The Difference Between Wanting and Ready

It's coming really close now, and we're wrapping up the last-minute things that occur before a long "away".  He has things he does around the house to make sure we're OK, and we have certain discussions that we always have before he goes.  It's not easy, but this is where "we've done this before" really helps.

I am not freaking out.

Ok, I am, but only inside and only a little bit.

One thing My G said last night really stuck with me, though, and it was something that my younger self needed to hear when we first got married, if I'd only known to ask. It's something that I think all "new" Army wives need to hear.

What he said: "Just because I am ready to go, doesn't mean I want to."

Sweet new Army wife, whether you're 20 or 40, these words are for you.
There is a huge difference between your Soldier (or Airman, or Seaman, or Marine) being ready to go on deployment, to school, to TDY, on an unaccompanied tour of any type - and wanting to leave you.

They are ready because they have trained, they have prepared, they are set to do what the country has asked of them or to fulfill the plan they've made for their career.

They are ready because they've done what they need to do in order to leave. They have orders in hand or their bags are packed or they've checked the handy checkboxes that their units have provided.

This does not mean they want to leave you.

Many servicemembers cry just as hard as their kids or their spouses when it is time to leave, but there are just as many who remain stoic. My G was one of the latter and he still is. This is his job, this is his career, and this is what he does. But it doesn't mean he wants to leave us.

Because we've been down this road so many times, we are able to joke a bit and make comments about "Good thing I won't be here" or "Whew, whole bed to myself!"  But that doesn't mean that we are eager for this separation. It doesn't mean that, if plans changed and he could turn right around and come back to us early, we wouldn't rejoice.

All it means is that he's ready.

In the grand scheme of things, "ready" is a good thing. I want him to have all the things he'll need while he's gone. I want for me to be ready, too, and have some plans and ideas for how to get through this time. "Ready" means that I have a Power of Attorney. "Ready" means that he has the training and the gear he needs to get the job done, whatever the job may be. "Ready" means that our girls know what is coming and we've spent some special time with them while we can. "Ready," in our case, means that we've had talks about budgets and house stuff and he's shown me how to program the sprinklers.

But I always remember that he'd really rather be here.

Getting Out

Since My G has 21 years in the Army, of course we've talked a lot about retirement.  We have our plans, which of course the Army has changed for us a half dozen times at least.  We are taking steps to make Plans A, B, and C work, as well.

We get asked a lot, "So, when do you retire?"

Well, it's complicated.  Every day, it seems, I hear a new story about someone getting out of the Army. And I hear stories of "what happens next".

Folks, it isn't good news.

One friend and her Soldier husband were forced to med board out from the Army after he sustained injuries. They had no backup plan, and had planned to stay in until he reached his 20. Now they are both trying to find work, find a home they can afford, and they feel stuck. From what I'm reading, there's a bit of panicky feeling, too.

One of My G's battle buddies was all set to retire, having hit his RCP (Retention Control Point). RCP essentially is the "get promoted or get out" point that the Army sets, and he hadn't reached the next promotion point when the Army thought he should have. Thankfully, he was able to take retirement. During the retirement health assessment, they did a body scan and found that he has a form of cancer that is becoming more and more common among Soldiers who have deployed. So instead of going through simple retirement, he underwent chemo, and now radiation, and later a full medical retirement.  He's still able to retire, but the Army has exacted a pretty high price from him and his wife, both physically and emotionally.

I know of a Soldier who was dealt some terrible back injuries, healed, fought the Army for proper treatment and the correct surgery, and now is getting med-boarded out of the Army because he can't properly run and has other health issues. My friend, his wife, has put in for any and every job that she is qualified for, all across the United States, because she knows they may have to rely on her income for a period of time after this process is over. So far, nothing. This is despite many of the applications coming back, saying she is qualified.

My own battle buddy says that her husband didn't make the promotion list this time around, and they are gearing up for major changes with the Army and in their lives. They were once caught without a backup plan, many years ago, and they will not do so again. Still, there is a tinge of worry and fear -- the world is an uncertain place for a veteran, even one with 20 years under his belt.

Getting out is scary, right now. We hear every day that the economy is getting better, that jobs are easier to find, that people are getting back to work, that we can afford to keep a roof over our heads.  We hear that the Dow is so high, it must be great! We hear that there are jobs that are open, and available.

