“We can survive functional illiteracy or shattered windows of vulnerability, but not the demise of The Decent Cup of Tea”

There's a military-related topic I've always wanted to blog about, but never have. Honestly, I have no idea why. So I'll do that now.

I don't think civilians have any idea how vulnerable military wives are when their husbands are away. We often have no family in the area and our husbands are gone for long stretches at a time.

When we had an exterminator come to our house during dh's first desert deployment, the exterminator looked at the photos on the walls and commented on dh being in the military. For a brief moment, I was terrified. Here's this stranger in my house and I'm one step away from letting him know I've been alone for months and will continue to be. I choose my words carefully and, while not outright lying, didn't mention the deployment and made it sound as though he was working at the local military instillation rather than carrying a full load of armor and guns in the desert.

I was sensitive to any sign that we were a military family. Anyone with even the slightest amount of common sense could put two and two together and figure out that we were defenseless and alone and would remain so for a long time.

Now, I'm a feminist. I don't need a man to take care of me. Still, when your husband is across the world, particularly when your husband is across the world and you have small children, you're left feeling very vulnerable.

I know many mothers teach their children to call 9-1-1, but there was an urgency and vulnerability to making sure my daughters knew how to call for help. Should something happen to me, the only way the world would know is if a set of toddlers could call for help.

When I went into the attic, I had to call my sister beforehand to let her know and instruct her, "If you don't hear back from me in 15 minutes, call to check on me." I sometimes wondered, if I got hurt, how long it would be until someone even noticed much less sent help. With three small children (at the time), that was far more frightening.

Another thing that leaves you feeling vulnerable is that you can't do anything for your husband. I recognized the signs of PTSD pretty early on in his last deployment, but there was nothing I could do. I tried every option I had, but in the military, there's a fine line between getting help and getting the spouse in trouble. Plus, even all these years later, PTSD still isn't taken seriously. I cannot tell you how many times I was asked how long we had been having marital problems during that whole ordeal. We weren't. It was the deployment that was causing problems. I can fix damn near anything, but when the higher ups choose to believe you're just a silly little dramatic wife, there's nothing you can do. You're a world away and completely helpless while you recognize the signs that your husband is morphing into someone very different. There's nothing you can do. Well, you can scream and cry, but you and your husband both are vulnerable to the system.

People have their own ideas about what it's like to be a military family. There's quite a bit of coverage on the news and in articles. Yet, I've never read anyone even touch on that vulnerability and that can be a very big part of the experience in oh so many ways.

Think good thoughts

Dh has been applying for jobs left and right, but hasn't heard anything from anyone. A few weeks ago, he read about an opening that would be perfect, but the ad said qualified applicants would hear back in 3 business days. We never heard back.

Well, we did today. Dh has a phone interview scheduled for tomorrow. The higher paying position is too far away, but even the lower paying one is more than he makes now (which lately, isn't difficult to do).

Please please PLEASE send good vibes, good thoughts and/or prayers his way. We need this.

Doing the baby dance to a military beat

This realization just occurred to me: I'm having a baby. My husband is here. There are no plans for him to go anywhere.

With my first pregnancy, we got pregnant on the day we were reunited (Oh boy were we reunited!). We had been trying to conceive before that with no luck, so it was a very welcome turn of events. My pregnancy was a high risk one, so he wasn't deployed and I didn't have to worry about it too much.

Then the US went into Afghanistan and Iraq. The twins were just babies when we took them for pictures with dh in uniform. There were rumors of impending deployments for him and I wanted pictures of them with their daddy before that happened. He was gone for a few weeks for training, but that was the worst of it during infancy. We were very blessed and he stayed home until just before they turned 18 months old. He didn't make it home in time for their second birthday.

We actually started TTC earlier than originally planned with our second pregnancy because we knew he was going to be deployed yet again. We had to evaluate pregnancy, birth, early infancy, and toddlerhood to decide what point he would be least willing to miss. How awful is that? You have to decide what part of your child's life from which you're willing to be absent. Either we would have to wait to TTC until after his deployment or we needed to start ASAP so that he could be here for the birth (birth and early infancy was what we decided were most important. It was important to him to be here in toddlerhood too when the child could remember him. The girls had a rough time when they were toddlers and daddy left).

