When you know, you know

217 11 2

I honestly didn't know anymore...

Did I make the right decision? Am I ready for this both mentally and physically?

What about fulfilling mom's dream of becoming a Nutritionist? What if I forgot all that I've studied by the time I'm cleared out? What if they won't let me go? What if I wanted to stay? What if I found myself there and decided to take things to the next level?

Sometimes, I drove my own self insane...

And that was the typical mental quarrel I had with myself almost every day since I made that one huge decision two weeks ago, as I stood before the mirror brushing my hair and braiding it into one single tight three-strand braid.

"Time to meal prep..." I fist both hands in the air and turn with one foot after the other, on my way to the kitchen. Anything to save me from my thoughts...

Didn't know if it was a no-sugar diet week, no-carb week, or ketogenic diet week.

So I start with boiling a dozen of eggs and seasoning chicken breasts, these were constants.

So I'm not exactly an exemplary healthy individual or anything, I'm just a nutritionist-to-be, frequent gym-goer, athlete-wannabe, currently fit, with an acceptable amount of muscles popping, just not quite. Need to get down from twenty two to seventeen percent of total body fat. That's why I'm trying all the diets there is. I'm basically the victim of my major. My own lab-rat.

A Skype incoming call cuts my train of thoughts and I sprint back to my room to answer it.

"Hi Mom..." I grin warily when I find Mom frowning at the screen.

"I take it you've heard?" I chuckle, chewing on the insides of my cheek.

"You cannot be serious about this Juniper."

Great, she called me by my full name...

Now is time to worry.

"Mom, I want this..." I sigh.

"I know you're probably worried, and-and you think I can't handle the journey, or I'm being reckless, but I'm not..." I gulp.

"I told you I'm considering doing something like this way before I graduated."

"Its just a one year thing."

"I need this."

"And I'll study while at it. For my masters..." I add.

She stares at me for a little while and then shakes her head, disappointed. It wasn't too hard to tell.

"June..." I felt her eyes bore into me.

"I know your dad told you to go for it before he left, but I'm not with it. And I will ask about you every other month and if I hear that you're not being treated well, or that you're tired, or unwell, or even struggling, I'm getting you out of there within the first three months." She spoke and I nodded at her every word.


"Okay, you do that."

"I don't mind. Hell-if I was struggling I'll quit myself." Lies...

"You know I can leave any time during the first three months." I assure her.


"I'm coming this weekend." She spoke and I frowned.

"What? Why?" I ask.

"Because!" She flares.

"Because even if you don't want it, I'd like to spend the weekend with you and I have to go ask about that program of yours. And I will drop you there myself. Maybe even speak to the people responsible and ask them to take good care of you-"

"You will do no such thing mom..."

"Goodbye June..."

And I hear that bloody water droplet sound that indicated my mother just hung up on me.

"Great..." I sigh and leave the room just on time the oven alarm takes off.

I slomp onto my lazy couch after stuffing all the food I've cooked into boxes, all ready for five more days until I'm finally out of here.

I check my phone and I get even more irked by the fact that mom arrives the day after tomorrow.

I had to keep her from going to the bootcamp.

If she as much as skims through the compatibility tests I'll go through during the first two months, she was bound to try and talk me out of this. She might even try and physically keep me from going, by locking me in the house or something.

I know she's just being protective, but she should know better.

I'm not reckless. I might be an adrenaline junkie, but I'm very cautious. I'm sharp, calculative, and just-a person with a compulsive desire for excitement and adventure. Mom just sees me as a danger-seeker.

While there are plenty of legitimate reasons why I can maintain a continual aura of drama in my life. The label adrenaline junkie seems a bit final to pin on me. I just want to lead an exciting life, unwittingly creating crises for myself and becoming needlessly engulfed in challenging situations both mentally and physically, and growing through them.

And this bootcamp, is a real SEALs experience. What are the odds of qualifying?

SEALs take their name from the environments in which they operate: sea, air and land. That's what I've read on the internet. Highly trained soldiers conducting important and sometimes dangerous missions requiring skill, stealth and intelligence.

Its not the real deal though, its just a bootcamp that prepares people to actually apply and become actual SEALs that have a chance at being taken in. One must complete one of the most mentally challenging and physically demanding training programs in the world, just to get accepted into military school.

So you see why my mom is worried about me...

I just know I'm made for this.

And you know what they say, when you know you know...

BootcampWhere stories live. Discover now