I met my husband at A-school. Everything else is a nightmarish blur of pointless bitchwork, ill-fated effort and undeserved maltreatment.
Bootcamp – I went in with high aspirations, just knowing for certain I would someday be a CWO 5 or something like it. No…uh-uh. I was beat constantly for the mistakes of others, called out into the center of the compartment to be the sacrificial lamb, because the PO’s swore they’d break me and that this is how they would do it. Why? Because I never reacted…never cried, never smiled, never laughed, never asked why. My worst beating involved me doing 15 minutes of mountain climbers and 45 minutes of 8 counts in front of the males as a punishment for the other females begging the POs to let them wear makeup on picture day. Ain’t that some shit? They said it must have been my fault, since I used to be a makeup artist…
A-school – I spent over two months waiting to class up, because I was sent into an overmanned rate. When it was time to class up, they were reluctant to let it happen because I acquired severe sleeping problems after bootcamp, and would stay up for two days at a time then just pass the fuck out at random. I convinced a military head shrinker that I could do it, so they let me in.
I’m getting top grades, never doing a thing wrong, when I get pulled into some BS investigations over someone else’s drinking habits. Turns out a text message from him to me, which they pulled out of his sent items on his phone, seemed to indicate that I knew he was drinking underage. All it said was “passing out soon…lol.”
Eventually I get cleared from that, and soon get roped into a DRB for taking an incorrent route to A-school as a straggler. An injury I had did not permit me to be in formation on the march to school, and I was instructed by our student leaders that because I couldn’t have road guards, I couldn’t march the same street route the formation takes, and that I have to take a different route. I did as told, some USMC Gunnery Sargeant sees me straggling and tells my POs that I’m a self-serving shitbag. Some very honest shipmates come forward and tell the true story, but I still have to stand DRB…
As a graduate with an LOC from the CO of my A-school, a meritorious promotion and plenty of good word-of-mouth from the right people, I was granted co-location with my husband. The command didn’t want it, but I was persistent enough to make it happen. The detailer was sick of hearing my name, I’m sure. I show up to check in, and the Senior Chief tells me he’s not a fan of having me there, because junior sailors that are married shouldn’t be allowed to co-locate. So…if we’re just randomly bumping uglies, I’m sure the command wouldn’t care (and trust me, it doesn’t…whores in this place), but the fact that we’re married is a no-no? Please. Big Navy says it’s okay as long as one is sea and one is shore, and that is how it worked out…so whatev.
The worst part of everything is the way my quality of life has suffered as a result of me joining.
I’ve gained about 24 pounds as the result of an injury I got in bootcamp, during a beating. I tore my rotator cuff during 8 counts, my shoulder was visibly red and swollen (enough not to fit in my shirt right for a while!), but medical told me if I came back I would likely be sent to Ship 6 until I healed (4 more months in bootcamp??? Fuck no…), so I pretended it didn’t bother me, suffered through every beating, PT session and mock PFA. Killed myself to score a good low on the final PFA (couldn’t do the pushups too well…). I tried PTing at A school, but the injury got so aggravated. My activity level plummeted, as I could no long run (arms swinging…), do pushups, play ball…nothin. I was forced to go to medical, where they gave me chits up the ass, and in the end I’m getting in trouble for my weight gain. I was in really good shape before I joined – went to my kung fu studio 5-6 nights a week, ran 16 miles a week…now I’m pudgy, and I hate the way I look, but working out is such a painful endeavor.
Speaking of…Navy medical are a bunch of assholes. I mean, really – show up in uniform, act like a recruit and pop tall and call that nurse practitioner that got commissioned last year “SIR!” Then have anything you say dismissed, because you’re just a lyin’ ass junior sailor… Ridiculous…
I’ve been feeling really down about myself since I joined, and I used to be so happy. I was never so harshly criticized over things that shouldn’t matter. I shine my boots, iron creases in my utilities and work my ass off…but it’s not enough, because my boots aren’t as shiny as so-and-so’s, I shouldn’t be allowed in this command, I’m getting chubby (placed on FEP without even failing anything, by the way, and without being able to actually work out anyhow), my tattoos should have prevented my service, my college education prior to the Navy makes me more useless, I don’t know anything no matter how much I learn, I can’t advance because I can’t get air and surface qual’s because I can’t deploy…what the fuck’s the point?
Joining the Navy was a big mistake. I make substantially less money than I used to (about half, even with allowances and tax benefits considered), I will never get to go anywhere cool because of my non deployability due to injury, I can’t go back to school anytime soon (just wasting time…) and my health and mental health are failing.
