Who am I now? That's a question I've been asking myself for a while. Not out loud. But in the quiet moments. The 4 AM hours when the house is still and there's nothing to distract me from my own head.
For over 20 years I was a Marine. That was my identity. My purpose. My reason for getting up in the morning. Then I was out. And I transitioned into the civilian workforce. Fast-paced environments. High-stakes decisions. IT and telecommunications. Governance. Consulting. Always something on fire. Always something that needed fixed now. It gave me a rush. It was invigorating. Exhilarating. I thrived in chaos. The more pressure, the better I performed. Rapid decisions. Quick pivots. Solving problems in real time with incomplete information. That was my world. And I was good at it.
Then my health went sideways. TIAs. Memory issues. Days where my body just doesn't cooperate. The 70% of the day where I'm running on fumes and hoping I don't fall over. I couldn't keep up anymore. The fast pace that used to fuel me became something I couldn't sustain. The decision-making environments that gave me life became environments I could no longer survive in. So I stepped out of the rat race. Basically forced to for the most part. And when it stopped, I felt numb. Lost.
I watch others still in it. Still grinding. Still chasing. Still thriving in that chaos I used to call home. And I feel useless. Jealous sometimes, if I'm being honest. On good days, I miss it. I miss the rush. The feeling of being in the thick of it. The sense that what I was doing mattered and needed to happen right now. On bad days, I'm glad I'm out. Glad I'm not trying to keep up with a pace my body can't handle anymore. Glad I'm not pushing myself into the ground just to prove I still can.
Nothing has replaced it. That's the hard truth. I haven't found anything that gives me that same feeling. That same sense of purpose and adrenaline. I'm working on my doctorate. That keeps my mind engaged. But it's not the same. I'd like to get more involved with emergency communications through my ham radio hobby eventually. That feels like something that could matter. Something that uses my skills. Something with purpose. But I'm not there yet.
I'm still figuring out who I am now. Not a Marine anymore. Not in the rat race anymore. Not the guy who thrives in chaos because my body won't let me. Some days I'm okay with that. Some days I'm not. I'm learning that identity isn't fixed. It shifts. It evolves. Sometimes it breaks and you have to rebuild it from scratch. That's where I am. Rebuilding. One piece at a time. Just like the truck.
Thanks for reading,
Joe
Notes:
-All content is mine unless otherwise annotated.
-Images are my own unless otherwise noted.
-Photos edited using Linux photo editor and drawing and/or iPhone SE.
-Page Dividers from The Terminal Discord.
