I Am Still Worth It”: The Long Fight of Sergio O’Shaughnessy

For over 30 years, Sergio O’Shaughnessy, a U.S. Navy veteran, has lived in the aftermath of war—and the silence that followed.

​He served proudly in two major military operations: Operation Desert Shield during the Gulf War and Operation Restore Hope in Somalia. As a young sailor, he rose quickly through the ranks, earning multiple commendations:

• Armed Forces Expeditionary Medal
• Meritorious Unit Commendation
• National Defense Service Medal
• Southwest Asia Service Medal
• Sea Service Deployment Ribbon

At just 20 years old, Sergio passed the E-4 exam and received 4.0 evaluations in combat. He was the model sailor—sharp, dependable, disciplined.
But after returning home, everything changed.

The Quiet Collapse
Sergio didn’t understand what he was feeling, but he knew something wasn’t right. He started drinking. Not to celebrate, but to forget. He would sit at the bowling alley in San Diego, too young to drink but desperate for peace. His behavior spiraled—he got a DUI, went AWOL briefly, and suddenly the pride he had earned was buried in shame.

No one stopped to ask what was going on. No one said, “Are you okay?”
Instead, he was issued an Other Than Honorable (OTH) discharge—a mark that would define his life far more than his medals ever did.

It wasn’t just a piece of paper. It was a wall. With it, Sergio lost access to the care he needed, the respect he deserved, and the future he had imagined.
He was still young, still fighting internally, and completely alone.

Life After Service: “I Was Running From Something”
For years, Sergio tried to outrun the damage. He built a life—started a tile and granite business, worked hard, and supported his wife and children. But inside, he was unraveling.
He didn’t know then that PTSD was behind the rage, the depression, the self-destruction. His wife—who worked for a psychiatrist—knew something was wrong. She pleaded with him to seek help. He refused. Not because he didn’t want to heal, but because he didn’t trust the system that had tossed him aside.

He masked his pain with work and self-medication. He lost relationships. He fathered nine children with eight different women. He fell into deep cycles of instability. And eventually, he became homeless, living out of his 4Runner, carrying thousands of dollars in tools but no clear direction.
For decades, Sergio stayed far from anything associated with the government or VA. He believed they had forgotten him—and maybe even wanted him to disappear.

A Step Toward Hope—Then More Doors Closed
It took everything Sergio had to ask for help.

After becoming homeless, he sat outside a veteran assistance center in Merced, California, for two full days. He couldn’t bring himself to go inside. Finally, another veteran—someone who had gone through the program—walked him in. That moment changed everything.
Or so he thought.

Sergio opened up. He told them about his mental health. He admitted he’d had suicidal thoughts. He was assured that he’d get housing support and help with his VA claim, and that his discharge wouldn’t stop him from getting care. He left that meeting hopeful.

But that hope faded fast.

The organization submitted his VA claim with incorrect or missing information. They promised housing but backtracked. His credit, his income, his history—suddenly none of it added up to "qualify."
He was offered a shared home with four strangers—something that directly conflicted with his mental health struggles, which he had explained. He begged for just one night of rest—to detox, clear his head, and think straight. They said no.

When he returned to ask again, they told him he wasn’t even in the program anymore.


Falling Through the Cracks, Again and Again
Sergio tried to keep going. He did his own research on VA claims. He tracked down his paperwork. He reached out to doctors. But the support he was promised vanished.

He was left with mail he couldn’t access, appointments he missed, and memories he couldn’t shake.

He was retraumatized. Again. By a system built to protect him. He asked for accountability. He reached out to supervisors. A mental health rep even admitted that Sergio’s case had been mishandled—and promised to look into it.

But then…nothing.

No calls. No updates. No resolution.

Just silence.


When Asking for Help Feels Like a Crime
As Sergio tried to keep his life together in his vehicle, he also became a target of local law enforcement. In one incident, an officer accused him of being drunk and interrogated him about a drug dealer named Gary—someone he didn’t know. Sergio blew below the legal limit on a breathalyzer. Still, he was detained, searched, and humiliated.

Another time, officers searched his car—his home—without consent. They threw his belongings, lost his earbud (which he relied on to offset his tinnitus), and gave him a ticket for a faulty brake light… at 1 p.m. in an empty lot.

Even the smallest acts of peace were denied to him.

“I Still Drink. I Still Hurt. But I Don’t Want to Die Like This.”
Sergio is still battling. He wants to heal. He wants help. He doesn’t want to drink or use drugs to cope. He doesn’t want to relive nightmares, rage, and isolation.

But every time he reaches out, the system fails him.

He has done the hard part. He has admitted he’s struggling. He’s taken the step. He has even tried to support others, walking alongside fellow veterans and reminding them that they’re not alone.

Now, he’s pleading with us—with you, with the system, with anyone who will listen.

Call to Action: Listen Before It’s Too Late

​We can’t keep losing veterans like Sergio O’Shaughnessy.
He served this country. He earned his medals. He came home carrying invisible wounds. He asked for help. And he was turned away.
👉 If you’re a veteran advocate or VA employee, honor the promise your position carries. Don’t let veterans like Sergio slip through your fingers.
👉 If you’re a veteran in crisis, know this: you are not alone, and your life matters. We believe you.
👉 If you’re a reader or ally, share this story. Speak Sergio’s name. Push for accountability in systems that still fail our service members after the uniform comes off.

Sergio O’Shaughnessy is still here. But he shouldn’t have to fight this hard to survive.