Diary of a military wife

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

My husband arrived at Detroit Metro on Monday afternoon. At least a day earlier than I expected, so that is nice. We are having a great time together, and his big surprise is on it's way...! I'll have to blog about it later, and hopefully there will be pictures, as well.

We are having a welcome home party for him at my best friends house on Saturday. That will be nice.

And today is the first valentine's day, out of 3, that we have actually spent together! As per usual, Jerrad bought me something sparkly and/or shiny. It is very beautiful.

School is school, the cat is still ill, but Jerrad is home and I can hold his hand, so things are a little quieter in my head. There are always worries, but they're always a little quieter when he's home. Evenw hen we argue *giggles*

I also wanted to share this story. I checked it out here: <a href="http://www.snopes.com/glurge/nodesks.asp" target="_blank">at snopes.com</a> - and it is true! Which makes it even more sweet.

 First day of school

Back in September of 2005, on the first day of school, Martha Cothren, a social studies school teacher at Robinson High School in Little Rock, did something not to be forgotten. On the first day of school, with the permission of the school superintendent, the principal and the building supervisor, she removed all of the desks out of her classroom.

When the first period kids entered the room they discovered that there were no desks. Looking around, confused, they asked, "Ms. Cothren, where're our desks?" She replied, "You can't have a desk until you tell me what you have done to earn the right to sit at a desk."

They thought, "Well, maybe it's our grades." "No," she said.."Maybe it's our behavior." She told them, "No, it's not even your behavior." And so, they came and went, the first period, second period, third period. Still no desks in the classroom. By early afternoon television news crews had started gathering in Ms.Cothren's classroom to report about this crazy teacher who had taken all the desks out of her room. The final period of the day came and as the puzzled students found seats on the floor of the deskless classroom, Martha Cothren said, "Throughout the day no one has been able to tell me just what he/she has done to earn the right to sit at the desks that are ordinarily found in this classroom . Now I am going to tell you."

At this point, Martha Cothren went over to the door of her classroom and opened it. Twenty-seven (27) US Veterans, all in uniforms, walked into that classroom, each one carrying a school desk. The Vets began placing the school desks in rows, and then they would walk over and stand alongside the wall. By the time the last soldier had set the final desk in place those kids started to understand, perhaps for the first time in their lives, just how the right to sit at those desks had been earned. Martha said, "You didn't earn the right to sit at these desks. These heroes did it for you. They placed the desks here for you. Now, it's up to you to sit in them. It is your responsibility to learn, to be good students, to be good citizens. They paid the price so that you could have the freedom to get an education. Don't ever forget it."

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

My quest for physical health stops short after about 5 or 6 weeks of working out. In October I decided that if I did that again I would get a gym membership, and if it wasn't too awfully expensive a personal trainer as well.

Well guess what? I haven't worked out properly in almost 2 months, so I went on Monday and signed up at a gym, and I am the proud owner of a new shiny personal trainer. He also happens to be a former Marine.

I had my first session with The Marine today. I am so glad that I went to the gym on my own on Tuesday and Wednesday (swam 625 yards on Tues, ran a mile, did chest presses and swam 250 yards on Wed) in preparation for today.

It was a joint session for myself and another of his "recruits" a girl a few years older than me, who weighs about 90lbs, soaking wet. Miss B, we'll call her,  lost 2 races to me (I weigh like 200lbs, people, a lot is muscle, and a lot is fat) and therefore had to clean up the equipment we used. She said "I CAN'T" a lot, and got yelled at and got him up in her face with the whistle blown constantly. I just kept my mouth shut, cracked a few jokes, and kept on keepin' on 'til I could do no more. 

The Marine said he was proud of me, that he hoped I didn't hurt too much tomorrow, and gave me a high five.

My nickname is now "Crazy".

It felt awesome. 

The assistant manager is cool, too, she did my membership intake and we gabbed for quite a while. She caught me today and gave me lots of thumbs up signals and such.

I'm excited to go back. I think I will do some swimming tomorrow, and some weight training on Saturday, with a day of rest on Sunday.



I see The Marine again at 1600 hrs on Monday. He is also going to go over nutrition with me (yay!)

I need to go lay down and not move my muscles for a while, now, hahaha!

Speaking of Marines... I just pledged to support 50 Marines and their Gunny Sergeant who arrived in Afghanistan this month until the end of the year through my charity, Operation: Bag of Home. 

Life is good, the husband will be home in LESS THAN ONE MONTH for his 18 days of leave. Thank the lord.

I told The Marine I might not need to come to the gym for my cardio for a little while in February and he laughed.  

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

 Some days are worse than others. Those days where you accidentally hear something you shouldn't have, and it stays with you for an agonizing amount of time...

I find the hardest times during a deployment to be the final month of something. The final few weeks until he comes home for R&R, where I get my husband back for a few weeks only to have to send him back to That Place, or when there are only a few weeks left until that magical redeployment date arrives. It's also the scariest time. I am much more emotional than usual, even if I don't show it, and my whole being becomes hyper-sensitive.

