The End

I'm official closing up this blog. Thanks for reading and supporting me through deployment.

I'm still blogging, but over on the family blog now.

http://lizziesdimples.blogspot.com/

Ahhh. Isn't closure good?

Confession

I keep reading sad stuff. I'm drawn to it. Not any sad story will do. Usually it has to be about the military or military families or war.

Like Mrs. P's blog. She's a brilliant, honest writer, but prepare yourself. She's a 23 year old Marine widow as of just 2 months ago. Almost every post makes me cry and laugh and be completely amazed by her.

Mrs. P. wrote for a series in the Washington Post called "Impact of War". On her blog she has a link to the article she wrote. So of course I read it and that led me to more sadness.

But in all the sadness I see strength. Maybe that's what I'm drawn to more than the sadness, the amazing personal strength that comes from stories of deployment and war.

Only 1% of our population serves in the military. (Does that statistic include spouses and family? Probably not, so we could say that 1% serves and another approximate 1% is directly impacted by that service.) In the last year I realized one of the responsibilities of a military spouse is to keep people talking about, thinking about, and supporting our soldiers. I am invisibly connected to about 2% of the population forever, just because of my husband's decision to enlist.

Tonight's realization, or confession, is that I'll never be out of the club. My heart will forever be drawn to stories of soldiers, deployment, and military families. My own stories (blog posts) about military life might stop, but I'll keep reading and listening to others' stories. When I read their stories I feel a connection. A connection to every military spouse past, present, and future. A need to share in their stresses, frustrations, triumphs, and pain. That sharing and connection is strong and often invisible and silent, but I've felt it.

I hope Mrs. P. feels that connection, too.

Identity Crisis

As my husband transitions back to his civilian job (he went back this week!) I would expect him to have some transition problems. Civilian life and expectations are quite different than life as a soldier. The reintegration process is bound to bring up questions and doubts. Is this really me? What's the meaning of my job? How do I fill this hole? Who am I now? These are all reasonable questions for a soldier returning home to ask him (or her) self.

But me?

I guess I didn't expect it. Last deployment I was thrilled to give up being a fiance with a deployed husband-to-be. I don't remember having any moments of "Who am I now that he's home?" (Although I did have plenty of "Who is HE?" moments.)

This deployment I coped with my husband's absense by EMBRACING life as a military spouse. I blogged about it. I read other blogs about it. I became a military spouse. I watched Army Wives. I hung out with other army wives. Because of Facebook and the internet I connected with people I'll never meet but I'll always feel bonded to.

My husband's return brought so many wonderful things- my daughter's daddy, yummy meals, a partner, a dog walker, someone to laugh with, someone to talk to, and a million other little immeasureable things.

It also brought one not so wonderful thing. I got kicked out of the military spouse club. Not literally, but now I read milspouse blogs and feel like an outsider. I've run out of blog fodder. I don't really care to watch Army Wives any more (gasp!). I haven't seen my own army wives in weeks and although I miss them, the biggest thing we have in common is the Army. And we're all trying to scrub the Army off and enjoy civilian lives with our hubbies.

So...maybe it's time I accept that this chapter of my life is over. Right? (99% of me is cheering, but 1% is sighing at the end of my time as an active military spouse- he's got another 10 years so I'm not done, but military is returning to the back burner of our lives, for now.)

The hardest part of turning in my membership card is admitting its time to end this blog. This blog is one of the best supports I created for myself during the last deployment. It helped me find a positive slant on most issues that I faced during deployment. But, deployment is over. It's time to move on. It's time to step back into the civilian world with both feet. I've never been good at goodbyes, so I have a few more posts in me before I can be done. Thanks for reading.

Totally Worth It

He's home! It's been 10 days now. Ten days never went this fast DURING deployment. I come home from work to yummy meals. Stuff I'd never take the time to cook for myself- like stuffed zucchini and veggie fajitas. Because I'm a vegetarian and he's a meatatarian he's making two meals every night. Our daughter has someone to eat hot dogs and pickles with her. She has two parents to give her attention and care. Our dog is getting more exercise and attention than he's had in a year. I have an adult I get to talk to, cuddle with, and laugh with every night. There is someone to tell about my day. It's not just someone, it's the person who understands and knows me better than anyone. It's the man I love. I get to SEE him everyday. For that, I am grateful. But...

