Everyone has their own way of portraying their feelings, ideas, and problems. For some it’s art, for others music, or acting; for me it has become writing. In this profession especially, writing is the one of the best ways to convey information. It helps to communicate goals and expectations, whether it just be for us to read, or a broader audience.
Groundhog Day
For me, it all started on a muggy summer night at a nasty outpost in the middle of Afghanistan. Forty-five of my closest friends joined me in constructing and defending a place we called OP ”Ron Burgundy”. It was a depressing site; our lives were directed by the Army and seemed to consist only of bags; one to live out of, one to sleep in, one to eat from, and one to relieve yourself in. Every day was like Groundhog Day; we would wake up, eat, fill sandbags, and if we were lucky a goat might wonder within our OP. The days were winding on, and I started getting homesick; longing for the days of laying in bed with my wonderful wife, who I seem to have traded for smelly paratroopers that I called ‘brothers’.
I was on TOC guard; a mundane duty, sitting at a makeshift desk, monitoring radios. Jake, one of the best leaders I’ve ever worked with, walked in and said he knew that I was struggling. Naturally I denied it, but he kept pushing. Jake had a way of getting you to talk to him, he was about 5’4 and wide as a house from upstate New York. He grew up with over a dozen brothers and sisters who were all home-schooled, and he fit the mold of a home-schooled kid quite well. Jake and I talked for about an hour before he left and came back with one of those infamous green notebooks. He told me to start writing, and that “at first it may seem dumb and feel useless, but one day you’ll find yourself spilling your heart onto these pages, and it will be therapeutic.”
Little Green Notebooks
Jake was right, it was therapeutic. During that deployment I filled three and a half of those notebooks in about four months. Between the day-to-day of deployment and what I was missing at home, I had a lot to say. Some of my writings I kept to myself, to reflect on. Others I kept in a special notebook for letters to my wife, Lacie. That one was peppered with tear marks, and sloppy drawings of a robot that I loved to carve out. Most importantly it turned into the journal of our relationship. I’d tear pages out and send them to her 10-15 little notes at a time, she kept them all and we go back and read them sometimes.
Fast forward almost two years and I find myself within, what seems like an endless battle, but one I’m happy to be involved in. As I take on leadership roles it is important for me to relay to my paratroopers how important having an outlet is. I’m working with (and sometimes fighting) my younger troops to be the best they can be in every aspect. I’m working to finish schools, to be a better NCO. Most importantly I’m working towards being the best husband, brother, son, and uncle I can. I find myself scribbling little notes in my “notes” app, and those white and black marble notebooks. Writing has become my own form of therapy, pushing me through each day, and preparing me for each endeavor that I may face.
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