These days are quiet, calm, and peaceful... Soothing to the weary soul. Lately my circadian rhythm has been completely flipped on itself, so I sleep during the day and find myself up and about at night.
Because of the divorce situation and the retarded amount of money I've been giving the soon to be ex, I didn't have enough money to pay my rent with my end of the month pay, so I bought a 30 year old bottle of scotch and drank half of it in one night. It was a good night.
I'm not too worried about the rent since the only other time I've been late was because of a car accident, and mid month pay comes only three days after rent is due.
Good news came for Andrew - 70% and 70% disability rating as well as a reinstatement to sergeant. That's good. Lord knows he deserves it. His good fortune gives me hope that I'll be out of New York soon.
As I pass the time in my own quiet way, I find myself yearning for the Pacific coast. I miss the smell of salt in the air... Some of the best days of my life were spent just wasting time in the oceanside communities of Northern Oregon. If there was a heaven, it would be like the Pacific Northwest coast, or it wouldn't be worth going to...
I drive a lot these days as well. I enjoy the solitude. As it's nearing the two year anniversery of the death of two good friend, killed in fighting in Afghanistan, I find myself wanting more and more to be away from the Army. I suppose driving helps this.
My nightmares have kicked back up into full gear, unfortunately. They're back with such vivid clarity that sometimes I can't tell if I'm dreaming or not. I suppose I should start taking my psych meds again. But then again, that's just the thing - I lack the clarity of thought that having been sober for almost six months I've come to value so much.
I guess I've come to terms with the fact that I will always suffer from PTSD. However, I refuse to let it rule me. It's funny how I can speak of suffering and inner peace in the same post. But that's just me... A self contradiction.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Thoughts of Better Days
In light of the recent weather, today was remarkable. Easily 70 degrees and partly cloudy. Because of the thunderstorm last night, there was a sultry edge of humidity in the air, reminding me of Florida on a cool day.
After "work," I couldn't just sit around...
So I decided to go along with my customary boredom drive out to Battlefield Park in Sackets Harbor. As I left the city limits of good old Whiskey Tango, the atmosphere of Upstate NY swallowed me whole.
While the winters in this little corner of the nation are decidedly bitter, today was the first time I understood why people would actually want to live here. Driving alone, with just the Dropkick Murphys to keep me company, I was able to take in and truly appreciate the beauty of the landscape.
Once I reached Battlefield Park, I stopped for all of about two minutes. As many hundreds of times as I've been to Sackets Harbor, I've never actually taken the time to venture across the bay to the other village, whose name I did not know. Having nothing but time, and being limited only by the gas in my tank, I decided to go on an adventure. I would find out what was on the other side of the water.
Driving around and bouncing along old country back roads, I rolled my windows down and cranked the music, letting the warm, muggy air wash over me... It's moments like these when I feel I've found some measure of inner peace.
After "work," I couldn't just sit around...
So I decided to go along with my customary boredom drive out to Battlefield Park in Sackets Harbor. As I left the city limits of good old Whiskey Tango, the atmosphere of Upstate NY swallowed me whole.
While the winters in this little corner of the nation are decidedly bitter, today was the first time I understood why people would actually want to live here. Driving alone, with just the Dropkick Murphys to keep me company, I was able to take in and truly appreciate the beauty of the landscape.
Once I reached Battlefield Park, I stopped for all of about two minutes. As many hundreds of times as I've been to Sackets Harbor, I've never actually taken the time to venture across the bay to the other village, whose name I did not know. Having nothing but time, and being limited only by the gas in my tank, I decided to go on an adventure. I would find out what was on the other side of the water.
Driving around and bouncing along old country back roads, I rolled my windows down and cranked the music, letting the warm, muggy air wash over me... It's moments like these when I feel I've found some measure of inner peace.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Burning Bridges
It's been a long time.
A very long time.
So I guess a recap is in order.
