A Blessing in DisguiseMature

Ever since I was a little girl I wanted to join the armed services...this was my biggest struggle that I had to come to terms with. Because of actions I took brought on by abuse, I was no longer qualified to join. These were my thoughts while I was at MEPS, I thought I left all the pain from my past behind but I realized that I still had the physical scars...being forced to recognize what I went through, although I no longer could join, I finally came to terms with what happened to me. A blessin

Dead of night, in a strange room, with a strange girl fast asleep in the bed across from me. My nerves wracking the emptiness of my brain for options, loopholes. For Anything.

I lied.

No matter how unintentional, the fact remains, I lied.

Average person, lies seven or so times a day, I do too, I am no saint, but I would never intentionally  lie about something so significant. Or would I?

Eyelids heavy even so, I couldn’t sleep. I paced impatiently to and fro. From the edge of that sharp unforgiving oak cabinetry to the door.

Doors, opportunities, one in the same. This one, with it’s silver hinges slammed, locked, bolted, right in front of me. I could stop it, I could change it. Just keep your mouth shut, I thought.

My mind’s eye traced his tailored Blues, his voice echoed “They are just finding any way to disqualify you, do not let them. You will be fine.” I interrogated the mirror, the self-reflected image disgusted me. “You will be fine,” still echoing.

I had a life-line. I called home to my mom, looking for forgiveness, answers maybe, she left me with a choice. To correct my wrong, or let it go.

Do I have integrity?

Should I do the “right thing”? What was that so called “right thing” anyways?

Would you turn your cheek to an outright lie for your dream’s sake? Would you, Would you really?

Four a.m. got a wake-up call. Didn’t matter, I was already awake, head pounding from a restless sleep. Breakfast was tasteless, that shirt I ironed, seven times over, looked wrinkled beyond repair. Dull, listless.

All mechanics, step right, then left. Stand in line. On the bus, now off.

Business with a crew cut. You are a number. Be a respectful number. The process was long and grueling, very much a hurry-up-and-wait scenario. Physically fit or otherwise. Either in or out. I tested “in” for everything, I was capable, I am capable. Just one but, one exception withholding me, do I tell them?

Maybe, just maybe, if I explained the situation. They would understand, see who I am, not who I was. Five years passed, half a decade. Young and dumb, right? Worked for his pot possession, and her numerous amounts of traffic violations. Why not for me? I volunteer, care. I work hard. I paid my dues. I have integrity, yeah, I do.

There it was, I have integrity. Time to make it right.

Fluorescent lights flickered, the doctor questioned me over the boxes I checked off. Here comes the pain, the memories. I told him everything.

A dark attic on a hot day. Sweltering heat, he brought me back there for a little stuffed panda with green eyes he left behind. It was our one month, how sweet. What a perfect first boy to date. Maybe even last? I turn around, and I'm grabbed.  No panda. Just pain. He forces his way around me, it is my body no longer. This continues. I have no voice, no choice. I thought I had an option, to speak out to a friend, but I was rejected. She turned from me, cast me away, as if it was lie. She said knew him one more month than I, he would never do that. I felt powerless, invisible.  I fought the pain, but there were days when I drowned in it. I let it consume me, until I was numb. I saw no happy face within myself for years after. 

"I was young, didn't know how to leave, how to ask for help. Please understand. Please." 

“Don’t worry,” he said in a thick indian accent, “I recommended you.”

The papers didn’t look right, disqualified crossed off in red ink. It looked like permanence. Liason assured me, “9 out of 10 times these go through,” he said with a boyish charm, “you’ll be fine.”

Fine, there it was again. Just fine.

Three months later, my future no longer left floundering. I received a call. Earth-shattering, to me at least. It took less than a minute to engage in telling me that my childhood dream would no longer be a possibility. On file, on record, my past forever connected with my fingerprints. I was left with no future, the skies truly were limited.

It was the next morning. I woke up, the skies seemed to sparkle, it was chilly, but the sun shone a little brighter. As if I was seeing the world in 226  shades of gray these past five years. A weight lifted off of me.

I did self mutilate, one incidence.

Things have consequences. I can no longer enlist, no exceptions. I do not fit the mold.

I am better than this. That does not make me who I am, and I will not fall victim to it, neither should anyone else.

Live life consciously, good or bad, there will always be consequences and regret. But what regret can you live with?

The End

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