I'm not sure I even know what to say anymore. We've gone through so much, and seem to have been jinxed from the start. The boy had finally moved to the same city as me and then got deployed. Came home to propose on leave, and the ring was stuck in Chicago in a blizzard. I got it the day he left to go back to Afghanistan. He was ready to start training again and got injured. We've had an earthquake and a hurricane in one week. And the day we get his start date for training again, we get a call.
Have you seen the recent Irene coverage? Of course you have. Have you seen Killington? That aerial footage of the washed out road, where 3 lanes just fell away and now there's a 20-foot cliff instead? That's the road that leads into Killington. Into my wedding.
Killington, where I relax, where I worked two years in a ski shop, where I learned the magic of skiing on Tuesdays (the visitors are gone and the Beast of the East is mine, mine, mine), where I have a second home, and more importantly, a second family. Killington is essentially an island. Literally every road has been washed out, wiped away. They've been airlifting supplies in. 3 days later, they've managed to open one lane, in one direction, for one hour each day, so that those who are stranded can leave and those providing emergency care can enter.
We got the call today that due to the condition of roads, and all the destruction, events are the Killington Grand are canceled through September 17, no questions asked. My wedding is supposed to be the 18th. We were told that they could have the facility open. They could *probably* have staff and food. But, well, they have no idea. And they have absolutely no idea when the roads will be restored, in order to deliver the needed food, the staff, the vendors, the guests.
I'm working on plan B. And plan C. But really? Really, I'm tired. I'm tired of plan Bs and Cs and all the little things adding up, over and over, and over. I'm tired of being unemployed, panicking about every dime I spend and oops, they might all be wasted. I'm tired of being supportive, of dealing with everyone else's stress about their family that's coming, or their friends that are coming, or this that and the other thing. And I'm tired because I don't know what happened to Vermont. I can't even expend my energy in the only way that still seems desirable. I can't get up there to help. And oh yeah, I lost my job 3 weeks ago, so I don't even have the financial means to help.
So today, I can't lift anyone else up anymore. I can't smile and support you. I will again soon, I know it. But today, I'm gonna just lay where I fell for a little bit. You just let me lay here. Ok? Go pick up Vermont. Because as much as this sucks, it's not about me. I don't really, truly have it that bad. So go check out the Town of Killington's website, and donate. Because they're resilient, but we could all use a hand to help us up.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
I Am Here...
The ladies over at Her War, Her Voice did something wonderful this week. They decided to throw back the curtains, yank the covers off, pull open the door on the issue of military spouse suicide. I've talked about it here, and lamented on twitter just how little we, as a whole, talk about this issue. There are numbers each month on veteran suicides, reports, national media attention. There's not enough, but it's a start, it's an issue. There are no numbers on spouse suicides. No reports. No discussion.
I believe spouse suicide is an issue. Every rare now and then, it registers a blip that tells the spouse community that they are not alone. One such blip happened in April. An Army wife posted her suicide note on her blog. The spouse lived and was taken for treatment. The issue was discussed here in the At War blog, http://atwar.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/25/war-wives-and-a-near-suicide/ . And after this blog, the issue seemed to vanish again.
After HWHV started their "Just Wait" campaign, I began thinking. Thinking about this issue as a whole. Why military spouses feel so alone so often. And I started thinking about my personal frustrations with the Army. In the simplest term, my conclusion was that we have brought the issue on ourselves by using anything we can to drive ourselves apart, instead of using everything we can to unite.
Part of this realization was born of my internal debate over which division causes my frustrations. Is it the Reserve vs. Active Duty division? The girlfriend/fiance vs. wife? The debate raged, and almost reached a conclusion until it finally dawned on me. NEITHER division should matter. When I find another spouse, it shouldn't matter the branch, the MOS, the number of deployments, the ring that is or isn't on my finger. None of it should matter. But as a community, we give these things intense weight, whether we think we do or not. We drive each little adjective between us until we're standing across the room, arms crossed over our chests, glaring at each other, firmly thinking in our own mind that "I don't care if her husband and my fiance are both in Afghanistan, HE'S Air Force, at Kandahar, and they're married. MY fiance is Army, in Paktika and we're just engaged, SHE won't listen to ME."
