What a thoroughly depressing weekend.
I go through these love/hate cycles with the army. I’ve said before the army is my abusive boyfriend that I’m scared to get rid of. He beats me up but then tells me he loves me, and I won’t leave him because I think next time is going to be different.
Friday after work I had unusual energy but since the PT test was Saturday morning, I did not want to do anything that would jeopardise my results. Instead, I spent the evening cleaning my house and watching Lupin III. I did a nice power walk and a couple of sessions of yoga so that I would be at peak operating capacity.
Saturday morning, I got to the track early so I could walk and warm my muscles up. For some reason I felt nervous, like I wasn’t going to do well, which is absurd, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. I imagined that I would fall and break a leg or my stomach would cramp up, or something. I’m always so spastic.
I ended up doing quite well on the PT test. In fact, it was one of my better tests. I did 40 push ups, 60 sit ups and did the two mile run in 17:42, or something to that effect. I scored 248. I’m pleased with those results. Naturally, I failed the weight. I was disappointed about that, but I kind of expected it. It seems I’m going in two different directions. I get more physically fit but I get fatter. How does that work? I don’t know. So I have another month of starving myself so I can attempt to make weight so I won’t be sent to Fat Camp in January.
The good thing about the PT test is that it takes up most of the day, but leadership is on this new thing now that we will stay the entire training day because there is a lot of stuff to do. They say this all the time and I would like to know what all the stuff is that we have to do. Don’t be vague. I’m going to complain about everything but I will complain less and be less vocal if I knew that there was some actual stuff to be completed and not just you posturing.
We sat in briefings all afternoon and when the briefings were completed, we went outside to PMCS the vehicles, like we always do every month. Their claim is that we PMCS the vehicles today and we won’t have to do it next month before we go to AP Hill. It is highly unlikely that we will not PMCS the vehicles again, but there’s nothing that can be done about. There will be no way to solve world peace and there will be no way to never again PMCS the vehicles.
It was like 1758 when we were released. I was starving, thoroughly and irritated. SF came over to cheer me up though. I’m so glad she’s back. We got into one of our rounds of talking forever and ever until she had to leave to celebrate her brother’s birthday. I had originally planned to go out but I got a little bit sleepy. Getting out so late, I don’t have time to take a nap in the evening before going out. I wish I would have, then I would not have been in such a shitty mood on Sunday.
I woke up on the wrong side of the bed on Sunday because my neighbours decided they wanted to do laundry at 11PM. I was already in bed when they came to the door. The boyfriend was like, “I need to wash something for work tomorrow.” Lack of planning on your part does not mean an emergency on mine. You know when you have to work. You know you need that shirt. I left the house at 6AM that morning and I was gone until 630PM. You had 12. 5 hours to come down and do your damn laundry. Even on top of that, I let them come down until around 9. I ask that they start their last load at 8 so they can finish drying by 9, so I can have some peace and quiet and walk around naked if I want to.
At 11PM, I am on my own personal time. I told him that he was welcome to come back at 6AM to wash his shirt. I would be awake, making breakfast at that hour and he would not be disturbing me from my sleep. He got all huffy and slammed the door. Did h come back at 6aM? No he did not. I guess that shirt wasn’t that serious.
Sunday saw us in more briefings. Every year it’s the same stuff and I was sitting there regretting that I hadn’t gone out the night before. I could almost hear the club music reverberating through space beckoning me. Oh well. There’s always next weekend. I spent some time getting to know some of the newer soldiers in our unit. We’ve gotten a sudden influx of soldiers and they kind of just mill around looking hopeless.
I’m not generally a friendly person, but it was something to do.
I noticed that I am slipping back into old behaviours. When I worked at TSA, I was quite guilty of allowing other people to dictate my emotions. I used to let myself get sucked in to whatever was going on in other people’s lives, much to my detriment. My old friend Crystal told me something very important that made me see the error of my ways. She said, “You are who your friends are.” When she first said this to me, I didn’t want to believe it, but I’m a person who spends a lot of time in contemplation. All at once I saw that she was right. When I was at TSA, I had to go through a very difficult time cutting people out of my life because they were bringing me down with their attitudes.
I didn’t want to do it because I didn’t want to be without friends, but no friends is better than those type of friends. It took me a long time to realise this, and I see that I’m doing it to myself again. When will I learn that I am better off by myself? When will I learn that I do not need people in my life that will drag me down the same slippery slope of despair they are on? I have my own problems, I can fuck up my own life. I don’t need someone else to do it for me. The fault is all mine, but thankfully I am seeing this sooner rather than later. This is not going to be a TSA experience where I don’t realise the truth until it’s too late.
I got an award–well, certificate of appreciation, for something I did last year. If I hadn’t been so upset I might have enjoyed receiving the award, and then on top of that, the award said SERGEANT, something I feel like I’m never going to be. So on top of being slapped in the face, I also got punched and kicked. When I got home, I just threw it behind a stack of books because it’s a little bit worthless. But thanks for asking.
And just to let you know how my abusive boyfriend treats me. He gives me flowers before beating me up. After receiving the award, I had to go see my sergeant so I can get my counseling statement for being a big fat pig beast. Whatever. I will allow myself to be depressed about this only for the rest of the day.
I was talking to SPC L., one of the new guys in the unit, and I told him that I was trying hard not to get sucked into everybody’s depression and malcontent. I am unhappy with the unit. Morale is low. But I don’t want this to ruin my army experience. I don’t want to get out of the army and have nothing good to say about the whole thing. I don’t want all of these things to make up what the army meant to me. When I look back, I don’t want to have to say, “I joined the army and it was the worst thing ever.” A friend of mine feels that way about his Marine Corps career. It’s like a waste of your life. Everybody is so down. Nobody has bee promoted. No matter how good you do, nobody seems to care. They only harp on the bad things. They are quick to counsel you for everything negative, but nobody is ever like, “Hey, that was a good job.”
But there’s so much stuff to do.
As a result, most of the soldiers have contracted bad attitudes. Some are worse than others and it’s contagious. It’s a cancer that is slowly spreading and infecting all the good tissue. Once it becomes this bad, the only thing to do is cut off all the bad parts, but the sad thing about the army is that you can’t get rid of the shit so easily. So you have to carry around the malignant waste and let it destroy everything it touches.
I’m trying hard not to let it touch me.
I let myself fall into a bit of depression this weekend, but I vow that it will go no further. Next weekend, I will endeavour to inoculate myself against infection, even if it means quarantine. I have eight months left before I can make a major move. I didn’t do this shit for nothing. I still have goals to achieve and miles to go before I sleep. I don’t need dead weight dragging me down.
Anyway, what’s done is done and thankfully, nobody can control time. I don’t have to go back to those moments. I get to keep moving forward. I get to make new decisions. I get to choose what to do with the time that is given to me.
That’s a saving grace. I’ll let myself continue to be depressed about this until tonight. Tomorrow I will wake up with all of this behind me. In November I will return with renewed vigour and a sense of direction (oh yeah, and like 10 pounds thinner) so I can accomplish what I set out to do.
I got miles to go before I sleep.
Miles to go before I sleep.
Oh yeah, I forgot to add this. Hahahahah. You lunk, you did all that talking but yet once again, you failed to deliver. I am disappointed in you! We worked so hard all summer. You’re supposed to be someone that sets an example for the rest of us. You’re supposed to be someone that we look up to, but yet, it’s nothing but excuses. You need to start putting your money where your mouth is. Your game is weak. Talk, talk, talk, but never any results.
I will see you at the finish line.