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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Big Changes

As I finish packing up for college for what will end up being the final time, I find myself becoming really sad that this isn't the place for me. ISU, as great of a school as it is, was not the right fit for me. I loved my classes and my studies, which is why it took me two years to figure it out, but I do not feel at home there. Nothing I did at school made me feel welcome, accepted, or truly special. It was, in the end, just too big. I could not find a group and fit in. I couldn't find my niche that made everything else not matter. I did not belong. And that's not really a statement about anything I did wrong, anything wrong with the school, or anything wrong with the people. I just chose the wrong school, and didn't figure out for too long. I don't know my professors, I don't know my fellow psychology students, I don't know anyone, really. I don't feel like I can change anything. I do not feel empowered. I feel like a number. And that's not the way anyone wants to feel.

I used to look at the fact that I was going to a big school and think that there were a lot of things I would learn at ISU that I couldn't learn at a small school. Things that would help me later in life. Things like how to guide myself through everything, how to figure it out on my own, how to motivate myself, how to succeed without incentive or outside motivation. And while I think the last one is still true, I also feel like a lot of those things are not good life lessons. When I go to grad school I will not be one in 27,000. I will be one in maybe 10 that that professor is working with. I will have guidance. I will have someone I can turn to for help. And I am not prepared for that. I do not know how to ask the right questions. I do not know how to work closely with professors. I do not know how to do research. I do not know how to communicate. I know how to study and read and occasionally write. When I graduate from grad school, I will not be one in 27,000. I will be a member of a team. I will work closely with other people of equal, higher, or lesser education and experience, and I have no idea how to do any of that. I know how to read and study and write.

In all, I do not feel prepared for life outside of college, and it terrifies and saddens me. If I could go and do it all over, I would have chosen a different school. Do not get me wrong, I have had some great moments at school I have made a few very good friends and many acquaintances at school. Some of them are friends I hope to keep forever. Some of them I know I will not speak to after I walk across the stage this spring.

I am graduating a year early. I am moving on with my life outside of college, and I am going to figure out how to do all of the things I wanted to learn in college that I never did learn. I am going to hopefully pursue AmeriCorps next year, and do something empowering and world-changing. I want to make a difference, something I could never do at school. I feel small and powerless. I feel defeated. And I refuse to put myself again and again back to the same place that makes me feel this way. I keep crying as I am packing because I wasted 3 years of my life at the wrong school. Things could have been so much different, and so much better had I just made a different choice 3 years ago. It may be too late to choose a different school, but it is not too late to change the future. Things will get better and I will change the world.

College Years

Today I started packing up to move back to college. Really, this first involved unpacking everything from when I moved home in December. As I dove through boxes and papers and grades and photos and letters and tokens of moments spent at college, I couldn't help but sob. Every one of these items was a memento to a time of my life that I am not sharing with my fiance. Every one of these items represents the life I gave up with him to indulge myself in education. Every one of these objects represents the opportunity cost of college. They represent nights held in his arms, and mornings starting off with kisses. They represent coming home from work together and sharing stories of our day as we cuddle on the couch watching the news. They represent hugs, kisses, days, weeks, months, years. They represent the comforts of seeing him every day except for deployments and TDYs.

These are supposed to be the greatest years of my life, but they are the hardest. They are the lost years. They are the years I chose to indulge myself rather than nurture my relationship. They are the years I chose to be selfish. They are the years spent waiting. They are the years spent holding the phone, not holding his hand. College for me will always be a black void of time that I didn't do everything I could have for the one I love. I know it's never too late to change things, but I also know that the boy wants me so much to be in school, and really, I want to be in school too, but I can be in school at any time. He signed a contract and gave his life to the government for 6 years. He can't choose where he lives or when he's home or when he's here or there. I however can choose. And knowing that I have that choice and that I've taken the selfish path for the past 2 years is hard, and even harder when looking at all the memories from those two years. Memories that will always be mine, not ours. Memories that will always be tainted with loneliness and  longing. I am having a terrible time getting motivated to go back to school, and getting motivated to study and spend time with friends and be a college student. If I weren't headed to college, I would be headed to Germany, to welcome my boy home from his deployment. I may never know if I'm making the right choice, and I may always be burdened with "what ifs" and the knowledge of what could have been. I just hope I am strong enough to live with the consequences of the life I chose not to give us for now.

Deployment from my view

I am a member of several online support groups for significant others of military men and women. Most of these groups are general groups, but some are the ones geared toward my fiance's job. I have started gravitating more and more to those groups. I am beginning to get frustratingly upset at everyone else. They don't get it. They don't know what it's like. So here it is, what it's like to be the fiancee of an EOD tech in the military.

