This is the short version???
I think the part of cranking that I hated the most, was taking out the trash. It seems like a simple task, but when your on a ship, it's a whole different ball game. First off, the bags themselves weighed what felt like a ton. If that wasn't bad enough, you had to carry them up 3 decks to the weather deck, squeezing through all kinds of scuttles and passageways. All the while praying to god you didn't have a rip in your bag, making a mess the whole time. Then you got up to the QD and had to do the whole request permission to go ashore, cross the brow and walk about 100 feet to the dumpster. 3 bags, usually at least once an hour during the main busy times of the day. IE, breakfast, lunch, dinner. Ugh. Anyway.....
So by this time, I had grown very sick of living on the ship. The quarters were cramped, I had no place to go and unwind, and it was driving me crazy. So I petitioned at family housing to nab me and the fam a place to call our own. At first, I was turned away, as they didn't have any listings available. I decided to go back about 2 weeks later and try again. Lo and behold, not only did they have a listing, it was bigger than what I had orginally asked for! I had intended on getting a 2 bedroom, and what they had was a 3 bedroom town house. Finally, some good news. I jumped on it and moved in right away. Kelly and the kids came out here Feb 1st and the rest is, as they say, history.
Now, there are alot of other things that I wish to elaborate on. Some on things I have already mentioned, some that I haven't. A select few of you know already as far as one of them, so I'll go ahead with that one now.
Late December, while I was home on leave, I started noticing a pain in my chest. It wasn't severe, so I mostly ignored it and went on with my normal routine. When I got back out to San Diego I noticed that it was becoming more frequent, and noticebly more painful. So I asked my doc what it could be, and they ran all kinds of tests. When everything came back fine, they suggested that it might be stress. I had to concede that it could be that. Bewteen my finances, my home life and my friend's and family, things have been pretty stressful as of late. So I started seeing a counselor at the family support center. We had one visit, and it was nice to finally have someone to talk to about everything. Someone that was unbiased, totally removed from the whole situation. That night, I went home and I was just doing my normal thing on the computer. I was downloading some songs, and I found one called "Heaven, 911 remix" by DJ sammy. So, I nabbed it and started listening. The POV of the song was from a lil girl to her dad. Now I'm not sure whether she and her mom perished in 911 or whether it was supposed to be her father. Either way, the song had a tremendous emotional impact on me, and I lost it. I mean, I have never ever in my life cried so much to the point where I just could not stop. It just kept pouring out, and seemed to have no end. I finally had to get up and walk away, to calm myself down. It was at this point, that I realized my body was desperately trying to tell me that something was seriously wrong. By body, I mean my mind as well. So the next day at work, I immediately asked to speak to a professional reguarding mental health. It two nearly 2 weeks and me going to the ER myself, before I could get someone to listen. At the ER, (after 9 hours of waiting), the doctor prescribed an anti-depressant called Celexa. At this point I was willing to give anything a chance. So I started taking it, and tried to get back to work, so to speak.
Now, I'll save you the long version, but suffice it to say, I had a DRB shortly thereafter. It pertained to me, and some other guy and a mix up in the schedule. The end result was me being UA for two days. So, during my DRB, I remember standing at attention, and I was having trouble regulating my breathing. It was almost like someone turned up the speed, because I found myself taking very quick short breaths. My legs felt very strange, and it seemed like someone had tilted the room on it's side. I was told later that I had had my very first panic attack. Now, I had never bought into panic attacks. I just thought if you had to deal with a stressful situation, you just dealt with it. That's it. At the end of my DRB, my CMC (Command Master Chief) asked me if I had had any thoughts of suicide. Now, I have never been one of those people that ever ever went around claiming thoughts of suicide for attention. I've known people like that, and in my opinion, if you're gonna go around telling people that you're gonna kill yourself, then you have no real intention of doing so. Otherwise, you would have done it. In my case, I had been having thoughts of ending it all. I was on the weather deck one night, while were out to sea on a training cycle, and I thought "what if I just jumped off the side. There's nobody here. By the time I had drowned, the ship would be long gone." That sentence right there, is the first time that I have said the actual thought, (or expressed) to anyone. I mean, I've talked to doctors and what not, but it's just been the general idea. To feel like you have so many problems in life, that the only viable solution is to end yours, it's a very lonely feeling. No way out, or so it seems. No light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing. Just the crap, despair, and the pain that you've come to know for so long. Suicide can be seen as a release from all that. A quick and permanent fix to a temporary problem. I think the thing that made me not jump, was the thoughts of my friend's and family. Even those whom I don't speak to anymore. I may have wronged many of you in some way or another. But I still think about you all everyday. I am truly sorry for whatever I did to hurt you. You are my family. Even if some of you have "given up" or washed your hands of me. Anyway, this is going in the wrong direction, so allow me to get back to the point.
So when it came to light that I had been having suicidal thoughts, the command went into full swing and didn't let me out of their sight. For the next couple hours, I was escorted everywhere on my ship, so as not to harm myself I guess. That night, they drove me to the hospital (ironically the one I work at now) and I aggreed to voluntarily admit myself. I was there for a grand total of 5 days and I think it did help. Thats where they decided to give me 6 months of shore leave while I recieve treatment. So that was about 3 months ago. I stayed in TPU for a month, and then I reported here to the hospital. It's been something new it seems with me everyday here. From financial problems to just figuring out how things are done here as opposed to on a ship. But things are starting to equalize now. I'm getting into my own groove. My god, I think I've written a small novel. I hope this wasn't too much to read for those of you who didn't give up halfway through. :-)
There is one more thing, but I can't talk about it now. Believe me, I want to. But I have to make sure that it's actually going to happen. It needs to. It has to.
