worldablaze

I'm going back on my meds. I'll only stay on them until I get back to the states, but for now it'll help me deal with these ass-hats I have to work with. I really have had a pretty bad relapse of minor depression and anxiety lately, and today was the last straw. Nothing even really happened, just the same old periodic whiny bitch fit that my superiors have. Sometimes I can just take it with a grain of salt, but these days I'm just too fed up. It's been over a year over here, nothing but work environment, no friends, no family, blah, blah whatever, we can deal with it. But then at least give us some fucking space, don't give us shit over insignificant, unimportant army regulations. Over the course of this deployment I've been reprimanded so often over stupid things that shouldn't be an issue in a tactical environment, you'd think I'm in a fucking marching band. They insist on harassing about haircuts, shaving, wearing certain boots rather than others, wearing hats to step out the fucking door, wearing eye protection at all times, putting on the uniform top just to step out and smoke a cigarette or take a piss.....who the fuck cares? And it's not even just that. I can ignore their dumb shit, they won't do anything about it. It's the principle of the matter that they take our lives and put them on hold, work us constantly, people are getting divorced left and right, missing the birth of their first child, finding out their relatives died while they're wasting their time here, getting wounded in action and sustaining permanent nerve damage....and then they make a big deal out of what belt I'm wearing, or the fact that some of us call each other by our first names?!? Fuck these little nazi-muffin bitches. All it's about to them is looking good to their superiors and advancing their pitiful, pathetic careers, and of course exerting their mighty authority just because it's the only thing that makes them feel significant. After all, they clearly haven't done shit with their lives and never will, since they're still nothing but army pawns after 10 years. And the real problem for me isn't them. They'll always be what they are, cocksucking little lapdogs. And the regular army will always be an amateur circus with about as much professionalism as can be expected from teenagers. My problem right now is that I'm too stressed out about getting out of here. This year has been hell. After the first months of severe hopeless depression settled, I started working on the plans to turn my life around, try to learn from my mistakes, create a meaningful future and become a better person. Well, I'm done planning. There's only so much scheming and plotting I can do before it's time to take action. I am so desperately in need of the changes I'm planning to implement to take effect. It's not just about the army or my unit. Every day here with these clowns and their bullshit is a reminder of how pointless my life is and has been and how badly I need to move on. Until then, I just feel like I'm a failure and full of shit. I am very serious about my plans, but I need to prove to myself that it's real, else it's as real as any childish fantasy. Without the actual accomplishments and progress, it's all just empty promises. I've already done my share of that.
I'm worried, too worried about too many things. The SF project has to work. I can't afford any more failure. I try to tell myself to stay patient and wait until I can just take things into my own hands, because truly, until then there's nothing I can do about anything. My knee is fucked up. I want to know how badly it's fucked up, what needs to be done to fix it, and get it taken care of. The many uncertainties are just weighing me down to the extent that any little extra pressure from these army douchebags gets me much more worked up than it should.
I kind of hope nobody reads this, but now that I wrote it I have to post it. It's more or less the replacement for my journal, after all. This is embarrassing though. I kind of wish I could just have stayed on the meds, they really were a help. That's why I'm getting back on them. I only have a months supply or so, and I stopped seeing the shrink people because I had to for my SF packet. Either way, I can't be relying on the stupid drugs when I get back. And getting back off is going to be a pain again, I just hope by then I'll have enough going on that I'll be too sidetracked to notice. It's a risk I feel like I have to take at this point.