(We even, sometimes, hear about companies that hire veterans specifically to help them once their Army time is done. I pray, when it is our time to get out, that we will all have found a safety net and a job.)

Not one of these Soldiers, nor their families, are asking for handouts. They want to work, and they have all pushed through incredible odds already. But I think it's time we talk about preparing our Soldiers better for "getting out". We need to talk about fixing the programs that help them transition from Soldier life to civilian life. I hear that this program works really well for the Soldiers who put in 4 or 8 years of their lives and then want to go back to school or work outside the Army. But these programs are failing the Soldiers who have given the most time and lifeblood

I think it's time we talk about the Soldiers who have put in the most time, and the deepest commitment. I think it's time we figure out a better way to serve them. Because these Soldiers are often the ones who know the most about their jobs and their installations, they are also often held back from properly taking part in transition programs because their loss will be felt so deeply. But at the same time, these are the very Soldiers who need the programs the most, and the units owe it to them to commit to making sure their Soldier-to-civilian transformation is the smoothest it can be.

So, while it's not time for us to be getting out, it is definitely our time to plan for it. And make a Plan B. And C. Or more.

Let's Enjoy the Now

When I was in HS (I can hear my two girls giggling as I write that), the phrase "Carpe Diem" was something we'd chat about and write in our yearbooks and pretend like we really knew what we were talking about.

I'd love a ring like this.

Kids today have "YOLO," which I prefer to think means "You obviously lack originality" but apparently is supposed to be "You only live once" and to some is also a free ticket to acting like an idiot.

Neither of these are bad ideas, and neither are terribly original.  "Carpe Diem," after all, comes from Horace and is shortened from Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.  The whole thing loosely translates to, "Seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future."

Today, some friends of mine on a Facebook page were discussing the possible drawdown in deployments.  Rumor has it that only 10% of troops would be deploying next year.  My knee-jerk, and slightly cynical/bitter thought was that it would probably be the 10% that has already deployed the most times, but the point was that this supremely high op-tempo that we've had for the last 11 years, might actually stop.  It might slow down.  Soldiers, Airmen, Marines and Sailors might actually come home without having the date of their next deployment in hand.   They might see more children born, they might be able to have family time again.

There are signs of this already, small faint rays of hope that are more easily seen by those of us who have lived this life for a long time.  "Payday activities" means we see Soldiers on post wearing dress uniforms for inspections.  Sergeants' time is happening again.  And the military is doing what it can to get rid of those service members who bring the whole rank and file down.  (The methods they are using to do that are worth their own blog post, but I'm going to try to stay on topic here.)

However, those of us who have been around for a while are a little suspicious.  We'll believe it when we see it.  We'll believe it when their heads are on their own pillows, next to ours.  We'll believe it when our kids get to see their dads.  We'll believe it when the POA expires and can sit in a dusty folder, unused.

In response to her husband's comment about the 10% deployment rate, she said "as much as I'd like to believe you're not going to deploy, I'm not going to get happy or excited.  I'm still going to plan in my head that you're leaving late next year.  I've learned never to get my hopes up with the Army."

His words to her, said while holding her tight, are where this blog actually begins:  "Let's enjoy the now."

For now, he's home. For now, his arms are around her and holding her close. For now, the bags are stored and the gear is away. For now, his head rests next to hers in the bed they share.  For now, he can hug the kids and he can discipline the kids. If she's lucky, for now he can pinch her rear and chase her around the living room, embarrassing the heck out of the kids. They can have dinner together, and watch movies together.  

Whatever may or may not happen in the future with our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Airmen and our Marines-- let's enjoy the now.   If it's that we see them on Skype, or we get a text from them while they're at school, or they're home from a weekend before they return to their duty station...  Whatever we have, let's count ourselves blessed.

Let's enjoy the now.

The Roller Coaster

This deployment is so close to being done with that we are all just waiting for updates and news and itineraries.  That's a very good place to be, when it comes to deployments, so why am I not giddy with joy?

