I spent six years in the US Navy, five of which were on the aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt where I experienced two deployments and four different “generations” of coworkers. Some of these people became like family, but a great majority of them I couldn’t trust. Although I had a lot of good experiences and made many fond memories, each passing year became harder to bare, and I knew in my heart that something was not right. The accumulation of these feelings resulted in the poem titled “The Machine” which I wrote during my final journey out to sea in November 2019. It was a month-long underway in which I was flown off the ship after only one week of working 12-hour shifts. As the end drew near, my relief intensified, but it was accompanied by the heavy weight of depression. Not only was I taking up space (I wasn’t assigned any specific tasks) but my fiancé’s father had died the day I left, right after my uncle was diagnosed with cancer. With what little means of communication we had, I was only allowed to watch the turmoil unfurl from behind a monitor. Both of my families were completely devastated and there was nothing I could do to help them. I suppose this was my last experience as a sailor. It was also my first introduction to civilian society.

The second poem, “Becoming Human,” was written for the purpose of this contest and conveys the journey I took to recover my lost identity. I left the Service in January of 2020, and what followed was a surge of positivity and ambition that was quickly smothered by Covid-19. I was eager to finally begin my life. I was in the process of finishing my associate’s degree and was accepted into UC San Diego to study anthropology—my dream school, my dream job, and the perfect path to reintroduce myself to “normal” society. Although my life seemed to finally be heading in the right direction, the depression returned, accompanied by mounting existential anxiety. I made the last-minute decision to change my major from anthropology to something that would benefit the Earth. I abandoned humankind and emersed myself in nature. I took a trip to the Sequoia National Park, I adopted a puppy and went on long walks, and I read books about different approaches to ecology, about John Muir and Theodore Roosevelt, and scientists who ventured into the wild. However, my hopelessness prevailed. Although I found pleasure in solitary meditation within nature, I realized that I needed human contact. The cabin fever had settled in, which was something I was painstakingly familiar with after spending hundreds of days at sea. So, I decided to change. Rather than walking the earth with mountains of baggage, I looked within myself, I studied my emotions, I reflected on my past, on my nature, and I began expressing myself to the fullest. This illuminated pathways to not only connecting with myself and nature, but with other humans, as well. I repaired broken ties with family and friends, I connected with peers through online learning, and I rediscovered my passion for anthropology. I still care deeply for Mother Nature, but I need to be selfish where it matters so I can be a true member of the human community. The plague will end, but I need to carry my whole Self through it in order to truly survive.