#i got a 98 on my asvab and i think i picked a pretty neat job

[rhymey-workshop]

Feel free to skip. TW: I'm joining the military.

Growing up is really hard, and I don't think we realize that until we're on the verge of a big change, standing on the border between two parts of your life, balancing on a precipice before you take the swan dive known to many as change.

I'm packing my things. My dad finally brought home boxes and storage tubs and I'm finally packing my things, and that makes the passage of time so much more real.

I'm packing my things. My mom opened the door to tell me to watch my sleeping brother, and said nothing about the fact my room is a mess, or that I was just staring blankly at the cardboard box I just taped the bottom of. That box is ready for my craft books and paint stuff, my origami paper, my reading stand, my books on how to make stuff like children's books and animation. She made no mention of it all, just made that same pinched expression she has for weeks and then schooled her expression into something more neutral as she nodded towards the bedroom where my brother is and after a moment I got up and stumbled in, sitting at the foot of the bed to type out some kind of vent on Tumblr.

I'm packing my things, and I'm stuck between wanting to cry and finding myself unable to cry. I'm leaving home. I've been dreaming of getting out of here off and on since I was 13. At times I had a countdown of years, months, weeks, days that I had to stay, that I had to wait for the day I could finally leave. It made being angry or sad or any other complicated emotion easier. It made hardship easier to cope with. It made it easier to get through the hard times because I knew I could leave and nothing could stop me.

I'm packing my things, slowly, piece by piece, and I'm starting to understand the weight of what my dad said, when he said I was the first person on either side of my family in generations to not run away from home before turning 18. My mom left home at 17, my dad spent more days out of the house than in it as a teenager and left the god damn country. My bio paternal family has these issues too. My maternal family is full of people that ran off, that stayed away from home and didn't look back. My mom only speaks to one sister, and can't speak to her brother as long as their mother is alive. I didn't leave. I finished high school, I got my diploma, I took my time and I didn't leave before I was a legal adult.

I'm packing my things to leave home, and it's hard. It's scary. I've never been away from home for very long, and here I am, getting ready to do something more than just "Move out".

I'm packing my things, putting my life into boxes, sorting what's going to stay, waiting for me to return, what's getting tossed, what's going to get donated or given away. I keep finding things and remembering shit related to them. I keep finding things and remembering who gave them to me. I keep finding things and remembering which parent smiled when I got it.

I'm packing my things, and in a way I'm also processing a kind of grief I didn't know existed.

I'm leaving home for something I thought through for 8 months, and I'm coming up on the one year anniversary since I made my decision. It's been just under two since I signed the dotted line, swore in, and came home to congratulations and a sureness that I'm doing the right thing for me.

In 5 days, I'm going to my last meeting. Getting a send off from a group of people doing the same thing. A couple of them doing the EXACT same thing.

In 9 days, I'll spend the last full 24 hours I've got with my family, eating a fruit tart and playing putt putt. I'll say good night and that'll be the last time I see them for months at the very least.

In 10 days, I'm hiding my key on the porch and walking out the front door while everyone is asleep. They'll wake up and I'll be hundreds of miles away from them. In 10 days, I'm hopping in a big unmarked government van (and this will never not be funny to me) with like 5 other people and we're all doing the same thing. We're going somewhere and we have no idea what is really waiting for us.

In 11 days, I'm not in civilian limbo anymore. As it stands I am subject to the UCMJ but I'm not a sailor yet. In 11 days, I'm a recruit, and that's fucking dizzying to think about.

I'm getting ready to start a new part of my life and it's going to be exciting and new and I'll make friends and I'll go a couple places and I'll have stories to tell my brother and family. I think I'll be better, when all is said and done.

But right now, I'm packing my things into boxes and tubs, and right now, I want to cry.

#if you read this far #and want to know why the fuck I am joining up #the reasons are #in order #i dont know what im doing with my life but want out of this town #submarines are fucking awesome #and im poor #i got a 98 on my asvab and i think i picked a pretty neat job #i guess there is also a family history component #5th generation to serve #basic training #sad thoughts #growing up #us navy #im scared tbh #but thats okay