- Joined
- Oct 25, 2004
- Messages
- 3,178
Yes, that's right...I'm leaving the Navy on 07 November of this year. I will have been in for nearly ten years.
Truth be told, I'm very nervous. I've spent nearly a third of my life (and most of my adult life) at this game and I know little else. I've sat on that fence for years: do I stay or do I go? Unable to decide, I always stayed. Last time I'd pretty much made up my mind to go and had been told to stay. This time around it's my choice and I feel that staying would not be in my best interests. I finally made up my mind. I will go. I suppose that some folks will be glad that I'm gone and others will be sorry that I'm leaving. Oscar the Attack Cat couldn't be bothered either way.
Once my mind was made up I felt as if an enormous burden had been lifted from my back. I realized, right then and there, how much I'd disliked my way of life and how badly I'd wanted to get away from it. I just hadn't known how to do so. In the words of Jimmy Buffet, I'm the son of a son of a sailor (and a brother to one as well)...what else was there in my life? What else could there be? It was a difficult decision but I'm very glad that I made it.
I'm concerned. My safety net will be gone soon and Uncle Sam will no longer be around to catch me when I stumble. Folks who haven't served think that this job is a hard thing. It's not. It's the easiest job in the world, for there's nothing to worry about, ever. Everything will be handled for you if you merely ask and some things, even if you don't. (Just try not to get maimed or killed.) Until I made my decision I lived my life in the knowledge that if I came home from work one day and my home had burned to the ground, my car was gone, and all of my personal possessions were ashes, there would be no worries. Uncle Sam would put me up in the barracks. I'd be fed and clothed. I could save my money and buy all that stuff again. That's gone now, or will be, soon.
At the same time I'm elated. I've been someone else's man for my entire life. It's time to be my own man, as much as I can be, anyway. The thought of real freedom, and uncertainty, thrills me. Hopefully it will make the Top Ramon taste better if things don't turn out.
I have a lot of leave built up. (I don't take as much time off as I should.) There'll be plenty of terminal leave for me. I have plans to travel the country a bit. I've spent too much time seeing other countries. It's time to see a bit of this one. Then it's time to get back to work, most likely (once again) as someone else's man. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I broke the news to my family. My mother was thrilled. It did not go so well with my father and while I've been very forgiving in the past, it won't be easy to let this slide. I think of all the work that I've done in the last decade to bring us together and I realize that I've undone it - or, more specifically, he has. It's been my hope for a long time that we'd truly be father and son before one of us died and I'm no longer convinced that this is possible now. You can imagine how I feel about that. I'm not in the best of moods. I think that this may be an impossible task. I didn't think it before but I do now.
My first thought after that phone call was to accept my terminal leave and paperwork and all that other garbage and simply drink myself to death. Then I realized, at that moment, that without my limp I might not need my crutches anymore. The limp will be gone soon. I figure it's time to prepare myself to set the crutches aside for the last time. I won't know how hard it will be but it'll certainly be easier than the last time, and I did it last time. I suppose that I'm not so exhausted that I can't do it again.
I also came to understand just what I'd been putting myself through in an effort to reconcile.
I'm done with that. I've washed my hands of it. If he's not willing to meet me halfway then we won't meet. I've already gone three quarters of the way. He knows where I am and he doesn't have to go far to get there. From here on out the ball is in his court.
"Where will you go?" a coworker asked me.
"Where the work is," I answered.
"What work?" they asked.
"Whatever someone's willing to pay me to do," I said. They hadn't been doing it for as long as I have. I don't think that they truly understood just what's involved. I'm very, very tired of being an implement. Every tool wears out if it gets used enough.
My own man, indeed, but at least I'll be able to come and go as I please. That's far better than what I have now. As hard as I am on my tools, there are times when I'm harder on myself. It's a wonder that I haven't broken anything yet.
I think there's more than one reason that I'm limping. I'll get rid of them all. It's time to start walking on my own again, very soon.
Things may or may not be more difficult but they will certainly be more complicated. I hate complicated things. Still, being 100% sure of something is a feeling that I wouldn't trade for the world. It has been a very, very long time since I've been totally convinced that I was doing the right thing, and it will be very pleasant to be able to refuse the next time that I'm ordered to do the wrong thing. Very pleasant, indeed.
