In the beginning

I always thought I’d have a carefree and jet-set life after the Army. Not realising it was just a lazy and ill thought out projection of the life I’d already lived up to that point. How hard could it be, with my solid credentials to land some relatively low risk security job in the middle east and be absolutely rolling in coin.

It was a simple plan.

And not a stupid one either. Since the fall of Saddam’s regime, the boys in the khaki trousers and shirts driving armoured Toyota’s and tooled up with AK’s were making some serious money. And I wanted in. The risks were of no real concern, and in those days I simply felt bulletproof, as all brainwashed young soldiers tend to do!

Reality though came in the form of extreme boredom. Days were spent staring out into the endless desert while waiting on our clients to carry out their working day in the oilfields. Coupled with missing my kids I started to think that maybe it was my time for the ‘normal’ life.

This came in the form of British Gas smart meter engineer.

It actually hurts me to write that. A mark on my life that cannot be erased or forgotten. What was I thinking? I was making good money in the security game and it was easy in comparison to a proper job! I saw some truly sad things working the meters in Swansea though. How some people choose to live, how lonely some of our elderly are, and the mental states of some people.. I always refer to a time I was greeted at the door on a late night gas meter job where the tenant opened the door to reveal a head full of tattoos and the most intense and full on eyes. His first question was “Do you believe in God?“.

He definitely had me praying.

So here I was, suddenly and so abruptly, cast out from the life I believed was mine for the taking, doing a normal job, living a normal life, and earning normal money. How can you go from living on the edge to measuring a boiler flue’s distance from openable windows and be content?

You can’t.

I wasn’t. I took up Jiu-Jitsu, ran with the bulls in Spain, went skydiving in Portugal, took Ayahuasca in Holland, ate magic mushrooms down Oxwich bay, trained like my life depended on it. Jobs changed, women changed, the ideas, the plans, the goals. What was I looking for? Achievement? experience? Success? A happy family of my own? All these things seemed to evade me for some reason.

Well, all except experience. I can tell you a story or two.

Maybe telling my story is my duty. A soldier must have a mission. It’s the life without a clear plan to succeed in completing your mission no matter the odds that seems so bland, so empty and without meaning. I never have understood the way in which the average guy is happy to walk through life. Never wanting to risk his life in doing the things the brave will throw themselves into with courage and flair.

Time for a new years resolution.

I’m on a mission.