I took the training I received in the military to heart, let it establish itself and mold me into something useful, something of significance. I took it seriously, as I believe one should if they decide to join; it's not a joke. It's been over fourteen years since I was medically separated and I can say, without a doubt, that I still have those traits I gained while serving: the discipline, the attention to detail, the calm under pressure, the focus, just to name a few. I still value highly what I learned and the way my training shaped me back then; I consider myself fortunate to have developed into who and what I still am today.
Over the past fourteen years since transitioning into the civilian world I have been through somewhat of a gauntlet. From addiction to years of psychosis and the loss of my father, among other things, it's a wonder how I made it out alive. And yes, I have made it out, though of course not without scars. That certainly isn't to say I don't expect to meet with adversity again, but at the moment I am very grateful to say that I have found a place of relative respite. And one of the primary reasons I have been able to find this place is sobriety, that low-hanging fruit I've been obstinately reluctant to pick (or have outright ignored).
Whether we are ready or not the valleys of our lives come, and it's up to the individual to dig deep in order to make it through; at the end of the day, the only one who is going to save you is yourself. But what do we do after we've survived the catastrophe, however long it lasts? What happens after the fact when the storm has passed and the sun is finally out? How do we move from simply surviving to building, growing, or even thriving?
This place of respite I have come across, I am not used to it. I have been conditioned by the military and life in general for crises, and now that I have some peace and quiet I am somewhat unsure what to do with myself. Part of me (understandably) does not dare let my guard down. And part of me is well enough convinced that there is more to life than simply surviving; that is, if you are fortunate enough. But, when the opportunity does present itself, how does one catalyze the change necessary to grow beyond the usual mode of survival? Do I dare take a moment to catch my breath? To rest and collect myself? Or am I just asking for trouble?
"Be strong and of good courage," I suspect, is the best advice I will find here. Because, as far as I can tell, it will in fact take (at least) those two virtues to allow myself the time and space to build a life I would like to live, both within and without.