I have been concerning myself with the charities available to wounded soldiers from the GWOT. I feel that they are so much more than I am, and I admire them for their sacrifice, almost to the point of wishing for an injury myself. It is a sort of brand marking them as people who have met a challenge far above what the rest of us can even begin to fathom. I see them and admire their courage and perseverance. I admire their adaptability. I admire what they do to make so many people, who have been thrown into the metaphorical meat grinder and have survived though not unscathed, have a better existence. They are heroes on another level, and in their own minds they probably do not think they are anything special. In my mind I don’t think I am anything special. They have many people who applaud their efforts and some of the strides some of them make for their brothers in arms. Many people applaud me for just being here and having the balls to do what I do without running away from my duties. There are soldier so much more remarkable than myself. There are people so much more remarkable than myself. Why do people pay heed to me anyway?
It is a strange thing that I feel I am here and I am failing. I fully realize that it may be my own expectations, and desire for an untattainable perfection, or standard of excellence that I will never meet. I just feel I am so far behind the power curve of where I am at, and where I perceive I should be in concurrence. It is my interpretaton of a presedent set by our forebears, a standard that I feel is slacking, and I am no exception either.
At what point is my self-criticism going too far, and what point am right?
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