In the time since my last post I've returned to the states and nearly finished a medical discharge, been demoted twice, been promoted three times, gotten married, started a divorce, lost a friend to schizophrenia, lost a friend to a drug overdose, fell into a severe drug addiction myself, been to rehab and kicked my habit, gotten to know some of my extended family much better than I ever expected to, alienated my immediate family, made a few life long friends, reconnected with a buddy who I consider to be one of two older brothers that have a closer connection to me than my own blood brother, relearned how to deal with my physical pain, processed much of my own psychological trauma, made and broke plans to take on at least 4 different careers, made the conscious decision to go back to war as a civilian for what I consider to be the right reasons, saw the Dropkick Murphys in Beantown on St. Paddy's Day, learned the ugly truth about the Army's Warrior Transition program, bought my first car, reconnected with an old lover as a friend, sat with a pistol to my head, found my way again, learned that I am my only certainty in life, quit smoking, started smoking again, endeavored to live for my own inner peace, lost my faith in a god, found my own philosophy, and learned to live by the middle way.
That's quite a bit, and I'm not even going to re-read before I post. It's so hard to catch up on the story of a life.
Something should be said about my own ambitions to continue fighting other people's wars, I think. I have no interest in idealism any more. The US will lie out their own asses to 'justify' armed conflict. At this point, those lies mean nothing to me. What does hold sway is the almighty dollar. I'm now making around $40k a year as my service in the Army draws to an end. Once I begin working in the private sector, I will be making $140-180k a year to carry a rifle, babysit a VIP, guard a convoy, stand in a tower, etc.
When the wages are that high, who wouldn't want to go back and do what they've learned to love? I suppose I could go to college... Start all over again and learn a new trade that will take me a full four years to master and have to go through the hassle of working for a miniscule starting salary. Aaand have to deal with the feeling that everything is menial, compared to what I used to do.
On love, I've decided that at 21 it's not wise to try to commit to one woman. I will just enjoy myself for the time being and take life as it comes to me. I don't really want to be attached at this stage in my life. Possibly never again. I'm not speaking with any sense of absolutism, but I learned a lot about myself being married, and I guess I just don't play well with others.
My family is a mild concern. Wrapped up in right-wing conservative Christian bigotry, they just don't seem to understand me (or try to!). I do have respect in some way for each my mother, father, and brother, but goddammit, I don't want to hear about how I'm going to hell for the decisions I've made every time I talk. Whatever. It hurts now, but deciding to cut my ties and with them my losses was a good decision. Healthier for me in the long run. The downside is that I no longer have a base of operations to work out of in Oregon, but I've made the decision to relocate to Phoenix after my employment with the Army comes to an end anyway.
So where am I at today? I am well, I would say. If a person read this blog, they might find it to be a laundry list of complaints. I could see that. I guess this is just a need to articulate (albeit poorly) my own situation. No, the reason why I am now looking at my life with quiet optimism is what I would like to think of as wisdom. I've learned SO MUCH about myself through the trails of the past two years that it's just nuts. Now I find myself at peace.
A very long time.
So I guess a recap is in order.
In the time since my last post I've returned to the states and nearly finished a medical discharge, been demoted twice, been promoted three times, gotten married, started a divorce, lost a friend to schizophrenia, lost a friend to a drug overdose, fell into a severe drug addiction myself, been to rehab and kicked my habit, gotten to know some of my extended family much better than I ever expected to, alienated my immediate family, made a few life long friends, reconnected with a buddy who I consider to be one of two older brothers that have a closer connection to me than my own blood brother, relearned how to deal with my physical pain, processed much of my own psychological trauma, made and broke plans to take on at least 4 different careers, made the conscious decision to go back to war as a civilian for what I consider to be the right reasons, saw the Dropkick Murphys in Beantown on St. Paddy's Day, learned the ugly truth about the Army's Warrior Transition program, bought my first car, reconnected with an old lover as a friend, sat with a pistol to my head, found my way again, learned that I am my only certainty in life, quit smoking, started smoking again, endeavored to live for my own inner peace, lost my faith in a god, found my own philosophy, and learned to live by the middle way.
That's quite a bit, and I'm not even going to re-read before I post. It's so hard to catch up on the story of a life.
