Driving through the fog...

Like millions of others, I spent part of my week leading up to Christmas traveling. Like so many other years, I loaded up my car and drove from Pittsburgh to my parents' house which is located about 30 minutes from Valley Forge. As I made my way across the turnpike, the unseasonably warm weather covered the roads in a very heavy and at sometimes impenetrable wall of fog. As I disengaged the cruise control and reduced my speed to accommodate for the conditions, a part of mind started to think of how these conditions were a visible metaphor for my trip to success following my time in the US Army.

Do not use your high beams
As the fog got thicker along the Pennsylvania Turnpike, of course I wanted more light but as we all know, the worse thing to do in fog is turn on your high beams. This will result in almost a "white out" type condition. My transition was similar. But there, the "fog" was a result of not being able to successful coupe with my new surroundings and life situation. It became hard to see and all I wanted was more light. That "light" came in the form of alcohol. I thought by drinking myself to a point where my mind did not race that I would be able to see more clearly and focus on the road ahead. Yet, just like driving through this fog with high beams, it resulted in a "white out". I would drink to the point where I could not physically see or even function. Alcohol was my personal "high beams" and rather than listening to what others were trying to tell me, I turned them on. It took the small, quite voice of my daughter for me to realize that I was going about this the wrong way. It was five simple words that made me finally turn down a new path. And while I know that I can easily and quickly find myself on the slippery slope of alcoholism, much like driving through fog, my mind is able to remind to "not turn on my high beams" again.

Slow down, danger ahead
We have all seen those flashing yellow warning signs. We have also seen our fair share of those that ignore those signs and my trip to Valley Forge was no different. While the posted speed limit was 70 mph, the conditions dictated a much more conservative speed. Most of us on the road found ourselves slowing down to 50 mph or slower depending on the visibility especially as we drove through the high hills of central Pennsylvania. One's transition can be along the same lines.

For many that find themselves starting out on their transition, one of the first tasks is to find a job. This can be when the fog is the most think and your visibility the worse. Your head is quickly feels with more questions than answers. What should you put on your resume? What should be left off? How do you answer a question you may not fully know without sounding like you do not know? What do you wear to an interview? Is it wrong to wear the same suit to a second or third interview with the same company? And while you want to just push the gas to the floor and find a job as quickly as possible you find yourself in a position where a more conservative speed is warranted. By slowing down, you are able to focus more. You are able to rationally ask other some of the questions you have, leaning on their knowledge to solve some of your problems. By slowing down, you increase your reaction time between the different dangers that lay ahead of you as you continue down the "Transition Turnpike".

Keep your eye on the line
When the fog got to the point where I could not see passed the bumper of my car; I, like most people, found myself using the road markings to ensure I was staying on the road. And while there are no pre-drawn out paths for one's transition from military to civilian, there are some "road markings" that others can use as a point of reference to ensure they are staying on the path. Peer-support groups are these markings. When a Veteran gets engaged with other Veterans, he or she is able to see the good and bad lessons learned by others before them and hopefully use those lessons as a way to better mark their path. This is one reason why I am so vocal about my transition. As I just stated, each Veteran's transition is personal to them because we all come from different walks of life with different ideals and goals so while the path I took to achieve the success I have had to this point worked for me, it will more than likely not work for anyone else. The bumps in my path were mine to face and while for a short period of time I ignored the "road markings" and found myself of the path I should have followed; I am thankful that I was able to correct my path and get back on track. I hope that by sharing the lessons that my personal struggles taught me, they can serve as more "road markings" for those behind me.

It may have taken nearly ten years, but I finally feel that my transition from Soldier to Civilian is at a point where I am finally comfortable with where I am. My drinking is under control, I have had several successful moments thanks to the support of those I now choose to surround myself and I am able to share my struggles with others without fear of judgement. While I know other struggles will arise from time to time, the fog is starting to rise.