Jobless, Homeless, and Happy

I’m not realistically expecting anyone else to be as excited about this as I am, but I have to share it somewhere…

I’m in the process of separating from the military, where for six years my life has been regulated by very strict and mostly illogical guidelines that are designed to keep everyone marching to the same drumbeat. It’s a medical separation (my knees are shot to hell), so after all is said and done, I will be an honorably discharged disabled veteran. Which is kind of funny, because I think of disabled vets as old, paunchy guys with pins in their ballcaps who sit around the VA and ignore each other’s war stories before driving home in their giant cars with purple heart license plates. But maybe that’s just me.

I have wanted this so badly, and had started to think it might not happen. Then yesterday I got notified that it’s time to have my mandatory separation briefing (where they tell me what benefits I’ll have after I’m out) and it suddenly became very, very real. There’s still a chance I may not be separated, but it’s starting to look more and more like my military career is over. It’s been a good run and I have gained so much, but it’s time to go and I know it. I have been increasingly miserable these past two years, and every day it gets harder to put on that uniform and do a job no one cares about that doesn’t really make a difference anyway.

So long and short of it is I will probably be jobless and homeless within the next three months, and moving away from Texas at Uncle Sam’s expense. Maybe to Florida (practical choice), maybe to Italy (kind of a wild hair), but either way I WILL BE A FREE WOMAN for the first time in over six years.

I can pierce anything I want to, cut and color my hair any which way, paint my nails hot pink with purple stripes, wear four-inch heels, smoke pot (where it’s legal), get a tattoo on my neck or wear a necklace to work.

I can go to school without the fear that I might have to quit halfway through the semester to go to the desert for six months and then start over when I get back (that really happened to me).

I will be able to particpate in political rallies, make impassioned speeches, publicly disagree with the President, pack up and move on my own timeline, change careers whenever I want, or just quit my job and go live on the beach.

I might not do any or all of these things, but the point is, I can if I want to. And THAT, my friends, is sweet freedom!

Because I post here, I don’t really have anything to post here. I might try someday anyway. . I don’t accept notes, but that doesn’t mean you can’t comment.