For the Days You Want to Put a Bullet in Your Head

The days in uniform are over, but they live with you. Somewhere, wondering what happened, where the time went.

Seems like just yesterday you were in green-on-green, sweating profusely while running a half marathon on Monday behind the 1st Sgt because everyone got too belligerently drunk before the ball could even begin.

But that was twelve years ago.

Been a civilian for almost a decade, and I still can't shake the feeling. Remembering what it was like to be who you were supposed to, in a place that was meant for you.

I was a warfighter. The Few, The Proud.

A Marine.

I never fought in any wars though, truth is I flushed my career down the drain getting too fucked up with the boys.

But that doesn't mean I didn't love it, I was just too young (immature) to understand where I was, or who I am.

When you put it into perspective, seemed like I had been specifically engineered for that outfit - from the time I could stand my only interest was combat.

Without end, running across the gravel roads into the surrounding woods wielding whatever I could find, slashing through sequences to dominate imaginary battlefields.

To the point it led to receiving the greatest gift of all my life: two wooden swords and a round, wooden shield painted green, all fashioned by my father.

Now I was truly unstoppable.

And this persisted all through my youth; never came a time when I thought to be a truck driver, a chef, or a presidential astronaut. When the recruiters showed up in the cafeteria as a high school senior, I knew what time it was.

If you've never been a part, imagine what the Marine Corps is: a rag tag band of the absolute craziest guys you can find, all hellbent on the singular purpose of getting in a good fight.

I was home.

Tough times, and hard days. Time drags on in the corps, never will you know a longer day, month, or year of your life. This made it easy to sell yourself an idea of how much greater it will be once you're finally out.

But the part that comes out of the woodworks, the piece you couldn't anticipate is you don't know what life is like when these times are just a memory.

Never knew nostalgia before. When you're active, everything that sucks is always right in front of your face, seeing how much you can endure.

But when it's over, somehow you can only recall the random guys from around the world that became your brother, and the legendary moments you shared.

Even the terrible times transform into a certain kind of comedy.

Couldn't be more grateful. As a boot I was brought up by complete savages, real GWOT soul takers. They showed me the way, what it really meant to be one of them.

The first leader in the fleet I ever had, Staff Sergeant Arocha made it clear - your rank is irrelevant, it's all about who you are and what you're made of. Because when the lead starts flying, the chevrons and rockers on your collar won't change anything.

True battle tested men, always held the utmost respect and I never took their advice lightly. You don't need to see their stack (award ribbons on dress uniform) to tell who they are, it's obvious to this day, even in civilian clothes.

The war is in their eyes. A part of themselves in that place, a wretched hellhole, forever. But still capable of being the best guy you'll ever meet.

I wasn't there, I have no clue any way to still those waters. But I hope they know I look up to them, always will. Real hardcore mother fuckers, Oorah.

Can't forget about the boys, the fellas, the bootdrop. We all landed in the fleet together at the same time, fresh out of the MOS schoolhouse, ready to get the piss and shit hazed out of us for a better tommorrow.

Nothing more character building than the life of a junior marine. You don't have any authority, call zero shots, your input is complete nonsense, with your only purpose being to carry out any and all orders regardless of how insane or convoluted they might be.

One could attest to the experience having horrible qualities, but it is simple.

There's freedom in it. Plan on things sucking pretty hard fairly regularly, but find a way to have fun anyhow. Circumstances can always get worse, but they bear little weight if you don't let them break your spirit.

I learned so much from my time in uniform, and had no idea I was learning anything at all in those moments.

The Marine Corps is the greatest thing that ever happened to me. It didn't change me, I let go of a lot of the bullshit I picked up and started carrying as a kid in school. The experience showed me more of who I am.

My intention is not to travel too far or long down memory lane, it's just any given day a rush of what used to be, years worth of timeless moments all with different characteristics and feelings attached to them can hit you, and leave you wondering about what's happened since, how you got here now.

It's kind of funny in a way. There's guys that can diffuse bombs that will blow your entire neighborhood up, and others who could grab a dozen of their friends to clear out a city block infested with enemy forces, all sitting at a desk or standing at a register, wondering what the hell they're doing.

Depending on whose sources you quote the statistics vary, but the going number right now is 22 veterans per day kill themselves.

I don't know why they do it, I only know why I've been challenged with the thoughts and pain of not wanting to go on.

Everything is different. You can never re-enter the world as some regular person. There's no forgetting who you are, what you've been through. Moments and days that would annihilate the typical civilian.

There was a time when I was apart of the greatest warfighting outfit on earth. And now what? You gotta be some asshole moving a ten thousand dollar couch from these people's million dollar mansion to their three million dollar summer getaway on the water, for a couple hundred bucks.

Get bent man. Give me my rifle and my boots back, I'll cut my hair and get hard at work digging the next machine gun ditch right after the radio is up well before the GP is even ready to fire.