And all of sudden, we are alone. Lost. With no one that we can reach out to in a time of need. Because they have judged our differences. Because I have judged our differences. Because, consciously or not, we have judged.
I've experienced it, and I'm guilty of it. I want every wife, every fiance, every girlfriend, and every other parent, grandparent, sibling, anyone who loves a member of the military, to stand up with me and refuse to judge. Think only of what unites us, and where we can empathize. Because, I may be just the fiancee of a Reservist, and you may be the wife of an Active Duty soldier, but in the last three years, my fiance has been deployed twice. And your husband is preparing for his first. And that doesn't make me better than you, or stronger, or anything. But I have experience that I can offer, if you can just set aside your prejudices against me for being just a fiancee, of just a Reservist. I've felt the fear and the pain and the difficulties. And I can empathize. I can offer advice. Or I can just listen. I won't judge you Don't judge me.
That spouses are suffering shouldn't even be a question. Our lives are chaos, and often we don't know where to turn. We prepare for deployment with them. We worry while they are gone, manage the house, worry about the finances, learn to change a tire or fix a leaky sink. And we try to be the rock when they come home, shaken and changed by what they've seen and done, unsure how to relate to their wife again after a year with their fellow soldiers. We have challenges in finding jobs, moving. As Reservists/Guard members, we worry about our spouses job, because many won't keep them, or hire them to begin with, because of their military side. And often, even the military fails to help. The problems seem endless, and I know the burden of current deployment tempo builds these stresses over and over on spouses until it seems too much to bear.
I don't know if we'll ever get someone to count spouse suicides. I don't know if they'll ever report them, or include them. But I believe we can combat them. We, as significant others, can stand up and tell another significant other, "I am here. We are different, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that we are ultimately the same. And I am here for you."
I believe spouse suicide is an issue. Every rare now and then, it registers a blip that tells the spouse community that they are not alone. One such blip happened in April. An Army wife posted her suicide note on her blog. The spouse lived and was taken for treatment. The issue was discussed here in the At War blog, http://atwar.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/25/war-wives-and-a-near-suicide/ . And after this blog, the issue seemed to vanish again.
After HWHV started their "Just Wait" campaign, I began thinking. Thinking about this issue as a whole. Why military spouses feel so alone so often. And I started thinking about my personal frustrations with the Army. In the simplest term, my conclusion was that we have brought the issue on ourselves by using anything we can to drive ourselves apart, instead of using everything we can to unite.
Part of this realization was born of my internal debate over which division causes my frustrations. Is it the Reserve vs. Active Duty division? The girlfriend/fiance vs. wife? The debate raged, and almost reached a conclusion until it finally dawned on me. NEITHER division should matter. When I find another spouse, it shouldn't matter the branch, the MOS, the number of deployments, the ring that is or isn't on my finger. None of it should matter. But as a community, we give these things intense weight, whether we think we do or not. We drive each little adjective between us until we're standing across the room, arms crossed over our chests, glaring at each other, firmly thinking in our own mind that "I don't care if her husband and my fiance are both in Afghanistan, HE'S Air Force, at Kandahar, and they're married. MY fiance is Army, in Paktika and we're just engaged, SHE won't listen to ME."
And all of sudden, we are alone. Lost. With no one that we can reach out to in a time of need. Because they have judged our differences. Because I have judged our differences. Because, consciously or not, we have judged.
I've experienced it, and I'm guilty of it. I want every wife, every fiance, every girlfriend, and every other parent, grandparent, sibling, anyone who loves a member of the military, to stand up with me and refuse to judge. Think only of what unites us, and where we can empathize. Because, I may be just the fiancee of a Reservist, and you may be the wife of an Active Duty soldier, but in the last three years, my fiance has been deployed twice. And your husband is preparing for his first. And that doesn't make me better than you, or stronger, or anything. But I have experience that I can offer, if you can just set aside your prejudices against me for being just a fiancee, of just a Reservist. I've felt the fear and the pain and the difficulties. And I can empathize. I can offer advice. Or I can just listen. I won't judge you Don't judge me.
