Progress Not Perfection

By Mark Kashirsky

About the Book
Former police officer Mark A. Kashirsky is not a celebrity sharing his story of struggle. He is a regular man, husband, father, and White Sox fan. However, after an officer-involved shooting, he began struggling with mental illness—panic attacks, PTSD, depression.
Progress Not Perfection is about several life-changing obstacles that Kashirsky has faced in his short forty years, especially becoming handicapped following a surgery that went wrong. His life changed overnight and he had to push forward every day. Kashirsky details his recovery, his growth, and his acceptance of his new normal. This is a story about coping, and he hopes readers take away positivity and hope. “I want them to realize there is good in this world and it is worth living for. And obstacles can be overcome.”

About the Author
Mark Kashirsky is forty years old. He is happily married to his wife, Jamie, of ten years. They have a sixteen-year-old stepdaughter, Lia, and a nine-year-old son, Jaxon. Kashirsky was a police officer for sixteen years, with the last six years being a detective and an investigator assigned to a homicide task force. He enjoys spending as much time as possible with his family, watching television shows and movies. They are a huge sports family too. They absolutely love the Chicago White Sox and Chicago Bears. Kashirsky and his wife cohost a true-crime podcast called Death Do Us Part Podcast. They love researching for the shows and performing live episodes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Jun 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887295176

Book preview

Acknowledgments

I want to thank my beloved family, especially my wife Jamie. Without you, I would not be here. Love is not a strong enough word to describe my feelings toward you. Thank you, Jamie for everything. I also want to thank my friends. You guarded me in the hospital and stayed with me making sure I pulled through. You also push me when I don’t want to push anymore. Ivan, you are my brother. I thank God for bringing you into my life. I thank Him for allowing us to be partners on the job, but also my true brother. When Jamie needed to hold strong, you were there. You gave her comfort and strength, and I am forever in debt to you. And Bernie, thank you. You pushed me to write down my thoughts and feelings every day, making this book possible. You are absolutely my brother too.

Prologue

July 19, 2019 is a date that will live with me forever. No matter how hard I try to forget, that date flashes in my mind numerous times throughout a day. A little over two years now have gone by, and I have come to use that day as my rebirth, my new birthday. That day God gave me a second chance at life, a second chance to see my kids grow, a second chance to grow old with my wife. It took me almost two years to understand why, and I still struggle with that question; why did this happen to me? But I need to always understand that this is a second chance. No matter how hard it gets, no matter how depressed I feel and how hard the anxiety hits, I am alive. I am here to live.

Never did I ever think that I would be thirty-seven years old and primarily confined to a wheelchair. But instead of feeling sorry for myself, which I wasted too much time on, I choose to see the beauty of life and the positivity that I can now bring. I remember my time in physical therapy. Almost every day for over a year and a half, attending one of the best institutions in the world, learning to move my limbs again. Thinking about how bad I have it, but yet seeing others there with severe brain and spine injuries. Trying to push for that next movement in their fingers, that next movement in their toes, their next little step forward.

I didn’t have it bad. In fact, I have it good. Yeah, I’m mostly in a wheelchair. Yes, I can’t feel my legs. But, for some reason, I can take steps. I can go upstairs. I can think clearly. Most importantly, I’m alive to see my family. Yes, it is always easier said than done, but I’ve been at my worst, so I get it. Every day I still struggle. But no matter how hard you think you have it…no fucking quitting!

Chapter 1

So, I’m finally doing it. I’ve tried doing this a few times before but never really sat down and made it happen. I guess I figured that there were so many self-help or motivational books out there, why should I do one? Thinking more about it, I’m a regular person. What happened to me can happen to anyone else. I’m not some rich superstar or known military hero giving their life story that I can’t relate to, but they are giving advice on how to move forward. I’m a regular guy. A former cop that worked in a south suburb of Chicago. I’m a regular father of two kids. I’m a regular husband to a wife. That’s the biggest reason I decided to do this; any person can relate to me. So, now that I am doing it, where do I start? I guess I’ll start from the beginning, my childhood. I grew up in a fairly large south suburb of Chicago. Good ol’ Orland Park, Illinois. Known throughout the state as being home to middle- and upper-class families. I grew up the youngest of four.

With being the youngest came its perks, getting spoiled and getting away with trouble quite frequently. But being the youngest also came with disadvantages. My father, being a federal agent with the FBI, was constantly at work all hours of the day and night. In his spare time, he focused all his energy with my older brother’s baseball career. As for my mother, she did the best she could to be a good mother but was mostly concerned with my older sister Kris.

Ever since I could remember, my sister Kris struggled with anorexia and depression. During her college career, her health really started to decline, forcing my mother to make the decision to move in with her. My mother had to make sure she was eating regularly and making it through college. This was the start of my depression.

