"Don't be dismayed at good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again, after moments or lifetimes, is certain for those who are friends."
~~Richard Bach
I am planning a trip sometime in the near future to a pumpkin patch. The Pirate loved it last year, and I have some promised pumpkin butter to make and get out in the mail. Enjoy the short flick. I saw it last year and it had me cracking up!
Blackfive is in the final running for a blogging scholarship (I know, I know… I want one too!) He would be a great person to receive this award, and he is worth supporting!
Michelle Malkin’s guest blogger wrote the following:
Seriously, though, they’re having a runoff election to see who gets the ten grand, and one of the finalists is a fellow named Matthew Burden. Whom you might know better as milblogger Blackfive.
If you’d like to give him a hand, go here and vote for him! Voting closes the 28th; I think you’re allowed to vote daily.
(Come on, folks, last year a Kos diarist calling himself “Mister Liberal” won.)
Let’s make sure that we balance out last years moonbat winner with a fellow milblogger.
I think I am going to officially call this phase the “post-leave-funk” or PLF or for the quick weekend visits it will be the “post-pass-funk” or PPF for short. Maybe some of the more experienced military wives have a better term for it. I want to clarify right away though that this is in no way, shape or form a complaint. I am very, very grateful to have seen my husband and to have him for nearly 3 weeks. I know that is an oasis that some wives would love to have, but are not given right now. Truly, I know it is a blessing. I am really just trying to figure out my own phases of emotional upheaval and turmoil that I go through when we have these times of separation and reunification. They are so sparse and so short that it really does leave me discombobulated (man I love that word!).
I have noticed that I always go through it for a day or two after I see Bryan for a period of time — whether that time is a quick weekend or a longer time. This last time we had 20 days together and we were at our home versus being in a hotel or rental near or on Ft. Benning. So, the last two days I have been trying to handle the re-entry burnout and it has been hard.
I am understanding that part of the stress for me this time is the simple fact that when you have a short leave time like 3 weeks then you simply can not live in the “real world” during that time. Who has time to get caught up in the menial tasks and focus on concerns that take your attention away from your soldier? My gosh! You have your husband back home, in your bed, at your breakfast table, in your car, and things are just too wonderful to focus too much on the mundane, everyday tasks that normally keep you so busy. It would be different if he were staying, but you find yourself drinking in every moment, savoring every second and trying to hold onto things like the sound of his laughter in person and not over the phone.
Then the day comes. The day you both knew would come faster than it should have come. His bags are packed and he is dressed in uniform. He has to go back. When we met and stayed in hotels in GA it was different. It felt like a mini-vacation. It was hard saying good-bye, but I had an 8 hour drive ahead of me and kids (sometimes puking kids) to help keep my mind off of what I was missing already. This time he left home. I am so glad he got to come here because he had never seen this house, and this gives him a frame of reference when he thinks about us or when I am talking to him and I say that I am in the den or the laundry room. It is bittersweet too. It actually feels more like home to me now because I finally have some memories of him here. His pillow finally smells like him again, and his night stand table has a few things he left on it… with things stacked neatly — the way he always does. The traces of him give me both hope and sadness.
Those traces of him are nice to have again though. They are warm and inviting, and they are quite a contrast to the reality that awaited when he left. Suddenly, once again, the kids need me 150% of the time, decisions need to be made and I have to decide without having him to talk with, and the worst part of all… the evenings are quite and my room is silent at night again. No noise here tonight except the sound of my fan and the clicking of these keystrokes as I type out what I would have normally spoken to him while we chat with our heads rested on pillows. It’s the best time of the day when he is home, and the worst time of the day when he is gone.
So, I am finding that I go through a few days where I really struggle to get back into my groove. It takes a few days to feel like I want to do the things that I normally do. The world looks a little less colorful and food tastes a little less spicy. It doesn’t last long, but I try and deal with it head on. Essentially it is just a quick interlude of grief.
The symptoms of this PLF/PPF for me are usually:
* sleeplessness
* bluesy
* feeling disorganized
* feeling lonely
* low energy
* feeling overly sensitive
* feeling weepy
I am not depressed, but I am definitely “blue.” I have also worked hard on coming up with some strategies to try and deal with this as it starts. First, I should clarify that some of the “dealing” with this aftermath was done while he was still home and in anticipation of this period of grief. Things like guarding our time together as a family, and our time alone as a couple, really helps the time we had together feel less hectic and less like we were being pulled in too many directions, and ultimately that does help this phase of separation because I don’t feel like I missed out on my time with him.
I also kept my exercise schedule and had him join me (in his limited ability even). This was very key for me because exercise really is my main stress buster. If yours is different then you need to keep that stress buster going even when he is home… keep up the good habits because you will need them later when he leaves again. Another strategy that is very helpful is to keep your routines and force yourself to do your daily routine after he leaves. Even if you are just going through the motions, it is important that you get up, wash your face, and greet the world. I know that there are days where I would just as soon throw my clock through the window because I am tired and sad, but forcing myself to get up and deal with life always helps to some degree.