That spouses are suffering shouldn't even be a question. Our lives are chaos, and often we don't know where to turn. We prepare for deployment with them. We worry while they are gone, manage the house, worry about the finances, learn to change a tire or fix a leaky sink. And we try to be the rock when they come home, shaken and changed by what they've seen and done, unsure how to relate to their wife again after a year with their fellow soldiers. We have challenges in finding jobs, moving. As Reservists/Guard members, we worry about our spouses job, because many won't keep them, or hire them to begin with, because of their military side. And often, even the military fails to help. The problems seem endless, and I know the burden of current deployment tempo builds these stresses over and over on spouses until it seems too much to bear.
I don't know if we'll ever get someone to count spouse suicides. I don't know if they'll ever report them, or include them. But I believe we can combat them. We, as significant others, can stand up and tell another significant other, "I am here. We are different, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that we are ultimately the same. And I am here for you."
Monday, August 8, 2011
Honor Them...
By now, you've heard the news out of Afghanistan. Unless you actually live under a rock, you know that a Chinook was brought down by the Taliban. That 30 Americans, 7 Afghan commandos and 1 interpreter lost their lives in the crash. And it is certain that you know 22 of the Americans were Navy SEALs, many members of the elite Team Six.
The day I found out, I didn't really have the words. I was angry, sad, sick. The largest single day loss of American lives in the entire Afghan campaign. In one incident. A very good friend of mine has a friend who could've been involved, so I was also worried and fearful. We've since learned that he is OK, but he and others we know lost very good friends in the crash.
There is nothing good about this situation. Good is simply a word that can never apply to anything about this loss. But what I am grateful for is that the magnitude means this cannot be ignored. Despite the competing news, the downgrade, the stupidity of children who pretend to work on Capitol Hill, despite all that, this is not ignored. National news and local news alike have shown not just the initial story, but the men behind the story, and the families behind the men. Americans are having it thrust into their bubble of existence that men are giving their lives on our behalf. And that these men leave behind parents, grandparents, wives, siblings, children. That they were young, with hopes and dreams and lives ahead of them.
And yet, in these stories, I am also angry. Of course, we all know Team Six was responsible for the death of bin Laden. SEALs, and Team Six especially, have gained this almost mythical popularity and reverence. Which they deserve. But over and over the story reiterates how Team Six killed bin Laden. Though they believe none of the dead were on the mission, that accomplishment is almost always included. And I wonder. If this were simply 30 guys. 30 Marines. 30 soldiers. 30 members of the National Guard. Would it get this same attention? I hope.
Because every man and woman who willingly puts on a uniform and goes to a foreign land so you and I can live free is heroic. They will tell me not to call them heroes. Not to revere them. They are just doing their job. But in doing their job, they have done so much more than you and I. So much more than the average American. And we owe them. We owe them for leaving their families for months and months at a time. We owe them for all the risks they willingly take. We owe them for the injuries, seen and unseen. For TBI and PTSD. For the nights spent sleeping in the field, on the floor of a vehicle in the middle of the Afghan desert. We owe them because they are willing to, and all too frequently do, give their lives for us.
I want us to honor the 30 who lost their lives in the crash. To learn their names. Learn about the families they've left behind. Step up to take care of those families. But I want us to honor everyone else just like them. Like Marine Sgt Daniel Gurr, 21 years old, who gave his life on August 6 in Helmand province Afghanistan, killed by enemy fire while clearing a village. Daniel loved soccer, and his mother said he always wanted to give back (http://www.stripes.com/news/marine-corps/okinawa-based-marine-killed-in-afghanistan-1.151444). Like Army SSG James Christen, 29, and SGT Jacob Molina, 27, who were killed in Kunar province July 19 when their vehicle was hit by an IED. Both men were married (http://www.hawaiireporter.com/two-schofield-based-soldiers-die-in-afghanistan/123). I want us to honor them as well. I want us to know about each and every hero. All the men and women who gave their lives in a foreign land. In a war. For us. We must honor them.
