When you want something really badly, the thought of failure turns your stomach even more than usual.
After months of doing paperwork, I finally have a date for MEPS. And a date for everything else, if all goes well there. In less than 12 weeks, I could be on my way to basic training. I have a 68w airborne slot. I don’t think for a second it’s going to be easy. It’s going to be hard and it’s going to take everything I’ve got and then some. It’s going to scare the living daylights out of me.
I love that feeling. The slightly queasy, heart-racing, time slowing down feeling. I could live just chasing that feeling, because it’s in moments like that I feel most alive and I know that this, right here right now, is what I’m supposed to be doing. I’ve been told that’s a classic adrenaline junkie attitude, but I don’t think I’m that crazy or that brave. I just want to live every second of life to the fullest. I want to help people. I want to have adventures. I want to be 80 years old looking back at all the things I did, not wondering what might have happened if I’d been a little less careful.
All that sounds really simple and idealistic, I know. In all honesty I really don’t care. I know reality, whatever it actually is, will slap me in the face soon enough. I know that I really don’t know what I’m getting into. I’m ok with that. I’ve spent years wishing I’d done this sooner. Years wondering what would happen if I tried. No matter what comes out of MEPS, or basic, or any of the training after that, having that question answered will be worth it. No one said chasing dreams was easy.
All that aside, I really wish tomorrow would get here already. I just want to know for sure if I’m going to get to go or not. There’s no reason I know of that I shouldn’t. If I’m turned down, it’ll be for something well outside my control. But my stomach is still in knots. Fingers crossed for an actual contract signed by the end of this week.