A Letter To Kitty

Dear Kitty,
Well, it's another Sunday afternoon down here in Oklahoma. You were right, we need rain pretty badly. Though it's not as humid as it probably is up in Connecticut, it gets pretty warm.
Right now you're probably relaxing in your room- maybe watching cartoons, perhaps watching Eris goof around, throw her bone in the air or pretend she still fits on the bed.
Well, it's been a lot of time, actually a year and a half since we've been together. I can remember the first night we met- you were wearing a blue jacket, black shirt and black pants. And lots of blonde hair. Well, you always wore that, but at any rate, you know what I mean. I was glad to meet you- we had talked online previously, and I didn't want to tell you I was already really attracted to you. It seemed we had a lot in common, and that has held true.
So on we went- work in Connecticut continued to be a problem, so then it occurred to me- why not join the Army? I was later to learn that this was a popular solution in a crappy economy, but I digress. So off I went, signed up, took the oath, and went off to Fort Benning. That was a rough but good time, and I learned a tremendous amount about myself, and you, through the letters we wrote back and forth. It was a tough time, but I came out the other side better than when I went in. I felt like I had stripped away a lot of the excess, a lot of the slag, and left the pure iron of the man you fell in love with. "The nervous guy with the roses", as you like to say.
So then, completing AIT, I went on to Fort Sill, and to my first duty station. The regular Army was a bit of a culture shock, and therein was the problem. I did what I had done my whole life- close off, put my problems in the back of the mental closet and pretend it was cool. As time went on, I occasionally started drinking again. No big deal at first, I'd knock back a 40 in my hotel room and watch a movie, then when I moved out of there, it'd be a couple Steelies with dinner from down the block.
Of course, guys like me can't do that- there's no couple of anything. The drinking got worse, as did the stresses of daily life. Things started to crack, and finally, so did I. This was the beginning of the end, though aftershocks persist even today. I had forgotten that man that I once was- the iron began to rust again. It took me time, but ultimately I realized that it wasn't just the booze and the bad decisions- it was something deeper than that. In part, I realized my own thought patterns were really pretty screwed up, and that I would need to start there if I was ever to be 'right' again. So it began.
Now, I'm not saying everything's hunky dory, and it's a 'happy ever after' situation. I struggle every day to do the right thing, take the hard right rather than the easy wrong, as they say. And like all humans, sometimes I wind up flat on my face. But that doesn't mean I give up. I've been through tougher than this, and though it taxes my mental and emotional resources, it makes me that much more determined to get through it and on with my life.
I know that as time goes on, things will continue to improve. I know as I go on, there are two paths ahead of me. One is to take the easy way out- the other, to build up and reinforce. This path has no end- there will never come a day when I look back and say,"All set! Nothing more to do here". Rather, it will be a lifetime journey. But sometimes, the journey is more important than the destination. I already know where this will end up- but along the way, there's a lot to learn, and more to master. All I can hope is that I can offer you the support and strength you need from me, every day. But no matter what, I won't give up. I've given up too easily in the past, and perhaps meeting you was the turning point for all that. Now, it's death before defeat- someone once told me, you're only beaten when you don't get back up again. And so, I'm going to keep getting up to my feet, no matter what.
And soon, I'll see you again, and spend the rest of my life with you. More than that, I could not dream of.
Yours always and forever,
Jake