I also avoid all alcohol when I am feeling sad and blue, and I watch the company I keep to make sure I am around supportive people. I do not have a problem with alcohol and never have, but why start now? The fact of the matter is a lot of problem drinking can and does start when alcohol is used to soothe an emotional stressor. So, while I normally would love to have a glass of wine or a good Stout from time to time, I simply do not drink any alcohol while my guys are deployed. It feels too risky for me personally. I also keep foods that I will regret eating, out of my home. No wine and no cheesecake. Gee. What keeps me going? Coffee helps! Coffee, supportive friends, family that helps, phone calls from my soldiers, and knowing that I am doing a very important job here in my home.
I always take pride in my work, and being a stay at home wife, mother, blogger, daughter, etc. is no exception. My job here at home is too important to be jeopardized by emotional paralysis. If I ever felt that I couldn’t use these strategies I would not be too proud to call for help. After all, Army wives are often stereotyped as strong willed and tough, but we are also smart and savvy.
I am so proud of my mom. I am proud of her for many, many reasons. Let me tell you a little bit about her (mom I hope you aren’t blushing, but I have to share!) My mom is the silent pillar in our family. She is funny, witty and strong. She very rarely ever complains, and when she does raise a stink she is usually advocating for someone else. She is a very hard worker, and even though she is retired now, she has taken excellent care of my father after several heart attacks and strokes have left him needing support. I will never forget her resolve when he had his first heart attack. She went home and threw away food that would be detrimental to his health. They had also found out he was diabetic at this point too. She made some drastic lifestyle changes then, but she didn’t stop there.
My father’s older age has been greatly improved because she cares for him in the way that only a dedicated and loving wife can do. I have no doubt in my mind that he has lived longer and better because of her, and her own sacrifices to ensure that he is cared for well. This is how she was as a mother too. See, she’s pretty awesome!
Two years ago my father had another stroke, and this time my mom did something that really surprised me. It surprised me because I didn’t even know she was contemplating it. My mom had smoked for over 40 years. She was not a chain smoker, but a regular and moderate smoker. When she realized that smoking was truly affecting my father and his health she laid her habit down, walked away and never went back. She put her habit down knowing that he would never quit if she didn’t. She did it for herself too. She never picked them back up, and when someone told her to get the patch to help her quit, she said “I didn’t need a patch to start up, so why would I need one to quit?” Yep, she’s stubborn too! This December will be her 2nd year anniversary of being smoke free. She is facing some medical issues right now, and one of those issues is a lesion that was found on her lung recently. Do you know how she is handling it? Faith, prayer and worrying about everyone else.
For those of you who pray, please pray for my mom. Pray for her health, her treatment, and her strength — also pray that she will find in me the same kind of love and strength that she is so famous for giving.
I was reading an article titled “Sex, Nazi, burrito and Viagra: Who Googles what? at Reuters this morning, and it reminded me of some of the interesting google search terms that have led people to my blog. Usually it is someone searching for information on age waivers for the Army or Army parent information, but there have been a few that have left me scratching my head in amazement and wonder.
One such search happened back in early August. I am still not sure which of my posts, or which combination of my posts, led this person to my blog. I am assuming the searcher was a she, and she was looking for “sexy things to put in a care package to troops.” I don’t think that the term “sexy” has ever been used on my blog (until now that is… and now I have to wonder what strange search terms will bring people here now!) Another very strange and kinda scary search was “naughty Army wives from Ft. Benning.” I had a vision of some guy in a trench coat typing the query in at his local library. It made me shudder. Of course, there was the homemade Cheerios post that brought a lot of people here. I wonder what search terms others have come across.
I think that I am finally realizing that we are, in fact, a “profile family.” We are up in the air, free falling, and waiting to see if we will land on grass, rock or hit a trampoline that will rebound us high up and back to our dropping point.
Mr. Hooah! and I had our billionth conversation tonight about the “what ifs” and the “Yeah, buts” and my all time favorite of “If this, then that.” So many uncertainties! Unfortunately those uncertainties do not provide for the very practical needs of a mid-life family. It was during this last conversation that I finally accepted that we are all part of this “profile.” Mr. Hooah! is living with an overwhelming amount of uncertainty, and we are sharing this journey with him as a family.
He does not know how long it will take for him to be taken off of profile. He does not know if anyone will hear his case and give him the time he needs to heal enough to jump back into the game where he left off. The doctors have been very optimistic, and they keep reassuring us that he will heal just as good as new. He needs time and rehab. Chances are though, and it is looking more like this is what will be offered to him, is that he will be told to go enlisted while he rehabs and then in one year he can reapply. The snafu in that offer is in one year he will be beyond commissioning age. So essentially that offer will drop us to a pay level that we were only planning on living at for a year. Actually he would go down a rank in pay, so it would be even less.