First off, an explanation. EOD stands for Explosive Ordinance Disposal. This means that these men and women disarm and render safe IEDs, rockets, bombs, mines, and anything else that can, has, or should have exploded. Often this job is done by robots, but it does also involve going down. Right on the ordinance, and disarming it by hand. Sometimes his job involves going out on the scene after an IED explodes and gathering evidence on it to see who made it. Sometimes it involves looking for large weapon caches. Sometimes it involves conflicts with weapons engineers. Sometimes it involves doing any or all of this while being shot at. Have you seen the Hurt Locker? Don't tell the boy I said this, but that's basically what his job is (but he hates that movie so he'll never say so). Sound like fun? No, I don't think so either. It's considered one of the most dangerous jobs in the world.

So what's it like being the one left behind? Horrible. I'm so damn proud of that boy. Most people could never even think about doing something like what he is doing. But goddamn. It is the scariest thing in the world knowing what he does everyday, and knowing what could happen. Men and women lose their sight, lose their hearing, lose their limbs, and die in this career field every week. I haven't slept without nightmares a single night during this deployment. I forget what it's like not to panic. I get a call from his mother, and I automatically assume it's the worst news. I talk to him as much as I can because I don't know if I'll get tomorrow. I cry every day. I worry more than I thought it was possible to worry. He's only deployed for 6 months, but I guarantee you he is in more danger in those 6 months than most men are who deploy for a year.

My heart bursts with pride for him. He trained for two years to get to this point. He's worked his butt off, and I know he loves his job. He saves people. He disarms these ordinances so that they don't explode, so that they don't kill people, so that others may live. He is without a doubt my biggest hero, and my biggest inspiration. I could never do what he does, and most of us couldn't. He does his job so that others can do theirs. He is a hero. He is astounding. I admire him so much. I wish I had others who understood what this felt like. It's a terrible conflict between missing him terribly and wanting him home, and just being so damn proud and knowing he is saving the world. I love him, and admire him, but damn I want him home.

America: A Reflection

I only left America for 4 months. Just four months spent in Spain, but somehow, in just 4 months, when I returned home, America shocked me.

America is intensely, and sometimes blindly, patriotic. Look down every block, you'll see a flag. If there's not one there, there will be the next block. It's intense. Flags flying every few houses, outside most government or city buildings, outside of car lots and restaurants. We fly flags around every corner. And really, what does that flag mean? What does that patriotism mean? From my perspective as an intensely liberal military fiancee, I feel like I am surrounded by definitions of patriotism that involve our military. And really, that's a huge turn off to many of us. I support our troops 100%. I do not support the war. I do not support any war. But I support the men and women in the United States Military. But the definitions of patriotism I hear most often revolve around government and military. And blindly following and supporting. That isn't patriotism. That is being a sheep.

I always find it funny when someone speaks out against the military, the responses of military significant others is always the same: "they are only able to say that because of the freedoms fought for by the military. In other countries they'd be shot." I have to wonder, how many women saying these things have really been abroad. In Spain, I heard people speaking out against their government and military actions every day. England, France, Germany. Almost every developed country has a very vocal and sometimes rather large group of people speaking out against military action. These people are not considered unpatriotic in other countries. Occasionally they are viewed as the most patriotic. They love their country enough to know that they can solve conflicts without war. Now, of course, there are many countries where speaking out against your government and military will get you killed: Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran, China, N Korea, etc. I know that it happens in a lot of under-developed nations. But, if your argument is going to be that in any other country you'd get arrested for speaking out against your military, you need to check out the rest of the world.

I hate that patriotism has become weapon. If you don't support the war, you are unpatriotic. If you speak out against government actions you are unpatriotic. I have heard people say if you do not sit on these party lines you are unpatriotic. Maybe I'm just a big hippie like everyone says I am, but patriotism to me is highly overrated. I do not need to connect myself to an arbitrary land mass. I am connected to the world, as the world is connected to me. My country represents not much more than the laws I follow and the societal norms I grew up with. I feel no strong ties to this land. I feel strong ties to people. But I am tied to all people. I find myself avoiding patriotic language, events, and symbols. Being connected to the military makes this position a hard one to hold. I am constantly being bombarded with patriotic symbolism. I find it hard to balance my ideals with my surroundings. I support the military. But I wish we didn't need it. And I sure don't think that the military has anything to do with patriotism.

I am an American. But more than that, I am a human. I am a world citizen. I am connected to the world.

Looking Up

This summer has been hard. Very hard. And those who have died are still dead, and the things that hurt still hurt, but I have finally managed to find hope again. And hope came from two little, crazy, kids, age 5 and 6.

