The last 7 weeks have been arguably the worst of my life.

I commented on Facebook on Saturday morning that the year April 2010 through March 2011 was easy compared to the last 7 weeks and my BFF pointed out that it was the most personally revealing statement I have ever made on Facebook. He may be right. I make it a point to keep my personal life exactly that … personal. This is something I’ve always tried to do – with varying degrees of success. However, the trials of the last 7 weeks makes me feel like I need to express it out loud and in public that I’ve been through the figurative wars and I survived and can smile again in spite of it all.

The year while hubby was in Afghanistan was easy because all I had to worry about for the entire year was keeping myself occupied. I got myself involved in a ton of interests that kept my days and nights full for a whole year with little or no focus on the self. I worried about the basic stuff I might have worried about were I still single and living on my own. The difference this time around was that there was PLENTY to worry about and occupational diversion was not an option. Coupled with the fact the hubby was on the same continent, but still too far away, and so soon after being gone a world away for a year, it was an unholy mess.

Hubby left for training in Missouri on January 1st. Immediately thereafter I discovered something that had me anxious for exactly 5 weeks until that “something” was no more. And to be even more cryptic, that “something” was no more in the most dramatic of ways which included 2 emergency room visits and a 2-night stay in the hospital.

I have never had occasion to stay in a hospital, but I have to say that St. Peter’s in Olympia, WA is possibly the nearest thing to the perfect hospital experience I could imagine. For the most part, the nurses and doctors were empathetic and thorough; there were a few hours when I felt positively burdensome, but not for long. The food was possibly better than anything I’ve ever made for myself at home. And the room was quiet, adequate, and comfortable. I was impressed. I’ll always choose to go back there, if I can. Madigan Army Medical Center did not inspire any feelings of fondness in my mind at all; even if all I saw was the emergency room while it is under construction.

Anyway, to make a bad situation worse, on January 18th, the Pugent Sound area experienced one its worst winter storms ever. The damage is staggering. One of the things I love about this area is how they have managed to maintain the feel of the forest no matter where you go in the urban and sub-urban areas. Where we live felt like a single spot in the middle of nowhere when we moved here. It was difficult to even see our neighbours from the windows of our house. Now, I can see all the houses in the immediate vicinity. That is how badly the wooded areas have been denuded.

We lost power on Thursday the 19th in the afternoon. It wasn’t restored until the following week Wednesday. Luckily, I had friends who stole me away to stay with them whilst the power was restored, but the stress of the storm (being as close to nature as I feel at times) and not being home was palpable. Add to that the health issues and I have been a total mess for weeks.

Hubby returned last Friday night and in just 2 days he has managed to restore my spirit just by being here. I am both loathe and amazed to be able to admit that one person can have such a marked impact on my temperament and mood. Had you told me 10 years ago that I would be this dependent on another soul, I would have laughed you to scorn and maybe told you a few choice and unkind words to go along with it. That he is as dependent on me is heartening; I feel less pathetic than I would if he wasn’t. We make a good pair.

Sometimes, I really hate the army and what it continually does to families. This whole fiasco seemed ill-timed and ill-advised, even to my untrained eye. And while the shit was hitting the fan, I know I could have asked for hubby to be returned home to help me through it. What stopped me was knowing that the way the army works, if he were to stop in the middle of the course, he would have to start all over again with another 7 weeks at some later date. It seemed better for the big picture for him to just finish his course and come home at the end of it. I had all the practical resources necessary to care for my health, if not the emotional support I needed. I am willing to bet that were it any civilian employer, it would have been a no-brainer to bring him home without even having to ask. But … this is the life we live, and I walked into it with my eyes wide open. There are people who have had to endure far worse and I guess I have to be thankful that we are as strong as we are – because without that strength, this ordeal could have been our undoing.

Not many other military families have that strength, however. And I wonder if the powers that be will ever realize that morale is far more important than any other skill a soldier can be taught. The mission may be paramount, but the mission is moot unless you have soldiers to man it. And a soldier is only half of what he can be if his mind is at home with his family.

Find the balance. Please. Stop telling the spouses to let them go and find a way to make letting go easier.

Impossible you say?

To that I say: Nothing is impossible if you really give it some thought.

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There was once a time when I truly loved to blog. I filled paragraph after paragraph with drivel or opinion or rants. It was all truly personal and extremely subjective … and sometimes downright hateful.

Apparently, I have either lost that ability – or motivation – or I don’t remember how to.

In those days, I was not known – I was invisible, simply another voice in a sometimes discontent sea of voices. It didn’t matter what I had to say because no one could take personal offense to what I was saying. I could rant and rave in relative anonymity and not think for a second that I was going to be causing harm to others.

Things have changed and just by virtue of who I have become – per se – I am no longer anonymous and what I say DOES matter and WILL offend.

I still have my opinions, most of which are now so inflammatory that I am sometimes afraid to even THINK them much less write about them in a public forum like this blog is. Lately, I have realized that the inflammatory nature of these thoughts and opinions is not only not improving, it is getting worse. And I am moving further away from a time when I could speak freely and anonymously.

