To My Mom,

Dear Mom,

Life hasn’t always been easy for us. We’ve had it better than some, but it’s been a struggle. You know me better than most, it’s a side effect of raising me, I guess.

Still, I’ve learned to keep some secrets. Like the cussing I do in my head, like my temper - it’s still there. I just keep it bottled up, where it can’t be seen. Except I know I’ve failed - I’d be stupid to think otherwise - and you’ve seen it in places.

Like the fact that, since I went to Basic Training and AIT life at home feels almost too confining. It’s changed me, and you’re still the same as ever. You still want to hug me and kiss my forehead like I’m still your little girl.

I’m not. I’m an adult, even if I don’t feel like I am sometimes. I’ve more than earned the right to tell you I don’t want to hug you - that I don’t want to be held tight like any minute I might leave and never return.

I miss my childhood, sure - things were easier. But I wouldn’t trade who I am now for the world. I’m a better person because of everything I’ve gone through - from my childhood to today.

Speaking of childhood, there were things I do wish you would have done differently. I wish I’d spent more time with kids my age - and not just friends and family. I struggle with social interaction because of it. The first weekend I met the est of my section in my National Guard unit, I hardly put together a sentence in front of the eight other medics. One to one, I could do. I was able to talk just fine there, but as a group, I hesitated. I lacked confidence in my social skills. Even today, with a couple of activations under my belt, I pause in groups of people I don’t know, unsure if I should say what I want to. With strangers I’m either overly polite to the point where I can’t really connect with them - can’t get to know them without friends of my own there too - or I just shut my mouth and don’t speak.

It’s a problem. I’m working on it, sure, but it shouldn’t be something I have to work on as an adult.

I feel more at home at drill with the rest of my section than I do at home, sometimes. A lot of the time. I trust these guys with my life, and I know that if I don’t make it back home they’ll have done everything they can.

And then there’s the sense of camaraderie. The sense of understanding that can’t be matched anywhere.

I think the sense of understanding and camaraderie are also why my cousin is my best friend. She grew up alongside me and both of us wound up joining the army. I think at this point she knows me better than you do. She understands me better because she’s known me my whole life - and she’s gone through Basic Training and her own AIT. She understands me in a way no one else can.

That’s part of why I said that I would buy a house with her without hesitation. Not that I ever said so much to anyone.

And another thing, I’m under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. I’m asexual and aromantic. It’s probably the only non-heterosexual identity you’d be okay with-

I’m not going to risk it.

I know you’ve noticed that I’m not interested in boys - and I know you probably think that when I meet the right guy I’ll change. Maybe I will. But maybe I won’t.

Or maybe you don’t think that. Maybe you’re just happy to keep me at home a little longer.

Either way, it’s my own business.

You’ve raised me to be the best person I can be, sure. But I can’t help but feel that I’ve failed. Somehow, I’m sure I have.

I put up a good front. But there are times that I wonder-

But it’s no matter. I can only push forward and do my best.

That’s what you taught me, after all. We can only go forward.

With love,

Your daughter