, being asked questions by the senior and most experienced operators from that command and likely the entire SEAL community. I had very little information about what was going to be asked. I had heard that you should be prepared to answer everything from tactical to moral questions, but the first question posed to me was this Tell us about what happened in Tucson. I answered honestly about my actions and explained what I had learned and how I had been changed by the experience. I told the interviewers that I was glad the incident had happened and that I viewed my mistakes as a critical learning point, but also as a turning point in my life and career. The senior member in the room asked me what I would do if that situation was playing itself out again, but this time it was him who was in the wrong. I answered that I didn't care who he was, what rank he had, how much combat he had seen, how much more senior he may be than I was, that I would step up and do the right thing. He said, good answer. And that was the last time I was formally asked about that event. It is my hope that no one finds themselves staring over the edge into the abyss with the balance of their life or their hopes, dreams and aspirations resting in someone else's hands and judgment. I personally do not think that you need to take it that far to recognize that the first and most critical step in a young man or woman's life is to change their perspective of who they are and the role they play in their own life. You are responsible for your behavior. You are responsible for the emotional reactions you have to the things that happen to you. Integrity cannot be outsourced. Until you view yourself as the author of your life, you will be the victim of it. You won't be a participant. You will merely be an observer of what happens to you and around you. I open with this concept because the chapters that follow are an architecture and structure for achieving your goals. Just like building a house, if the foundation is poor, everything that is built on top of it will suffer. If I can provide for you the tools to create a solid plan, but you execute it poorly because the foundation of how you view yourself is structurally unsound. These subpar results should not be a surprise. A perfect plan executed poorly delivers garbage for clarity. You are still going to fail. It is my hope that your failures will occur in the Microsoft, not the Macro. I truly believe that I have failed more times in my life than I have been successful and perhaps the best plan of attack is to expect the same thing for yourself. I do my best to learn from my failures and to not repeat them. I have reframed how I view failures. I now consider them tuition payments, and that simple reframing has removed substantial negativity in my own self talk. Some of my tuition payments have been relatively inexpensive and some have taken me to the brink of bankruptcy. But they have all taught me something. When you wake up, you will realize that it doesn't matter if someone is older than you. It doesn't matter if they are senior in rank to you, your mentor, your friend, or your parent. When words need to be spoken, when actions need to be taken, you are the one who needs to step forward. We have control over very little in this world, but make no mistake, you have complete control over yourself and the actions you take. You will never feel ready to take them until you reframe how you see yourself in the world. My path to that reframing required handcuffs and scissors. Hopefully yours does not There is another concept or mantra that I was exposed to around this time in my life that continues to act as one of my guiding principles. It is painful to live at times, but the discomfort is only exceeded by its meaningfulness and it will supercharge every concept contained in this book. What you allow in your presence is your standard. I would love to say that I came up with these words, but it was so long ago and my memory is just hazy enough that I cannot remember. Very likely I heard someone else talking about this concept and since that day I have done my best not only to hold on to these words, but to live up to them. Initially, I exclusively used this as an outward facing tool because that is what I thought it was intended for. I used it as a reminder that if I did not want to be considered subpar, then I had better not allow subpar behavior from those around me. The impact and effectiveness were immediate, but over time I realized that if you truly want to weaponize this concept, you will orient it internally. You will find yourself looking into the mirror and asking very difficult questions. What am I willing to allow for myself? What will I allow in both thought process and internal monologue? What will I allow in both behavior and actions? What will I allow my word to mean? What aspects of my life will I allow others to control? What type of man or woman do I want to be? What is my standard and are my actions aligning with those beliefs? I suspect the list of questions will be different for everyone but make no mistake, your answers will determine the trajectory of your life. To put a more humorous bow on this chapter and my tales of knife fighting glory, I have included an email that I once received from one of the officers who arrested me that night. We had not seen or spoken to each other again after that night, but he heard me talking about the story on a podcast. Here's the email message Details Name Redacted Email Redacted I arrested you in Tucson hello Mr. Stumpf, I just watched the BRCC podcast of you talking about the night we arrested you in Tucson at the Davis Monthan Air Force Base, Craycroft Gate. Yes, that story was told on the police side as well for many, many years. Well, I hope there are no hard feelings. I retired after 26 years and my partner back then redacted retired several years ago and is now a cop for Anchorage pd. I still remember you flying up and over that razor wire and onto the roof of the thrift store. Classic story indeed. God bless you and your fellow SEALs for all the dedication and hard work you've done the past two decades. I served in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait and was deployed for six months. I hated it, so I can't imagine serving all those tours year after year as you have done. Anyway, I thought the podcast was great. The life lesson you got from the experience. I'm glad you share it with others. That's the most important part of the story. Semper Fi Redacted in the end, I am glad I was able to bring some humor to what I hope was a mundane night for them. More importantly, I hope that anyone listening to this can realize the pain and suffering that my own poor choices netted me are not required to learn from my errors. The sooner you wake up, the sooner you can change the trajectory of your life. I allowed my environment and the people I was with to control my actions and behavior. I surrendered control, or at least told myself that I had to go along with it and it almost cost me everything.