By: Jason Whitlow

Ben “Doc” Askins is not your typical war memoir author. Nor is he your average philosopher, therapist, or comedian — though he wears all those hats with equal parts grit, grace, and gallows humor. His book Anti-Hero’s Journey: The Zero With a Thousand Faces shatters heroic myths and invites readers into a profound un-becoming, a liberation from identity itself. It’s a psychedelic simulator, a “Molotov cocktail for your mirror,” and, perhaps most strikingly, a love letter to the haunted and the healed — sometimes the same person on the same day.

The Most Unexpected Response: Viking Funerals and Vonnegut Comparisons

But the real impact runs deeper and darker. A combat veteran messaged him with words that are as unsettling as they are revealing: “Your book didn’t help me. It deleted me. Thank you.” To Askins, that’s one of the highest compliments — not to heal or fix, but to erase false narratives that trap the soul.

He recalls another veteran who found forgiveness in Chapter Nine, then ceremoniously burned the book in a backyard Viking funeral. “That’s my demographic,” Askins says with a dry smile. “The haunted and the healed, sometimes in the same day.”

Being No One: Liberation in Everyday Life

A frequent question Askins faces is whether the message of “being no one” can be applied outside spiritual retreats or monasteries. His answer is clear and grounded: absolutely. “If it can’t apply to civilian life, what’s the point?” he asks.

This concept is not about renunciation or dramatic displays of asceticism. “You don’t have to shave your head or sit in a cave,” he says. “Just stop playing pretend. Be here. Be this. Be no one.”

It sounds paradoxical, but Askins insists it’s surprisingly practical. Letting go of constructed identities “will ruin your credit score and save your soul.” Why? Because “being no one is a cheat code.” It liberates you from the exhausting need to perform, defend, or justify your existence. Instead, you just get to be — which, ironically, is both “nothing” and “everything.”

Not Your Classic War Memoir: The Broken Radio of Trauma and Meaning

If a reader picks up Anti-Hero’s Journey expecting a straightforward boots-on-the-ground war memoir, Askins advises a course correction. “Think of it more like a broken radio that sometimes blares battlefield static, then tunes into stand-up comedy about trauma and meaning.”

Indeed, war is there — from blood-soaked medevacs to the visceral reality of shrapnel wounds — but it’s filtered through emotional chaos and philosophical inquiry. The book refuses the traditional “call to valor” narrative. Instead, it offers “quiet confessions at midnight, trying not to punch the ceiling.”

Askins explains, “You won’t find self-glorification here. Just honest pieces of a scared kid who learned empathy in 10-second windows.” This rawness unsettles readers but also creates space for deep connection.

Advice for Fellow Anti-Heroes: Trust the Fall and Burn the Map

For those contemplating their own anti-hero’s journey — that messy, often terrifying path of self-deconstruction — Askins offers tough but loving advice: “Trust the fall. Burn the map. Take nothing personally — not even yourself.”

He cautions against mistaking the journey for a neat spiritual path. “If it starts to feel like that, you’re probably just lost again.”

The journey demands surrender. “You’ll lose everything. And it will be worth it.” That includes possessions, relationships, ego, and illusions. The reward? Freedom.

And if the path feels unbearable, askins encourages humor and vulnerability. “Laugh when you can, cry when you must, and never — ever — look away from the Liar. It’s always looking at you.”

What’s Next? An Expanding Universe of Nothingness

Askins’ creative work is far from finished. When asked about upcoming projects, his answer is playfully cryptic and ambitious. “Oh, you bet your sweet, illusory self.”

The Anti-Hero universe may expand in unpredictable ways: a film, a comic book series, a cookbook, or “The Zero Bible.” “Maybe a cult,” he adds with a grin.

His plans are fluid — expanding and contracting like the themes he explores. “Maybe I’ll just stick to saying Nothing,” he laughs. “That’s probably best for everyone involved.”

A Voice for the Haunted and the Healed

What makes Askins’ voice so compelling is the lived tension between pain and healing, chaos and clarity. He’s someone who has “watched people die because of actions I’ve taken and begged people to live in spite of the actions they’ve taken.” He’s written prescriptions for pharmaceuticals and read the Tao. He sat beside veterans laughing through therapy and held hands through despair.

This Frankenstein’s monster of experience fuels his narrative voice — equal parts compassion, gallows humor, and PTSD-induced clarity.

He challenges readers not to seek comfort but to confront the rawness of existence. Anti-Hero’s Journey isn’t a roadmap to heroism — it’s a sledgehammer to myths, a call to shed the false self and discover what remains.

If you’re ready to burn the script, embrace the absurd, and step into the terrifying beauty of the empty now, Anti-Hero’s Journey is your invitation — no heroes allowed.

Disclaimer: The content is for informational and inspirational purposes only and should not be considered as professional or therapeutic advice. Readers are encouraged to seek appropriate professional guidance for personal, mental, or emotional well-being.