That's what it feels like, a fall from grace.

From a wardog chomping at the bit to prove his mettle to another critter chasing cheese in the infinite rat race.

You could argue that in uniform you're just as if not even more expendable to those profiting from the sick 'system' - more cannon fodder for the conflict that's meant to go on in perpetuity.

And you wouldn't be wrong, but you're not there to serve those cunts. At the end of the day, there's other guys wearing the uniform that you trust with your life sharing in the suffering with you. So much so it's somehow funny.

The civilian world can be a lonely place, most everyone is so caught up trying to stack chips to pay for this and purchase that. It's hard for folks to slow down and be concerned for those close to them no matter how obvious the signs are a friend may be in troubled times.

As if money is the only thing that ever mattered. It's every man for himself, your bank account versus everyone else's.

So you look back, upon simpler times. When you and other warriors were deadlocked in a singularity of purpose, and everything you thought you hated makes sense.

But we're not going that way. We are here now, this is our fight. Entrenched in between the moat of memories and the bombardment of concerns for the future.

There's a multitude of reasons people choose to take their own lives, I can't claim to know them nor understand the one that moves you to action. But what about the reasons not to end it all?

No doubt you've heard them; others love you, there's a purpose for your life, other really nice inspirational fluff.

When you're really hurting, a day comes when these things don't have the power to pull you off the edge.

So I implore you to consider something else:

The sum of what we know as society and civilization have been meticulously engineered to put you on the brink of self destruction.

This is where the line between civilian and veteran begins to fade, everyone feels it.

The monotonous meat grinder known as the 'economy' and its ruthless revolution requiring you to sacrifice precious hours and unrecoverable energy simply to sustain it.

Emergency? No healthcare without the sticker price of a brand new super car.

You wanted a house? Sorry, "investors" are busy consuming every piece of property possible, artificially inflating the markets to ensure the threshold to buy remains outrageous whilst simultaneously securing your entire generation as renters.

Looking for a good diet? There's chemicals galore baked into every product, pesticides on all the produce, pharmaceuticals jammed into the livestock, the food itself made to be a poison. Also, go ahead and check on what's in the water.

Then of course who could forget Private Equity purchasing up all the businesses of the world for the purpose of driving them into the ground while extracting every little bit of wealth possible throughout the process.

It's a manufactured hell.

All designed to weaken your resolve, and lead you to live a life of quiet desperation until you just can't take it anymore.

And when you finally end it? Mission success - another potential problem solving rabble rouser self terminated and is no longer a threat to shaking up the status quo.

So what can you do?

Resist.

Take inventory of the fact that removing yourself from the equation is exactly what the monstrous 'system' wants from you.

You go quietly into the night, maybe they write a sad article about it, then the world powered by nightmare fuel presses onward.

See clearly that ending your own life only perpetuates all the sadness that brought you to those thoughts, prolonging the horrific circumstances leaving others left to endure them and be faced with the same dilemma.

I will never kill myself.

To give the architects of suffering the satisfaction of filing me away and marking me down as another statistic - never.

If you take your own life that's all you are, another number in their yearly census. A problem that doesn't have to be solved, more pretending to care when they don't.

But if you live?

The very breath you take is in complete defiance of the beast, the creatures of chaos doubted your will to power and personal agency.

Prove to the world all that you are capable of. Take the pain and suffering ailing you into the forge of your heart, transmute it into the unstoppable force driving your life's work.

This is our mission.

Push onward, rage against the dying of light, never surrender to despair. The accomplishment of your dreams is your birthright.

I know the external world may seem isolating at times, or often. But I swear on all things sacred, you are not alone in this fight.

It's little to say there's more to the world than what meets the eye; the truth about our existence is everything you see is comprised of the elements beyond sensory understanding - the invisible is responsible for the visible.

True agency over your experience begins internally.

I am right there with you, in the metaphysical shield wall, the ethereal Spartan to your right protecting your flank, holding the line.

We march forward.

Leave nothing undone, in your heart of hearts I assure you all things are possible.

To all my Marines: show no fear, you're stronger than the doubts and desperation, and you damn well know it. To the bitter end, we fight on. Semper Fi.

For all the other vets: You've done hard things, but chosen to forget them, replaying past shortcomings instead of the victories. Now is the time to remind yourself of your heart - everyone has their personal reasons but at the end of the day you signed the dotted line, and that took bravery. There's hardly any guarantees out here, bet on yourself every single day. I fucking believe in you.

Anyone who didn't serve but hates it all: Every one of the circumstances that have done you harm are gone, they're over. The sun rises new each day - all we can do is all we can do. Breathe deeply and live now. Forget the rules, make your own.

"You’re a winner if you keep your head up. You’re a warrior if you keep fighting forever." - Maxime Lagacé