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This is my personal story. It's not a rant, and it's not a complaint. I'm telling it how it is. I'm sharing with you who I am, where I'm coming from, and where I am now.
I was born in Woodstock, New Brunswick. For those who are unfamiliar, it's a small farming hub in the Saint John River valley. For as long as I can remember, I was fascinated with all things military. My favorite movies to watch while the parents drank themselves stupid were The Battle of Britain, Kelly's Heroes, The Dirty Dozen, and Devil's Brigade. I spend most of my time outside, biking and running about. I used to love sitting by the Trans-Canada and watch the big green trucks go by, on their way to Gagetown for exercises. I got my first fishing rod at age 4, and my first pellet gun at age 8. I was a smart kid, and would spend 2-3 hours a night reading. I excelled early at school, and was very proficient in math.
Like any young boy, I was exactly that. A young boy. Full of energy, and chomping at the bit to grow up and be a man. In the 4th grade, however, the teacher seemed to think that I, as well as most of the other boys, had ADHD. In the "good old days" I would most definitely have had a meeting or 10 with the headmaster, and would likely have learned to calm down. This was 1994, however, and Ritalin was the new strap on the wrist. My parents augmented that treatment with leather belts and wooden spoons.
After turbulent few years, dealing with abuse at home and school, and watching family kill themselves 1 drink at a time, I was struggling to cope. I was no longer the happy child I once was, I was now a 12 year-old misfit looking for attention. Life's funny like that. After a move to Ottawa at age 14, and a visit to a new doctor, ritalin was exchanged for dexedrine. This, combined with my new-found fondness for smoking up, was not a good thing. 4 years of my life were lost. I don't know where they went, or how I got a lot of the scars I bear, but I never gave up. Even in my chemically deluded state, I still found the strength to get up every morning and keep breathing.
After I didn't graduate highschool by age 19, I moved back to New Brunswick and began working. I kept reading when I could, and tried to be active. But this was hard as a new set of pills had bloated me to 240 pounds. I began to wonder, why? Why would someone who is supposedly this smart, need to be doing this? As it turns out, I didn't need to be doing that. I just needed to learn a couple things about myself, how I function, and self control. At age 20, I met with some doctors, and it was decided. No more meds. See if that works.
As it would turn out, it worked wonderfully. I quickly lost the weight, was working better than ever before, and decided to go back to school. At age 21, I began my new educational endeavour. I passed my GED with great ease. The exact marks I recieved are not important, but suffice to say, they were exceptional. I went on to Academic Studies, and once again, met great success. This whole time, I had always been pondering a career in the armed forces, but once I saw what I was truly capable of, I began to take the idea much more seriously. University wasn't the right choice yet, I found that out quickly. Back to the workforce I went, and began what has been a long process of applying for the military. I quit smoking the pot for good, as it is neither conducive to the military, or a truly productive life whatsoever. I began to take my health more seriously, and contacted the CFRC in Fredericton about becoming a Combat Engineer. I don't want to be a sniper, I have no interest in joining JTF2 or CSOR. Granted, I'm looking forward to the demolition aspect, but I'm well aware of the harsh realities of the trade. I'm not going to be Rambo Norris.
The trip to the CFRC quickly put to end a relationship of 2 years, but I'd already survived much worse in my journey through life, and as such, was NOT going to let that get the best of me. I chose not to share what memories I did have of the 4 hell years, but rest assured, knowing I could survive that gave me the confidence and means to take on anything and everything that the world could throw my way.
The recruiting process has been mostly encouraging, with a few bumps along the way. I had to wait 2 months after filling out the drug form as they require a full 6 months off the pot before continuing. I would love to have seen the look on the recruiters face when he read that. Granted, I had never touched another drug besides pot (unless prescribed), but I still filled out the form with complete honesty. This fact was mentioned by the recruiter, he said it shows a lot of positive character to be that honest. He gets tired of seeing the same kind of veiled honesty, the "I smoked it 2 or 3 times, but that's all" kind of "honesty" that most people seem to throw down.
After a move back to Ottawa to have more steady employment, I continued the process and wrote the CFAT. They didn't tell me my score, but did tell me that I qualified for all jobs, NCM or Officer. I chose to stick with my choice, Combat Engineer, NCM. And now, the medical and interview. The interview part, in my mind, went fine. The medical part is my current obstacle. I was, once again, completely honest about the medical history. The "ADHD", the ritalin, the dexedrine, and the 4 years of pain and suffering. I was given forms to take to a doctor, and told to bring them back and await further instruction. Surely, I though, the past 3 years of my life would go to show that I'm not a threat to myself, or my future teammates, and will be a very prodictive soldier.
I had the forms completed, and returned them. I recieved a letter in the mail. Due to my ADHD diagnosis, I'm not considered up to par. As such, I'm not on the merit list (for now). This forum has been a wonderful source, both of information and inspiration, to me. I know what I have to do, and am in the process of appealing. This is where I stand. I'm not about to ask what to do, because most of my questions have been answered by the search function. If, however, you feel you have some advice, thoughts, encouragement, or simple prayers to offer me. By all means, it is GREATLY appreciated.
Thank you for reading this. Hopefully it's not deemed a rant, or irrelevant. I know I'm not special, and that everyone goes through hard times, many worse than my own. But like I said before, this is my personal story. It's not everything, but it paints a basic portrait.