I haven't hear from my husband in a week, which is nothing for us, but it's an anxious time for a couple of reasons. One is that his squadron is moving across the country of Iraq to a new base, and I don't know enough about how that happens to be comfortable in my own assumptions. Secondly, he will be leaving to come home in a few weeks, so I am already on edge.

I keep up with the news and the deaths during OIF and OEF on my own terms, so that I don't have to experience that shock value when I hear war stories on the news and radio. This system works well for me.

Every so often there is a hiccup in my system, and for the second time in almost six months, I had one this morning.

I warmed my car up on the inside while I brushed the snow from the windows and headlights, getting ready to head to college. The CD player in my car broke, but the radio still works, so I listen to NPR regularly while driving. As I was pulling out of my apartment building complex the woman on the radio said a soldier had been killed in Iraq. The same province Jerrad is moving to. It was a gunner (Jerrad's position in the humvee.) The way she described what a gunner's job is... she used the same words I do. It was eery. And now my brain won't settle down.

Logically, rationally, the chances of something bad happening to my husband are quite slim, but the chance still exists (and if one more person tells me that he could get hit by a bus as a civilian I WILL strangle them.)

...just let him come home to me.

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

I feel like Murphy's Law applies tenfold to the military. At very least to the Army. Maybe I'm being biased, I probably am, maybe the Cloud of Murphy(tm) just follows me around, raining on me every once in a while. If so, I most definitely must be a Washington State Soul(tm) because it seems to rain an awful lot in my world.

The bumps are bigger than the plateaus, and quite frankly I'm getting sick of it. There is this running list in my head of everything I need to "fix" right now, from the brakes in my car to my hair, to my job, and it seems as if every attempt I make to better these situations only make things worse. Or just frustrate me because they stay the same.

Little things irritate me like crazy lately. I'm irritable, moody, and downright just angry. I don't really get depressed anymore, I just get angry. I can't find the right avenue to vent my frustrations. Get a hobbie? I have many. Volunteer? Done and done. Hang out with friends? Regularly. Nothing saves me from having to come home at night to an empty house with a husband away in Iraq. Removing myself from the media and war-things doesn't help, in fact for me it makes things much harder. Reading/learning a bit here and there doesn't do anything for me, and engulfing myself into every little story makes it worse as well.

I cannot seem to find my happy medium.

The one person in my life who's ever been able to calm me, to level me and put me on an even keel is my husband. And after having him there to be able to do that for 9 months, even though I know he'd be leaving, is what makes this deployment worse than the first. During his first deployment we were just single, friends, getting to know each other mor and more, falling in love through letters, videos, and telephone calls. Now we're joined as one, literally standing beside one another, sharing a life together. I feel as if half of myself has been violently ripped away from me, and that I had only just found that half of me. He truly is my 'other half'. I understand that term so well now.

Not knowing if he'll get his leave approved, or when he'll be approved to come home on leave is tearing me apart. It adds this huge boulder to the top of everything else, and I'm beginning to really feel the pressure.

Everything is building up inside and I can't find the release valve. It makes me think of when I used to play brass instruments, and every now and again you have to release the spit-valve so the instrument works properly. Nothing's worked so far. It's like that little vavle is stuck in place and all the spit is gathering up and I'm about to gag and choke on myself. (Wow I just realized how sexual that whole paragraph really looks. Yikes. Not meant to be.)

I just don't know what to do with myself anymore. I volunteer, I work, I spend time with my cats, I learn new things, school starts in a week, I have great friends around me... I'm doing all the right things but some seemingly giant piece to this puzzle is missing and I can't find it. I'm missing some kind of clue here, and I've lost my magnifying glass and can't find it in the clutter of Myself.

Just.... come home and hold me. I'm drowning. I'll be okay... I reassure you hoping it'll reassure me. I'd like to hear your voice if it isn't too much to ask right now. Just for a moment. Just one moment more... 

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

People have told me for years that I have a lot of patience. I don't know that I necessarily ever agreed with them before. Before what? Before becoming married to the military. I have grown a lot in that department, I feel, in the last few years, being quite attached to my husband before and since we were married just a little over a year ago.

I had an almost 24 hour delay getting home from my in laws, and I wasn't upset about it. I mean, sure it was tiring, and a bit frustrating, but I wasn't angry or pissed off or even really upset. I just kind of went with the flow, and made sure to thank the very nice people at Chicago O'Hare airport for their hard work.

I wait, tirelessly for the most part, to hear from my husband. I treat each email, each instant message, each poem, and especially each phone call with such care. They are fragile things, in my mind, and they are precious gifts.

I look at my sister, who hasn't heard a word from her boyfriend in over four months, and I feel blessed for how often I hear from my husband.

I find that my patience dwindles not in traffic jams, nor long lines, not at gas prices or tiring family and delays in service of whatever mode, but at those who are selfish directly within the military community. Those wives and girlfriends who Expect Their Man To Contact Them All The Time.

I grow tireless of their whining, their moaning, their bitching and complaining. I grow tired of reminding them their husbands, boyfriends are NOT at summer camp. They are not having a vacation. They are fighting in a war, for chrissakes! I grow apathy for them, and have little to no patience for their selfishness when they went from a phone call every day to nothing for a week.