The adjustment period has some challenges. It's not all bliss and love. There is a lot of that. But there is also awkwardness and irritation and moments of complete communication break down.

"You are seriously upset about this?" Yes. Yes I am. It's not rational or explainable, but when it comes to military life, what is? In fact, you not understanding my irrational emotions is making me want to stay upset. For a looooong time. [In some ways, that first fight feels like a celebration. We GET to fight again. We don't have to schedule our arguments on a phone or computer when our two separate lives and the time difference allows. We get to make up in person, minutes or hours later, because we know the other person will be there when the anger subsides. And the anger always subsides.]

"What do you mean you vacuumed because the house needed it? Are you saying I didn't vacuum enough?" [Not at all what he was saying. He'd vacuumed because going in the attic and installing a heat lamp in the bathroom had left dust all over the previously "clean" house. Oops. I'm a bit oversensitive today. I meant to say the heat lamp looks great.]

"Daddy, that's Mommy's chair!" [I was just keeping it warm while Daddy was gone...but to a 2 year old this change to where I sit at dinner is upsetting.]

"Is it okay if I..." [When will we stop asking permission to see our friends, leave the house, or have alone time? When will we stop apologizing and feeling guilty for these things?]

I'm reminded that my husband, daughter, and I are all fairly stubborn, independent, and we appreciate routine. During deployment we had a routine that we stuck to. It kept us sane and got us through a difficult year. It wasn't easy or desirable, but it was familiar. We don't want THAT routine back, but we do want A routine. Until that happens, our daughter might have more moments where she refuses to get out of the car because she needs some time to growl out her frustrations. I might sleep more and still be oversensitive. My husband might smokes more and talk less.

But every minute is totally worth it. Because he's home.

It's Official!

I can officially be excited. The military has made a decision and passed down the final word and I am free to do my happy dance. We have received the DATE AND TIME we can meet our soldiers. They will be taking a bus to meet us at their drill hall. The small town will be packed with people to welcome home our 60 or so soldiers.

I am so grateful that I haven't lost the ability to be this excited and happy! I was really starting to doubt myself, but the second I read the email my heart leaped. My heart hasn't stopped racing for the last hour. He is coming home. Finally.

So much to do! Finish cleaning the house. Finish lesson plans and preparations for a substitute teacher for 2 days. Watch 1 or 2 chick flicks that I know my husband won't watch- I have to do it while I can! Clean all the stuff out of my car so my husband and his army duffel can fit in it. Act normal and stick to the schedule so I don't freak out and overwhelm my daughter. Get the welcome home outfits (hers and mine) ready. One of us will be wearing a yellow tu-tu. And because my style is nothing even close to Carrie Bradshaw, it will not be me. Stop having anxiety dreams about being late and forgetting the tu-tu. Oh, and sleep. Sleep? When will there be time for that?

A lot has changed

To manage stress you have to change your thinking. Orchids, and military families, bloom under stress. Rocking chairs relieve stress. A lot can change in six years. These are the bits of wisdom I learned today at an event to help prepare military families for their soldier's reintegration process.

I was struck by how much the military and our government have learned about soldiers and reintegration in six years. In 2004, the briefing I received was put together by my FRG (Family Readiness Group). At the time I thought it was informative and helpful. It was in a school gymnasium. I sat on wooden bleachers and took notes. We were lucky they provided us with as much information as they did. We needed every bit of it.

Soon after the unit returned home I witnessed many soldiers loose themselves to alcohol and/or depression, my husband included. The unit had lost FOUR soldiers during their year long deployment. FOUR. They had spent a year never feeling safe. They wanted to get back to life and catch up on the time they missed, but for most it wasn't easy. Their brains wouldn't let go of the images of the past year. There was no external organization monitoring the unit or getting them help. Eventually most soldiers found the courage to seek help. They did this because they helped each other. Many were treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Soldiers recognized it in each other and encouraged trips to the VA for support.