Luckily, they kept post-poning his deployment because we had a difficult time getting pregnant. Eventually, we got pregnant and he was able to stay around until TheBoy was 4 months old. Dh made it home in time for TheBoy's first birthday. Before he left, though, dh donned his uniform and took pictures with the baby. I never said it out loud, but it was, "Just in case."

This time, we were able to start trying for our 3rd (and final) pregnancy on our own schedule. Dh is still military, but he's currently innactive. For the first time ever, we didn't have to take deployments and military schedules into account when deciding when to have another baby. I've been very comfortable during this pregnancy with my husband by my side for the entire thing. Hell, he's only missed one midwife appointment (the first pregnancy, his crazy work schedule made it impossible for him to make some of my appointments and the second time around, he was often gone for training). We can plan a birth knowing that he'll be right there with me. We can look forward to infancy knowing dh be a part of it. When this child says, "Dada," for the first time, we know that he/she will NOT be refering to a telephone.

The reality of this is just now hitting me. This is such a surreal feeling. Woah!

Join the Army. See the world. Kill yourself.

Army suicides highest in nearly 2 decades, study finds

Is anyone shocked by this? If so, someone is not paying attention.

Shocked? No. Outraged? Hell yeah! Betrayed? YES.

I have not shied away from sharing the hell we endured as a result of dh's PTSD.

It is awful. There is not nearly enough treatment out there. Even when it is available, it's often very difficult to access.

Trying to help someone with the disorder is hell. It is the most difficult thing I ever had to endure. I remind myself often that my perspective was on the outside looking in. I can't even imagine what it must have been like for dh. I suffered trying to help him. How could I ever imagine how he suffered?

Imagine a zombie. I'm not talking about the typical depression where one pulls away. I'm talking about a completely different personality. One way to describe it might be to say they seem to have no soul. The man who used to randomly come up and hug me and who never once raised his voice to me in all the years were were together was replaced by one who screamed at me one moment, but ignored everyone around for the most part. It seemed as though everything gentle and loving about him had died. My husband was a zombie.

I've thought a lot recently about how glad I am that he is in my life. I love him dearly. What's more, I like him. All these years later, I still like him. I enjoy being around him. Whereas my friends are always eager to get their husbands out of the house when they've been home for an extended period of time, nothing would make me happier than to have dh around all the time. I spent a month home with him and loved it.

The only time we ever seriously discussed divorce were the two times he endured PTSD. The last time, I even had a plan. I had a map in the glove compartment with directions to a friend's house out of state. I did not for a minute want to leave the man I loved, but the black hole that he had become was sucking the life out of both of us.

I'm glad I stayed. I'm glad we fought it together.

Although, I won't lie. I've realized lately that I still don't have my husband back completely. I've adjusted to this man. I love this man, but he is not the same man who landed in a combat zone years ago. To be completely honest, I would love to have that man back. There was a time when I got glimpses of who he was, but that wasn't consistent and it hasn't happened in a while. I miss it. I miss him.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but when he came home last time, I told dh (when he refused to acknowledge that he had a reoccurance) that I did not like who he had become. Now, I can say that I like who he is and I love who he is, but I can still see the PTSD in him. I liked the pre-PTSD version of my husband better.

PTSD is not a cold from which you can completely recover when you let your body heal itself. It's not like an illness where you can throw drugs at it and then you're good as new (although, the military does so like to throw copious amounts of inappropriate drugs at it [and I'm not just talking Motrin]). It's not even like a broken bone which is never quite as strong. A weak limb may give you an unusual gait, but you remain you. PTSD lingers and it can reoccur. Sometimes, it doesn't completely go away. It forces you to become someone else.

Dh stopped in at his old (military) office last week. One of his friends there commented on the large number of recent deployments. He said something like, "They all come back, but they come back messed up."