Something that very seldom gets mentioned, among the "Coming Home" episodes and news clips of sobbing little girls surprised by Daddy Soldiers, is that the week before they get home and the week after they are actually home can be among the roughest in the entire deployment.  These days leading up to the homecoming are among the most stress-filled, sleepless, anxiety- and giddiness-filled moments you could imagine.

It's truly an emotional roller coaster.

Don't get me wrong-- in a healthy family, the over-arching feeling is one of happiness that it's all going to be over and the Soldier will return home soon. In a healthy family, we are SO glad to be together again.

But "together", after great tumult, comes at a cost. There is so much that has been missed, and so much that can change in even a shorter deployment. It's gotten better now that we have such vast digital communication resources available to us, but Skype and email and Facebook chats can't make up for simply being with the other person.  Sharing the couch with them and discussing a TV show. Riding next to them in the car, "Oh, I love this song!" Or simply doing chores together. Raising our girls together.

The days before a homecoming are like those moments when you are all dressed up for a big, important, life-changing date. Giddy, happy, full of nerves... Dressing up and wanting to put your best self forward. Not only are we still the amazing person that the Solder left, but we have conquered a lot and look how strong we are! Every homecoming feels like a turning point.

Homecoming is the date, of course, but the days and even weeks (and sometimes months) after that are an adjustment period similar to having a brand-new relationship.  We are both used to having our own space and making our own decisions, independent of the other.  Over the years, we have gotten better at these adjustments but they still stink.

And every deployment, even every "away," is different. Every adjustment is unique.  Which really explains why this last week is such a roller coaster. We've done this often enough to know that some adjustments are easy. And some are decidedly not. Some of this depends on what we have individually been through during the deployment, and some of it feels like some fateful, star-aligning, algorithmic mess. In other words, it feels totally random.

I don't like random, unless it pertains to acts of kindness.

So, we are finding ways to relax and unwind while we wait. We clear our minds, we pray, we use cleaning as some sort of ritualized dumping out.

And we make room for joy.

You Are Always Here

You tell me how much you wish you could be with us, how it seems you can never be here when scary things happen and I must stand on my own.

But you are wrong, dear one.  You are always here.

When my pet was old and ill and quaking, and I had to let her go-- it was your arms I felt around me as I held her one final time.

When we rushed to the ER after Little G fell to the concrete with a concussion, it was your voice that steadied me.

When Big G's pet was failing, we both felt you with us.

During what Big G termed "a conga line of doctors" recently, it was your messages and voice that kept us going, helped us to remain hopeful.

We ate M&Ms with you in spirit, even if you weren't the one who poured them for us.

We celebrate good news and bad news with you at all times.  When you can't be here physically, it is harder-- but you are here.

You are always here.

When I make the drive home, I feel you in the seat beside me.  It is "our" music I listen to, and our jokes that the kids and I repeat.  It is your voice I hear in my head as we decide when to stop, and what is safe.

There are things that you would usually do, that are now my responsibility.  I try to do them as you would, or ask for help, so your presence is still felt and still strong.   When I am tired and the day is long and it is tempting to do a half-baked job, I remember how tired you must be, how your spirit aches-- and I finish the task.

I never want you to come back home and feel like you have to fix what I have done, or spend your precious time here making up for any time you feel you've lost.

I just want to see your smile, and feel your hug, and hear your laughter unsullied by the hesitation of phone lines.

Part of the Army life is knowing that hard times, and good times, will come.   Kids don't hold off on emergencies because of training or deployments; if anything, they seem more prone to disaster as soon as we receive those orders.  Concerts, parent-teacher meetings, graduations and school dances -- time is the truly unfailing Soldier, marching forward without pause.

But you are always with me.  The seat next to me at a concert may be empty, the teacher may not see you, but your strength and your love and your influence are always with me and always with our girls.  We have lived this life for 22 years now, and while sometimes I have felt lonely for your touch and your smile-- I am never alone.  I have learned to gather close our moments together so they are stored within me, the memories strong enough to hold me close when you cannot.  This can be a lonely life, true, but I don't want you to think that we do anything truly alone.

I want you here with me for all the big things, too.  Physically here, and holding our hands.  I am not so strong that I could really do this alone.  You are here, and you are supporting us, no matter where the Army tells you to lay your head.

You are always with me.

