When I was a kid, and all through my teens, my dream life was to serve in the military– do something cool like Rangers or MP– and then work for the FBI or some other federal law enforcement.
None of that happened.
I tried to join the army a couple times, once during Bush's presidency and once during Obama's.I formally submitted papers only once with a recruiter in the early 2000s. I was rejected. I filed an appeal with the Pentagon and never got a response.
I talk with a recruiter again before I aged out, but the consensus was it wasn't gonna happen.In that time I learned and worked my trade. I genuinely don't know if it was for better or worse. Having that plan fall apart made my life fall apart.
The Army was always a safe choice, a sure thing. For me it wasn't just a sure thing, it was a chosen path since I was like 5 years old. I had no contingency for rejection.
I grew up mostly off the grid, outside the school systems. I may have finished k- 3rd grade, but after that it was a couple weeks in 4th grade and then I never saw the inside of a school til I was 20 or so. I wasn't prepared for life in the modern world at all, but I never worried too much about that because I was smarter than the average uneducated joe, and the Army took just about everyone– or so I believed.
At 20 my folks divorced while I was away for a summer visiting my brothers. I became stuck in a new place. I worked at a call center and began making life plans. I should have signed up then and there, but then 911 happened. I talked with recruiters, but I didn't want to be canon fodder, so I waited. I got my GED and went to college.
ROTC wasn't available to me because I had no highschool. I would watch those guys and gals with envy as they seemed to be always running in a group around campas. I loved running too, so it kinda irked me even more.
I wasn't a great student. I'd get bored half way through a semester and my grades would tank. As much as I liked college, it wasn't what I wanted to be doing. I was so far behind in generals anyway, that it seemed pointless to pursue a degree or career through academics. After two semesters I quit rather than take out a forever loan.That's when I tried to join the Army. Everything was fine, looked good but for one little question.
My recruiter stopped me and told me (very carefully) not to answer it honestly. He spoke between the lines in a way, but I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to omit this detail.
The issue was a simple one. When my parents divorced, shortly after while living with my mother, at her behest I went to a psychiatrist.
The Army didn't care why or what determination the psychiatrist made. It was an automatic disqualifying event. That was policy. But to omit that information constitutes a lie, and lying on the form is also a disqualifying event and a felony.
Against my recruiter's advice, I submitted the forms as honestly answered and was rejected. An appeal was filed, letters of recommendation by the psychiatrist and others included. No answer was ever received.
That derailed my life. I became depressed, withdrew from the world, my standard american flag t-shirt and jeans wardrobe became whatever slop hand-me-downs I received. I didn't care about anything anymore for a long time.
People who knew me in this time probably remember a disheveled melancholy persona, with holes in his clothes and shoes taped together. It's true. I just wore things till they literally fell off me, or until some one made me throw it out. I wore what was convenient and available, often showing up to work or social events in pajama bottoms and a dress shirt– usually because I had no pants, but still wanted to look nicer than wearing stained and torn t-shirts everywhere. I couldn't help my shoes– duct tape kept them going long after their retire date. Shoes are expensive.
The end of this period of my life coincided with a suicide attempt. It was out of that I came to terms with being here.
A friend at the time who had personal experience on the matter summed it up perfectly when upon seeing me for the first time out of the hospital said "well what now, huh." It was exactly how I felt. He knew.
It was that same friend that got me in my trade a year or so earlier. He was a mentor that I am forever in debt to.
That was ~16 years ago. Back then I could have never imagined my life today.
Then, I desperately loved in hopes some one would return the passion. No one did, not really. I never dated anyone as desperate as myself.
Then I never thought I'd have a child, something I was still surprised about in recent years, both wanting and having a son.
Back then I never could imagine wanting to build a shop and business doing that trade I begrudgingly learned out of lack of anything else before me.
Back then I was still in the shadow of the person the world rejected and wouldn't let me become. I was angry and bitter, but didn't see it for years. Looking back I can't blame all the people who steered clear or didn't. . . (everyone but the Pentagon, those people can burn in hell for the life they denied me.)
Anyway, the point is that things do work out. I am happy today. I have it pretty good with new challenges I that couldn't even be on my radar a 16 or 20 years ago. It is what it is.
Coming into my 40s (45 this year) considering the hand I started with, I think I'm still coming out on top– sure, I didn't get lucky, I didn't hit four aces on the draw. . . You can't win every hand. It's staying in the game that matters.
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