The day I found out, I didn't really have the words. I was angry, sad, sick. The largest single day loss of American lives in the entire Afghan campaign. In one incident. A very good friend of mine has a friend who could've been involved, so I was also worried and fearful. We've since learned that he is OK, but he and others we know lost very good friends in the crash.
There is nothing good about this situation. Good is simply a word that can never apply to anything about this loss. But what I am grateful for is that the magnitude means this cannot be ignored. Despite the competing news, the downgrade, the stupidity of children who pretend to work on Capitol Hill, despite all that, this is not ignored. National news and local news alike have shown not just the initial story, but the men behind the story, and the families behind the men. Americans are having it thrust into their bubble of existence that men are giving their lives on our behalf. And that these men leave behind parents, grandparents, wives, siblings, children. That they were young, with hopes and dreams and lives ahead of them.
And yet, in these stories, I am also angry. Of course, we all know Team Six was responsible for the death of bin Laden. SEALs, and Team Six especially, have gained this almost mythical popularity and reverence. Which they deserve. But over and over the story reiterates how Team Six killed bin Laden. Though they believe none of the dead were on the mission, that accomplishment is almost always included. And I wonder. If this were simply 30 guys. 30 Marines. 30 soldiers. 30 members of the National Guard. Would it get this same attention? I hope.
Because every man and woman who willingly puts on a uniform and goes to a foreign land so you and I can live free is heroic. They will tell me not to call them heroes. Not to revere them. They are just doing their job. But in doing their job, they have done so much more than you and I. So much more than the average American. And we owe them. We owe them for leaving their families for months and months at a time. We owe them for all the risks they willingly take. We owe them for the injuries, seen and unseen. For TBI and PTSD. For the nights spent sleeping in the field, on the floor of a vehicle in the middle of the Afghan desert. We owe them because they are willing to, and all too frequently do, give their lives for us.
I want us to honor the 30 who lost their lives in the crash. To learn their names. Learn about the families they've left behind. Step up to take care of those families. But I want us to honor everyone else just like them. Like Marine Sgt Daniel Gurr, 21 years old, who gave his life on August 6 in Helmand province Afghanistan, killed by enemy fire while clearing a village. Daniel loved soccer, and his mother said he always wanted to give back (http://www.stripes.com/news/marine-corps/okinawa-based-marine-killed-in-afghanistan-1.151444). Like Army SSG James Christen, 29, and SGT Jacob Molina, 27, who were killed in Kunar province July 19 when their vehicle was hit by an IED. Both men were married (http://www.hawaiireporter.com/two-schofield-based-soldiers-die-in-afghanistan/123). I want us to honor them as well. I want us to know about each and every hero. All the men and women who gave their lives in a foreign land. In a war. For us. We must honor them.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Keep Calm and Indulge in Mexican Food...
At the end of this week, I will be unemployed. Having done my best to keep my place of employment anonymous, and of course, knowing that anything I blog about is my opinion alone and in no way is the opinion of my employer, I'll just give it to you simply. It's a tough economy, and layoffs were needed.
I've left a job on my own, endured 7 months of unemployment, endured endless months of worrying about losing my job (at multiple companies), and all the other things that seem to simply be 'normal' when you come of age professionally in this type of economy. It seems like no position is safe, and the worries will always chase you. They never quite caught me though. Until now.
I wish I was a newlywed, and not a soon-to-be-married. It's scary to think about bridesmaid gifts, makeup artists, and other expenses when my income is about to vanish before my eyes. It's hard to think about journeying back into the land of job hunting. That barren, harsh desert that I only found my way out of a year and a half ago. It's strange to carry a box of my stuff home from the office, and know that it is not at all by my choosing. To stare at my desk at home and think about how I need to organize it so it can become 'hunt central'. To think about the two-bedroom apartment that we were left with, didn't really need, and now can't afford.