The Real Cost of War

Today, I heard about another one.  A family, which has lost their Soldier.  A Soldier, back from deployment and needing services.  A unit, not holding him accountable nor recognizing the true risk.

I remember when I first started college, a friend of mine had a brother-in-law who was a Vietnam vet.  He wore braces on ankles that had been irreversibly injured, and slept on average two hours a night, plagued by nightmares.  He taught me about PTSD, which wasn't something most people had ever heard of at that time.  He was picking himself up and creating a good life for himself-- but it took him 20 years after he returned home from war, to start to be "okay".

Is that what we want for our Soldiers today?  Have we learned nothing at all?  Do we want 20 years to pass before they can regain their lives?

A church in a New Jersey town recently memorialized the 6,358 American servicemembers killed in Iraq and Afghanistan by planting a small American flag for each of them.  The visual is a stunning reminder of our loss as a nation, and of the true cost of war.

I think the loss is far, far greater than 6,358.  I don't think there are enough flags to show the true cost.  Every week, I hear about another marriage that hasn't made it.  Suicide rates skyrocketed until the Army realized something had to be done and implemented new programs to forcefully address the issue.  Child abuse?  Spouse abuse?  How many partially healed bruises and stolen childhoods are as a result of Soldiers coming home to units that are incapable, ill-equipped, or unwilling to make sure they get the services they need?

Then there is the horrifying story of a Staff Sergeant who is charged in the murders of 16 Afghani citizens.  How much of what happened is personal and how much of it is a systemic breaking-down, we won't know for a long time.  But I pray it's a wake up call.

They say war is hell.  But the aftermath of war, when the Soldiers come home broken in every way they can be broken, can be just as devastating.  I hope it doesn't take this generation's military 20 years to find healing.

Field Of Flags Memorial -- More than 6, 358 flags would be necessary to show the true cost of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.

Veterans' Day-- What to Say?

So, it's Veterans' Day, and I love all of the "thank you" and "honor a vet" kinds of things I'm seeing on Facebook and elsewhere.  I know there are people who don't think once about a Soldier or a vet until this day rolls around, and I know those whose hearts are touched every moment by the true meaning behind being a veteran or current military member.

It's all good.

The free meals, discounts, and other "we appreciate you" gestures that have popped up from certain businesses are nice.  I try not to be cynical and just try to think the best of the businesses that offer them.  But I digress.

My friend Kat is in the beginning stages of setting up an equine therapy program, and she told me that most of the clients will be wounded warriors-- those vets who didn't come home from combat unscathed.  I don't know the details, exactly.  I have heard great things about equine therapy with lots of different groups, and I think that there is a little bit of magic to be made in the saddle.

Somehow, horses don't have to be told what we need.  They don't need to know what to say, what to do, or how to avoid those awkward conversation topics.  They just are.

However, the therapists and handlers are very human.  And, like many people, Kat said she wasn't sure exactly what to say.  Or, perhaps more importantly, what not to say.

We'll start with a little bit of "what to say" to get the ball rolling.  Easy stuff first.

My own beloved Soldier told me "talk about sports".  No politics, no "are we STILL in name-that-distant-country", no hot topics.  

Ask where a Soldier (or family member) has been.  Ask where they're from originally.  Let them know "hey, I've been there!" or "Gee, I always wanted to go."

Talk about  hobbies, talk about interests...heck, just ask them about themselves.  And if they don't seem like they want to open up, let the silence be an easy one.

Let them know if a loved one is in the military, or is/was a vet.  You don't need to get into details, especially difficult ones (no talk of "Uncle Jeff was never the same after Vietnam" or "Grandma really suffered after Grandpa died in the Battle of the Bulge").  If you're proud of their service, great!  But keep it easy, keep it light.

Build some trust.

Going to be working with the military and you're not sure about acronyms?

Look them up.  :)

Want to learn about bases/posts/installations?  This site isn't official but it is a good general overview.

Now that you have the conversation started, here are some tips about what not to say.  Some of these are my own, many are supplied from other spouses.  I am deeply grateful for the spouse of a wounded warrior who gave me some good advice.

Kat, please don't be insulted.  All of these are things people have said to Soldiers and/or spouses.