I've been thinking a lot lately about sacrifices made for freedom. On Memorial Day, I heard a comment about how those who died in combat are not the only ones to make sacrifices. It's on a far smaller scale, but my husband did sacrifice. He didn't give his life, but he gave years of his life. He gave memories with his children that he never had a chance to make. He almost gave his marriage. He gave a portion of his sanity. He gave a portion of his soul.

He's not alone. There are so many others sacrificing, some in far more torturous ways than my husband ever had to endure. Combat takes their soul and they take their own lives. We owe them. We owe them so much more.

Memorial Day

I hope everyone's having a great weekend and I hope everyone remembers what Memorial Day is really about.

I've blogged about this before: Memorial Day: pools, barbecues, sales and dead soldiers (2006) and Happy? (2007)

So I'll spare you the usual banter. You should know how I feel about the day by now. Once a military wife, always a military wife.

On a related note, Ancestry.com is giving you free access to the Military Collection through May 31st. I searched through there and have now seen my great uncle's name on the death roster as well as discovered that he enlisted on what would later become my birthday. I've seen another great uncle's draft card from the First World War (and discovered he had grey eyes and dark hair which I never knew).

So feel free to go take a look around there this weekend.

Support our troops by sending good vibes

My friend over at Halfway Hip (with whom I have found over the years that I have far too much in common) is getting ready for her family to transition from military to civilian. Been there, done that, it's a surreal experience. We are not civilians. We've survived deployments and so very many other things exclusive to the military culture. There is no way we can completely separate ourselves from what we have endured and for most of us, no way we would want to do that.

It's such a weird and profound experience. Heck, it even prompted me to rename my blog. As Kristin Henderson wrote, it truly is like stepping off the spaceship. I blogged about it at the very beginning, so I'll just direct you to this post: Notes From A Former Military Wife.

Now a friend of mine is about to embark on that strange trip. Yet again, I want to remind people that the oddity and hardships do not end with the homecoming. That's just the end of your participation in the conflict over there for the time being. There are many conflicts still to be endured here at home. So pretty pretty please keep her and her family in your thoughts and prayers.

Veterans Day

It's Veterans Day.

This time last year, dh had been home from his final deployment for just a few days.

I have no profound insight for you this year. For the first time since the conflict in Afghanistan began, I've been able to say, "My husband has been home for a full year." That's amazing to me. Sure, he's gone on a bunch of business trips, but civilian trips are far different than the, "They shot at my plane" military trips or even just the two week long, "This is what you do when you're left in the desert with no supplies" trips.

Honestly, I'm becoming used to being a civilian. I don't think we will ever fully assimilate to the civilian world. I can't consider us "military" any longer because we're not in the thick of that. It's an insult to military families to call our family "military" when we don't have to fear deployments. At the same time, we can never be fully civilian because we have survived deployments. No matter where we go from here, my husband will always be a veteran--whether he likes it or not. Still, we find ourselves moving away from the military mentality. It's freeing and heart-breaking all at the same time.

Instead of rambling any longer, I'll direct your attention to my post on the topic last year.

Thanks for your support

Roy Zimmerman says it oh so well:

G-d bless Kristin Henderson

She's the inspiration behind the title of this place, she's a military spouse, she's a fabulous writer and she has a wealth of resources for veterans and their families.

If any of my readers are military family members who need help, if you know someone who does or if you want to find a way to help, please go here: Take Action, Find Resources. Also, in the back of her book, While They're At War, you will find a comprehensive list of resources. By the time you get there, you will have read a fabulous book too.

Lack of sleep, old writings, familiar problems and Military OneSource

I got 30 minutes of sleep last night. Same shit with dh. I'm recognizing more and more signs of PTSD. I tossed and turned as everything ran through my head. Finally, after 3 hours, I decided to get up and just write it all down.

Last year, the therapist suggested I journal about the situation. I mentioned that I blogged about it, but she suggested I journal it privately with no intentions of anyone else reading it. I did just that and I remember that it was a bit of a release. So I thought maybe if I wrote down everything I was thinking/feeling last night, maybe I could finally let it go and get some freaking sleep. I wrote for 2 hours straight. I felt a bit better, but when I went back to bed, I still couldn't sleep.