Cheers
I was born in Woodstock, New Brunswick. For those who are unfamiliar, it's a small farming hub in the Saint John River valley. For as long as I can remember, I was fascinated with all things military. My favorite movies to watch while the parents drank themselves stupid were The Battle of Britain, Kelly's Heroes, The Dirty Dozen, and Devil's Brigade. I spend most of my time outside, biking and running about. I used to love sitting by the Trans-Canada and watch the big green trucks go by, on their way to Gagetown for exercises. I got my first fishing rod at age 4, and my first pellet gun at age 8. I was a smart kid, and would spend 2-3 hours a night reading. I excelled early at school, and was very proficient in math.
Like any young boy, I was exactly that. A young boy. Full of energy, and chomping at the bit to grow up and be a man. In the 4th grade, however, the teacher seemed to think that I, as well as most of the other boys, had ADHD. In the "good old days" I would most definitely have had a meeting or 10 with the headmaster, and would likely have learned to calm down. This was 1994, however, and Ritalin was the new strap on the wrist. My parents augmented that treatment with leather belts and wooden spoons.
After turbulent few years, dealing with abuse at home and school, and watching family kill themselves 1 drink at a time, I was struggling to cope. I was no longer the happy child I once was, I was now a 12 year-old misfit looking for attention. Life's funny like that. After a move to Ottawa at age 14, and a visit to a new doctor, ritalin was exchanged for dexedrine. This, combined with my new-found fondness for smoking up, was not a good thing. 4 years of my life were lost. I don't know where they went, or how I got a lot of the scars I bear, but I never gave up. Even in my chemically deluded state, I still found the strength to get up every morning and keep breathing.
After I didn't graduate highschool by age 19, I moved back to New Brunswick and began working. I kept reading when I could, and tried to be active. But this was hard as a new set of pills had bloated me to 240 pounds. I began to wonder, why? Why would someone who is supposedly this smart, need to be doing this? As it turns out, I didn't need to be doing that. I just needed to learn a couple things about myself, how I function, and self control. At age 20, I met with some doctors, and it was decided. No more meds. See if that works.
As it would turn out, it worked wonderfully. I quickly lost the weight, was working better than ever before, and decided to go back to school. At age 21, I began my new educational endeavour. I passed my GED with great ease. The exact marks I recieved are not important, but suffice to say, they were exceptional. I went on to Academic Studies, and once again, met great success. This whole time, I had always been pondering a career in the armed forces, but once I saw what I was truly capable of, I began to take the idea much more seriously. University wasn't the right choice yet, I found that out quickly. Back to the workforce I went, and began what has been a long process of applying for the military. I quit smoking the pot for good, as it is neither conducive to the military, or a truly productive life whatsoever. I began to take my health more seriously, and contacted the CFRC in Fredericton about becoming a Combat Engineer. I don't want to be a sniper, I have no interest in joining JTF2 or CSOR. Granted, I'm looking forward to the demolition aspect, but I'm well aware of the harsh realities of the trade. I'm not going to be Rambo Norris.
The trip to the CFRC quickly put to end a relationship of 2 years, but I'd already survived much worse in my journey through life, and as such, was NOT going to let that get the best of me. I chose not to share what memories I did have of the 4 hell years, but rest assured, knowing I could survive that gave me the confidence and means to take on anything and everything that the world could throw my way.
The recruiting process has been mostly encouraging, with a few bumps along the way. I had to wait 2 months after filling out the drug form as they require a full 6 months off the pot before continuing. I would love to have seen the look on the recruiters face when he read that. Granted, I had never touched another drug besides pot (unless prescribed), but I still filled out the form with complete honesty. This fact was mentioned by the recruiter, he said it shows a lot of positive character to be that honest. He gets tired of seeing the same kind of veiled honesty, the "I smoked it 2 or 3 times, but that's all" kind of "honesty" that most people seem to throw down.
After a move back to Ottawa to have more steady employment, I continued the process and wrote the CFAT. They didn't tell me my score, but did tell me that I qualified for all jobs, NCM or Officer. I chose to stick with my choice, Combat Engineer, NCM. And now, the medical and interview. The interview part, in my mind, went fine. The medical part is my current obstacle. I was, once again, completely honest about the medical history. The "ADHD", the ritalin, the dexedrine, and the 4 years of pain and suffering. I was given forms to take to a doctor, and told to bring them back and await further instruction. Surely, I though, the past 3 years of my life would go to show that I'm not a threat to myself, or my future teammates, and will be a very prodictive soldier.
I had the forms completed, and returned them. I recieved a letter in the mail. Due to my ADHD diagnosis, I'm not considered up to par. As such, I'm not on the merit list (for now). This forum has been a wonderful source, both of information and inspiration, to me. I know what I have to do, and am in the process of appealing. This is where I stand. I'm not about to ask what to do, because most of my questions have been answered by the search function. If, however, you feel you have some advice, thoughts, encouragement, or simple prayers to offer me. By all means, it is GREATLY appreciated.
Thank you for reading this. Hopefully it's not deemed a rant, or irrelevant. I know I'm not special, and that everyone goes through hard times, many worse than my own. But like I said before, this is my personal story. It's not everything, but it paints a basic portrait.
Cheers
