It's a very rainy day, and the road is slick. Rivulets of water scurry down in their miniature pebble-lined creeks, crisscrossing the mountain path that we are driving up. I am afraid to stop for fear of the soil eroding beneath us, as directly to our left we look down hundreds (maybe thousands) of feet into the drizzled Utah valley below. 

I'm afraid to stop, but as we cross the ridge and look at the even sandier road that leads us steeply down the side of the mountain, I'm also afraid to proceed. Better that we should have never started this little outing. We slog ahead in our blue Pilot, using the lowest gear possible to help us stay on track. 

Now, instead of a wet mountain road, I see a hospital. I see a commander who expects me to prioritize my career ahead of everything else in life. I see a future riddled with deployment, politics, and expectations that I honestly do not care to meet. And there is no way back, nowhere to pull over and turn around, because the way back would be just as treacherous as moving forward; and the worst part? The worst part is that I feel like I am not being allowed to succeed how I normally would. Instead, I feel like I'm driving with my left foot, and steering only with my hands crossed.  Growth is meant to come when we are out of our comfort zone, but right now I think the comfort zone would be the only thing between me and potentially serious failure. 

All I can do is hope that the rain will stop, the clouds will clear, and the road will widen. 

Here's to the future.