Saturday, December 8, 2012

Adulthood

I really hate South Dakota.

I really hate being an adult.

Prior to moving out here I really thought it didn't matter where I lived as long as I was with my boy. That is not the case. He is wonderful. He is amazing. Living with him is amazing. But I miss having friends. I'm becoming close to one of my co-workers, but she is moving back to her hometown in April because she hates it here, too. And my boy is deploying again soon after. So I approach a spring of goodbyes. I don't know what is going to happen to me after she moves and he deploys. What do I do without friends? Who can I call to come over and distract me on the bad days? Who will hold me when I worry, and make me laugh when I feel lonely? Who can I share a summer with?

The biggest problem is I don't know how to meet people outside of school. Of course I've met the shop wives, and most of them are very nice, but they have kids. I am younger than most of them, and childless. Once you have kids, the priorities switch drastically, and hanging out with casual friends isn't as big of a priority anymore. Most people my age in Rapid City have children already, and think that I am crazy for not having them yet. I have been asked if something is wrong with me because I don't have kids. At 21 years old. In addition, most people here are very conservative and have strongly different world views and values from my own. This makes it very hard to make friends. I just don't know how to meet people. And once I meet people I don't know how to make them into a friend. Being an adult is hard work. But it isn't hard work for the reasons people warn you about. Job searching, working, being responsible, paying bills. That's pretty cut-and-dry. You learn how to do those things. You are taught how to do them. They happen on a schedule and are regular and predictable. That's pretty easy. Scary to say the least, but simple. Making friends is not simple. Meeting people is not simple. Meeting like-minded people in a different-minded place is very hard. And very scary.

I am in school still, getting my masters degree, but we attend classes and then go home. Most of my classmates are significantly older than me, and those near my age all have children, presenting the same-old problem as always. I want young, free, independent friends. I want friends who I can call up and see on the spur of the moment. I want my old friends back. But I made a choice, and I moved, and now I feel very alone.

Like a round peg trying to fit in a square hole.


Saturday, September 29, 2012

Lessons from The Avengers

Last night the boy and I watched The Avengers. During one scene, Iron Man flies through a space warp or something, I don't even know, with a missile to prevent the missile from blowing up in New York City and killing everyone. Iron Man tried to call his fiancee, but could not reach her. While watching this scene, the boy says "look at how much of a hero he is, willing to die to save the entire city." I say "look at how he is willing to ruin his fiancee's life."

I guess that makes me super selfish, but it's true. That's how I feel. Men and women go to war, most of them going into a war they don't agree with or don't think we should still be in, and leave their families behind. To me, that says, I am willing to die for something I don't agree with and ruin your lives forever. I honestly don't know if I could ever forgive the boy if something happened to him. That sounds so awful, but I'm not here to make you like me. I'm here to be honest. I would be so mad at him if he died for a war he doesn't think we should be fighting anymore. It's basically saying this ridiculous war is more important than my happiness.

And worse than that, so much worse, are the men and women who risk their lives for a cause they don't agree with and leave their children behind. How can you do that to a child? How can you leave for months and months on end, missing your child's birth, your child's first steps, your child's first words, first day of school, birthdays, Christmases, school plays, sporting events? How do you leave your child to go fight a war you don't agree with? I just truly don't understand. And if something happened to you, how do you think that child would feel? I know as a child I would have felt like my parents thought the war was more important that my happiness. And, quite frankly, if anything is more important to you than your child's happiness and well-being, I just don't think you should be having children. If you are more willing to die for a cause you don't agree with than leave your career and raise a family, your priorities are messed up.

I know the entirety of this post I have implied that these men and women don't agree with the wars they are fighting. In my experience with military members, this is almost always true. Most of these people, by this point in the game, do not think we should still be in Afghanistan. They think it's a lost cause, or a wasted effort, and we should not be there anymore. But still, they go back when they are sent. And they leave everyone who loves them behind. I just don't understand. And maybe that makes me selfish, but so be it. I am selfish, and I don't understand.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

Balance

Before moving to South Dakota I was sad, it was no secret. I was depressed and anxious and sad. And when asked what would make me less sad, I always knew the answer. I always knew, without hesitation, that being with my boy is all I needed to be happy. All I needed. I was wrong.

