Redeployment or How I learned to Not Worry and Stop Giving A Fuck
Returning from a deployment (i.e. redeployment) is like going into to rehab. One minute, you can get your fix, you're riding high on the endorphins, feeling alive and nigh invulnerable. The next minute you're curling up in the corner with shakes and the itch hoping to God that you'd just die already. My mind and body need the two months of downtime I'm taking before I return to my civilian job. I want to stay downrange, I crave the 100 mph go-go-go lifestyle living on anger, hate, fear, and caffeine. What you can achieve is limited by giveafucks spent and the cooperation of others, but the psychological weight of setting the example of moral and ethical leadership coupled with the non-existent outlet for your frustrations leaves you bitter and empty. I don't want to hit the gym, go to church, or talk to combat stress. I want a stiff drink, a good shag, solitude, and not to give a fuck.