I may eventually do something with this, but for now, it's going to be a place for me to record some thoughts I can't seem to quiet. Feel free to respond, I'll just update this first post, or post around you.
So, to give a bit of background, I am in the Iowa Army National Guard. I have been in for a year and a half, I hit my year mark on January 15th. I enlisted as a Junior in High School, so, over the summer between my Junior and Senior year, I went to Basic Combat Training at Fort Jackson, in South Carolina. I felt at peace, there. Despite being on an Army base, despite being taught how to fire weapons, despite being gassed with Tear Gas and having every mental and physical limit tested... I felt at peace. Everything was beautiful. It was quiet-- It was orderly. I loved it. It made me love the Military.
It also made me hate the Military, as on week 8 [BCT is 9 weeks and 4 days long], I was sent home because of a failed PT test. I was wrongfully failed, I shouldn't have been sent home, but I was in no position to argue with the man who'd wronged me. I didn't say anything. Shed tears nearly every day about being so close to victory... To Victory Forge. I left the morning before everyone else marched out on the first leg of the 10km march that would take them to the final event of Basic.
Because of that, I did not graduate. I am a Day 0 restart. I have to go through every step of it again. Which I do not mind, I didn't mind it then. That was several months ago.
On Tuesday, June 14th, 2016, I go back to Fort Jackson, South Carolina. I may end up in the very same unit, under the very same people that sent me the first time. I ship out with five other people, only one of them a female, like myself. But her last name is so different from mine, we are likely to end up in different Platoons.
I'm not... Okay. That'd be a lie. I am worried to go back. I'm scared. Excited. Afraid. I'm only afraid of not being able to hold my own, because when you get there, you're required to hold your gear up above your head until everyone can. I can hardly lift the duffel bag off of the ground, it weighs as much as I do.
What's getting to me the most, however, is that I will be away from home, in a strange state, for a total of 9 months. I don't... I won't know what to do. The longest I've ever been away from home before is that 8 weeks. I've had a lot of time to stew over this. I've vented to others before, but this is the first post I've made about it publicly. I'm beside myself, Floofs. I don't know what to do. But most of all, I'm scared to leave home.