It's got to.
So by this time, I had grown very sick of living on the ship. The quarters were cramped, I had no place to go and unwind, and it was driving me crazy. So I petitioned at family housing to nab me and the fam a place to call our own. At first, I was turned away, as they didn't have any listings available. I decided to go back about 2 weeks later and try again. Lo and behold, not only did they have a listing, it was bigger than what I had orginally asked for! I had intended on getting a 2 bedroom, and what they had was a 3 bedroom town house. Finally, some good news. I jumped on it and moved in right away. Kelly and the kids came out here Feb 1st and the rest is, as they say, history.
Now, there are alot of other things that I wish to elaborate on. Some on things I have already mentioned, some that I haven't. A select few of you know already as far as one of them, so I'll go ahead with that one now.
Late December, while I was home on leave, I started noticing a pain in my chest. It wasn't severe, so I mostly ignored it and went on with my normal routine. When I got back out to San Diego I noticed that it was becoming more frequent, and noticebly more painful. So I asked my doc what it could be, and they ran all kinds of tests. When everything came back fine, they suggested that it might be stress. I had to concede that it could be that. Bewteen my finances, my home life and my friend's and family, things have been pretty stressful as of late. So I started seeing a counselor at the family support center. We had one visit, and it was nice to finally have someone to talk to about everything. Someone that was unbiased, totally removed from the whole situation. That night, I went home and I was just doing my normal thing on the computer. I was downloading some songs, and I found one called "Heaven, 911 remix" by DJ sammy. So, I nabbed it and started listening. The POV of the song was from a lil girl to her dad. Now I'm not sure whether she and her mom perished in 911 or whether it was supposed to be her father. Either way, the song had a tremendous emotional impact on me, and I lost it. I mean, I have never ever in my life cried so much to the point where I just could not stop. It just kept pouring out, and seemed to have no end. I finally had to get up and walk away, to calm myself down. It was at this point, that I realized my body was desperately trying to tell me that something was seriously wrong. By body, I mean my mind as well. So the next day at work, I immediately asked to speak to a professional reguarding mental health. It two nearly 2 weeks and me going to the ER myself, before I could get someone to listen. At the ER, (after 9 hours of waiting), the doctor prescribed an anti-depressant called Celexa. At this point I was willing to give anything a chance. So I started taking it, and tried to get back to work, so to speak.
Now, I'll save you the long version, but suffice it to say, I had a DRB shortly thereafter. It pertained to me, and some other guy and a mix up in the schedule. The end result was me being UA for two days. So, during my DRB, I remember standing at attention, and I was having trouble regulating my breathing. It was almost like someone turned up the speed, because I found myself taking very quick short breaths. My legs felt very strange, and it seemed like someone had tilted the room on it's side. I was told later that I had had my very first panic attack. Now, I had never bought into panic attacks. I just thought if you had to deal with a stressful situation, you just dealt with it. That's it. At the end of my DRB, my CMC (Command Master Chief) asked me if I had had any thoughts of suicide. Now, I have never been one of those people that ever ever went around claiming thoughts of suicide for attention. I've known people like that, and in my opinion, if you're gonna go around telling people that you're gonna kill yourself, then you have no real intention of doing so. Otherwise, you would have done it. In my case, I had been having thoughts of ending it all. I was on the weather deck one night, while were out to sea on a training cycle, and I thought "what if I just jumped off the side. There's nobody here. By the time I had drowned, the ship would be long gone." That sentence right there, is the first time that I have said the actual thought, (or expressed) to anyone. I mean, I've talked to doctors and what not, but it's just been the general idea. To feel like you have so many problems in life, that the only viable solution is to end yours, it's a very lonely feeling. No way out, or so it seems. No light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing. Just the crap, despair, and the pain that you've come to know for so long. Suicide can be seen as a release from all that. A quick and permanent fix to a temporary problem. I think the thing that made me not jump, was the thoughts of my friend's and family. Even those whom I don't speak to anymore. I may have wronged many of you in some way or another. But I still think about you all everyday. I am truly sorry for whatever I did to hurt you. You are my family. Even if some of you have "given up" or washed your hands of me. Anyway, this is going in the wrong direction, so allow me to get back to the point.
So when it came to light that I had been having suicidal thoughts, the command went into full swing and didn't let me out of their sight. For the next couple hours, I was escorted everywhere on my ship, so as not to harm myself I guess. That night, they drove me to the hospital (ironically the one I work at now) and I aggreed to voluntarily admit myself. I was there for a grand total of 5 days and I think it did help. Thats where they decided to give me 6 months of shore leave while I recieve treatment. So that was about 3 months ago. I stayed in TPU for a month, and then I reported here to the hospital. It's been something new it seems with me everyday here. From financial problems to just figuring out how things are done here as opposed to on a ship. But things are starting to equalize now. I'm getting into my own groove. My god, I think I've written a small novel. I hope this wasn't too much to read for those of you who didn't give up halfway through. :-)
There is one more thing, but I can't talk about it now. Believe me, I want to. But I have to make sure that it's actually going to happen. It needs to. It has to.
It's got to.