But it's not all bad. It never is. I will have only a two-week gap in insurance before I am married and can be added to my husband's. I am only 47 days away from what should be the happiest day of my life (assuming I don't kick either mother first). I get to spend time at home with the cats. Right? We may not be married yet, but at least, this time, I have someone at home to support me, to help me financially, to maybe even give me the occasional footrub... And hey, losing weight for the wedding will be NO problem now!
But I have the guilt. The guilt that he has to support me. The guilt and self-loathing that comes with unexpected unemployment, even if it's irrational because it's not your fault. That feeling of failure.
So, I embrace the guilt! Diet be damned! I'm enjoying the $10 birthday reward from Don Pablo's! Chips and salsa, tacos and margaritas can cure almost anything! And I remind myself that God has a plan, a bigger picture, and I have a good and prosperous place in that picture. After all, He told me I do! And these times of trial teach us to trust Him more.
So, come September, when they talk about August's unemployment rate and new unemployment claims, think of me. I'll be a statistic. But don't worry too much, I'll be a statistic who also has time for wedding planning, time to exercise and lost weight, has made a very clean house, and yes, is indulging in the occasional Mexican food.
I've left a job on my own, endured 7 months of unemployment, endured endless months of worrying about losing my job (at multiple companies), and all the other things that seem to simply be 'normal' when you come of age professionally in this type of economy. It seems like no position is safe, and the worries will always chase you. They never quite caught me though. Until now.
I wish I was a newlywed, and not a soon-to-be-married. It's scary to think about bridesmaid gifts, makeup artists, and other expenses when my income is about to vanish before my eyes. It's hard to think about journeying back into the land of job hunting. That barren, harsh desert that I only found my way out of a year and a half ago. It's strange to carry a box of my stuff home from the office, and know that it is not at all by my choosing. To stare at my desk at home and think about how I need to organize it so it can become 'hunt central'. To think about the two-bedroom apartment that we were left with, didn't really need, and now can't afford.
But it's not all bad. It never is. I will have only a two-week gap in insurance before I am married and can be added to my husband's. I am only 47 days away from what should be the happiest day of my life (assuming I don't kick either mother first). I get to spend time at home with the cats. Right? We may not be married yet, but at least, this time, I have someone at home to support me, to help me financially, to maybe even give me the occasional footrub... And hey, losing weight for the wedding will be NO problem now!
But I have the guilt. The guilt that he has to support me. The guilt and self-loathing that comes with unexpected unemployment, even if it's irrational because it's not your fault. That feeling of failure.
So, I embrace the guilt! Diet be damned! I'm enjoying the $10 birthday reward from Don Pablo's! Chips and salsa, tacos and margaritas can cure almost anything! And I remind myself that God has a plan, a bigger picture, and I have a good and prosperous place in that picture. After all, He told me I do! And these times of trial teach us to trust Him more.
So, come September, when they talk about August's unemployment rate and new unemployment claims, think of me. I'll be a statistic. But don't worry too much, I'll be a statistic who also has time for wedding planning, time to exercise and lost weight, has made a very clean house, and yes, is indulging in the occasional Mexican food.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Not Me Enough For You....
(guess I couldn't stay away. Still not certain that this serves any purpose, but here we go one more time...)
I've regularly harped on how frustrating it is to be the fiance of a Reserve soldier. How you face unique challenges, lack support in many areas where Active military receive it, and yet often feel shunned by Active families for whatever crazy reasons. Out in the random blog-o-sphere I heard someone describe it wonderfully. "When my soldier is activated, we're still not "Active Duty" enough for the Active Duty families."
It was like reading my own thoughts! But, extend them. See, I'm not married, so I'm loyal enough for wives. I don't run the household yet, so I'm not worried about bills, etc. enough for wives. Of course, despite two year-long tours in three years, his deployment wasn't deployed enough for many. I'm not spouse enough for spouses, and we're not active enough for active duty. And yet, I also live in the civilian world, where I'm definitely not civilian enough for civilians. And yet in those discussions, with the non-wife, non-Active Duty thing, I'm not really military enough for civilians either.
