For the past 24 hours, I felt the urge to enlist in the military. It is not the first time I have YoYo’d the idea to serve in the United States Armed Forces.
My ex boyfriend, who was in the Army and medically discharged, implanted the thought in me five years ago. After listening to his convincing reasons to enlist from benefits to lifestyle, I subconsciously screamed action then fired off the reels.
I rode a bus to a dreary location made for nightmares. My identity torn down, but built back up, better, by the same people testing and teaching me. I walked around with strength centered by tight abs, memories severed like nails bolted into my brain tissue, and an overall sense of pride knowing I was doing all I could to live my best life and give what I can back to the free country I am grateful to have been born in.
My reflection showed my once pale skin sunburnt and f*cked by freckles due to endless work in the sun. Makeup was unnecessary. I pulled back my hair everyday to stab others with my green eyes that would beam an extraordinary hue thanks to the camouflage colors and power from overcoming obstacles. My overall awareness was awakened like a flood. Buckets filled with water from the Arctic Ocean slapped my face until I wanted to fight. I felt human in an ill but beautiful manner that dug to a cellular level. I had no way to retract from the reality in the world I was once able to ignore.
I learned to stand confidently and shoot accurately. I always loved to sweat in nature, but finally found a purpose greater than myself to run and lift for. I made the best experiences with my unit as we bonded over the unappetizing food and sergeants we disliked in training hell. Every sentence had a cuss word, and my friends from around the country would put me on blast. We laughed when we were allowed to, party when we weren't, and share deep perspectives on life, too.
These projections would recur a few times a year. Usually, they are sparked by an individual who suggests I join or a conversation with a friend thriving in a branch.
Through the stories my ex shared, I feel the Army gave him a purpose and that passion protruded from his hollow, but piercing blue eyes, to mine. My curiosity clung to his narratives. I admired his commitment to serve and believed meeting him days after he was discharged contributed to my initial interest in him.
The way he spoke about wearing a uniform and drill, put me into his boots with a sense of pride. I inhaled the crisp morning air through my nostrils when he talked about running at dawn on the track. I felt the uncomfortable feeling as though I was walking through heat so thick it held me back like a layer of Saran Wrap when he illustrated himself marching into formation, regretting his dehydrating decision to split a large case of Monster Energy before the call.
The environment seemed to be set up for someone like him to excel in comparison to what civilian life tends to emphasize. The Army played a savior role in his story as the removal of his full freedom as a Private forced him to make better decisions for his career, physical health, and behavior than he made before the structured camp.
I click pause on my projection, remove myself from his boots, and return to my reality. I call my local US Army Recruiting Office. A friendly man answers the phone with a series of question related to my eligibility to serve.
He says I seem healthy, and a great fit. His eagerness to meet me face-to-face was felt through the phone, but he first had to look into one personal answer I had regarding medication.
A couple of hours later, he told me I can't.
"Unfortunately, we are in business of war, and we do not want to put you in more danger if you are oversees and do not have access to a pharmacy," he said.
Now, I never have to consider if I should join the military again.
Thank you to all of my family, friends, and other veterans for your service!