Something should be said about my own ambitions to continue fighting other people's wars, I think. I have no interest in idealism any more. The US will lie out their own asses to 'justify' armed conflict. At this point, those lies mean nothing to me. What does hold sway is the almighty dollar. I'm now making around $40k a year as my service in the Army draws to an end. Once I begin working in the private sector, I will be making $140-180k a year to carry a rifle, babysit a VIP, guard a convoy, stand in a tower, etc.
When the wages are that high, who wouldn't want to go back and do what they've learned to love? I suppose I could go to college... Start all over again and learn a new trade that will take me a full four years to master and have to go through the hassle of working for a miniscule starting salary. Aaand have to deal with the feeling that everything is menial, compared to what I used to do.
On love, I've decided that at 21 it's not wise to try to commit to one woman. I will just enjoy myself for the time being and take life as it comes to me. I don't really want to be attached at this stage in my life. Possibly never again. I'm not speaking with any sense of absolutism, but I learned a lot about myself being married, and I guess I just don't play well with others.
My family is a mild concern. Wrapped up in right-wing conservative Christian bigotry, they just don't seem to understand me (or try to!). I do have respect in some way for each my mother, father, and brother, but goddammit, I don't want to hear about how I'm going to hell for the decisions I've made every time I talk. Whatever. It hurts now, but deciding to cut my ties and with them my losses was a good decision. Healthier for me in the long run. The downside is that I no longer have a base of operations to work out of in Oregon, but I've made the decision to relocate to Phoenix after my employment with the Army comes to an end anyway.
So where am I at today? I am well, I would say. If a person read this blog, they might find it to be a laundry list of complaints. I could see that. I guess this is just a need to articulate (albeit poorly) my own situation. No, the reason why I am now looking at my life with quiet optimism is what I would like to think of as wisdom. I've learned SO MUCH about myself through the trails of the past two years that it's just nuts. Now I find myself at peace.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
I'm Not There...
I'm losing it.
I've never been this way in my entire life. I'm too damn nervous, I'm angry, I want fucking revenge.
But I also want out of the Army. I need some time to get my head on straight. Physically recover, and get ready to return as a civilian.
And then I need to kill as many of those bastards as I can before they get me again.
I've never been this way in my entire life. I'm too damn nervous, I'm angry, I want fucking revenge.
But I also want out of the Army. I need some time to get my head on straight. Physically recover, and get ready to return as a civilian.
And then I need to kill as many of those bastards as I can before they get me again.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Medevac
2 Delta. IED north. Three casualties. 1 Delta spun up from the southern ANP station moving to help.
I pray to God Pyro's okay as we drive like hell north. Just south of an IED hotbox, we start to drive down an embankment and go off road.
I see a white flash and hear a bank that makes my ears ring. Gravel, oil, and dust hit me in the face. I go unconcious.
I come to on the floor of the MRAP and the first thing I hear is Schell's screaming. I crawl over to him to check him out.
Lower back pain. He can't move his legs. Fuck.
I try the ramp, and nothing. I grap his hand and squeeze until it hurts. I tell him he'll be alright and to stay with me. I'm scared.
Things get hazy for me and shock sets in. I don't panic, but I reaalize I'm injured as well.
Miller and the PL are moving. Miller climbs in the back to work on the back hatch. LT tries to work on Schell. I'm so dazed, I'm not much help.
Other guys are outside the truck. Cook and SFC Collins ask me if I'm okay. I say I'm good, but Schell's hurt. They tell me, Miller, and the Terp to get out. I scream in pain as I lift myself out of the turret.
Miller and I stagger away looking at the destroyed vehicle... I realize I'm lucky I wasn't killed.
I walk around the other side and realize I have no idea where my M4 is... and collapse. I vomit.
Cook tells me to go off to the side to lay down. I hear broken pieces of conversation. Reality fades in and out. I hear Schell behind me.
The nine line is called up. I light a cigarette to calm my nerves...
Soon I hear the birds coming in. Cook pulls me up. I grab his hand and he runs me to the chopper. Crew chief points to the floor and I sit. I black out again.
I'm on a litter with a cervical collar. I'm being pulled off the bird, and they take me into a bright room.
