Amnesia

Dear Gillian,
 
It’s amazing what a little anger can do for a girl in the middle of a little pity party. I’ve graduated, receiving orders to serve aboard a naval vessel that will be on a deep patrol to Saturn. I’ve adjusted well to the new environment, but the boredom of a long trip is interrupted only by duty and practice, practice, practice. You can’t possibly imagine how good it felt when I was told I have one of the best performing squads in my new platoon. Who would have thought that just a few months after graduation from NCO school that I’d be quietly praised by my superiors?
 
Frankly, I always thought I’d be a bad officer. It’s frustrating and worrisome to have people look to you for every single decision. I’ve never been the best at staying cool under pressure. I always let my anger or my passion tell me what to do and where to go.  It was early on in NCO instruction when that fear of failure in tense situations would keep cropping up its ugly head. And yet, there is an amazing difference between hypothetical questions while sitting behind a desk, and the craziness of a simulation. I’ve figured out that I can focus–I can lead, Gillian. I can make tough decisions without thinking about them too much. I can take men and women fresh from high school and turn them into something that Earth can be proud of. Instead of running away from trouble, I want to take these people with me into the fire. That’s not the Shannon you knew, is it?
 
I am spending more time alone since leaving training, but I am coming to cherish the quiet. In  previous letters I  have whined and complained about my solitary state, but I’m finally finding the self reliance that I’ve lacked for as long as I can remember. As much as I’d hate to admit it, perhaps ending things with Collins was for the best. I never gave myself a chance to succeed by relying on him to the extent I did. It’s nice to look into the mirror and be happy with my own reflection for the first time in a great while without having someone constantly looking over my shoulder.
 
There was a deep sense of accomplishment when I was handed my orders, especially by the one DI who had made my life a living hell. His murmured, “Good luck, soldier,” was devoid of a smile, but his approval was obvious in the firm grip of his handshake.
 
I won’t lie, it does still hurt when I see Michael. We’ve been deployed to the same ship and it’s hard to not to remember what happened between us. I have no doubt that we will cross paths in battle and on the ship alike, but the white hot anger and confusion has turned to a cool indifference. I do miss him, sometimes. I guess you’d know exactly how that would feel, wouldn’t you, Gillian?
 
Enjoy the enclosed commencement picture. This is my only copy and I ask that you frame it for Dad. I’m hoping that it will lessen his worry that his little girl has been sent through the meat grinder.
 
Shannon

1. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Ten...
2. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Seven...
3. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Four...
4. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Eight...
5. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Three...
6. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Five...
7. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part One...
8. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Six...
9. “The O’Leary Letters” - Part Two...
10. The O’Leary Letters - In Written Form...

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.