I've lived here for nearly two months now, and I am still sad. I am still anxious. I am still lonely. Because I'm still missing something. Except this time I'm missing friends. Back in Iowa I had friends, not many, but I did. They were few and they were close. We didn't hang out every day, or every week, or hell with the exception of my roommate every month. We just knew that we had the other's back when things got tough. We knew we were a phone call and a short walk or a few hour drive away. Here, I have my boy. And that comfort is irreplaceable. I go to bed each night in his arms and know he is safe and know he is here and I have my best friend and my soulmate by my side each night. It's truly just great. But what I don't have is, well, anyone else. Everyone else I love and care about in my life is a 9 hour drive away. I honestly thought when I moved out here that a Skype date here and there, a phone call, a text message, would keep things the same with my friends since we never did hang out much when I was around. But no. It isn't the same. Not at all. Nothing replaces knowing that a girlfriend is a few blocks away. Nothing replaces going over to your best friend's house, watching Disney movies and eating buckets of ice cream while you cry your eyes out about all the stresses and worries of life. A night that ends up the two of you cuddling each other's shaking bodies to sleep. Not having that is hard. Knowing it is so far apart is harder.

This is what military life is. It is choosing to be with your love the precious little time you have between deployments and TDYs and VIPs and trainings, or choosing to be with your family and your friends. It's never ever both. It's always a choice. It's always throwing your life out of balance. It's always ripping you away from something you love and something you need. It is always leaving you half empty, with a hole in your heart and a lump in your throat. It is always hard, no matter what choice you make. No matter where you go. There will never be balance. There will never be harmony. That is what military life is: Out of balance.

Thursday, June 14, 2012

Human Rights

This post is a change of pace. This post is about love, and the importance of recognizing all forms of love. I recently moved from Iowa to South Dakota to be with my boy as he is stationed out here. This transition has been very difficult for me in general, but particularly for me as a bisexual female. In Iowa, all LGBT individuals are protected in housing, employment, bullying laws, and hospital visits. We are also one of the few states that have legalized gay marriage. Iowa is truly a state that protects all citizens, regardless of color, religion, sexual orientation, or gender identity. I felt so protected in Iowa that I almost didn't even think of my sexual orientation on a daily basis. I didn't think about how it affected my life, or how it affected how other's viewed me, because I am so comfortable with myself, and so comfortable with the law I had at my back. Then I moved to South Dakota. Here, I could be denied housing if I was living with a same-sex partner instead of an opposite sex one. I could be denied a job or fired from a job if my employers found out my sexual orientation. Same sex partners do not have hospital visitation rights. Same sex partners cannot adopt children. Same sex partners cannot marry, nor are they even given the option of domestic partnership or civil union. Now, my sexual orientation is very obvious to me. I have to hide it. I have to keep my mouth closed. I could be in danger, and completely under protection of the law, if I am honest and open about who I am. I feel like I am less than everyone around me, and I feel like it is painfully obvious. 

Last weekend I went to Pride here in Rapid City. The event was small. There were 5 booths set up, and a few people playing songs throughout the day. It all took place in a small park, less than one square-block, and fewer than 300 people showed up throughout the day. It was sad and small. Afterwards, I decided I had to make a change. Monday, I start volunteering at Black Hills Center for Equality. My goal is to raise awareness about the necessity for legal change, and if that is not possible to at least create a more powerful, united community so that no one feels alone, even if everywhere else in the community they feel attacked.

It has never been more apparent to me how necessary legal protection is than when I was suddenly denied them. Only now do I really realize, first hand, how important that legal protection is. How much harm it does when it is not present, and how degrading it is to be treated, in every aspect, like a second-class citizen. I deserve the same rights as every straight person in our society. I deserve to hold a job if I am qualified, regardless of my sexual orientation. I deserve housing regardless of who I am living with. I deserve to visit a loved one in the hospital even if my loved one is a same-sex partner. All children deserve to be protected from bullying in school regardless of sexual or gender identity. All people deserve to be protected from hate crimes regardless of their sexual or gender identity. It should not be political. It should not be religious. It should be obvious. Human rights are for all people, of all color, of all walks of life, of all socioeconomic statuses, of all genders, of all sexualities. Human rights are for all of us.

Thursday, June 7, 2012

EOD Memorial

Almost exactly a month ago my fiance and I made the emotional decision to go down to Eglin Air Force Base in Florida to attend the annual EOD memorial. 287 names of fallen EOD brethren are listed on the memorial. These names represent those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in times of war since EOD was officially formed in 1942. Of those 287 names, 128 have been added since September 11, 2001.  This year 18 names were added, more than any other single year since the memorial's construction: 5 soldiers, 5 marines, 3 sailors, and 5 airmen. One of those names was my boy's best friend, Joseph Hamski, KIA May 26, 2011. At the memorial the Air Force chief of staff acted as keynote speaker, speaking of the continued importance of EOD technicians even as the US withdraws troops, as IEDs and roadside bombs continue to be the number one killer of US troops in Afghanistan. One thing was said during the speech that has truly stuck with me, and I feel truly exemplifies the EOD techs of the US military: "The brains of an engineer, the hands of a surgeon, and the courage of a martyr. These are our EOD techs." I could not have said it better, and I could not be more proud.