First and foremost, you do NOT know how they feel.  (Unless, of course, you are also a wounded warrior or a spouse of one.  Even then it's a pretty bald assumption.)

Frequent travel for work is not the same as a deployment.  Being deployed is not "like any other job" and please don't say it is.

I personally don't really care for "I don't know how you handle him being gone so often/so long".  Heck, most of the time I don't know how I handle it either.  Thanks for pointing that out.

Not all military members like to be thanked "for their service."  My Soldier is always touched when a vet pays for his meal, or shakes his hand with a certain "I understand" expression.

But "hey, thanks for your service!" is sometimes awkward.  There is a fine line between appreciating the sacrifice that these men and women make, and sounding like you're saying "thanks for doing it so I don't have to think about it".

Please, don't ever say "you know what you signed up for".  "You knew what the risks were." We are neither psychic nor omniscient.

ASK before you photograph.  My fellow spouse, whose husband was wounded, has said "no photographs".

She has also said that people should ask her husband what happened to him-- it is his story, after all.  Perhaps ask the family members how they're doing.  How are they holding up, how can you help.  But for details on what happened-- ask the Soldier.

And knowing a wounded warrior (your uncle, your niece, your friend from college) is not the same as being married to one.  Not even if it's your own child.  It's nowhere close.

Don't ask intrusive details beyond that which you must know to help them.  If you can't see the wounds, ask if they will need help in some way that you can't predict.  If you can see the wounds, don't assume they are unable to do things for themselves.

Especially don't ask those intrusive details of the spouse or other family member.  If they need to talk, let them take the lead.

I hope this has been helpful.  Let's recognize and honor our Veterans and Service members today-- and all year long.

Need more?  Check out these links.

What not to say/do to the spouse of a deployed soldier.

What not to say to a Soldier's spouse. (I don't agree with all of these but you'd still be surprised what we get told.  I'm told that the original post was on The War Report, which is another interesting site.)

Funny, though snarky...

A bit of the Soldier's perspective.  Especially the comments after the original short post.

This one is haunting...  In memory of SPC Jason Cooper. 

Five Stages of Deployment-- Acceptance

This is the fifth and last in a series of blogs based on Kubler-Ross’s Five Stages of Grief. These, however, are the Five Stages of a Deployment, or extended TDY, or any time our Soldier is “away”.

The time frame for these may vary depending on the spouse and on the individual couple. For example, when we first got married and I had moved halfway across the country, our first CQ involved all five stages because it happened the first day in our new home. Now, I don’t really do many of these until about the third week, or they pass so quickly it’s a mere bad mood.

Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance

I am purposefully not doing the stages in the usual order, because even Kubler-Ross says these stages aren’t necessarily complete or chronological. Each person is unique.

Acceptance:

I've taken the longest to write this particular stage, because I wasn't exactly sure what this looked like.  Is it the "hooah-hooah Army wives rock" kind of feeling?  Is it the "I'm so proud of my Soldier and my country that this is worth it" spirit?

Acceptance is the most difficult stage for me, honestly.  While I try very hard to roll with the changes and the upheaval, and while I remind myself (and others) that this too, shall pass-- it's still very hard for me not to fight against it.  I had a former coworker tell me that I was "contentious" and I think he was right.  I certainly don't like to "settle" when there are things that can be done to improve upon or change a situation. 

So, anyway, reaching acceptance is a hard one for me, especially before a deployment gets started.  I find myself bracing against the changes that I know are coming, and tensing up against the waves of deployment "stuff".   I sort of grit my teeth and grumble, thinking "here we go again".

Then, I remember what the nurses told me when I was pregnant with the girls and was having contractions.  If you think about something else, if you relax the best you can and just let the wave take you, it doesn't hurt so much.  Fighting it, tensing against it, makes it hurt more.

That focus, that ability to accept the wave and just ride with it, is what acceptance is during a deployment.  The pain doesn't go away.  The upheaval is just as intense.  It just means that we are able to go on, despite it.  

We find a new way to be, for that time.  We find our ways to cope and our ways to breathe in, breathe out...  Not the shallow, tight, omigod-this-hurts breathing that comes when we fear something or when it seems unbearable.  That comes when the bus pulls away with our Soldier in it.  It comes occasionally when the doorbell rings and we fear the worst.  That painful breathing comes when the phone doesn't ring when we expected and hoped it would.

