It's amazing to think that this time last year, I had such high hopes for 2011. It was supposed to be the year that everything changed for the better. I was supposed to graduate college, commission, start my career, get married, among other, smaller things. To be fair, some of that did happen, and then some.
But a lot of it didn't. A lot of it went terribly wrong.
I sit here now reminiscing about the past year of my life. The beginning of it held so much promise. I started it off with a (presumably) healthy relationship and it was officially my last semester. Everything was nearly perfect, and then it all started falling apart.
It really began in March, when Andrew and I broke it off for what is and will remain the last time. There comes a point in time when what you thought was good for you and what actually is begin to diverge. The worst part is I think we just denied it and continued on like nothing had changed when, in fact, everything in the world had.
Then I found out I was failing a class and there were so many administrative issues that I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to commission on time (or at all). There, of course, is a bright side to this one. Everything literally worked out at the last minute, and here I am, a college graduate and a 2nd Lieutenant. It doesn't mean it was or still is any less stressful.
I also remember the miracle of finding someone else to love--or maybe he found me. I remember how it felt like home and how I honestly thought that it could last forever. I had become so cynical about love, and here was someone who showed me it wasn't so bad, after all, or so I thought. To this day, I can't believe I could ever be so naive, but I was. I was so naive and trusting that I let it all decay into nothing, but not before it became something twisted and ugly. Not before it tore away everything.
That was in June. I still miss him in a lot of ways.
On to Florida in July... Everything looked like it might actually go right--and then the fall. I was held back two months before I could start my training. I have six months left now. That never seemed like such a huge amount of time as it does right now.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't love my class. There's not a single one of them I wouldn't mind hanging out with. I don't dislike any of them. They're fun, and we like to joke around with each other. It's a nice break from reality. So no, it's not the training. It's not even the base. It's Florida. It's Panama City. It literally and figuratively stinks. The air is so thick you can't even breathe. The drivers are completely insane. Need I go on? Bottom line: I hate Florida. I had such high hopes for it, and it only disappointed.
In September, we lost Brownie, or Mr. B., the horse who taught me how to ride. He was like a brother, and there I was a thousand miles away. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.
In October, we lost Cindy, our broodmare and love.
November came and went. I took a moment on the 11th to think of what could have been, but it'll never be. In a way, I'm happy. In a way, it hurts, too. Sometimes you have to give up the things you think matter in order to grow into the person you were always meant to be. I just wish I knew what that was supposed to be.
So here I sit in December, looking back. We lost Luke on Saturday. I don't know if we'll ever see him again. I doubt it more and more with each day that passes. That, along with everything else, makes me wonder if Christmas will be as cold as I feel inside. Will the New Year bring a wind of change, or will all of this continue? Realism dictates that it will be the latter, but I find myself hoping for something to pull me out of this ungodly pit of sorrow and regret.
I keep hoping the foundations will stop crumbling, and I won't have to be scared of falling through anymore.
But a lot of it didn't. A lot of it went terribly wrong.
I sit here now reminiscing about the past year of my life. The beginning of it held so much promise. I started it off with a (presumably) healthy relationship and it was officially my last semester. Everything was nearly perfect, and then it all started falling apart.
It really began in March, when Andrew and I broke it off for what is and will remain the last time. There comes a point in time when what you thought was good for you and what actually is begin to diverge. The worst part is I think we just denied it and continued on like nothing had changed when, in fact, everything in the world had.
Then I found out I was failing a class and there were so many administrative issues that I was scared to death that I wouldn't be able to commission on time (or at all). There, of course, is a bright side to this one. Everything literally worked out at the last minute, and here I am, a college graduate and a 2nd Lieutenant. It doesn't mean it was or still is any less stressful.
I also remember the miracle of finding someone else to love--or maybe he found me. I remember how it felt like home and how I honestly thought that it could last forever. I had become so cynical about love, and here was someone who showed me it wasn't so bad, after all, or so I thought. To this day, I can't believe I could ever be so naive, but I was. I was so naive and trusting that I let it all decay into nothing, but not before it became something twisted and ugly. Not before it tore away everything.
That was in June. I still miss him in a lot of ways.
On to Florida in July... Everything looked like it might actually go right--and then the fall. I was held back two months before I could start my training. I have six months left now. That never seemed like such a huge amount of time as it does right now.
Don't get me wrong. It's not like I don't love my class. There's not a single one of them I wouldn't mind hanging out with. I don't dislike any of them. They're fun, and we like to joke around with each other. It's a nice break from reality. So no, it's not the training. It's not even the base. It's Florida. It's Panama City. It literally and figuratively stinks. The air is so thick you can't even breathe. The drivers are completely insane. Need I go on? Bottom line: I hate Florida. I had such high hopes for it, and it only disappointed.
In September, we lost Brownie, or Mr. B., the horse who taught me how to ride. He was like a brother, and there I was a thousand miles away. I don't think I've ever felt so helpless.
In October, we lost Cindy, our broodmare and love.
November came and went. I took a moment on the 11th to think of what could have been, but it'll never be. In a way, I'm happy. In a way, it hurts, too. Sometimes you have to give up the things you think matter in order to grow into the person you were always meant to be. I just wish I knew what that was supposed to be.
So here I sit in December, looking back. We lost Luke on Saturday. I don't know if we'll ever see him again. I doubt it more and more with each day that passes. That, along with everything else, makes me wonder if Christmas will be as cold as I feel inside. Will the New Year bring a wind of change, or will all of this continue? Realism dictates that it will be the latter, but I find myself hoping for something to pull me out of this ungodly pit of sorrow and regret.
I keep hoping the foundations will stop crumbling, and I won't have to be scared of falling through anymore.
