Unsent Letters From Basic.
So a few weeks ago I went browsing about my storage unit in search of my Yamaha keyboard and other knick knacks that I wanted. Therein I found my old Army National Guard 3-ring binder/file holder . . .
A little background on this binder? Sure, I'll tell ya! I got it as free swag from my recruiter for joining The Guard. I decided outright that I would use it as my file and organizer during Basic Combat Training and Advanced Individual Training. Much to my surprise, I actually pulled through with such a feat, which seems truly amazing now because I'm usually so bad at doing stuff like that. (I must have a million folders in a million places containing millions of finished and unfinished documents.)
At any rate, I kept every single letter ever sent to me during BCT and AIT, and I decided just a moment ago to read through some of them and reflect on times that have passed. It's actually quite interesting, and I see myself in the near future sharing some of these with close friends so that they may reflect with me as well. Hearing about their lives at that time, now going on seven years later, was interesting and novel.
However, that is not what this entry is about. I never forgot that I retained all these wonderful letters, but what I did forget and now rediscovered is all the letters I had written and decided not to send. Doesn't sound very interesting does it? Well, allow me to explain a habit of mine:
When I'm feeling particularly emotional, which isn't too often, and I want to express some or all of this emotion to another person, I tend to write letters. This is always in a situation where things are rocky and the target person needs particular care when being spoken to. Now, I'm good with words, but I don't always have confidence in this area and I'll usually set the letter to the side after I review it because I'll feel as though I'm not expressing what I want to strongly enough or because my expression seems strained and not at all genuine.
Hmm . . . I think it's time for some more background.
The year was 2004, and things were different. It seemed like yesterday that the United States had just started a war, and yet Army Reserve units had already started to deploy. A friend of mine, Jason Cross, who was in The Reserve, was already in Afghanistan as a matter of fact. In BCT, it was tense for my cycle, knowing that The Reserve was already being called upon, it meant that even the few Guardsmen there were probably going to see far away, dangerous lands. Things were very different back then . . .
The war was still somewhat popular and the military wasn't hurting for bodies, so BCT wasn't some cake walk in order to fill quotas and such. We were fresh to the war and every self-respecting Drill Sergeant wanted to turn out the greatest tactical leaders and killers the USA had to offer. If a recruit fell out of BCT for any reason, it wasn't considered a loss, they were simply weeding the garden. Our uniforms were different too. Back then our uniforms were called BDU's (Battle Dress Uniform) instead of ACU's (Advanced {or "Army"} Combat Uniform) which were more forest green in oppose to gorilla shit green. Our boots were black and required polish in oppose to being tan and letting them get filthy as hell without a care in the world. It was a downgrade in my opinion, but who am I to tell Uncle Sam how to spend his money?
Also, personally, I was married. I mean, I know I'm married now, but I was married to someone different. It's not worth reflecting on this too much, because it has little to do with what I'm going to write about, but it does lead into what I'm getting to. See, things were turbulent in the marriage, and if you didn't already know, but probably already guessed, it didn't work. At any rate, I found letters from myself, unsent, to my then wife.
It's interesting to read these letters from a 20 year old kid that I call "me". In these letters I'm trying my damnedest to be sincere and emotional, but it just wasn't working. You have to understand that I'm simply not an extremely emotional person, and back then I was feeling a lot of pressure (and not just from my wife) to stop being so "cold". It's like watching a pilot who is trying to be a surgeon. That's why they were unsent, but I do remember now that upon reviewing them I had horrible empathy. I tried so hard at it, there were some statements that were exaggerated and others that were pretty much fabricated. Seeing as I have a tendency to never give off misleading presentations, it is no wonder I never sent those letters. The problem is, however, that I also have a tendency to never give up.
Reading these letters, my unsent ones and the ones sent to me, put me back in time. Suddenly I was reminded of that period of time and my efforts to be "more emotional". It was a disaster. See, I'm not unemotional by any means, I just express them in a subdued, matter-of-fact manner. I was trying to be more like what others wanted from me and I found myself trying my best to not only experience feelings like others, but to also feel more so than I had. The only emotion I did seem to experience was frustration because I wasn't living up to these strange expectations that I seemed to be convinced I should experience. It put me way out of balance, and I was an impostor until I expressed the frustration and anger I was going through because that, my readers, was genuine . . . and often.
So what's the point to all this? I'm not sure exactly. It's just that reading the unsent letters did show the beginnings of an area of time that was strange and turbulent for me. It lasted longer than I would like to admit, and it imbalanced me more than I think most realize. Except for Erin, my ex-fiancée, she got to experience first-hand all of my chagrin. (Dude, I'm sorry.) So I guess really the point is to be yourself? I'm very different from that 20 year old kid that wrote those letters, but I'm also very similar. So really, I suppose, the changes that need to be done will happen in time through experience, and never through force. Have expectations and goals for yourself, just never try to be anything you're not.