Beer's on me tonight, gentlemen. (Or root beers, as preferred...I won't hold it against you.)
Truth be told, I'm very nervous. I've spent nearly a third of my life (and most of my adult life) at this game and I know little else. I've sat on that fence for years: do I stay or do I go? Unable to decide, I always stayed. Last time I'd pretty much made up my mind to go and had been told to stay. This time around it's my choice and I feel that staying would not be in my best interests. I finally made up my mind. I will go. I suppose that some folks will be glad that I'm gone and others will be sorry that I'm leaving. Oscar the Attack Cat couldn't be bothered either way.
Once my mind was made up I felt as if an enormous burden had been lifted from my back. I realized, right then and there, how much I'd disliked my way of life and how badly I'd wanted to get away from it. I just hadn't known how to do so. In the words of Jimmy Buffet, I'm the son of a son of a sailor (and a brother to one as well)...what else was there in my life? What else could there be? It was a difficult decision but I'm very glad that I made it.
I'm concerned. My safety net will be gone soon and Uncle Sam will no longer be around to catch me when I stumble. Folks who haven't served think that this job is a hard thing. It's not. It's the easiest job in the world, for there's nothing to worry about, ever. Everything will be handled for you if you merely ask and some things, even if you don't. (Just try not to get maimed or killed.) Until I made my decision I lived my life in the knowledge that if I came home from work one day and my home had burned to the ground, my car was gone, and all of my personal possessions were ashes, there would be no worries. Uncle Sam would put me up in the barracks. I'd be fed and clothed. I could save my money and buy all that stuff again. That's gone now, or will be, soon.
At the same time I'm elated. I've been someone else's man for my entire life. It's time to be my own man, as much as I can be, anyway. The thought of real freedom, and uncertainty, thrills me. Hopefully it will make the Top Ramon taste better if things don't turn out.
I have a lot of leave built up. (I don't take as much time off as I should.) There'll be plenty of terminal leave for me. I have plans to travel the country a bit. I've spent too much time seeing other countries. It's time to see a bit of this one. Then it's time to get back to work, most likely (once again) as someone else's man. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I broke the news to my family. My mother was thrilled. It did not go so well with my father and while I've been very forgiving in the past, it won't be easy to let this slide. I think of all the work that I've done in the last decade to bring us together and I realize that I've undone it - or, more specifically, he has. It's been my hope for a long time that we'd truly be father and son before one of us died and I'm no longer convinced that this is possible now. You can imagine how I feel about that. I'm not in the best of moods. I think that this may be an impossible task. I didn't think it before but I do now.
My first thought after that phone call was to accept my terminal leave and paperwork and all that other garbage and simply drink myself to death. Then I realized, at that moment, that without my limp I might not need my crutches anymore. The limp will be gone soon. I figure it's time to prepare myself to set the crutches aside for the last time. I won't know how hard it will be but it'll certainly be easier than the last time, and I did it last time. I suppose that I'm not so exhausted that I can't do it again.
I also came to understand just what I'd been putting myself through in an effort to reconcile.
I'm done with that. I've washed my hands of it. If he's not willing to meet me halfway then we won't meet. I've already gone three quarters of the way. He knows where I am and he doesn't have to go far to get there. From here on out the ball is in his court.
"Where will you go?" a coworker asked me.
"Where the work is," I answered.
"What work?" they asked.
"Whatever someone's willing to pay me to do," I said. They hadn't been doing it for as long as I have. I don't think that they truly understood just what's involved. I'm very, very tired of being an implement. Every tool wears out if it gets used enough.
My own man, indeed, but at least I'll be able to come and go as I please. That's far better than what I have now. As hard as I am on my tools, there are times when I'm harder on myself. It's a wonder that I haven't broken anything yet.
I think there's more than one reason that I'm limping. I'll get rid of them all. It's time to start walking on my own again, very soon.
Things may or may not be more difficult but they will certainly be more complicated. I hate complicated things. Still, being 100% sure of something is a feeling that I wouldn't trade for the world. It has been a very, very long time since I've been totally convinced that I was doing the right thing, and it will be very pleasant to be able to refuse the next time that I'm ordered to do the wrong thing. Very pleasant, indeed.
Beer's on me tonight, gentlemen. (Or root beers, as preferred...I won't hold it against you.)