The memorial was a very emotional experience, and I cried through most of the ceremony. After the ceremony we went up to the wall and honored the names of our fallen brothers. We also spoke to some of the widows and family members of the deceased, especially Joseph Hamski's wife. Nearly a year after her husband's death she was able to have a smile on her face through the tears falling and she was truly appreciative of the support and love surrounding her. She is beautiful and strong, and I truly admire her perseverance in the face of unimaginable pain and loss. This marked only the third time I met her, but I feel so connected to her, as if I have to do everything I can to take care of her. I only hope if something happened to my boy I would be shown the same care. I just wanted to hold her and make all the pain go away. Of course, that is simply not possible, but that's what I wanted to do.


After the memorial, later that evening, there was a ball. Here a memorial video was shown of all 18 service members honored at the ceremony, and I just bawled through the whole thing. It was so touching, and so sad. It is unbelievably tragic, but only a month after the ceremony, we already have 5 more names to be added to the wall at the 2013 ceremony. I can't wait for the year we never have to add another name to this beautiful and tragic memorial.
I walked away from the weekend filled with sorrow, fear, respect, and pride. I couldn't be more proud of my boy for doing the most dangerous job in the world. I couldn't have more respect for every man and woman who does this job with bravery and selfishness unmatched by anything I have ever seen. I have so much sorrow for the widows, the children, the parents, the siblings, and the friends who have lost a loved one in this field and in these wars. I will remember, always, those who gave all in the name of freedom. May they rest in peace and bring comfort to their families as they try to carry on a life with a hole in their hearts.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Grievances

Historically change occurs following a public statement of grievances. The founding fathers of the United States did it in the Declaration of Independence. Martin Luther did it in a note stapled to a church door. And I am doing it here. In a blog. That 8 people read. I obviously don't expect the world to change because of this. But this is my list of grievances to the military.

1. I exist. No, I have not married my partner. No we are not legally recognized. But yes I exist. I have been with him through all but 5 months of his military service, through tech school, through an overseas station, through a deployment. I have done it all. So recognize me. Give me access to family resources. Give me access to  assistance. Give me help. Because if I weren't here, he wouldn't be the service member he is.

2. He does not own me. If I say something wrong, assuming it does not violate OPSEC (Operation Security, which basically is a set of rules saying that while they are deployed one should never say exact dates or exact locations) or the Next of Kin notification in the case of injury or death, you just have to deal with it. I did not sign your contract. I did not give you my life. I can bitch and moan and complain about you all I want. Deal. It's not treason, and it's not dangerous information, so leave me alone. Furthermore, if I say something that you deem inappropriate, it sure as hell is not my boy's fault! He does not own what I say. He does not control me or my words. I have heard of hundreds of spouses getting in trouble or getting their service member in trouble for complaints about missing their service member (Not OPSEC or NOK violations). The military punishes the service member because in their minds, the dependents are the responsibility of the service member. I have my own voice. I am not his. He does not have a say in what I say. Deal with it.

3. If you are going to recognize me when I do something wrong you have to recognize me when I do something right.

4. Sexual assault happens in the military, and you need to address that! You can't diagnose victims with a personality disorder, discharge them, and never have to deal with it again. That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard. You don't solve the thousands of problems with your system by dismissing them and pretending it never happened.

5. Mental health is of utmost importance. You talk a lot about the importance of it, and do little to advocate for it. You fire civilian counselors and mock service members who seek help. You know what happens when mental illness isn't addressed? People beat and kill their families. People lose it and kill 16 Afghan civilians. Do you think it is a problem yet? Then don't mock those who seek help.

6. Do you know how much it kills the service member and their families when you send them on deployments with only a week or two notice? Don't do that shit. This war thing isn't new. Get it together. Plan. Organize. And give us warning.

7. Fix the Next of Kin notification. Punish those who disobey it. Punish them hard! Put all service members in the know of the incident on communication blackout and enforce it like your life depends on it, because I swear to you if anything ever happened to my man and I did not find out by that dark sedan pulling up to my house, your life would depend on it.

8. Fix everything. There isn't an aspect of the military that isn't, in some capacity, broken or breaking. Fix it. Don't just let it be because it's how it's always been. Don't just let it be because it is hard to try to change it. Don't just let it be because of the consequences of speaking out. Fix it because lives depend on it. It is your responsibility to bring these men and women home, and if things within the system are putting men and women at greater danger than they need to be, you have a responsibility to do absolutely everything in your power to change it.

