Four years ago today, I was on a plane coming to the United Kingdom for the first time. Four years ago today, I was leaving my old life for a new.
Funny how quickly four years passes, eh? Especially considering how the six before it dragged on indeterminately, drowning my soul in loneliness and alcohol. That isn’t to say that my military time was all bad… it just wasn’t terribly great. I refuse to play childish office politics games (which, I should add, was one reason I was told I should re-enlist – apparently, they’re supposedly unavoidable… *smirk*), I have severe issues with brown-nosing being the norm (it’s so bad for morale, which brings down productivity, etc), and I resent an exercise plan that was designed for weight burn rather than general health improvement(which I could use now, but was getting sick because of then)!
It suffices to say that it was perversely pleasing to have such a firm note to close my ‘old’ life upon, even if only because I found it less tragic than the life-closer note before. When I joined the military, my parents moved shortly thereafter and didn’t tell me until I was coming home to visit half a year later. Many of my possessions were destroyed by a freak flood (hot water heater busted), and most of which remained (that my loving sister made a concerted effort to pack up – bless her) got shoved in the attic. I’m scared of attics, so being told by money-thieving asshats to get up there myself, well… *shakes head* Kind of hard on the brain. And y’know, this would be one of those areas where being able to let go of things would come in handy. <___< But it was definitely not a pleasant thing on top of having made a tough life decision in order to preserve myself from despair!
This move, however, was one of joy. I’d found me a spouse-to-be, and so what if he lived across an ocean? Oh sure, to that point I had avoided international dating – I thought it rather foolish and self-defeatist. So it was a bit of a shock to realize after less than two weeks of concerted chattering to realize, ohai, my future husband lived in another
castle country. And, funnily enough, a country I always thought I’d fit into better. I’m still learning oodles about Britain and being British, mind, but I do feel like I came home – can’t complain about that.
That doesn’t mean that I dislike America, or consider myself any less an American – quite the opposite. The military might not have been my cup of tea, but I could not have done that job if I hated the USA – it’s not the average nine to five, after all. Nor will I be surrendering my American citizenship; I tend to get a bit cross at people who suddenly assume I will. But it’s as I’ll often say as gently as I can – if you love your country, then question your government. Don’t let them have too much power, don’t let them steal your rights. I couldn’t say anything for six years (bad enough people savvied out that I thought Bush was a moron – the joys of people trying to ‘educate’ me about his ‘brilliance’ -__-), so even four years on, I still delight in it. 😉
Anways, tl:dr – hooray life!