Leaving Afghanistan

I am going to be the Rocket Man (plus two and a half, local that is).  If you're not sure what that means just ask Elton.

Next stop Manas.

Good riddance, Afghanistan.  I will not be sad to leave you.

Complicated

I remember back just over eight years ago when I returned home after the invasion of Iraq.  I remember the questions that were asked.  I could tell a theme amongst them.  Every person curious of my experiences dodged the questions that everyone was wondering but nobody wanted to ask.  I could tell the ones that wanted to ask about my experiences being in a combat zone, but for some reason they were either too polite or too scared to ask me.  I'm sure most did not want to hear what I would have said.  I guess it depended on who it is and on what kind of day they catch me on the answer that I'd give if I were asked.

That last statement is kind of hard for me to think about.  Some days I'll be completely honest, telling every nitty, gritty detail that I can remember.  Some days I'll divert and not tell a whole lot.  It just depends on who is asking, how they ask, the mood I'm in when asked, or a number of other factors.  In general I try to remember more of the good than the bad.

I remember in the first few months following my return home being so irritated with people for not asking me what happened.  It seemed like nobody really cared about what I had just experienced.  At the same time I was having an extremely hard time readjusting to being back home and didn't really want to talk about it.  I was surrounded by people that seemed to have changed in the short amount of time I was gone.  I was the father of a baby girl that didn't have any recollection of her daddy.  It was a confusing and difficult time in my life.

It took quite some time to realize that it was not the people around me that had changed.  It was me.  As a whole I didn't feel any different.  I think I still acted and thought the same.  Now I know that I was a different person on the inside, I just did my best to keep that person hidden from everyone else.  I'm not sure why I hid inside from those around me.  I was scared.  I was embarrassed.  I was hurting.

Switching gears a little bit...I'm going to try to tie this in to my point.

Before this last deployment began Heidi and I have talked many, many hours of our experiences and how they differed from each other.  We talked about how we could share our good days and our bad with everyone that cared to hear about it.  It was Heidi that started putting thought to "paper" by starting her daily blog.  I followed suit not too long after she started.

Our intent has never been to hurt feelings or to point the finger at anyone.  Heidi and I have talked a good deal about the spirit of what we write and how it is intended to impact those reading it.  Our separate blogs are to simply attempt to tell our story to whoever wants to read it.

I recently re-read what I had to say a few weeks ago.  I came across pretty sarcastic and pretty harsh.  Please understand that I am using this forum as an outlet and that it was not directed at anyone in particular.  I apologize to those of you who feel like I've said the wrong thing.  Those of you who know me know that I am not malicious with my words.  I did not mean to hurt feelings by speaking my mind.  I am also not trying to be ungrateful for anything that is said or done for my benefit.

I feel the need to clarify my thoughts at that time.  During the last few weeks I have grown extremely annoyed with talk of how close we are to going home.  100% of the time that talk has come from my fellow Marines.  It was not directed at any one of my friends or family back in the States.  I've grown impatient with seeing my fellow Marines stop doing their job with the same intensity that they had for the previous 6 months.  We call it "dropping their packs."  Instead of finishing strong, too many have tapered off.  Too many of those guys have made their count down calenders a bigger priority than the job at hand.  Needless to say, my frustration boiled over in the form of my blog posting.

The most dangerous point of any deployment is the first month and the last month.  The first month we are green.  We don't know our daily operations.  We don't know lay of the land, so to speak.  After that first month we get into a groove.  We refine that groove until we know our jobs inside and out.  We get to where we can almost do it in our sleep.  By the time the last month rolls around we've forgotten all the safety and security measures that we used when we were first getting here.  We have become complacent in our daily routine.  I was tired of seeing it happen.  My last deployment my battalion lost a Marine due to negligence 11 days before we flew out of Iraq.

The last year has been very trying and very difficult.  I've been away from my girls far too long now.  I have been in a combat zone and seen all the things that go along with that.  I found out my buddy Scott died over here a few months back.  I know that I've become more than a little bitter during this time, and it has shown.

I know some of the things I've posted have a confusing message.  I think I've managed to scare everyone away from saying anything to me at all.  A few days ago I was listening to my iTunes as I was packing my things into the two bags I brought 7,000 miles with me.  I was thinking about how nobody has sent me any letters or emails in a long while.  The last one I got was from my buddy Bryan.  There was a line in it that has great bearing on this topic.  "I've got to be honest, it's difficult to know what to talk to you about."

That hit home for me.  That bothers me that my homey of over 20 years has a hard time talking to me.

Please don't stop talking to me.  Please don't filter what you have talk to me about.  I've not heard from a lot of people, and I can't help but think I had a large part in that.  I don't want you to be scared of saying the "wrong" thing to me.  Being in Afghanistan is lonely enough, let alone when nobody back home has anything to say to you out of fear it'll upset me.

Sometimes I wish I hadn't started this blog.  Many times I've thought about just quitting before I dug myself a deeper hole.  Maybe what I've had to say should've been kept to myself.  I thought this would be a good outlet, but I didn't really think about how much I was really putting out there for everyone to see.  I thought maybe this would help give an insight into what we experience over here.  Maybe those experiences shouldn't be shared.  I don't really know at this point.  All I know is that the damage has already been done.

I am no longer at Dwyer.  After a not so pleasant C-130 flight I am now at Camp Leatherneck awaiting my flight out of Afghanistan.  Soon I will be able to see and hold my wife and kids.  Soon I won't have to carry a rifle or a pistol or a helmet or body armor.  Soon I will be back in a world that is thankfully oblivious to all that goes on over here.  Soon this whole mess can be forgotten.

Part of forgetting the parts that need forgetting is my reintegration into the "real" world.  I've done this enough times now to realize that I cannot do it by myself.  I will need help.  You'll never hear me ask, but I will need it from you.  I'm not really sure in what form I'll need it, but I will.  Just don't treat me any different than you did before.

I have rambled on for quite a while on this one.  I have worked on this post for many days now trying to make it right.  I can't help but wonder how many of you have given up on reading this blog and won't even see if before I get home.  I tried to make things right.

Please be patient and understanding of me.  (I'm not even sure what that means.)