I promise there are a million more, but in the interest of not going too crazy, nor driving one of the 8 people who read this too crazy, I will stop now.

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Holidays = Lonely Days

It is no secret or surprise that the worst times to be apart from you significant other is on the holidays. This is hitting me really hard right now. In the 3 years and 3 months that the boy and I have been together, we have missed all four Valentines Days and all four of my birthdays. We have missed three of the four of his birthdays. We did not spend Thanksgiving together until 2011, we did not spend our anniversary together until our 3rd anniversary this year. We have been lucky with Christmas, spending two of the three together, and for that I am very grateful. It is just tough on big days to spend it alone and scared.

It becomes more tough when I have to hear people tell me that they understand when they very obviously do not. Believe me, I have sympathy for your long-distance relationship. I know how much it sucks to be apart on important days, or even on insignificant days where you're just lonely. I have sympathy. But do not tell me you understand unless you live in constant fear that the next day he may be shipped off to war, to miss the next 7+ months of holidays. Do not tell me that you understand when you know exactly when you will see him again. Do not tell me you understand when he is safe and sound at his home, with no more threat to his tomorrow than you and I have. Because a civilian long distance relationship is just not the same as a military one.

I had an interesting conversation with the girlfriend of an Army Reserves soldier the other day. I told her that it sucked that he is missing her prom, but at least he was home quite a bit. She got super defensive. I did not mean it as an argument. It was a fact. And she rattled off a bunch of time periods in the next year that he will be gone and home and then a deployment. Now, when he is deployed, it is NO different than when an active duty service member is deployed. It will suck. It will be scary and lonely and hard. No difference. Between branches, Active, Reserves, or Guard, it will be equally challenging for the ones waiting at home (although I do think job plays a huge role in the way the ones waiting at home cope). However, in this list trying to tell me that her man is gone just as much as mine is she stated that he would be home for three months. Three months! Do you know the last time my boy was home for three months? Four years ago. Before he joined the military. Do you know where her boyfriend goes after a month-long training in Germany? Back to the same town she lives in. Do you know where my boy goes after a month-long training? To a base nine hours away. He used to go back to his base in Germany! Aside from deployments, the longest she ever has to go without seeing him is one month. Aside from deployments, the longest I have been without seeing my boy is seven months. Longer than the average length of deployment in the Air Force.

In this conversation she talked about how he would miss her prom and her graduation and he would be gone for the Fourth of July. Again. I have sympathy, believe me I do, but refer to my previous list. Add to that my high school prom, my high school graduation, every event I have ever participated in that people might come to support me in, band banquets, honor society initiations, and my college graduation. You know what noteworthy event that I have been apart of that my boy has been here for? None.

The message is this: Don't tell someone you understand when you don't. You may be trying to help, but it doesn't help. It is hurtful. It is hurtful to tell someone that you understand what they go through when you have no idea. It minimizes their experience. This blog was long and angry, and for that I apologize, but take this message to every aspect of your life. If you don't understand, have sympathy and empathize with the person, be there and listen and support, but do not tell someone that you understand if you don't.

Friday, January 27, 2012

Nothing Will Ever be the Same Again

It has been nearly 5 months since my boy has returned from his deployment. The time he spent away, the months leading up to it, and even the months since, have changed me in ways I never anticipated. Everyone talks about how deployment and time in war changes the service member. At the extreme end of things there is PTSD, but even if they are not plagued by PTSD, almost all of them are changed in some ways. Usually they have shorter tempers, they are more diligent and observant, they are easy to anger, easy to frighten, withdrawn, suffer from nightmares, feel distant, feel isolated, etc. etc. The list is exhaustive. Everyone talks about these things. They are unfortunate realities of war. But what no one talks about is the lasting effects for those left behind. Everyone knows the family suffers while their loved one is deployed, but no one talks about it lasting past their return. For me, this was not the case. The boy's deployment has changed me in a lot of ways. Many of them for the worst.

Even though the boy is not deployable for a few more months, I find myself constantly anxious about a potential re-deployment. We have no knowledge of another deployment planned. There is no reason he should go again in the next year. But still, every day, I am terrified they are going to send him back. I know they can send him back with only a few days warning. I know it is incredibly unlikely, but it can happen. I find myself worrying about it constantly.