I remembered where I kept last year's journal, so I searched for that and did my writing in there. I was surprised to find only one entry from last summer. Although, in there, I found something that is very very true even now, a year later.

I miss him...I miss knowing what to expect. I miss being able to say with certainty, "He would never do that."

Yeah, it's the same thing now.

Lots of things raging through my head and heart right now.

One thing I kept writing, thinking and worrying about is the fact that last year, when I asked him to get help, he was willing to cut us off rather than do that. He chose his silence over his family. I still don't understand. He has no problem with therapists. He's not the type who fights tooth and nail to avoid them. I never in a million years dreamed he'd be willing to go without contact with us rather than just talk to someone.

So now what? It's obvious this marriage isn't going to last without outside help and I so desperately want this to last. I love my husband like crazy. I know he's still in there somewhere. But the last time I asked him to get help, he opted to shut us out rather than do that.

I called Military Onesource. They set me up with my therapist during this whole fiasco last year. Since dh is no longer active duty, though, I didn't know if they could help him. They said they can for 6 months after separation (he's still in that window), but he would need to call. He won't do that. So I asked about couple's counseling. That I could set up and so I did.

We shall see where we go from here.

It's really interesting that the signs are getting worse a year later--9 months since he came home and 3 months since he separated from the military. Don't ever let anyone tell you the "war" ends with the homecoming. It just means you have whole new battles and your home becomes your combat zone.

When he was deployed, he could look forward to coming home. Now where is he supposed to feel safe?

Your daily dose of rhetorical questions.

Please note, this is pretty negative, but I'm actually in a fairly good mood. Please don't think this is indicative of anything larger than the fact that I'm an emotional sponge and I need a nap.

What has happened to our optimism? How did the idealism get beaten out of us? I keep thinking back to high school and college. We were so determined, so ethical, so set on saving the world. We believed we could do it. We really believed we could make a difference.

I want that back.

I'm still hopeful, but I feel defeated. Many of us do. When I read that Cindy Sheehan has dropped out of the anti-war movement, I completely understood.

Her words are biting, but I believe they are true. Sure there are those who want to make a difference (on both sides of this debate), but in my experience, there are far more who are simply not concerned.

Here's an example from my world: I went back to lifting weights after I broke down at the gym last week. When one of my best friends there noticed I was upset and asked why, I pointed to the t.v. where anchors were analyzing Bush's speech. She shrugged her shoulders, pointed to her IPod around her neck and said, "Oh, I didn't bother with any of that. I just listened to my music." Mind you, this woman can tell you who was picked on the Bachelor. She can recount, in great detail, the past few episodes of Grey's Anatomy. She could not, however, be bothered to pay attention to the news. What's even more baffling? Her father is retired military. I just don't get it.

From the time I was a toddler, I was concerned with correcting injustice in the world. I have vivid memories from pre-school, grade school, high school and very definitely college where I felt compelled to step in and take a stand. I always believed one person could make a difference.

Even in my darkest days, when I suffered through depression and my friends declared, "You're so morbid," I still had an ember of optimism. I was pretty down on myself, but I usually had great hope for the rest of the world.

Where did that go? I miss those college days of rallies, poetry, articles, and all around optimism.

I was having a good day, then Bush opened his mouth.

It never ends. I mean that in reference to being a military wife and in reference to the conflict.

My day started off well. I slept pretty well. We headed out on time. I ran longer than I ever have at the gym. I was in a great mood.

While at the gym, a breaking news update flashed on the screen. My heart skipped a beat. I held my breath. For a moment, the whole world seemed to stop. My husband is no longer active duty, but I'm still a military wife. I've become so conditioned to reacting in terror every time that happens. It's a part of who I am. Part of me is furious over that fact. Another part of me is comforted.