I spent Saturday with the boy's family. His mother, stepfather, sister, brother, brother's girlfriend, brother's kids, and grandparents. Of course, it was sad that the boy couldn't be there, but he did get to Skype with us and watch his nephews open gifts. I don't think he could hear a single thing they said, as they screamed and ran around the whole time, but I know he loved seeing them.

His nephews are absolutely adorable. At one point, I was sitting in the office talking to the boy, and his older nephew (6) came in and sat on my lap to talk to the boy. The kid was squirmy and all over the place conversation wise, but seeing the boy's face when he got to talk to his nephew was absolutely priceless. His eyes just lit up, and he smiled more than I'd seen him smile in weeks. It was the happiest I'd seen him most of this deployment, and it was a wonderful thing to witness. I know the boy loves me and it makes his day every time we talk, but he and I are so lucky to be able to speak nearly every day. He hasn't spoken to his nephews in so long. And the few times he speaks to them, they're so excited and screaming and running around and he can't really get a conversation going, so to see him actually have a conversation with his nephew was precious.

His nephews and I continued to play and hang out the rest of the evening. At night, we all watched a movie, and afterwards I headed home. I hugged and kissed both boys before leaving, telling them goodbye and I would miss them. The oldest boy said "I've missed you every day!" which was adorable, especially since I only just met them at Christmas. As I left the house, the garage door into the house opened back up and both boys were running out after me screaming "I LOVE YOU AUNT ELLYN!" I swear, my heart melted. They told me they loved me, and they called me their aunt even though legally I am not a part of the family, and I swear I about died of cuteness. It was a wonderful ending to the day.

Tomorrow, I start therapy. It's a really great step forward from this slump I've been in. I need it for a lot of things I've talked about before, and a lot of things I will never put in the public's eye, but I know that this is a really good step forward for me, and I am excited to take it.

I guess, I've found hope in all this darkness. And it doesn't undo the horrors that have happened, and it doesn't take away the missing and the pain, but it's the knowledge that maybe I can get better, even if the situation doesn't.

Everything Hurts

I probably shouldn't write right now. I'm not in a good place. But I'm going to anyway. Because maybe this is what needs to happen. Maybe I need to remind myself how much it hurts sometimes, and also because I need to remind myself that it gets better, too. So I know, emotions go all sorts of ways, and I can hurt like hell, but I can also float on Cloud 9. I just happen to be at the hurting like hell stage right now.

As I stated in another post, I have had the summer from hell. Another death has been added to that tally. I am in several support groups online for girlfriends, boyfriends, fiances, and spouses of military members. Today, one of those girl's fiance was killed in action in Afghanistan. I just can't handle this anymore. No more. No more. Just come home, already. This war is stupid and unnecessary. This war needs to end. I know I do not know this girl or boy in real life. I talked to her quite a bit outside of that group, but I did not know her personally. I knew her only as the depressed, lonely, anxious fiancee of a US Army Soldier. Her fiance was supposed to be home a month ago. The Army extended his deployment for another month. He was supposed to be home within 2 weeks. He almost made it. He should have made it. He did his time, and the Army extended it. He was supposed to be home already. It wasn't supposed to happen.

Sometimes, I go on to the Department of Defense website. I read the news announcements, where they announce the deaths of service members KIA. I read those names, countless names. Names of men and women I don't know. Whose friends and family I don't know. Who, seemingly, have no impact on my life. But they do. I read these names, and I weep. They are all my heroes. I often think that the military anymore is not a big protective force of our nation. We spend far too much money inefficiently in the military. We send thousands of men and women into dangerous combat missions without the proper equipment, while others are getting issued yet another free camera. We send men and women into combat for 7 months, and then keep them there for 9. We promise them health insurance, and then make them work (not deployed) while they're throwing up from the flu. We give them shots for things no part of the world has seen in decades, but can't give them nyquil. We promise them time with their family, but only if their family meets our definition of one: man, woman, and married. The military is inefficient, and overly, ridiculously bureaucratic. I don't agree with a lot of the crap the military does. But despite all of that, I honor and respect all of the service members. Whether it was patriotism, the desperate desire to get out, or the need to feel like they are doing something worthwhile with their life that drove them to join the military, I do not care the reasoning. They are all my heroes. I may not feel like they're fighting a worthwhile war. I may not agree with the politics of the military at all. But that doesn't matter, and I think that's something a lot of people get confused about. I support and honor the troops so much, but that doesn't mean I support the war. I hate that the military has been stolen by conservatives and war hawks as a "support the war" thing. No. Support the men and women who made the choice to serve the country. Support their families who wait and worry and pray for them. Support those who will never feel the touch of their loved one again. Support the members, even if you don't support the organization, and realize the difference.