If we were younger and did not have a kid in college and another headed that way, then we would probably take the risk. At what point does a risk become “too” risky? If this had happened post Tradoc then things would be different, no doubt. Unfortunately it happened at a very pivotal point. Neither of us wants to walk away, so if we do it was simply because the path totally, utterly, painfully and abruptly dead ended on us. If we go forward it doesn’t mean the path is straight, flat and well paved… it simply means that we can see there is hope that it will lead us to some destination that is viable for us as a family.
This would not be as hard as it is if Mr. Hooah! had simply changed companies he was working for. There are several other huge Chemical Companies out there. It would not have been so hard if he had switched back to his previous career in the fine arts (he is still successfully selling book covers he has painted, even now). It would not have so painful if all it would mean was changing locations. It’s not that easy though. This was not just a career move for my husband. There was a lot of planning, preparing, working and sacrifice put into this. Actually that goes for us all as well. I do have to admit that there has been a lot of dreaming too. We were living that dream until his leg broke. Make no mistake that the best part of that dream, and the biggest benefit to us, has been the community of people we have come to know and love. Will we lose them too, if he leaves? I honestly don’t know.
Our whole household is lying in this hospital bed together. We are watching, through the very small crack in the door, all of the commotion going on out in the hallway. We know that we are separated but not gone. We would do anything to able to get up and do our work and move forward with all of this — finish training, finishing organizing for the PCS that was coming up, planning, doing, dreaming… it all goes together. Right now, though, we are only sitting idle — not necessarily restful, just idle. Just waiting. Just wishing and hoping.
I got the best bowl from a dear girlfriend this past weekend. It looks just like the one in the picture, only mine is called a “chick bowl.” First of all I love it because it will be my own bowl. There is not one man in this house that would eat of it because it is clearly called a chick bowl.
Secondly it is bright yellow, super deep, holds an awesome amount of ice cream, and it reminds me of my friend when I use it. On the rim of the bowl it says “I am invincible” “I can do anything” “I am woman!” Then in the bottom of the bowl it says “Roar, baby, Roar!” It cracks me up.
So, tonight I needed a happy place. I got my chick bowl out and put a couple of scoops of ice cream (fat free Bryers — awesome stuff!) in it. Then I laid on my bed. Put ice on my knee (long story), and started to blog and read. It was a nice place to be for a little while this evening.
What do you do when you are trying to pamper yourself a little or “find a happy place?” If you go to a luxury spa resort or get an awesome massage every week, please lie to me and say that you eat fat free ice cream too. ;)
Since I have written a lot of blog entries about my guys and their adventures — and particularly how I am dealing with all of the changes and their affects on the home front, I am always teasing Mr. Hooah! about what I am going to write about next. When he was home I would sometimes stare at him and pretend to be blogging about every move he made. I am glad he understands my sense of humor.
I kept using a line on him and I finally broke down and found a clip that would help him understand the reference. Sometimes when we are talking he will say something that reminds me of a blog entry I have written. I look at him and say “Wrote a blog about it. Like hear it? Here it go!” I even sing a little “Ah-ha-ahah” at the end, just like Calhoun Tubbs (played by David Allen Grier) from the old variety show “In Living Color.”
Calhoun’s a nice old Blues singer. Whenever he is talking in public he always ends his points with the phrase “Wrote a song ’bout it… like to hear it, here it go!” His songs are very, um, shall we say “revealing” about the people he is singing about. It cracks me up everytime! Yep, and I wrote a blog ’bout it, like to hear it, here it goes!
I am only doing this because one of my blog-heroines did it first. I am going to bite my own bullet and post a comment policy too. I did mine in a picture format, and it is on my comment window now so you will be reminded. I hope it is not too harsh.
I have talked about the deployment gods being crazy, I have talked about the deployment itch, but now I must address the deployment gremlins. These are not the gremlins that get into your electronics and mess everything up while your soldier is away. No, that would be under the deployment gods must be crazy category.
No these gremlins make common, everyday house noises sound super scary. Last night was my first night alone since Mr. Hooah! was here for the past few weeks on convalescent care. Now, granted he was on crutches and nursing a nasty broken bone the whole time, I still felt safer with him here. Then last night… suddenly the noise coming from the ceiling fan was a burglar trying to get in the window. The creeks in the house were coming from the 10 burglars who made it into my home while I accidentally dozed for 30 minutes. I am never quite sure why they would break into my home. It’s a nice home, but there are other homes around that probably have a lot more jewelry and the line in them. Plus this is a great neighborhood. I could yell and have 3 neighbors at my house in no time flat — some with weapons.
“What? What was that?” Oh never mind that was just the tree outside my bedroom window dancing in the wind and rain.
Jeez oh Pete. I feel like a little girl when I am in my bed at night all alone. I was at least practicing my kick boxing moves in my head while I was laying there waiting for the first bit of solid evidence to appear that would indicate that I was, indeed, getting ready to be attacked.
Mr. Hooah! I may need to get a night light. That or a baseball bat. Maybe both.
