Letting go

I struggled to keep my eyes open, at this point at night even the soreness that cursed through my body wasn't keeping me awake, and neither was the constant nagging and yelling from the front post. I had gotten used to it, the banging on the armory, and the yelling. Some nights it would even make me laugh, almost as comic relief, depending upon which recruit was standing front post. It was always the worst position to have during fire watch, you were the lookout, and the messenger, and not killing the messenger wasn't something drill instructors believed in. I crossed my legs as I lay in my rack, a ritual I did every night. I don't know if it was to keep warm, or maybe if it was just for comfort. I always looked forward to those minutes right after TAPS, and right between total exhaustion taking over my body. It was the one time during our long days that I was allowed to relish in my own thoughts, a time when I could reminisce about home, let my guard down for a little while, and dream about what I would do with my freedom when I was finally done. It was in those moments that I truly began to understand what it was like to be alone with my thoughts. Never before in my life had I been so stripped of my identity, of everything that I thought I knew, and everything I thought I believed, because there, the only thing I believed was that God was real...and the only thing I knew, was that graduation was the fastest place out of that hell they called the 'depot'. In those moments at night, with the bittersweet notes of TAPS setting the mood, I would lay in bed and pray. I'd pray for myself, my fellow recruits, my girlfriend at the time, my family, friends, basically anything that crossed my mine. And right before I fell asleep I'd take myself to one of the sweetest moments I could remember, a time with my siblings, a time with my girlfriend, or a time with good friends. More often or not the girlfriend won out, simply because those memories at the time were the ones that made me the happiest. You see, it was in those moments, right before I fell asleep, in those prayers, that I found myself closer to God than I had ever been in my entire life. It was when I found myself in an environment where everything I believed was torn away from me, where everything I had been taught was stripped clean, and I was starting anew.

But, of course, over time I walked away from that closeness. It was a mixture of my invincibility mindset as a Marine, and tests and trials by the one and only. I never for once doubted my belief in God, but I definitely started putting more faith in my own control over my life versus his. Slowly but surely I started hardening my heart. I quit praying, quit going to church, and I quit doing all of the small things that fed my spiritual life. Why? Simply because I wanted to get back at the people who had hurt me, and naturally, because those people represented an area of Christianity that I didn't agree with, I made the ignorant decision of sacrificing my relationship with Christ for revenge, retribution, and retaliation. In a way I was trying to say that they wouldn't control my life, so I acted out, but in doing so I let them control my life anyways, simply because I thought I was right, and I wanted oh so desperately to be right. Life is brutal in the fact that history always repeats itself, but its humiliating in the fact that we allow it to run its course. It is the pure definition of insanity, doing the same thing over and over again expecting different results. 

I wish I could say that I have never been in this situation before, and in a few ways I have not, but in several ways I have. The thing that makes it the worst is that fact that I can sit back and see the progression, as things went from good, to bad, to worse, and then even worse. I have always taken pride in having an answer for everything, even if it wasn't the right answer, I could always come up with some sort of solution. I don't know if this was because I've always been a decisive person, or maybe because of the way I view my relationship with God, or just my overall confidence in myself. Either way, I suddenly found myself in a situation where I had no answers, no confidence, and my heart was so broken and hardened, that I refused to grant the one person access to it that could heal it, and make it whole again. During those many moments of boot camp and infantry school, when I truly discovered what I was made of and everything I am capable of, I learned more about myself and my relationship with God, then I have ever learned anywhere else. I didn't learn this through church, I didn't learn it through scripture memory, or constant bible reading, or praise and worship services. I learned in through the two utmost things that Christ came to earth to teach us; service, and sacrifice.

I'm still angry, so very angry, and I have so many questions that I know will probably never be answered, and so many things that I will probably never get an explanation for. So everyday as I try and move forward, as I try and sleep in the bed that I made so to speak, I push those questions from my mind, I bury that anger, and I ever so slowly try and let it go and let God. It really doesn't amaze me that somehow God always finds a way to come back into the center of my life, and rightly it shouldn't. I guess I've held out for so long because I've been angry. I've been angry towards the people who wronged me, who hurt me, and who betrayed me, and once again I allowed those feelings to dictate what I thought, how I acted, and what I did. But I don't know... I don't know why I can't let all of this go. I don't know why its such a big deal, why I'm still holding on. Everyday it haunts me, and everyday I question myself, and I don't know if that's because it was the wrong choice, or if that's just part of the process.