"Some people live an entire lifetime wondering if they've made a difference in the world, Marines don't have that problem." - President Ronald Regan
I met the Marine when I was 22. I had barely survived my previous relationship and was trying to break free and reestablish myself as the strong, independent girl I once was. I was spending a lot of time with my girlfriends, two in particular who were particularly supportive of improvements I was making to my life. My friend from high school had recently returned from Okinawa and was still in the area. He invited me to hang out and catch up as we hadn't seen each other in a couple years, since before he had joined the Marine Corps.
One of my most trusted friends was with me when I got together with my old high school friend, and that's where it starts. Two of his Marine buddies were also along for the ride, so to speak. We met up at one of the guys' house and relaxed by the pool. Afterwards we decided to grab a bite to eat before going to watch one of the buddies play in his softball game. At the end of this relaxing day, I found myself preoccupied and thinking about the guy I had just met. A text to my high school friend was all it took and he passed along my number.
A beach bonfire, a movie in the theater, a couple dates and one thing led to another. I was falling fast, and the date of his departure was fast approaching. He was ETSing and moving home. More than halfway across the country. In our euphoria we managed to overlook this minor drawback. Almost immediately after he left I missed him. I moved back in with my parents and grew more and more attached. We planned for me to visit him and meet his family. October 22 is when we officially became a couple. A week was not long enough, and I didn't want to leave. My mother later told me that she was surprised that I did. He came back to meet my family. They fell in love with him almost as fast as I did. We talked about me moving. Places I could work. Schools I could look into attending. I was about to pick up my life and move 2,120 miles away.
I don't think I realized at the time that I was panicking. With all the distance between us, we may have been rushing the move. But he made me so blissfully happy. I could not imagine wanting to be with anyone else. And that in itself was pretty scary. With the dangerous relationship I had barely managed to save myself from, I was afraid of making another colossal mistake. I was with the man I wanted to be with, and I was scared to death about it.
The distance itself was another problem. Being away from this person who made me so happy (and not realizing at the time that I was panicking about it) had me slipping back into a depression. Not a deep dark depression, but still somewhere that I never wanted to be again. The longer we were "together" and the longer we were apart, the sadder I got. At some point after I had gone back down South for a job interview, I realized that I was spending more time sad and upset, than I was living at all. I did not want to go back to that kind of life, or rather "non-life." And I did something that was heartbreaking for both of us. I ended it.
I spent the rest of my time down South working as much as possible. I worked doubles, extra days, and I spent a lot of time with a friend from work. I didn't get seriously involved with anyone else. And I didn't ever deal with the pain of
Holding On
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