Lots of questions. I have no idea what's going on. Needles. Pain killers. Cutting my clothes off. More questions.
I am moved to a new room. I pass out again, and wake up relatively coherent.
Time to call mom and dad.
I fall asleep and I'm woken up, being loaded on another bird to Bagram. For CT scans, they tell me. I have a head and neck injury.
We make it to Bagram and I get more drugs for the pain. I am wheeled into the ICU. I fall asleep again.
I'm woken up for various tests and even more questions. All six of us from D Co are in the same room. We start to come to and talk to each other, getting the other guy's stories.
Eventually, we're told we're all okay, except for traumatic brain injuries. we're going to Shank for recovery.
____________________________
And now here I sit. I'm still in pain, but on my feet and walking around. It sucks here. People are nice, and there's a weird atmosphere of brotherhood in the TBI clinic. Now, I need to go home. It's not just a want. If this can happen again, I have to see Marina. I have to see my family. God, I just want to get away from it all.
I pray to God Pyro's okay as we drive like hell north. Just south of an IED hotbox, we start to drive down an embankment and go off road.
I see a white flash and hear a bank that makes my ears ring. Gravel, oil, and dust hit me in the face. I go unconcious.
I come to on the floor of the MRAP and the first thing I hear is Schell's screaming. I crawl over to him to check him out.
Lower back pain. He can't move his legs. Fuck.
I try the ramp, and nothing. I grap his hand and squeeze until it hurts. I tell him he'll be alright and to stay with me. I'm scared.
Things get hazy for me and shock sets in. I don't panic, but I reaalize I'm injured as well.
Miller and the PL are moving. Miller climbs in the back to work on the back hatch. LT tries to work on Schell. I'm so dazed, I'm not much help.
Other guys are outside the truck. Cook and SFC Collins ask me if I'm okay. I say I'm good, but Schell's hurt. They tell me, Miller, and the Terp to get out. I scream in pain as I lift myself out of the turret.
Miller and I stagger away looking at the destroyed vehicle... I realize I'm lucky I wasn't killed.
I walk around the other side and realize I have no idea where my M4 is... and collapse. I vomit.
Cook tells me to go off to the side to lay down. I hear broken pieces of conversation. Reality fades in and out. I hear Schell behind me.
The nine line is called up. I light a cigarette to calm my nerves...
Soon I hear the birds coming in. Cook pulls me up. I grab his hand and he runs me to the chopper. Crew chief points to the floor and I sit. I black out again.
I'm on a litter with a cervical collar. I'm being pulled off the bird, and they take me into a bright room.
Lots of questions. I have no idea what's going on. Needles. Pain killers. Cutting my clothes off. More questions.
I am moved to a new room. I pass out again, and wake up relatively coherent.
Time to call mom and dad.
I fall asleep and I'm woken up, being loaded on another bird to Bagram. For CT scans, they tell me. I have a head and neck injury.
We make it to Bagram and I get more drugs for the pain. I am wheeled into the ICU. I fall asleep again.
I'm woken up for various tests and even more questions. All six of us from D Co are in the same room. We start to come to and talk to each other, getting the other guy's stories.
Eventually, we're told we're all okay, except for traumatic brain injuries. we're going to Shank for recovery.
____________________________
And now here I sit. I'm still in pain, but on my feet and walking around. It sucks here. People are nice, and there's a weird atmosphere of brotherhood in the TBI clinic. Now, I need to go home. It's not just a want. If this can happen again, I have to see Marina. I have to see my family. God, I just want to get away from it all.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Oh, I Don't Know...
So less about the Army today, and more about my personal life...
I had a conversation with an old friend from school the other day and I realized just how soft people are today. Where I am and what I'm doing is really not that bad. Yeah it sucks, but it's not impossible to deal with.
The attitude that other people have toward what we do kinda gives me the feeling I can do anything.
Lately I'd been wondering if plans that I've made would work out. You see, I really, honestly love my girlfriend, and I really honestly hope to marry her in the near future.
I'd sometimes wonder if we could do it. If things would work out. But with our love for each other as great as it is, I now realize there aren't any problems. It'll work out fine.