The Military Rant

Talk to any military wife, girlfriend, or fiance, and they will all tell you about their "I hate the military" days. We all have them. We all wish our significant others could be closer, safer, in our arms. We all miss them, and worry about them, and everything else expected. However, for me at least, there is more to these "I hate the military" days than just that.

Preface: This does not mean I actually hate the military. I love, support, and honor our service men and women with all my heart. They are all my heroes, and all some of the strongest men and women in the world. We all owe them a lot, and I admire them so very much.

I was speaking to the boy today, and we were talking about his friend's death. I kept insisting that I not cry, and be strong, and deal with it in the same way he has to deal with it: by pretending it doesn't exist and not crying. He finally said that he needed me to be weak because he does not have that option. He has to be strong. If he is weak, then the person next to him is weak, and the person next to them is weak, and that kind of weakness leads to deaths. He said that they make that sacrifice to save lives. He then went on to say that I need to exercise my right to feel. And I need to mourn his friend's death, because he cannot. One of us has to feel, and by me mourning, it is doing justice to the death.

And that is when it struck me. All that is wrong with the military. All that is wrong with this world. To them, crying is weak. To them, loving and mourning are weak. This is wrong. If anyone ever tries to tell you this, I assure you that they are wrong. Love is the strongest thing in the world, and someone who has the ability to love and mourn and miss and cry are the strongest people in the world. Those who have lost the ability to love and mourn and feel are the weak ones. Love is the strongest thing in the world. If you mourn for someone, it means you loved them. If you miss someone, it means you loved them. If you can no longer do those things, you are weak. And that is the military's biggest downfall. They do not understand strength. I do. I mourn, and worry, and cry, and feel. I know that all these things hurt me, but they are my biggest strength. I can feel, and love, despite all the horrors in the world. I can love. And that is my strength. Love conquers all.

The saddest summer

So I have been home for about 2-3 weeks now. I know, still, I have neglected about the last month of travel updates in this blog, and well, I don't know when they'll come. There are so many more pressing issues. Like life. And I need to discuss those more than my travels. This is much more than a travel blog. If you were here to read my wonderful European adventures, you might want to stop reading now. I don't know where this will go from here, but I don't know if it will go back to Europe.

The day that I got back to the States, tragedy struck at home. A death occurred in a friend's family, and it was incredibly sad. I was stuck in airports all through the night, and didn't find out until the boy called me around midnight to tell me (I was supposed to find out way earlier, but I suck and didn't call someone back way earlier) so I couldn't call my friend to say anything at that point. I didn't know what to do. I was lost, and broken hearted for her. I tried to call her several times throughout the next few days, and eventually got to see her, and then there was the visitation and the funeral, and it was hard and it was sad, and I just wanted to do more, but I guess sometimes you just can't.

For the next week my life was dealing with what happened, trying to be there for my friends, and trying to find a job, all while adjusting to America again, and trying to catch up with friends.

Then, about a week ago, tragedy struck again. One of the boy's great friends was killed in action in Afghanistan. I had met him once, and he was truly a great guy, and it hit me really hard when he died. Since then I have had to strike this balance between dealing with it myself and keeping myself strong through the rest of this deployment, and having to be the rock for the boy. I have to keep him strong and positive and I can't let him dwell on it too much, because it's dangerous. I went to the funeral on Saturday, and aside from letting my fiance go off to war, I think it was the single hardest thing I've ever done. They spoke about his military service and that he does his job so that others can do theirs, and I lost it, because the boy says the same thing. At the cemetery the other men from his field put their badges on the casket and I lost it. I turned around, sobbing, unable to watch. The boy's family was their too. His mom tried to tell me that the boy will be home soon, and he's safe, and I guess it wasn't really the point. Because my boy may come home again soon, but this boy won't. His wife welcomed him home in a casket, not with a warm embrace. And it just broke my heart to see, first hand, the tragedies of war. I have lived a lot of hardships because of the war, but this was the first KIA funeral I had attended, and it broke me. I hope no one ever has to experience another KIA funeral. I just want this all over, and I want all of them home safe, and I don't ever want to watch someone else die too young because of war.

So now I'm here, weak and broken, and trying to keep it all together for just 3 more months until the boy is safe at home. I don't know how to do a second deployment. I don't know how to watch other friends or acquaintances die at the hands of war. I don't know how to watch other friends deal with tragedy. I don't know how to hold myself together right now. I'm trying my best, but I might be tried more now than ever before.