And THAT pointed me to my real issue. I don't fit in a box. I don't want to fit in a box! I don't define myself by my spouseness. Or his soldierness. Or my civilianness. Or any of those little things that people do. I know a lot of people want to define themselves that way. "Proud Army Wife" or "Proud Wife of COL so-and-so" or "I'm a doctor" or whatever. It's like we say our name, and THEN we define ourselves. I realized, I'm not happy defining myself as "Proud Army Fiance" or as "Programs Coordinator" or even as "Queen of Everything". Those are parts of me. Yes, I'm incredibly proud of my soldier, and that is a big part of life, and even a part of me, but it doesn't MAKE me. It doesn't define me.
Maybe some people will get angry, because maybe they like to define themselves that way. Or maybe they'll tell me that I don't define myself this way because he's a Reservist, so he's a "part-time soldier" as I've heard. Or maybe they'll say I don't define myself this way because I'm not married yet, so somehow I don't understand the pain, or the household management, or the whatever. But I think I do it because definitions are ugly. They draw these little lines around and between us. They put chains around us and around others. Because if I am "Proud Army Fiance", and that's how I define myself, then how do you ever talk to me about all the other things I do? How do you relate to me on any other level? And if I am "Programs Coordinator", how do you understand that other layer, that constant change and shift in my personal life, depending on whether he's deployed, reintegrating, or has been home for two years?
These boxes make some people comfortable. Content. Safe. But they make some of us afraid. Under attack even. And when you think about it, it's not that I'm not Active Duty enough. I'm just not Active Duty enough for you. And it's not that I'm not civilian enough. It's that I'm not civilian enough for you.
We've got to rip these boxes open. Maybe just one side at a time. You can have your three walls, sure. But leave one open! Take down just one side of that Active Duty wall, so a Reservist can waltz in. And look for the commonalities. The stresses you both face, that you both understand. The stresses that you don't understand. But empathize with them. Don't fight with them. The only thing our boxes have taught us is to fight over whose box is heavier, whose is more constricting, whose walls are harder. Status. Rank. Branch. Deployment status. ...who cares?
Get out of your box! Don't define yourself. The less you define yourself on these mundane, arbitrary things, the less someone else can use them to define you. The less someone else can use them to intentionally or not, hurt you. So no, I won't define myself as 'Proud Army Fiance', or 'Programs Coordinator', or 'Reserve', or whatever. I'll define myself as me. And if me isn't me enough for you, well, I don't care. It's me enough for me.
I've regularly harped on how frustrating it is to be the fiance of a Reserve soldier. How you face unique challenges, lack support in many areas where Active military receive it, and yet often feel shunned by Active families for whatever crazy reasons. Out in the random blog-o-sphere I heard someone describe it wonderfully. "When my soldier is activated, we're still not "Active Duty" enough for the Active Duty families."
It was like reading my own thoughts! But, extend them. See, I'm not married, so I'm loyal enough for wives. I don't run the household yet, so I'm not worried about bills, etc. enough for wives. Of course, despite two year-long tours in three years, his deployment wasn't deployed enough for many. I'm not spouse enough for spouses, and we're not active enough for active duty. And yet, I also live in the civilian world, where I'm definitely not civilian enough for civilians. And yet in those discussions, with the non-wife, non-Active Duty thing, I'm not really military enough for civilians either.
And THAT pointed me to my real issue. I don't fit in a box. I don't want to fit in a box! I don't define myself by my spouseness. Or his soldierness. Or my civilianness. Or any of those little things that people do. I know a lot of people want to define themselves that way. "Proud Army Wife" or "Proud Wife of COL so-and-so" or "I'm a doctor" or whatever. It's like we say our name, and THEN we define ourselves. I realized, I'm not happy defining myself as "Proud Army Fiance" or as "Programs Coordinator" or even as "Queen of Everything". Those are parts of me. Yes, I'm incredibly proud of my soldier, and that is a big part of life, and even a part of me, but it doesn't MAKE me. It doesn't define me.