My husband was one of them. Always an extrovert, I remember his sudden discomfort in a crowd. I remember his short temper and irritation at everything. I remember his disinterest in being with friends or doing things he used to enjoy. I remember his difficulty sleeping. When I got in or out of bed he would often startle and not know who I was or where he was. I felt like I was torturing him when I'd return to bed from the bathroom or when I'd try to give him a goodbye kiss on my way to work. So, I started making kissing sounds to announce my presence. I figured kissing sounds wouldn't trigger any war flashbacks or bad thoughts. I hoped they also wouldn't unnecessarily wake him up. It worked. As long as I remembered to kiss the air on my way into bed, he slept unaffected by my movements. He told me that driving was challenging, because in Iraq roadside garbage and dead animals often contained explosives. We planned our marriage (The wedding was 4 months after he returned) and got through things there was no manual for.

Six years later there is still no manual, but there is so much more information and support. Today's event included numerous speakers and booths with free books, pamphlets, and information. The room was full of experts ready to support military families and soldiers. We have 2 more of these events to attend. The soldiers will be expected to sit in a room together and receive information about stress, managing finances, finding a good or better job, suicide prevention, and how to move back into their roles as sons, daughters, moms, dads, and spouses. The irony is that six years ago there were 600 attacks in Iraq daily and today there are 3. An astonishing statistic, but I saw the proof when my husband was home on leave a few months ago. This deployment was easier. Not easy, but easier. He quickly adjusted to civilian life. He seemed like himself from the minute I picked him up at the airport until the minute he left. He drove and slept without complication.

So today I'm thankful for the passage of time. I'm thankful for the information and support available to soldiers. I'm thankful for the support groups that spontaneously form between soldiers and between soldier's families. I'm thankful that I own 2 rocking chairs. I know I'll need them. But most of all, I'm thankful my husband is coming home much more whole than he did six years ago. It's time to bloom.

Interruptions

We were finishing dinner and the phone rang. The caller ID listed one of those strange numbers with lots of zeros. I've learned to recognize those as calls from Iraq. I excitedly told my daughter it might be Daddy calling. I said "might" because sometimes it disconnects and we don't get to talk to him. It didn't disconnect, but... it wasn't Daddy. It was a phone call from my Alma mater. (Why does a university come up on caller ID with a phone number similar to a call from the other side of the world? They are only 20 minutes away from me.) The chatty college student asked, "Hi! How are you?" I was brutally honest. "I'm so disappointed. I saw caller ID and thought you were my husband calling from Iraq." She was sympathetic. Then she went into her persuasive monologue. I caved and donated. She caught me at a weak moment.

Earlier this week a survey company called, asking for my husband (by name). After hearing that he wasn't here, the man asked to talk to any other veterans from the Iraq or Afghanistan wars. (As if I keep spare veterans lined up on the couch to receive such phone calls!) I started LAUGHING and reported that my veteran was still over there so wouldn't be able to come to the phone. The absurdity and ironic timing of this phone call struck me as hilarious. The caller thought I was nuts and he got off the phone pretty quickly.

Today, while in a meeting (not while teaching kids) my cell phone rang (oops! I have to remember to silence it). It was a long distance number I didn't recognize. I answered. Ta-da! It was my husband. He thought it was Saturday and had no idea he interrupted my work day.

The last time he called not knowing the day or time was during his first deployment five years ago. In fact, many calls were like that. I'd tell him the day and time here. Then I'd help figure out the time there because he really had no idea. Those calls were often alarming and emotional. I never knew when to expect them. He could call in the middle of the night, middle of my teaching day, during the one opera performance I ever went to see, or any other time he happened to get to a phone. He would be sleep deprived from long missions. The call would disconnect many times. This created a ten minute phone conversation that took place in 8 different calls with lots of wait time as he redialed. We'd have no idea when we could talk again. So, I'd try to say "I love you" during each segment of the call.

Today's phone call reminded me of how much easier this deployment has been. (Maybe it wasn't even a reminder. I'm not sure I took time to reflect on this in the last year. "Easier" still isn't easy.) In the last year I have not received any phone calls that caused me to worry about his immediate safety. Not once did I get a phone call telling me about attacks or casualties. Most phone calls have occurred at planned and expected times. Most phone calls actually occurred on the computer so I got to SEE and hear him. His confusion and the unexpected timing of today's call had nothing to do with danger, sleep deprivation, or war. He lost track of the days because he's been sleeping, eating McDonald's, and laying around for hours. IN KUWAIT. My husband is one country closer to home. He's safe, excited, and boarding a plane soon. His voice sounded closer.

Finally! The interruption I've been waiting for.