Diary of a military wife

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

The holidays. I have never really cared for them. It has nothing to do with the cheer, or the reasons behind the seasons (okay aside from American thanksgiving which is different from Canadian thanksgiving, since it has less death and destruction associated with it.) Anyway, the thing that bothers me most is that it seems to be the only time of year that the majority of people are inspired to give.

Why is that? Why help those who need it year-round only during the last 6 weeks of the year? Do you willingly not think of these people/things/places all year round, and then whent he "mood strikes" donate a buck or two to the salvation army and pat yourself on the back for having Done Your Part?

Yes, after having worked for more than one non-profit organization I am jaded. Yes, after having been someone who's needed that help but never asked for it, I'm jaded. I'm jaded by the attitudes I see from others. The apathy that oozes from my peers in regards to their own surroundings. The lack of motivation the majority of my generation seem to have. And on and on.

Magnify all that bad moodiness by the fact that this time last year I was sitting at home with my husband, sharing smiles and dollar-store-menu food, a bare tree sitting in the corner, the gesture appreciated to the fullest. Opening a gift every day because we were so excited to be with one another, to have the opportunity to spend time physically next to each other. Fast forward to now, and he's in the desert, and I'm back in Michigan. Wishing the "holidays" would just go away. Wishing the "holidays" would mute themselves, or rush past, and take their cheery attitudes with them.

Yea, I'm in a bad mood. It happens. When I was a kid all I wanted for Christmas was the stray dog or cat that I befriended to find a home (of course, preferably mine!) - in 2005, and this year, all I want is my husband to COME home. 

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

It's not always easy to roll with the punches thrown. Everybody (hopefully) knows that the DoD screws up paychecks now and again. On deployment there is an even higher chance of this happening.

But when it happens to you, it's always at the worst possible time. Tuition for school is due in two weeks, you have no food, the car needs major maintenance - you're counting on that extra income. Let's face it, that extra income, the deployment pay, is the only "good" thing about deployment. Not that it's enough compensation in the least, but at least it's something!

So what do you do, when you're a ten hour drive from your husband's stateside base, and at least 4 - 5 hours from the closest army base to begin with? When you know the finance department doesn't answer their phones, and will be less than helpful if they did pick up anyway?

What do you do when nobody in your husband's troop who is on rear detachment knows who you are, because he switched to a new troop after the brigade had already deployed?

You get tempted to drive ten hours just to yell at a government employee. Trust me on this. Definitely tempted.

Then you e-mail your favorite SGT (who is no longer your husband's superior, but still your friend). He tries to help, gives you great information, but gets stuck on what to do since there is no base nearby.

You e-mail the Army Emergency Relief people at your husband's old base, explaining the situation, letting them know it's not your budgeting that's at fault, it's the DoD's.

You have to be pro-active, even if it yields no results, because otherwise you just sit and stress, or cry and be useless.

Then you go take a hot bath, because you've been sick with the flu-like sickness going around at your measly job that only really pays for food and gas (maybe), and you are starting to smell.

Or, at least that's what I do.

And you try to not be frustrated that your husband keeps telling you he will call, and then doesn't. Normally this wouldn't piss you off at all, but with the last three weeks from hell (car problems, sick pets, bad paying job, paycheck woes, no way to see a doctor because once again uncle sam's delegates have screwed up, etc. etc. etc...) it's a lot harder to have patience. Even if he is working 20 hour days. I hate to say it, but if you've got 30 minutes to sit on a computer and write blogs, you've got 10 minutes to call your wife from the cellphone she knows you're in possession of. It makes her mad, it upsets her, though she understands. So if you're reading this, lovely husband of mine, at the very least I hope you call your wife (aka ME) on Wednesday, since it is, after all, our wedding anniversary. 

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

When he's gone, life still goes on. So when you drive 10 hours across 3 states to move back to where you have the most support from your wonderful friends (because you absolutely hated the town your husband was stationed in) only to move into a house that ends up caving in, the stress starts to creep in a little bit.

When the cats get sick, it's just you to take care of them, to clean up the vomit and take them to the vets. To worry about them. There's no one to snuggle up to in bed at night and talk about your fears to. The irony is your fears grow exponentially because he is gone.

And those points of contact that you never want to get, you end up getting, because you're his rock. But you know if he's able to get to a computer, use the internet to let you know he's hurt, that it can't be "that bad". That he'll be okay in the end, that he can't be in too rough a shape. These are the lies you tell yourself, and you almost believe them, too.

Life still goes on when he is gone. School is still in session, exams still happen, cars still need to break and get fixed, dishes still need to be washed. Bills definitely still need to be paid. There's no time in this life to break down, there's barely enough time to steal a tear or two, much less stress yourself into the flu.

Most of the time it's a great thing that life still goes on, because waiting by the phone, or updating the inbox 50 times in an hour will drive a woman insane. But some days you wish it would just all stop, so you could get off the ferris wheel for a while. And just sleep until he comes home on R&R. Or redeploys. But that's not an option, so you tell yourself in the mornings of those craptastic days: Suck it up, Soldier. And you put on your foundation, and you brush your teeth, get dressed and go to work. You smile and laugh and get along with people, do your job to the best of your abilities, and come home and spend another night writing letters, reading books, watching movies, studying, cleaning, doing all the normal things you'd do if he were here, without him.

I'm pretty good at being alone, but being lonely is hard work. Tough skin I've grown, and now it's come in handy! 

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

Your worst fears are things you shove to the back of your mind. They are things you do not think about, do not write about, do not commiserate about with friends, family, other military wives. You know they are there, but you don't acknowledge them. Don't ask me what I'm afraid of, it's a pointless question.

Every now and again you have one of those fears shoved in your face via some medium or another.

It could be a movie, or sitting at the airport with CNN blaring on the terminal televisions. It could be the people in front of you in line at the grocery store talking about the latest blather on FOX News, or a debate in a class at college. Or you could have to drive through a band of protesters who insist your husband is a terrorist and a baby killer.

And for a split second your breath is taken away from you, pulled out of your chest by some sort of magnetic force, ripped from your lungs with an intensity you hate to feel. But you catch it, at the last moment, and you move on, you walk away. You keep on keepin' on. And those worst nightmares are brushed aside, pushed downward, until the next time you happen to walk past the television aisle at SEARS to see 50 screens full of green night vision death.