A whole week? Why, call the red cross they must be dead!

I hear on the phone from my husband maybe once a month, and I feel lucky for that.

Some days I wish I could force my outlook on certain issues on these annoying little brats (most of whom are older than me!) I save my frustration for them, because they more than customer service representatives, they more than gas prices, they more than delays at airports that are just... what they are... deserve it. And it's got to go SOMEwhere. 

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

I'm posting this here, because my husband mentioned it in one of his latest blogs (over at jerseydanielgriffin's space).

The Silent Ranks

Author: Unknown

I wear no uniforms, no blues or army greens

But I am in the Army in the ranks rarely seen

I have no rank upon my shoulders - salutes I do not give

But the military world is the place where I live

I'm not in the chain of command, orders I do not get

But my husband is the one who does, this I can not forget

I'm not the one who fires the weapon, who puts my life on the line

But my job is just as tough. I'm the one that's left behind

My husband is a patriot, a brave and prideful man

And the call to serve his country not all can understand

Behind the lines I see the things needed to keep this country free

My husband makes the sacrifice, but so do our kids and me

I love the man I married, Soldiering is his life

But I stand among the silent ranks known as the Army Wife

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

There are times where I am afraid. And I don't mean of the normal things you might think of.

I don't really have much fear in my life. I've conquered all of them but one (the fear of falling, which I plan on knocking out with some rock climbing lessons next Spring).

No. I'm afraid of loving too much. I'm afraid sometimes that my love for my husband will consume me, and swallow me whole. Compact that with him being away in a war and sometimes the feeling is smothering.  

I am not constantly afraid of my love for him, but every once and a while it catches me in the back of my throat, the pit of my stomach, the depths of my heart. What would I do with all that love if he weren't around any longer?

I don't fear that he would ever abandon nor hurt me - I have a lot of trust in that. But where would I put all of this love if I weren't able to give it to him anymore? I fear that it would crush me whole, crush my heart, drown my soul.

And sometimes, sometimes I think that that is okay. That it's okay for it to feel like this.

I had a lot more to say, today. But I'll leave it at that. 

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

This evening I received a phonecall. The key caller, assigned to me through the Family Readiness Group associated with my husband's Troop called me. I thought it odd in the seconds before answering th call that she was calling, as we had already spoken once this month. Passing the thought off, I answered.

She had a strained tone to her voice, and told me she had a script to read to me. My heart dropped, because I knew it meant someone had died.

At least the Department of Defense realizes the most important thing to put at the top of these briefs is "Your soldier is OKAY," before going into the details of what happened.

Two soldiers from a different Troop in my husband's Squadron (okay I may have the wrong terminology there, forgive me, I'm sure my husband will correct me sooner or later, haha) were killed early this morning. Two more were (not seriously) injured.

I hate these phonecalls. As if seeing the news, or reading the lists online wasn't bad enough, when it's a real live person whose job it is to call you on the phone tells you about it, it hits home a little more.

I don't pray, I'm not religious, but I do have faith my husband will come home to me. But I also won't sleep tonight. 

""
-- Caelanwolf - griffey chriss - Shakespeare's Monkeys

The best advice I can give to people who ask me how to "survive" deployment from home is simple. I tell them to just stay as busy as you can - get a hobby, go to school, get a job, a second job, volunteer, etc. Some days this is harder than it seems. Some days going for a walk in the park to clear your head just makes you cry into the forest, or doing whatever hobby it is you've picked up, or doing anything at all just reminds you of how lonely you really are. But for the most part this trick works out rather well.

When my husband and I were going through our first deployment, we weren't married, we were a sort-of couple - at the very least we weren't "with" anyone else romantically and steadily for the last 5 months of the twelve, and were growing-closer friends for the first 7 months. In any case, I was working an average of 65 hours every week and going to school 9 hours/week. I also volunteered at a large animal sanctuary an hour from where I lived. Sleep? I'm not sure I got much, especially considering those hours where I should have been sleeping were spent usually on the phone with Jerrad. Granted there were many nights I fell asleep to the sound of his voice, and woke up now and again to mumble at him - but knowing he didn't mind made that easy haha. 

This time around, so far I have not been able to keep myself busy enough. And it's been hell! I have inquired at several places about volunteering, but have gotten no responses, and am only working about 15 hours a week (job market sucks for my field this time of year!) School doesn't start until January, and I've been out here since mid-September. I've grown further and further into this defeated self I've created, and am desperately trying to climb back out of it. I dislike living that way. Am appauled at myself for having fallen into this kind of pattern.

I just have to hold it together until January. Come January my schedule will be much more hectic, which makes the days pass by even quicker. 15 hours of school/week, 15 hours of work a week (minimum). At least 10 hours/week studying. I'm also helping get a new animal shelter off the ground, which is possibly one of the most exciting things to happen to me thus far.

But anyway, really I'm just rambling because once again I can't sleep.

I can't wait to be too busy to eatsleepthink again! I feel most alive when my life is that kind of busy.