Not too long after this, my mother found out my father was having an affair. This completely crushed my family. And, I could even say it really separated us as a close family. Yes, we would keep in touch with each other and would celebrate holidays, but we all started to go our own separate ways. Because of the age difference between my siblings, we started to live our own lives.

This is not sour grapes in any way, but as a young teenager trying to find his way, I was almost forgotten about, because of everyone going their own way. I felt lost. I was lost. I had no clue what life was about or what my purpose was. Instead of enjoying high school, I confined myself to my bedroom, where I would find comfort in listening to music or watching old WWF/WWE matches.

Because my mother really did not know how to help me, she did what she thought was the best idea and took me to see a physiatrist. As a young teenager meeting with a physiatrist once a week, I felt even more lost, and almost as if I was a nut or crazy. I was put on different psychiatric medication for my anxiety and depression.

After trying several different medications and having a year or two pass, I decided I did not want to take anything anymore. I was focused on getting better by myself. I must say, I think I did okay in doing so. Again, I would find solace in music, watching pro wrestling, and even lifting weights.

I was an athlete when I was younger, playing football and baseball. In fact, I wasn’t all too bad either! But I was nowhere near how good my brother was at baseball. My brother, Mike, was and always has been my hero. Mike was an outstanding first baseman and his skills were unbelievable. He was drafted by the Chicago White Sox after playing his college career at St. Joseph in Rensselaer, Indiana.

St. Joe’s was a top Division 2 school, known for their baseball program. During his second year in Rookie ball with the White Sox, he suffered a shoulder injury, causing him to have Tommy John surgery. This unfortunately led to his release with the White Sox. Mike was beyond devastated. I couldn’t help but feel terrible for my big brother.

 Having Tommy John surgery did not stop him, though, as he played independent minor league ball and even a season overseas in Italy, trying to make his way back into the MLB. Again, he suffered another injury to the same throwing shoulder, causing another Tommy John surgery. This unfortunately ended his baseball playing career.

It was time for my big brother to move on. But he continued to work his ass off and began coaching collegiate baseball. It was his calling. Mike was made to be a baseball coach. He was the head coach for Moraine Valley Community College, located in Palos Hills, Illinois, all while he was the head coach for the independent baseball club—the Windy City Thunder Bolts.

His coaching skills just absolutely blew me away. This made me look up to him even more. After a couple seasons, Mike then went on to fill the head coaching position at Robert Morris University in Chicago. During this time, Mike was contacted by the Los Angeles Dodgers to help them with their major league team in spring training.

Mike would be throwing batting practice and be used as a bullpen catcher. He was just a straight-up athlete. After spring training, he was called by the Chicago White Sox, shortly after and took the job of pregame instructor. He would once again be throwing batting practice to the major league players. He has held this position for ten years now and is great at what he does.

I guess I got on the topic of my brother, Mike, because I look up to him so much and he is my best friend other than my wife. Don’t get me wrong; I love my sisters, but after everything that happened to us growing up, my brother is who I tried to stick with and would go to with my problems.

After I barely finished high school in 2000, I started one of my dreams—to be a professional wrestler. I was trained by the Lunatic Wrestling Federation, which was located in Mokena, Illinois. Some notable wrestlers that made it big that wrestled for the LWF were CM Punk and Colt Cabana. I was trained and performed under the wrestling name Grudge.

I was really livin’ the dream. I was hard-set on becoming a big star. At least that was my hope and dream. And to be honest, I was pretty good at it. Not to mention I had the size and strength too, standing 6’1" and 260 lbs. I really had everything it took to be a star, in my opinion.

After about two years of wrestling around Illinois and Indiana, another blow came to my entire family. My father, Steve, had a secret life as a gambler. We had no clue, but during his early career with the FBI, he was assigned to work with the Mafia. Because of this assignment, he was taught by the agency how to gamble.

When his assignment was over being a confidential informant with the mob, the Federal Bureau of Investigation never debriefed my family or gave him professional help, now that he was addicted to gambling. They did absolutely nothing but watch him on his lunch breaks or after work, going to the riverboats and casinos to gamble. What a bunch of fucking assholes, in my opinion. I still hold a grudge against them to this day and I believe I always will.

How do you not offer one of your own help? How do you not debrief him? Most importantly, how do you not let his wife know that he is blowing all his money and he won’t stop? After years of gambling, winning some and losing some, my dad had a bad weekend. Actually, a very bad weekend.

We found out, my father lost all our checking and savings, stocks and bonds, lost our house, and lost my grandmother’s house. All from losing straight on a weekend. This again absolutely devastated what was left of our family. My sisters were older and had their own families. My brother too.

This left my mother and I together. I remember after losing our house, we moved into a small apartment together. The arguments and clashing were just constant. My mother was going through so much, obviously losing everything, but I was once again left to fend for myself. This meant I had to grow up fast.

I was making next to nothing wrestling, so I decided to hang up the boots and get a real job making money. I was just about done with my two years