Maybe some people will get angry, because maybe they like to define themselves that way. Or maybe they'll tell me that I don't define myself this way because he's a Reservist, so he's a "part-time soldier" as I've heard. Or maybe they'll say I don't define myself this way because I'm not married yet, so somehow I don't understand the pain, or the household management, or the whatever. But I think I do it because definitions are ugly. They draw these little lines around and between us. They put chains around us and around others. Because if I am "Proud Army Fiance", and that's how I define myself, then how do you ever talk to me about all the other things I do? How do you relate to me on any other level? And if I am "Programs Coordinator", how do you understand that other layer, that constant change and shift in my personal life, depending on whether he's deployed, reintegrating, or has been home for two years?
These boxes make some people comfortable. Content. Safe. But they make some of us afraid. Under attack even. And when you think about it, it's not that I'm not Active Duty enough. I'm just not Active Duty enough for you. And it's not that I'm not civilian enough. It's that I'm not civilian enough for you.
We've got to rip these boxes open. Maybe just one side at a time. You can have your three walls, sure. But leave one open! Take down just one side of that Active Duty wall, so a Reservist can waltz in. And look for the commonalities. The stresses you both face, that you both understand. The stresses that you don't understand. But empathize with them. Don't fight with them. The only thing our boxes have taught us is to fight over whose box is heavier, whose is more constricting, whose walls are harder. Status. Rank. Branch. Deployment status. ...who cares?
Get out of your box! Don't define yourself. The less you define yourself on these mundane, arbitrary things, the less someone else can use them to define you. The less someone else can use them to intentionally or not, hurt you. So no, I won't define myself as 'Proud Army Fiance', or 'Programs Coordinator', or 'Reserve', or whatever. I'll define myself as me. And if me isn't me enough for you, well, I don't care. It's me enough for me.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Debating...
This might be goodbye guys. I just don't know what to write lately, and I don't know that anyone likes what they're reading. And if this is just for me, maybe I should just be journaling anyway. So I'm not certain you'll hear from me again...
Friday, July 1, 2011
Finding The Words....
I wish I had the words for you. I wish I could write some amazing, life-changing post that you would just have to read, just have to share. But I can't. I'm not amazing or life-changing. I mean, let's face it, I am pretty awesome. Or at least I tell myself that on my better days. But, like I've said. I'm just a twenty-something, going through my misadventures. I'm pretty normal, pretty every day. And maybe that's why you read. Because you see a little bit of yourself in whatever it is you see of me.
I've seen so many other things today that got the wheels turning. The mental wheels. DC traffic is redic the last few days... the car wheels, well, they aren't turning much at all.
How deployments don't get easier as you go through each one. If anything, they get harder. And why, well, there are so many reasons. How being the bigger person isn't satisfying. No, it's not. Sometimes, it isn't even satisfying in the long run.
And, I wanted to pick a subject, put my spin on it, and make something amazing. Or at least have a good post for you, because they aren't great lately (if you ask me). But here's the thing: my life isn't great lately. Not in a "Oh, I'm so sad, life's terrible" type way. Just in a crazy, hectic, a million balls in the air, and a million places for me to exert my energy way.
Ok, a wedding. I'm getting married September 18. When I decided that, we had just under 4 months until the wedding date. We're currently 79 days away. Decisions involving the future mother-in-law are a straight battle. The entire way. I mean knock-down, drag-out fight type battles where I actually was informed that my opinion (as the bride, about my wedding) didn't matter. (Here, I'm proud to tell you taht I gave up on being the bigger person, and while still stressful, it was WAY more satisfying. Don't worry, I did it with a modicum of tact.) With my own mother, well, let's just say making decisions is not a strong area for the women in my family. Even a basic decision, easy for me, has to be questioned and debated from my mom. So after 3 hours, we're finally OK with a decision it took me five minutes to make. And in general, my fiance lacks an opinion, which I suppose is normal. Yup, it's exhausting.