I just can't wait.
I had a conversation with an old friend from school the other day and I realized just how soft people are today. Where I am and what I'm doing is really not that bad. Yeah it sucks, but it's not impossible to deal with.
The attitude that other people have toward what we do kinda gives me the feeling I can do anything.
Lately I'd been wondering if plans that I've made would work out. You see, I really, honestly love my girlfriend, and I really honestly hope to marry her in the near future.
I'd sometimes wonder if we could do it. If things would work out. But with our love for each other as great as it is, I now realize there aren't any problems. It'll work out fine.
I just can't wait.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
We Conquer Power and Mountains
Heh. I suppose the 2-87 motto is a fitting title for this post...
So late last night (zero dark stupid) we SP'ed to provide overwatch on Route Death. Okay, so that's not really the name, but last time we went there we found nine IEDs, so yeah. Anyway, things start out clusterfucked as normal as we were taxied in for a dismount with target grids being off and terrain being way too rough for travel.
Almost to our "target," there is a loud bang and the entire MRAP seems to jump and I faceplant into the battery charger, splitting my lip all to hell. I shake the clouds away and ask "was that an IED?" I didn't hear an explosion, but it sure as hell felt like we got blown up.
Turns out our truck actually fell into a drop off! WTF!? It was pretty much a miracle we didn't roll...
So we reach what we thought was our drop off point and yet another frago. Stay put. So we hunker down in the trucks and try to sleep for a few hours. No one dares step outside in the dark, since they'd just found AP mines in the area.
As dawn approaches, we get the march order and start up the mountain just a few dozen meters from our drop off point. "This isn't so bad," I think to myself.
We reach the top, and wait out first light, only to realize that we were in the wrong spot. We'd climbed the wrong mountain. Worse yet, our target was three clicks across a valley! So I pick up my 240 and start walking again...
The valley really wasn't bad. Neither was the climb up the next mountain. What sucked was reaching the top and once again being told, sorry, wrong mountain. We had to climb down and walk to another that was a click or so away.
And this one was... steep. Damn my shit got heavy. Just kept pushing, and eventually we made it to our overwatch position. Where we sat. For about 14 hours. And watched RCP clear Route Death... and find nothing? Okay, that was the first time that ever happened...
So to make a long and boring story not so long but still boring, we did a bunch of bullshot for nothing. Wasn't all that abnormal...
So late last night (zero dark stupid) we SP'ed to provide overwatch on Route Death. Okay, so that's not really the name, but last time we went there we found nine IEDs, so yeah. Anyway, things start out clusterfucked as normal as we were taxied in for a dismount with target grids being off and terrain being way too rough for travel.
Almost to our "target," there is a loud bang and the entire MRAP seems to jump and I faceplant into the battery charger, splitting my lip all to hell. I shake the clouds away and ask "was that an IED?" I didn't hear an explosion, but it sure as hell felt like we got blown up.
Turns out our truck actually fell into a drop off! WTF!? It was pretty much a miracle we didn't roll...
So we reach what we thought was our drop off point and yet another frago. Stay put. So we hunker down in the trucks and try to sleep for a few hours. No one dares step outside in the dark, since they'd just found AP mines in the area.
As dawn approaches, we get the march order and start up the mountain just a few dozen meters from our drop off point. "This isn't so bad," I think to myself.
We reach the top, and wait out first light, only to realize that we were in the wrong spot. We'd climbed the wrong mountain. Worse yet, our target was three clicks across a valley! So I pick up my 240 and start walking again...
The valley really wasn't bad. Neither was the climb up the next mountain. What sucked was reaching the top and once again being told, sorry, wrong mountain. We had to climb down and walk to another that was a click or so away.
And this one was... steep. Damn my shit got heavy. Just kept pushing, and eventually we made it to our overwatch position. Where we sat. For about 14 hours. And watched RCP clear Route Death... and find nothing? Okay, that was the first time that ever happened...
So to make a long and boring story not so long but still boring, we did a bunch of bullshot for nothing. Wasn't all that abnormal...
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