Then Bush appeared and started speaking. Normally, I cannot watch him on the news. I tried desperately to watch his State of the Union address back in '03 when dh was deployed, but I found that I got too riled up. His speech was full of "mistruths", misstatements, and outright lies. Today, though, I watched, because I so desperately hoped they had some good news about the 2 soldiers who are still missing. No such luck.

Bush talked about removing the deadlines. He used his obnoxious "Support the troops" mantra. He insisted that if we don't continue fighting, Al Qaeda will attack us again.

I was livid. When I punched the machine I was on at the time, I knew I needed to get away. I stepped outside in the rain and bawled. Called a friend, went back in, stood and stared as Bush continued speaking, heard some friends there talk about the situation like it was entertainment, sat down in the lobby and cried again.

It hit me so hard. I think part of the reason is that I don't have my guard up. When dh was gone, I had to keep myself in check. When you're in the middle of it, you have to stay calm (or at least something that remotely resembles calm) if you plan on being able to get through your day. I guess I've already started to take that wall down, so I had no buffer. It hit me HARD.

In the end, I went in to the nursery and hugged the kids. It reminded me so much of that day back in 2003, when missiles were first fired over Baghdad. My girls were babies. I watched them play all while I watched the news reports. Here were my little girls who fought for life, giggling and sharing cereal in front of a t.v. screen where reporters spoke of casualties. I hugged the girls back then and wondered what the future held for them amid all this violence. I still don't know, but years later, it still looks pretty bleak. Hell, it looks much worse now than it did 5 years ago.

AHHH. There is so much I want to say. There's so much I want to scream. I just can't right now. I'll write another entry later on political rhetoric vs. our life.

Although, I do want to say, I'm so glad for my husband. When I hear/think of those we have lost, I get the overwhelming urge to touch him. I just want to be in his presence. I want to be reassured with physical proof that he does still exist. I want to celebrate that. But at the same time, I want to mourn those who are lost and in my husband's arms is the safest place to do that.

When dh is deployed and I hear about casualties, but I can't touch him or even contact him, it makes me want to claw my skin off. If you've ever been in labor, it's like transition. You're overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensation and you feel as though you simply cannot do this. You can't relax. You can't stand any sensations. The tension is excruciating.

When he's home, I just want to run to him. It happened on Veterans' Day and today it happened again. I suddenly got the urge to touch him, to hold him. I even tried calling him at work to see if I could stop by. Couldn't get through, though.

A few hours later, I was able to speak to him. I told him how I was surprised by my reaction and I ranted a bit about Bush. Dh assured me that he understood because even though he's not active, we still have friends who are plus there's always a chance he could be called up again. He agreed with my rant completely. I got the same response from a friend, my sister and even my mom, but it was particularly comforting coming from my husband.

Like I said, I'll post more on the topic later, but for now, I want to leave you with this:

"Help us and save us all, and let us cling tightly to the virtue of peace."(Attributed to Rabbi Nachman ben Feiga of Breslov, 1773-1810)

Unveiling

Anyone have a bottle of champaign? We could smack it against the side of the computer to christen the blog. Then again, that could damage the computer, it would be a waste of champaign and um...we're Jewish. So maybe we'll have to rethink that. :-)

Welcome to the new digs. So, what do you think?

I opted to take the old blog with me rather than start over. It has, however, been renamed. I ran a few title ideas by my husband and my sister and they both agreed on this one.

Today marks our first full day as civilians. I'm still in shock. Lots of people around me are congratulating me, but that doesn't feel right. I'm relieved, but I'm not celebrating.

I don't know how to feel and I don't know where we fit anymore.

Forgive me for quoting this yet again, but obviously, this really strikes a chord with me (I mean, come on, I named the blog after a quotation of hers).

"Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” Kristin Henderson's While They're At War; pg 131

Notes from a former military wife

The military part, that is, not the wife part.

This will be my last entry before redoing this blog.

This morning, after an insanely long wait and then even more time because no one knew what they were doing (aka an ordinary day in the military), my husband separated from the military. He is no longer active duty. He'll be inactive reserve for the next 2 years. After that, he will have no military ties (although he is a veteran). Even while he is inactive, he's basically a civilian.

