“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???!!!”  I screamed at the top of my lungs, not caring who heard me.  Sweat was rolling off my brow, as I was bowed up over her tears.  I had no comprehension what I was doing, caught up in the moment.  No comprehension at all until I looked down at my left hand, balled up in a fist, arm cocked and tense, ready to throw that punch.  My body was wired like a handful of twisted rubber bands.  Shit was about to get real.

And it did.  As I looked down on my left hand, I realized with a shaky realization what I was about to do.  The weight of it came crashing down on me like a massive ocean wave slams down on a struggling swimmer.  I walked out of the room, picked up my phone and called my wife.
“You need to come home right now.  I’ll explain when you get home.”  When she got home, I told her what happened.  To this day, I don’t remember the “offense”, if there was even one.  I just remember standing there like the monsters from out of a small child’s closet, looming over my 2 year old daughter, screaming at her with hatred in my voice, and murder in my head.  Standing there moments away from throwing a punch with my dominant hand, right at her small, defenseless head, as she sat there crying on her bed. 

That’s when I knew something had to change.  Therapy hadn’t helped, and I was not about to go back to it.  I had to take matters in my own hands, if I was going to protect my family from myself.  We separated for about 6 months.  My wife and children went out to Colorado to live with friends, while I packed up my meager possessions I had left and PCS’d (Permanent Change of Station) to 29 Palms, CA for my next duty station.  I was going to my follow on MOS school. I got there some time in the fall, I believe.  The dates escape me at the moment of this writing.  In November, I had reintegrated enough into stateside life that I was able to have my family move back in with me.  My wife handled most of the child issues, leaving me free to focus on the schooling.  It was not easy for either of us.  I remember staying up until midnight or later, working on 10 questions of homework assigned to us.  Calculus, physics, trigonometry and more.  Subjects that I never took in high school or my limited college experience up to that point.  Subjects that truly were worthless for what I was going to be doing with the rest of my career, but I still needed to know them enough to pass the classes I was taking.  It was sink or swim.  Either I passed, and gained my follow on MOS, or I failed twice, and was reclassed into a completely different MOS. 

By January 2009, I was already several months into my 4 year tour of I&I (Inspector Instructor.  We maintained the site and trained the reservists stationed there) duty, in Indianapolis, IN.  The only reason this was notable was that this was one of two flashbacks I’ve ever had.  New Years Eve we heard fireworks all over town.  No big deal.  I remember thinking vaguely that one set of fireworks sounded a lot like a MK-19 automatic grenade launcher.  If you’ve ever heard one firing, you never forget the sound.  Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.  Nothing happened that night.  I slept fine.  The next day, we drove with some friends to Cabelas out in Hammond, IN.  At some point during the drive, I saw a pothole in the lane in front of me, and swerved across 3 lanes of traffic to avoid it.  Without looking in my mirrors, without thinking about it, and at 65 miles an hour.  I guess sounds can trigger a reaction in me. 

Fast forward a few years, and the next big change in my life was about to happen.  The change that would drive the course of my life to where I’m at now.  But that will be for next time. 

Previous: Hopper’s Journey I * Hopper’s Journey II NEXT: Hopper’s Journey IV