Wantings....

As the title says. Wantings are what we all have at any given time. It could be something simple like a car, or those concert tickets. It could be complicated like love, or a stable home life. We all have them. Some people have greater wantings than others, driven by a need that the outsiders could never understand. The needs generated by those wantings are rarely ever fully understood by the person experiencing them, driving them to greater heights in search of that fulfillment.

I've been to war, but I have a hard time calling myself a veteran. It's a title that I reserve for everyone else but me, and I can't understand why. I spent almost seven months in a place where the enemy was actively engaged in killing my countrymen and women, a place where I could not tell who was for us or against us. It was a place where I took risks by leaving the safety of the main camp to ensure supplies got to the FOB's, providing security for the tech's and supply techs. Delivering the goods as the song goes. I've driven past the places where men have died, became a sitting duck a few times, and beat the odds. Not one round fired at me. No IED's. No blood. A few tears shed for my brothers whose luck ran out, and scars on the heart because of the loss. That's enough isn't it? I should be able to look myself in the mirror at the end of the day and say I've fulfilled my obligations, taken my chances and done enough to earn the respect I've been looking for. I should.......

I've been searching for the opportunity, an opening in the vault so to speak, to be able to grab that self coveted title and wear it with pride. The vault was open, but when I looked there was nothing there. I grasp at nothing. Fuck.

What have I been searching for all this time? I'm not sure. The only true thing I do know is that I haven't got it yet. I haven't been able to give myself the due that in my soul seems so necessary for my own self worth. The civilian populace cannot even fathom how I feel about this issue, because they are so far removed from a culture of self sacrifice and honour, that it's a foreign ideal. I've never felt more useful in my life than when I was toting a rifle in a war zone, asking the Gods to allow me another days grace to help my brethren. I felt ultimately responsible for all those around me, and it was the most fulfilling feeling I've had since my marriage, and the birth of my girls. I was at that time worth something. Two years later and I'm sitting here writing this at a desk in my civilian workplace and I'm at a low point. Here my self worth suffers. The work doesn't give me that sense of elation, and causes my soul to drag. But I'm comfortable. Change is an exceptionally hard thing for me to do, so I make the best of what I have. At my other job, my real job, I'm happier. Self worth is restored, and I have everything to look forward to. I have passion for the work, and my cohorts are worth my time, and if necessary, they are worth my blood. The regiment is my extended family, and without them I don't feel I could survive this wasteland of empty wantings. A land where the common man feels his life is complete as long as he has that motorcycle, or that big screen TV to watch sports on. Sure his job is a hassle, but they're the ones who give him the pay cheque to buy the toys that keep him happy.

I must be crazy. That just doesn't sound like happiness to me. I need something more. I need something..... Maybe the war will provide that something. Gods help me I need that something.....