challenge accepted. part one.

I am not one of those girls that grew up dreaming of Prince Charming and babies. I can't even recall having any desire to have a child until I was actually raising one. I dated a man that had a child. She had just turned one when we started dating. I loved this little girl. She is the reason that I felt like I was capable of being someone's mother. Before that, I was such a train wreck that I could barely take care of myself, much less another human being. I had pretty serious health problems, I had severe depression issues, and basically I was just a mess. I feel like this is going to require some backstory.

I was 19 when I joined the Army. I can't even recall now why I thought I needed to do that, but away I went. I loved being in the military. It gave me purpose. I felt like I was starting to thrive for the first time in my life. Then I went to Germany. When I arrived in country I had to go to the field to join my unit. I wasn't there a whole day before they sent me to KP (working in the kitchen). I didn't know anyone. The next morning I woke up to a man trying to rape me. The bay was empty and it was just us. This has happened to me before. I know what comes next. This time I was stronger though. I wasn't a helpless little girl. I fought back. I kicked, I screamed, I punched, and he stopped. He left the bay and I tried to gather my composure. I marched right into that kitchen and made a scene. Please! Someone! Help me! The woman in charge called the military police and I was taken to speak with CID. (Criminal investigative division).

The end result was that it was my word against his because there were no witnesses and there was nothing that they could do. My question, to this day, is why would someone try to rape someone if there were witnesses? Pretty sure they'd look around a bit first. Other people were questioned and stated that he told them to leave the bay but I came in late the night before so I got to sleep in that day. Another NCO told them that he talked about me to him when I first arrived. , he made reference to all that he would like to do to me. None of this mattered. Nothing happened to him. I was sent back to the unit and called for a meeting by the First Sergeant. She didn't call me in to console me, she wanted to reprimand me. She made it clear that they don't tolerate girls like me that dress like me, and carry themselves as I do. Just a reminder, she had never met me. I was in the field so the only dress I had worn were my uniforms, and I hadn't even made any friends so she had never even seen me interact with anyone. This was my fault. Within a few weeks she had me transferred out of my unit and sent me to headquarters to work in operations. This was pretty hard on me. I was very far from home excited about a new life and now I'm cast out with a scarlet letter.

That really was a blessing in disguise though because I eventually started working directly for the CSM (command sergeant major) and he was such a positive influence in my life. We are still great friends to this day. Nothing ever happened to that NCO, but that is just one of those things that God will have to handle for me. Enough of that...

I was later medically retired from the military due to some lung issues and fibromyalgia. A short while after I was discharged I was visiting a friend in North Carolina and had my first attack on my heart. I had a condition called Atrial Fibrillation and the doctors could not get my heart back in to a normal rhythm. It made me very sick. I can't recall ever being that scared. They had never seen something like this in someone so young. It only affected the elderly. I was 21. After a few hours of my heart running a marathon it finally regulated. I was discharged a few days later but instructed to find a cardiologist when I returned home.

The first cardiologist I saw was a jerk. It was a horrible experience. He basically just tried to scare me. He said that due to my lifestyle he gives me maybe six months to live with this kind of condition. The lifestyle he referred to was my drinking. Oh the drinking... I can barely drink one glass of wine without getting tipsy now. I drank a lot. The night I had my first attack I had an entire bottle of orange rum in about two hours. (I still can't even smell that stuff)

I left that office thinking my life was over. I was really going to die. I know now that isn't what he meant, but I was a dumb (dramatic) kid. I took him literally. So instead of changing my life I decided to take it as a challenge. I drank, and drank, and drank a little more. I partied. I made a lot of bad choices. Why not? I was about to die.

This went into a completely different direction. I will have to write the rest later.