Working, all the livelong day

I started my “work” a little later in life around 40, before then I was in what could best be described as “autopilot”. It wasn’t that I was never really present, to me it seems like I was hyper aware of the here and now and couldn’t understand why everyone else was always up in arms. I won’t call that being present though mainly because I know that I was not mentally healthy. Whatever you would call it, I could never get too lost in thoughts about the future, I could never really see one, I have very few memories of my childhood, and I never really got stuck in regrets. I suppose that only leaves the present but in survival mode.

I can say that I was rarely present when another was present. I struggle with this still. There seems to be interference noise whenever anyone else is around, sometimes a low hum of a distant generator, sometimes the higher pitch crackle of speakers and amps being powered. And to me I seem caught somewhere between an internal narration and observer mode.

Throughout my life my saving grace seemed to be that my “autopilot” was likable, a bit of a stoic, and slightly unapproachable.

The earlier parts of my military career played quite nicely into this facade, the expectations were clear, shine your boots, be good at what you do, and score high on the physical fitness test. This was easy for me. Unfortunately that meant that no one noticed the cracks in the foundation, worse, it never allowed the roots of friendship to grow beyond superficial. When my world started crumbling around me, I dug out the trowels and started concealing the cracks.

It worked I suppose, I was good at what I did, and still did pretty good on the PT test. It was 2016 and my tour in Germany had ended, my marriage had just ended, and I was back on Fort Bragg for one last assignment. My Army career was winding down, but it would be done at the fast pace of the 82nd Airborne.

That is until I started feeling off. I couldn’t explain it any clearer at the time, it just became persistent enough of a realization to make it past my management by avoidance principles. I finally said enough and went to the ER one day, They ran a few tests trying to chase down the vague problems I presented, one being an MRI, I didn’t think anything of it when they decided to run a second MRI.

Turned out that I was right, there was something wrong, I had an un-ruptured brain aneurysm, an angiogram later would describe it as a “fusiform aneurysmal dilation of the proximal right anterior cerebral artery measuring 4mmx 9mm containing coarse atherosclerotic calcification “. That day though they just gave me a list of stroke symptoms to watch out for, placed me on limited duty profile, what we used to jokingly call a “breath at your own pace and distance” profile, and discharged me. What it really meant was that my Army career was officially over, no more running, no more jumping out of planes, no more wearing of armor and they recommended I stay within 30 minutes of a medical facility in case of stroke. They scared the absolute shit out of me. I remember the slow walk back to my car, I remember sitting there in my seat trying to breathe, I remember wanting so badly to have this conversation with someone. I remember picking up my phone and scrolling through the contact list. I had “friends”, but none beyond the superficial, none seemingly able to help me bear this weight. I sat in that parking lot unable to drive, needing to sound this out, needing to get past the fear I had welling up, needing to not feel so alone. Needing to get the emotions under control before I could go home and have the conversation with my sons. I don’t have a lot of family and what I do have is not close, The friends listed revealed no real connections strong enough to ask it to bear weight. The only person out of all of my contacts that came close to being invested was my ex-wife. I called under the rouse that I was going to tell the boys and I wanted Abbi to know. She listened and offered sympathy. There was nothing more that could be done.

I drove home and over the next couple years I started building real friendships. I was reconnected with my Grandma and we were able to talk often before her passing.

This was an eye opening event for me and I made the choice. I started journaling, walking more, reading the Bible daily, kept a prayer journal, and other devotionals, talked to God often, meditated and opened myself up to other ideas and philosophies. Despite the hard core religious dogma instilled in my youth that taught me that every book not published by the church was “of the world”.

It turns out that all those things are easier than making and keeping friends for me, but I am still working at it. I’m still working on all of it

Truly