MANY apologies

Once again, I'm going to truly apologize for mu absence from my adoring public!
Life has been..... well, let's say it's been "a little crazy."

Okay, I can't say that with a straight face- life has kiiinda gone to shit for me. For now.
It happens sometimes.

See, when I last said "hi" (for those of you [no one, I think] who are reading) I had been walking, and doing well, and I could see my life continuing after this fucking hospital bullshit was over with, and I had moved on past a few major hurdles in my life, and I was just starting to feel like maybe I was *getting* *there*- that I was getting to a point where I could trust myself to be entirely independent. Where I wouldn't need a prosthetist every other day to work on my leg; where I wouldn't need to take medication every few hours; where I could wear pants and honestly NO ONE WOULD KNOW I'M AN AMPUTEE, which has been my goal since I went Out-Patient in March!
And then, I guess God said "Uh, no, bitch" and I got MRSA in my leg, and spent a week in the ward to have it cleaned out. They couldn't just swab it and keep a bandage on it; they opened my leg up and cleaned the area. And then I went home (to the barracks room) and was told that in maybe a month, maybe two, I should be back in my leg and starting to walk again! I mean, it would take some time to rebuild the strength and resistance to the feel of it, but I can't imagine it would take so long if I had been spending all of my time in my prosthesis.
Well, one week after my discharge from the ward, I'm back here.
My leg kept draining blood and fluid, and they're concerned, so they're going to open it AGAIN and clean it AGAIN.

And I'm having issues with depression.
I've known for months that I've had depression (post-injury) and that it comes and goes. I don't think it's ever completely *gone*, but some days I just don't want to go to PT, don't want to shave, don't want to get dressed, don't want to get up, don't even want to lift my head. (it isn't just a physical sensation of exhaustion; it's mental exhaustion, apathy, and frustration at that very apathy, which makes you pissed at yourself)
But now, I've gotten to the point where I have realized that, no, something is actually wrong. I don't know exactly what it is, but I need to see someone to find out. I have long, long periods of apathy and a total lack of motivation to do anything.
I'm a Marine; when I was in the fleet, if a single thread was out of place on my uniform, I cut it. (literally- I spent hours some nights just going over the stitching and finish of my uniforms) If a single scrap of a gum wrapper was on the floor, I cleaned it up. Those were standards which came long before things like "watching a movie" or "relaxing"... or "eating".
And now, I can't quite get up the drive to clean my room. At all. Ever.
I have an awful time trying to sleep almost every night, I can't stop my mind from just thinking, and..... and I miss my boys.
Shit. By the time I was hit, I'd been in Afghanistan for 6 1/2 months. I had tickets to go home on leave; we were getting ready to have our replacements start moving in. And then, suddenly, instead of processing through with the Battalion and heading out that way, I got back to the States in eight days.
Now, my boys are in Hawaii, and I miss them. It's weird, because I have never been the type of person to miss.... anyone. Ever. But I miss being with my guys in the Comm Platoon.
Because I'd made it through almost the entire deployment, it wasn't like I'd just dropped my pack and checked out, but I thought I was going home. Nothing is a sure deal- especially not in the Marine Corps, in Afghanistan- but I assumed I would go home. We'd lost one man; we'd lost him about 7-8 hours away from the FOB I was in, if I remember correctly. (that's driving in a convoy on a small road) So I assumed I would be back in Hawaii, trying to deal with the orders and backlog of work and all the headache and frustration and sleeplessness of the Garrison life of an E-3-or-below Marine in Kaneohe Bay. Instead, I came here.
Now, they're all back. They all kept going. I feel like I'm left out, like I missed something. I've never really gotten to explore Hawaii (at all), and I was looking forward so much to seeing Pearl Harbor, and swimming in the ocean, maybe renting a kayak, and just being around my boys.
You know how trials and tribulation and group pain and punishment forge bonds between people? Think about going through Marine Corps Boot Camp, in the summer, at Parris Island; think about going through the months of Comm School; of being destroyed and upbraided and sprinting- literally- everywhere to your NCOs' demands, in the middle of the desert, where there is no rescue coming; of facing sleepless days, weeks, months, with guys who know at least some of your pain; of literally wringing puddles of sweat our of your clothing, knowing that tomorrow, it will be just as bad- if not worse- and that the guy next to you knows what it's like. Marines don't form 'normal' bonds with one another; we are the tightest brotherhood of any military service for a reason. And now, I feel like a Marine on his own.
My 'pack', the boys I'd bee with and around for a year, are suddenly gone. They have lives without me- they kept moving. They're married and moved and the Comm Shop is different and it's all so.... odd. Like when you see a friend you haven't seen in twenty years, but they've died their hair orange instead of black and they've lost eighty pounds and started wearing all-white clothing, when you knew them as a Goth before. It's still them; they're just hard to recognize. You don't know if you *can* relate to them now.

Everything just keeps moving. And just when I think I'm moving too, I get bitch-slapped in the face and slammed into a chair to watch everything whirl right past me.