But we find a way to relax our hearts.  We find a way to ease our minds and focus on brighter times.  THAT is acceptance.

Sometimes acceptance comes with yellow ribbons and hooah t-shirts.  Sometimes it comes when we finally get around to making that list of things to do "before he goes".   Either way, acceptance is a tremendously difficult, yet sweet, stage of deployment.

Five Question Friday-- Semper Gumby

I have been fortunate to meet many amazing and supportive women since My G and I got married.  The first few ladies were both wives of senior NCO's and I remember feeling like they had swooped over to (almost) literally tuck me under their wings and explain Army life to me.  They were singularly dedicated to their Soldiers, yet they could also be pragmatic and very straightforward about Army life.  They gave me some advice, and then they left me alone to find out for myself what I needed to do to succeed as an Army wife.

Stephanie has always reminded me of these women.  I met Stephanie because she does predeployment and reintegration training and preparation for Army Community Service.  Her job is to give young spouses and young Soldiers (and some not-so-young ones too) the tools they need to successfully get through deployments and then to create a new "normal" once they are home.  She is also a Master Trainer, which in layman's terms means that she teaches others, how to teach like she does.  

Did I mention I've learned a lot from her?

Stephanie's predeployment talks were legendary by the time my husband returned home from his second deployment.  She would talk, with frank humor and perfect phrasing, about such things as getting the motor running after a long time in the garage-- sometimes welcoming a Soldier home after a deployment is not the wine-and-candles romance it seems, and she wanted wives to understand that physical and emotional intimacy may take time.  My battle buddies and I were tired from laughing so hard by the time she finished.

I can't talk about Stephanie, though, without talking about her Soldier.  I wish I could have met him.  Her love and respect for him is so obvious, and she is such a strong person, that I can only imagine what an amazing team they made.  It's not my story to tell, about this dedicated retired Soldier, husband, and father and the life that ended too soon.  It's a story you can read in her book, Once in a Wifetime, which I recommend to all spouses.  But I can tell you that his effect lives on in her humor and strength and example for all of us.

Stephanie, I don't know if you read my blog.  I'd love it if you did.  But I wanted to say "thank you" for all the times I've seen you pick yourself up after ridiculously long days.  "Thank you" for the example you've set for all Army spouses, of strength and humor and dedication.  And "thank you," especially, for those times when you were a friendly smile when I needed it most, or when you allowed me to be that smiling presence for you. 

I'm honored that you answered my questions.

1. What are some things you know now about military life that you wish someone had told you? 

I thought being a veteran prepared me for anything - especially being a military wife, but that was so far from the truth! Nothing prepares you for the changes and challenges you face as the wife of a Soldier except being the wife of a Soldier.

2. What is the most important thing you'd like to tell new spouses?

Don't take the hard times personally - they are not meant that way, even if they come across that way. They are the challenges you face while building something truly amazing!

3. What do you love the most?

The thing I love the most is being part of an elite group of strong, resilient and amazing women who face challenges on a daily basis that would make mere mortal women run and hide.

4. What do you find the hardest?

What is the hardest part? Sometimes it's realizing that you are not priority number 1 when you really want to be and knowing that it will be that way ----a lot. The job, the kids, the house, the bills, the dog even, may all come before you because he/she knows that no matter where you come in line, you will always be there and that someday, maybe after retirement, you will be number 1 again.

5. Tell me a story that sums up military life for you.

My favorite story about my Soldier - hard to pick just one - so many - some funny, some sad, some noble, some not so... but I have to say that my favorite is not about his time with me, but his time with our daughter. Watching this hard as nails, tougher than concrete Infantryman, laying on the floor in a tent fortress made of sheets, pillows and couch cushions, watching My Little Pony (or some other children's video) while dining on oreos and milk with his favorite little girl. This was their "COOM" time (camping out with oreos and milk). 

Mom was not invited to attend or spend the night - I was curled up in bed with a book or sat at my computer working on my own book, while two of the most precious people in my life spent a special night together, making one of their very precious memories. In theory it is their memory, but the laughter, the giggles, the smiles on their faces at the special memory shared - that's a memory, a treasure that I will have forever.