He's thrilled. While he was career military, he had been miserable these past few years and it only promised to get worse. He has a new civilian job that he adores. He went so far as to take his uniform hat to work at his civilian job. He keeps it on his desk. That way, he insists, it will always remind him how much better this job is than the military ever was.

I'm sad and a bit shaken. We were a military family. He was supposed to be career military. It has identified us for a long time. My husband is a veteran. We survived deployments. We gave up so much. Hell, we gave up his retirement. We've even given up stupid little things (access to the military instillation).

I drove past his old office today. We passed the gates from the civilian side. I didn't pass through. I realized I may never again. I suppose it's a bit of a metaphor for our life. True, he has a new inactive ID card which gives him limited access, but as his wife, I no longer have a valid ID card. I can no longer pass through those gates on my own.

In a way, we've always been on the outside. Dh was older when he went into the military. He didn't enlist right after high school or go in right out of college even like so many do. So while he was fabulous at his job (he has all sorts of awards, metals and ribbons), he was never molded into a unit like those who have their personalities shaped by the military. He worked hard and wanted to make a difference, but it always seemed more like his own individual decision rather than group mentality.

As Natalie Merchant sang with the Maniacs, "They're so good at making soldiers, but they're not as good at making men." I explained it this way to a friend today: When it came to torture at Abu Ghraib, people fell in line and did as they were told. My husband is the type who sees beyond the orders. I believe he would have refused. While that makes him the man I love and a wonderful human being, it doesn't always make for the best soldier.

We're also card-carrying liberal Democrats. That makes us a bit of an oddity in the military. Actually, there are far more of us now than there were before the Iraqi conflict, but we're still the minority.

Add to all that, we're Jews. The estimates that I've read say that we make up less than 1% of the American military. There were times we felt VERY out of place as a result.

Now, though, we're completely on the outside. Even when you disagree politically or religiously, you're still one big military family. The similarities often outweigh your differences. Granted, this is true of many people, but for us, the similarities involve not just what hobbies you enjoy, where you shop, what you do/don't feed your kids, or even what you majored in in college. The common threads we share involve spouses in combat zones, being without them (often with no contact) for days/weeks/months/years, and watching the news endlessly (or avoiding it) in search of (or to avoid) any information about him/her. I've written about this before, though, so I'll just direct you there instead.

Kristin Henderson says it best:

“With the Hooah Wives (an informal group of military wives), she never had to explain or translate. A couple of words, and they understood the rest, because going to war, whether you’re the one on the frontline or the homefront is like going to Mars, and living there with the Martians, and hearing only Martianese being spoken. Still, you’re an Earthling, a very adaptable species, and before long you’re speaking the language and starting to feel at home in this place that at first had seemed so strange and otherworldly.

And then one day, you go back to Earth, maybe just for a visit, maybe for good, and as you step off the spaceship, all around you in the spaceport, you hear a Babel of voices, over the loudspeaker, passing you in the concourse, speaking in some strange foreign tongue, and all of a sudden, it hits you – that’s the language you grew up speaking. In conversations, you sometimes find yourself searching for a word, a word you should know. Sometimes, you dream in Martian. Your time on Mars has gifted you with a new way of speaking, a new way of looking at the world. And it has robbed you of the easy comfort you once felt in your mother tongue.” pg 131


Honestly, I'm glad it's over. I'm thrilled to be done with all the hoops we had to jump through, red tape, 3 am firings (guns not pink slips), combat boots, PTSD (which the military refused to treat effectively, but that's pretty standard for any illness, physical or mental), absolute terror and longing. I know the reality of it is that if he was still active duty, dh would have deployed again a month ago after just 5 months at home. I'm willing to trade the sisterhood of the military spouse for my husband's life. It was never sunshine and lollipops, but for a long time, it was our life. We have been "military." There are pieces of that I will always miss.

FTR: You'll notice that I created a "civilian" label for this post. I was avoiding it, but I suppose I can't any longer. So ladies and gentlemen, feel free to welcome me to the civilian world, because here I am.