And Later that day...

On my way back from TAPs class (Transitional Assistance Program) I get a call that has me floored.As I stand there shivering in the cold and rain under the train station I get the news. My Separation Papers are here. I must get them and start going home.

Panic sets in for a moment. I can feel the blood rushing to my hears. I think of nights in the future what I will go hungry. I think of the things that I didn't start, like this blog. Then I wish I had a little more time. I'm completely blindsided regardless of the four months of preparation that came before this moment. Somehow I really didn't fathom the moment I knew this dream would be over.

I will well and truly miss my home. I've lovingly named it my Fortress of Solitude. It's a safe haven where I can be myself and pretend that I'm okay. Here in my cluttered office, I brainstorm about the numerous characters waiting to be introduced. Here is where my future is to be planned. And the sad sad truth is that this place my haven will be gone.

Here is also where I plan my move to San Diego, Ca. I've been told multiple times to go some place that's not broke. At this moment I should examine this more closely.

California is broke right now. My goal once I leave the Navy completely is to use my GI Benefits and return to school. Community College and working Part Time from home is the ideal situation. I may or may not be able to collect unemployment for six months, depending on my discharge code. So technically I can live anywhere.

Why California? Well I've never lived there. Up to this point in my life I've lived up and down the east coast on the US and main land Japan. Why San Diego? Well there are 1300 AA meetings int that city alone. I will need all the help I can get. Why not go home? I chafe at the idea of moving back in with my mother. I'm not the person who left. If I try to force myself back into the person I used to be I'll never live up to my expectations.  There is something inherently wrong with a 32 year old female living at home with her mother. Especially me, I am a prideful person.

When I got to the station near my home I had this urge to go to the store and buy a bottle to celebrate. Why not? Says my alcoholic brain. It's just one little bottle, I can swallow that down and no one would know the difference. Yes, but I will, so I bypass the grocery store.

I'm proud of myself for a little bit. Then the reality returns and I wander through my home, only to come back to my office and pour myself into my work. For a little bit I can delve into the world I'm creating. When I expended my brain making fiction I realized that nothing has changed around me in the world except soon I'll be homeless.