A little background on this binder? Sure, I'll tell ya! I got it as free swag from my recruiter for joining The Guard. I decided outright that I would use it as my file and organizer during Basic Combat Training and Advanced Individual Training. Much to my surprise, I actually pulled through with such a feat, which seems truly amazing now because I'm usually so bad at doing stuff like that. (I must have a million folders in a million places containing millions of finished and unfinished documents.)
At any rate, I kept every single letter ever sent to me during BCT and AIT, and I decided just a moment ago to read through some of them and reflect on times that have passed. It's actually quite interesting, and I see myself in the near future sharing some of these with close friends so that they may reflect with me as well. Hearing about their lives at that time, now going on seven years later, was interesting and novel.
However, that is not what this entry is about. I never forgot that I retained all these wonderful letters, but what I did forget and now rediscovered is all the letters I had written and decided not to send. Doesn't sound very interesting does it? Well, allow me to explain a habit of mine:
When I'm feeling particularly emotional, which isn't too often, and I want to express some or all of this emotion to another person, I tend to write letters. This is always in a situation where things are rocky and the target person needs particular care when being spoken to. Now, I'm good with words, but I don't always have confidence in this area and I'll usually set the letter to the side after I review it because I'll feel as though I'm not expressing what I want to strongly enough or because my expression seems strained and not at all genuine.
Hmm . . . I think it's time for some more background.
The year was 2004, and things were different. It seemed like yesterday that the United States had just started a war, and yet Army Reserve units had already started to deploy. A friend of mine, Jason Cross, who was in The Reserve, was already in Afghanistan as a matter of fact. In BCT, it was tense for my cycle, knowing that The Reserve was already being called upon, it meant that even the few Guardsmen there were probably going to see far away, dangerous lands. Things were very different back then . . .
The war was still somewhat popular and the military wasn't hurting for bodies, so BCT wasn't some cake walk in order to fill quotas and such. We were fresh to the war and every self-respecting Drill Sergeant wanted to turn out the greatest tactical leaders and killers the USA had to offer. If a recruit fell out of BCT for any reason, it wasn't considered a loss, they were simply weeding the garden. Our uniforms were different too. Back then our uniforms were called BDU's (Battle Dress Uniform) instead of ACU's (Advanced {or "Army"} Combat Uniform) which were more forest green in oppose to gorilla shit green. Our boots were black and required polish in oppose to being tan and letting them get filthy as hell without a care in the world. It was a downgrade in my opinion, but who am I to tell Uncle Sam how to spend his money?
Also, personally, I was married. I mean, I know I'm married now, but I was married to someone different. It's not worth reflecting on this too much, because it has little to do with what I'm going to write about, but it does lead into what I'm getting to. See, things were turbulent in the marriage, and if you didn't already know, but probably already guessed, it didn't work. At any rate, I found letters from myself, unsent, to my then wife.
It's interesting to read these letters from a 20 year old kid that I call "me". In these letters I'm trying my damnedest to be sincere and emotional, but it just wasn't working. You have to understand that I'm simply not an extremely emotional person, and back then I was feeling a lot of pressure (and not just from my wife) to stop being so "cold". It's like watching a pilot who is trying to be a surgeon. That's why they were unsent, but I do remember now that upon reviewing them I had horrible empathy. I tried so hard at it, there were some statements that were exaggerated and others that were pretty much fabricated. Seeing as I have a tendency to never give off misleading presentations, it is no wonder I never sent those letters. The problem is, however, that I also have a tendency to never give up.
Reading these letters, my unsent ones and the ones sent to me, put me back in time. Suddenly I was reminded of that period of time and my efforts to be "more emotional". It was a disaster. See, I'm not unemotional by any means, I just express them in a subdued, matter-of-fact manner. I was trying to be more like what others wanted from me and I found myself trying my best to not only experience feelings like others, but to also feel more so than I had. The only emotion I did seem to experience was frustration because I wasn't living up to these strange expectations that I seemed to be convinced I should experience. It put me way out of balance, and I was an impostor until I expressed the frustration and anger I was going through because that, my readers, was genuine . . . and often.
So what's the point to all this? I'm not sure exactly. It's just that reading the unsent letters did show the beginnings of an area of time that was strange and turbulent for me. It lasted longer than I would like to admit, and it imbalanced me more than I think most realize. Except for Erin, my ex-fiancée, she got to experience first-hand all of my chagrin. (Dude, I'm sorry.) So I guess really the point is to be yourself? I'm very different from that 20 year old kid that wrote those letters, but I'm also very similar. So really, I suppose, the changes that need to be done will happen in time through experience, and never through force. Have expectations and goals for yourself, just never try to be anything you're not.