Friday, August 30, 2013

Taking Stock

Every now and then I step back for a moment and realize just how far I've come. I am really quite proud of myself for where I am in life right now, and I guarantee that is not something I'd have said two years ago.

Today I am over a year through a Masters program, and I will graduate in May. This means that in a five year span I'd have graduated highschool, college, and graduate school. That's a pretty impressive task, if I do say so myself. Especially for all that happened along the way.

My freshman year started and my boy was sent to Germany. He remained stationed there for over two years, and deployed out of there in the winter of my sophomore year. My freshman year was typical of a very depressed, lonely girl. I drank too much, made bad decisions that ultimately came to pass and everything is okay. I didn't realize at the time that I was forming friendships, because at the time it just felt lonely and sad and scary. I was kind of a mess.

Then sophomore year came. I was rooming with a friend from band. That was great. I had officially been with my boy for 2 years and seen him all of 88 days (yes, I counted). We got engaged just before he deployed to Afghanistan. Shortly after our engagement, I began my study abroad adventures in Spain (see: beginning of this blog). In the two weeks between getting engaged and studying abroad, I was raped. I did nothing. I did not press charges, I did not go to the authorities. I left the country and tried as hard as possible to forget. I couldn't. I didn't. The damage was done and was real.

When I returned from Spain I immediately decided to graduate the following May, meaning I would earn my bachelor's in three years. I played this off to everyone who asked about it as though I only wanted to be with my boy. But honestly, that was not part of the discussion. The discussion was that I did not feel safe, that I did not feel home, and that I did not feel okay being at that university longer. I don't know why I didn't transfer. Honestly, I never even thought about that. I talked to my boy and a few friends and everyone was supportive and loving. I did not tell my family until just months before my graduation. I don't know why, but I didn't. When I did, they responded with more love and support than I could ever imagine. Everyone has. I have since opened up a lot more. I am not ashamed about what happened to me. I am proud of how far I have come. I am strong, and I have been lucky enough to be surrounded by friends and family who have helped me see that every step of the way.

I got through my final year, was accepted into my Masters program, and moved to South Dakota. I started my masters degree almost right away, and my VISTA year three months later. Today, I have graduated college Cum Laude, I have completed 4 semesters of a Masters program with a 4.0, and have begun my counseling internship. I am in the midsts of writing my thesis. I am very proud of the work I've done and how far I have come. I have made amazing friends along the way, and I couldn't ask for a better support system. Life, it seems, is looking up. It always does eventually.

Thursday, May 2, 2013

Goodbyes

Is there anything harder than a goodbye?

This weekend is the National EOD Memorial service and ball. Held annually to honor the EOD techs who have been killed in action in the year previous. This year, 15 new names will be added to the wall. This year, I am not attending because my boy is about to deploy again.



And I have to say goodbye.

I am not only saying goodbye to my boy as he deploys, but also goodbye to those heroes, some of whom I have met, many of whom I have not. Whether I know them or not, or know their families, or know their stories, they are all my brothers. I am eternally proud of these men and women. EOD techs, more than nearly any other job, is a job of heroes. They do what they do for one reason: So that others may live.

But sometimes, this means these men and women can't.

The statistics are staggering. The odds are forever against them. The most dangerous job in the US Military. The most dangerous job in the US. The most dangerous job in the world. (Unless you're my boy, who says being a terrorist is way more dangerous!)

I am trying to be strong, but the odds are against us. As always. I don't think his leaving so close to the memorial is helping me at all. A time when we look back on the last year and pay tribute and honor to all the men and women who gave all doing this job. And remember all those who died in years previous. And remember the families who are left behind. The families who must move forward with a hole in their hearts and a lump in their throats. Forever.

I never want to know that feeling. And I am so scared that I will have to. I am so scared. But I am trying not to worry, because worrying about him dying will not make it any easier if he does. Worrying will only make it harder and slower and scarier. So I'm trying hard to honor and remember without putting myself in those shoes.

But how do you do that? When those who were killed were killed doing exactly what my boy does. Exactly where he is. In the exact same war. How do I honor and remember without the worry and fear?

I am trying to figure that out.

But for the fifteen men being added to the wall. May Angels Lead You In.


We will never forget you.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Deployment, Round Two


A few months ago we got notice of an upcoming deployment for the boy. This time around is non-combat, and he will not be in a war zone. I find myself not knowing how to react to it. It just feels like it always did before, when he was stationed in Germany and I was at school in Iowa. He leaves for several months on end, and then he comes home. Nothing more than that. It is weird to go back to feeling like the days of Germany. It kind of makes me feel 19 again. But more than traveling back in time, I feel like I am wearing other people's shoes. Is this what most military wives feel like? All those jobs that aren't dangerous. All those vital, necessary components of the military that never involve leaving the wire. Is this how they feel when they hear their loved one is deploying? Sad that they'll be gone, but not much more than that?

If this is what that feels like, I could handle this life if it weren't EOD. Especially in the Air Force. 90% of airmen do not leave base when they deploy. If this is what that would feel like, I could really get into the excitement of the military life. I could really do this moving all over the world, being seperated for 4-6 months ever 2 years or so. Yeah, I could handle that. It could be exciting. It could be fun. It could be an adventure.



EOD isn't normally like this. When you hear about an EOD deployment, your heart breaks. You know that they have a higher chance of anyone else in the military of not coming back home. You know they are doing the most dangerous job in the world. You know they can die doing it. You know the odds are against them. In the Air Force, EOD techs account for less than 0.5% of all enlisted personelle and account for nearly 30% of all combat-related deaths. These are the thoughts that keep you up every night of the deployment, wondering if you'll hear his voice tomorrow. These are the statistics that run through your head everytime someone knocks on the door. It doesn't get easier. It doesn't get safer. In fact, it only gets more dangerous the longer the wars go on.

And that, that feeling of a combat EOD deployment, that is why I cannot be an EOD wife. I cannot do this life. I cannot live day in and day out not knowing if he'll come home whole. It's not knowing, if he does come home, who he will be after the dangers and realities and brutalities of war take their toll. It is the ceaseless fear and worry day in and day out. This is why, although he is deploying again, I am relieved. Because he's not going back to Afghanistan. Because he will be coming home. Because he is going to be safe. Because when he comes home, he will still be my boy.