I sit and watch people express themselves on Twitter, on Facebook … even on Google+ and I realize that were I to open my mouth about any of the subjects that are now on constant debate I am either so far out of the loop as to cause the wrath of the ages to be called down on me for my ineptitude to research … or I am so far beyond the “norm” that I get the wrath of ages called down on me for my opinion and insight.

Hell, I find even when I state my mind in simple, non-judgmental terms without even attempting to incite debate and drama, I get it anyway.

Therefore, there should be no doubt as to why I have become silent in the last few months.

Unfortunately, it has hampered my ability and my propensity for fluency and it is beginning to affect my work… at this point in time, I can no longer write as I used to because I can no longer find the words to express myself. I am out of practice. Badly out of practice.

As a result, this blog has become a sparse collection of random topics ranging from a recitation of events as they have occurred in my life or a random miscellaneous commentary or review on some new geek toy or service that I have “discovered” for myself.

Not exactly how I want to be.

And so … I have decided that I need to write again – as anonymously as I once used to. For that, I have chosen to move my rants, opinions and scorching commentary somewhere else – somewhere anonymous – where whether or not one wants to be offended or not is separate and apart from my so-called public persona. A place where only a few select actually know me and care about what I think – no matter what it is – and respect for me even having an opinion.

The rest of you will have to deal with my random miscellaneous posts if and until you can prove to be as discerning and objective of what I choose to speak about as I expect you to be.

My apologies. It may seem harsh to you – and maybe even unnecessarily drastic, but I must attempt to save the one thing I have always loved to do … and that is, to write.

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Bitterness, not the one who abandoned but the one who was abandoned – not once but twice.

Anger, at having my life broadcast to those unknown to me in such a way that they could feel justified in making an attack on me.

Fear, that I will not be able to do this and that while I am not alone, I am very alone.

Despair, that at this point I don’t think I’ve done enough to be ready for this.

/sigh

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Don’t let anyone tell you different – there is NOTHING good about a casing ceremony if you’re a wimp like me.

They rolled up the flag, put it in it’s bag and stood at attention and there I was fighting to hold the tears back.

And THAT was just halfway through the ceremony.

So imagine what I was like once it was over.

We were “invited” to shake the hands of the soldiers and wish them well as they go downrange.

I was bawling like a baby … I don’t think anyone would have appreciated ANY gesture from me.

/sigh

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Lawd whoee – what a stress!

I’ll tell you this, it’s heartening to know that SO many people want to be an authority on the fyr … I’m famous! Wewt!

I apologize to those who might have been working up the courage to comment (again?) and found that comments are now closed here – the reason is a sudden upsurge in the bitch content of my life which I am trying valiantly to quell and exterminate. So far, it seems to be working, but these things take a while – weeks, sometimes months. So please bear with me whilst I call in the exterminators.

In the meantime, here’s what my weekend looked like:

In true army style, we were summoned post haste to a married couples retreat of unknown content and to an unknown location for an unknown rendezvous time.  Oh yea, I was gearing up to REALLY not enjoy the weekend.

But it was a REAL NICE SURPRISE (THANK YOU CHAPLAIN ADAMS!) that greeted us on Friday afternoon. While it was called a “married couples retreat” the idea wasn’t to fix anything that was wrong, or help anybody with marital problems. In fact, the theme of the weekend was “Strengthening the bonds” and the idea was to equip us with the tools and tips to handle this deployment like pros.

I won’t go into the specifics of the weekend because … well, that’s kinda private smacks hand away but I will tell you this, the emphasis was on clear and genuine communication of feelings and expectations from this point onward. We got a list of things to discuss and a few things to think about and a few areas to work on. We got some ideas for communication while our soldiers are down-range and we got some stories about those have already been here. We got some tips on what’s the best way to deal with R&R and with homecoming … and while none of this is an exact science, I certainly feel FAR better prepared to manage this deployment.

The one down side to the weekend was suddenly realizing that “Hey! Block leave is already here and you haven’t done squat to prepare for it … DUDETTE!”

True to my organizer breeding, I wrote up my little month-long calendar we have on the wall by our desks and started to hatch out a plan on how to manage the week. I needed some comfy clothes for MI (post-surgery and all that jazz), I needed to get Nala’s rabies shot done and her fecal test and feline distemper registered on-post, I needed to find a sitter or a boarding house, I needed to organize what would happen with the mail …. you get the picture.

Thankfully, the shopping and organizing Nala’s shots and test results were knocked off in high organizational fashion on Monday thanks to a fellow-spouse who agreed to accompany my righteously indignant mug around town. She also helped reinforce to me what a downright waste of time it was mourning “the catastrophe” … “I don’t know you all that well, but that doesn’t sound anything LIKE you.“

And to top it all off, hubby comes home and says “Ooh – FRG leader has a pet sitter name for us – she’ll email you tonite”.

Long and short of it … I now have a potential kitteh sitter who will care for Nala whilst we are in MI and get our mail and watch the house to make sure it doesn’t get stoned, or egged or tomatoed by the bully-defense-patrol.

I’m all set – or am I?

Damn – I still have to pack, don’t I?

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