Even though the boy has been back for months, I find myself worrying about him and being scared exactly the same way I was when he was deployed. While I know he is not deployed, I know he is at his base safe and sound, I worry that I will never fully believe that he is safe again. Even when I am with him, holding him in my arms, I feel like he is in danger. I feel like he may be shot at or blown up any minute. I find myself constantly anxious and scared and worried. Always. It is exhausting.

Even though I know the news will not bear my boys name I have to change the channel at the first mention or image of war. Even history documentaries about war. I can't handle them. On campus there is a war memorial in our student union. My boy's best friend is named on that memorial, as he attended this university before joining the military. Before being killed in action in Afghanistan. Even before the addition of his name to the wall, but even more so since then, I cannot walk through that entrance without tearing up. It is too real. Too scary. I never want my boy's name added to that wall. I never want his name added to any wall. He does not belong on a memorial. None of them do. None of them should have died. Ever.

I can't see someone in uniform without being convinced that they are going to deploy. That their loved ones are going to cry every night. That they might be injured. That they might be killed. That if they return, they will never be the same again. That their families' lives will never be the same again. That nothing will ever be the same again. That nothing will ever be beautiful or happy or shiny again. I can't see an American flag without picturing it folded into a triangle, being handed to a spouse, or a parent, or a child. I can't get these images from haunting me. Constantly. I know I need to not think about them, and I've done a lot of things to try to get these images out of my mind, but when I wake up again, when I come home again, when I lie in an empty bed again, when I come back to life, as I inevitably must, the images come flooding back in. Even five months later, these thoughts have not stopped. They have not slowed down. They do not stop when I hold him in my arms. Will they ever stop? I only hope. I am tired of crying.

Saturday, January 7, 2012

A Year in Review

I can easily say 2011 was the worst year of my life. I know I had some amazing opportunities in studying abroad and seeing the world, but I also had some of the darkest times of my life. I started off the year by sending my fiance to Afghanistan to do the most dangerous job in the world. Over a quarter of Air Force war casualties do my boy's job. Keep in mind only about 1000 people in the Air Force do it at all. They are a small, tight-knit community of heroes. I dealt with it okay for the first half of the deployment while I was abroad. Then I came home, and everything fell apart. The same day I got back to the States my friend's brother committed suicide. I was stuck in an airport and couldn't be there for her. I got home, there was a funeral, there were tears, and there were times trying to cope. It was hard. It was tragic. Only a few days after his funeral, my boy's best friend was killed in Afghanistan. It was tragic and sad and scary. It made me realize exactly what we were facing. Exactly what could happen. It was hard. I attended his funeral about a week later. It was the first military service I had attended since my grandpa died when I was 10. It was beautiful and tragic and heartbreaking. The worst moment was when his wife broke into tears and had to run out of the reception sobbing. It was so unbelievably sad and my heart broke for her. I was heartbroken and scared and weak. I tried to be there for my boy, but he buried it. He was okay for the remainder of the deployment. I went home for the summer, worked part time, and thought too much. I tried hard to stay strong for the last half of deployment. When the boy finally got back to his base in Germany I let myself feel everything I hadn't felt during his deployment. I fell apart. I had nightmares every night. I cried. I was scared. I finally processed what we had just been through. My boy started processing his friend's death and he fell apart. We were both weak and scared and apart. I could not go see my boy when he got back from Afghanistan because I was starting my third and final year of college. It was very hard for both of us and all we wanted to do was be together, but it wasn't possible.

During my time abroad I remembered a tragedy that had happened to me my first year of college. I had disassociated in the moment, and had buried it until I was in a better place to deal with it. Apparently my mind thought my supposedly stress-free semester abroad was that time. I remembered this terrible thing that happened to me and became scared, stressed, lonely, and weak. It was hard. As soon as I got back to the States I started going to therapy to deal with everything. I decided that I could not continue at school for two more years and decided to switch my academic plan to just a major and a minor, as opposed to the double major I was originally planning. This switch made it possible for me to graduate in three years. I started my final year at school and my boy left Afghanistan. He was finally able to come home in October, making it a total ten months apart. We spent a month together, and took a vacation to Florida over Thanksgiving. It was great. But of course it ended and he had to move to his next base. He found us an apartment and I went out there after Christmas. It was wonderful. It was home. For the first time in nearly a year I felt like I belonged somewhere. I felt safe. I felt at home. It was perfect. But then I had to leave. Yesterday I came back to school for my final semester. It is awful here. It is lonely here. And scary. I can only hope that the next four months fly. I want to be back at home with my boy. I want to be safe again.

There have been so many tragedies, fears, and traumas during 2011. I only hope that 2012 brings better things. Right now the only good thing I can say about 2011 is that I survived it. But at least I can say that.