And oh, right, we're still going through reintegration. The stupid stuff that sets off his temper is somewhat unbelievable and definitely frustrating. And I've reached a point where it's harder to just smile and be the bigger person and deal with it. I mean, we are, but I've become more likely to just argue back, which is actually just as exhausting as dealing with it in a calm manner. It's irritating, but letting them come home isn't much easier than letting them leave.
There's other frustrations, but I'm not here to completely air my dirty laundry. Some days I don't know why I'm here, what I want to tell you, why I decided to blog, or why I keep blogging. I guess I'm just trying to find the right words. To find my words again. And to hopefully find one word out of ten that you can relate to. That will give you a reason to come back. Because I know I'm not alone. Everyone has 8 million little things that pile up and make you scream.
So, I'm going to relax this weekend (or at least tell myself I will). I'm going to enjoy having my mom in town, work on wedding invitations, enjoy some wine, or maybe a homemade mojito, and I'm going to just enjoy my favorite holiday. And I'm going to think about you. Whether you're deployed, a fellow spouse, a fellow twenty-something, a mom with three youngsters, a brand-new mom, a fellow wedding-planning fiancee, I've got a list of you, I've got you in mind. And I'm hoping those 8 million things shove into the far, deep back of your mind for you and you enjoy your weekend too.
I've seen so many other things today that got the wheels turning. The mental wheels. DC traffic is redic the last few days... the car wheels, well, they aren't turning much at all.
How deployments don't get easier as you go through each one. If anything, they get harder. And why, well, there are so many reasons. How being the bigger person isn't satisfying. No, it's not. Sometimes, it isn't even satisfying in the long run.
And, I wanted to pick a subject, put my spin on it, and make something amazing. Or at least have a good post for you, because they aren't great lately (if you ask me). But here's the thing: my life isn't great lately. Not in a "Oh, I'm so sad, life's terrible" type way. Just in a crazy, hectic, a million balls in the air, and a million places for me to exert my energy way.
Ok, a wedding. I'm getting married September 18. When I decided that, we had just under 4 months until the wedding date. We're currently 79 days away. Decisions involving the future mother-in-law are a straight battle. The entire way. I mean knock-down, drag-out fight type battles where I actually was informed that my opinion (as the bride, about my wedding) didn't matter. (Here, I'm proud to tell you taht I gave up on being the bigger person, and while still stressful, it was WAY more satisfying. Don't worry, I did it with a modicum of tact.) With my own mother, well, let's just say making decisions is not a strong area for the women in my family. Even a basic decision, easy for me, has to be questioned and debated from my mom. So after 3 hours, we're finally OK with a decision it took me five minutes to make. And in general, my fiance lacks an opinion, which I suppose is normal. Yup, it's exhausting.
And oh, right, we're still going through reintegration. The stupid stuff that sets off his temper is somewhat unbelievable and definitely frustrating. And I've reached a point where it's harder to just smile and be the bigger person and deal with it. I mean, we are, but I've become more likely to just argue back, which is actually just as exhausting as dealing with it in a calm manner. It's irritating, but letting them come home isn't much easier than letting them leave.
There's other frustrations, but I'm not here to completely air my dirty laundry. Some days I don't know why I'm here, what I want to tell you, why I decided to blog, or why I keep blogging. I guess I'm just trying to find the right words. To find my words again. And to hopefully find one word out of ten that you can relate to. That will give you a reason to come back. Because I know I'm not alone. Everyone has 8 million little things that pile up and make you scream.
So, I'm going to relax this weekend (or at least tell myself I will). I'm going to enjoy having my mom in town, work on wedding invitations, enjoy some wine, or maybe a homemade mojito, and I'm going to just enjoy my favorite holiday. And I'm going to think about you. Whether you're deployed, a fellow spouse, a fellow twenty-something, a mom with three youngsters, a brand-new mom, a fellow wedding-planning fiancee, I've got a list of you, I've got you in mind. And I'm hoping those 8 million things shove into the far, deep back of your mind for you and you enjoy your weekend too.
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